#turned out my bipolar was going off the rails | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anexperimentallife · 5 months

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So we had to report someone after they posted a picture of El and me along with a long, totally unhinged (and wildly inaccurate) rant, @'d @thesurestthing and me, and sent dms to both of us, both the post and dms being about what horrible people we all are, how disabled people are just lazy, how anyone who has to ask for help after being hit with too many unexpected emergencies in a row is a terrible lazy person, that interracial relationships are bad, how I'm going to die soon, etc...

Oh, and how they they HOPE Zoey and El suffer for the rest of their lives after I'm gone, and how Zoey will be begging for help forever because she's useless.

So... Monday here.

Also, they claim Zoey is just my girlfriend (she's my wife), they didn't know she's from the US, and opine that it's my fault my youngest son died in his twenties of pneumonia (which according to them he did to himself--while I was a thousand miles away--but it's somehow still my fault) and my fault that my older son shot himself after refusing attempt after attempt from myself and others to get him to accept help for his bipolar disorder. So yeah, thanks for using the deaths of my sons to attack me. Shows a lot of class.

Also, they claim Zoey is a terrible mother, has no drive, and no skills (despite her being an excellent mother, earning a college degree while she was still in high school, and despite ONE of the reasons we're going back--in addition to me needing medical treatment--being for her to work and get a higher degree), and apparently we should both be working here even though we're not legally allowed to (because, again, disabled people are just lazy and we should also risk imprisonment, because THAT would be responsible)?

Somehow, they're also very concerned for Zoey and El despite outright saying they HOPE El and Zoey suffer?

Just completely off the rails, unhinged ranting.

They didn't even get the timeline right. I was autistic with ADHD and head and spine injuries before we found out (during the Philippines STRICT lockdown) that we were having a baby, and at that point I'd just gotten contracted for the licensing fee, which we had every reason to believe (based on the longevity of the company's other properties) that it would gp on for basically as long as I was game m--so it LOOKED like smooth sailing ahead. (That contract was the only reason we stopped being so careful to avoid pregnancy, too.)

So yes, I was disabled when we got pregnant with El, but in a stable way at that point. It wasn't until AFTER we found out about the pregnancy that I got covid three times that my health started scarily declining. THAT was when all the scary stuff with my eye and heart and feet and face started. But apparently we're horrible for... not knowing that was going to happen?

Thing is, if the company that was paying me a licensing fee to turn my first-sold story into a game hadn't canceled the project one year in with zero notice (while we were still paying for El's birth), if El hadn't had a mistake on her birth certificate that left her stateless and took almost two years to resolve, and if I hadn't gotten COVID three times, we'd be okay financially. We wouldn't have had to ask for help with El's legal stuff or my medical bills, and we wouldn't have to be asking for help now.

Of course, we're the only people they follow, and that's their only post, so they obviously made the blog just for this purpose. I think I know who it is, but I can't prove it, so oh, well. Took screen shots in case receipts are needed later, but since it's obviously a throwaway account, it would be pointless to @ them here.

(Oh, apparently we're also bad people for being... liberals? LOL We're leftists, man. Liberals are more conservative than we are.)

Like I said, pretty sure I know who it is, and they probably hate-follow us from another account anyway, but, y'know, they're too cowardly to show themselves. So hi. Go to therapy.

Yeah. Fun stuff.

Anyway, if you'd like to help us all get back to the US so I can use my benefits to get the medical treatment I need (which, again, is needed as a result of me getting covid 3X AFTER we found out we were having El), please see my pinned post.

#rob gets personal

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berryunho · 1 year

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i’m sorry but WHAT.IS.THIS FICCCCC AAAAHHHHH. everything about it is so ugh and agh and oooohhh and huh. pls lauren, author-nim i’m ITCHING IN MY SLEEP to read the next chapter. the gore, the eerie atmosphere, the love quarrels, the death and manipulation. I FUCKING LIVEEEEE. ngl it took me like 2-3 nights to read all of this and now my sleep schedule is ✨nonexistent✨ but like it’s so worth it. the way i was glaring throughout most of it i— it took me a couple of pauses to not dash my precious communication device across my room but now i’m just intoxicated. i love the way i couldn’t totally guess what was going on cuz mc wouldn’t read the part of the ANSWER that has to do with her and nobody told her until woo gave her the gist of it. i just want mc to use her favouritism to at least taunt hwa a little like “i know your mans wants me over your lame ass” ya know? anyways rip Haseul she a real one but Mingi!!! wait wait real it back cuz the Choosing ceremony oh lawdddd the way i wanted to reach across the table and stick a fork in HJ’s neck!! rah and when they drugged the fuck outta her and— look. you’re an amazing writer even though mc made me want to question how slow ppl can be cuz hellooooo are we colourblind?? don’t you see these fucking flaring red flags??? now mingi??? after Haseul’s incident… he is dead to me! period point blank! i wanted mc to just turn to him and spit those words but ofc that wouldn’t happen in this CIRCUS. now San… i’m biased cuz he my hubby but i really don’t have any objections. again cuz i’m San biased. i love the level of crazy, ambitious, manipulative and also sorta deranged his character has like i personally wouldn’t mind cuz low-key that’s rizz to me. jongho. he… has composureeee. i just want to see him snap fr can’t lie. not a tiny bit but pure “all i see is red” type of shit, you get me? hwa can die in a ditch atp i don’t really care. and i just want to snuff joongie in his sleep. now in terms of relationships, matz… yeah respectfully i’m exiting left cuz man i just can’t. partially cuz i can’t see joongie in any other light but cute. however coma, with the way you’re describing his sizzling touch and haunting smiles i think that my skin could crawl inside out in itself. uh huh pennywise could neverrrr. mc and mingi, idk wagwan but all i can say is that mingi is beyond not okay atp like… bipolar doesn’t even cover it a third of it pls. i honestly cannot deal with the barn scene cuz i would have walked tf out. it’s literally joongie’s personality ctl + c, ctl + v but with emotions and whatever soundness there is left. now… i can see mingi dying. oops sorry not sorry cuz have you seen the way man is moving. in my mind i see it as: the more you weaver in my eyes (in terms of keeping yo shit in check), the closer to death you are. so don’t come rock my shit plssss ty. mc and san… sigh… like somebody said ain’t no way this relationship is going anywhere and i agree cuz… side eye. woo snapping at mc had my somewhat excited bones jiggling so pls author-nim i need woo to break composure again pls. now yeo and yuyu… i want them to come and catch me off guard pls. this is toxic but i want issues left and right. NO SLEEP, JUST STRESS. yessir. in terms of the sexual scenes, i’m going to go back to hwa and mc getting off on hatred towards each other but author-nim~ i want hwa to have drastic mood swings while railing her into Universe One pls😭 and i want joongie to catch them or at least watch part of it. also, san needs to learn how to pull out cuz oral ain’t gonna cut it for very long. tokens of appreciation, joongie being vulnerable at times, hwa’s calling mc ‘sweetie’ all the time, mingi showing emotion once he crosses a line with mc, san being super protective and sweet of mc, woo’s bright self cuz i can actually hear him being like that. yeo henchman purrr and jongho buff self yasss. also yuyu just being there hehe. OTHER THAN my murderous thoughts towards most of these fictional personas, i’m STOCKED to read chpt 30!!! and ily unconditionally for making this masterpiece 😘😘😘😘😘

THIS ASK ADLSFKASDLFKJSFKJFS THIS IS SO CRAZY !!!! THANK YOUUUUU !!!! KLJFD;KASJDF i litcherally dont even know what to say aside from thank you sm for reading and sharing your thoughts lkajflkajsdfk this is so insightful to me as a writer like knowing what sticks out to you is so interesting and really helps me figure out what im good at accentuating and LKAJSDFLKASDJF yes just thank you very much ily mwah

#bella-hi #answered #the answer spoilers #feedback

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icelitten · 2 years

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not f1 so feel free to skip. terrible mental health discussions behind cut

my marriage is over less than 8 months after it began. because it started digitally as a friendship, we didn't have a knowledge of each other in meatspace. when we met, had a social and physical chemistry that was spectacular. we didn't get to live together before the pandemic for 3 months of a summer like we wanted to because the pandemic closed his country's borders. so we went in to immigration hoping and praying we'd recapture that magic. after all, we were best friends. we could get through this.

then he got here in april and was despierately miserably homesick. to cope with it he clung to lots of socializing with his online friends both here and there because they made him feel normal.

i didn't see that. i just saw he was spending more time socializing online with others and very little time doing anything with me. we weren't having sex, we weren't going on dates. we did watch some things and play some videogames together. sometimes go on walks or short outings (sports). but like, that was once or twice a week.

i felt rejected, wondering how could he come all this way to be with me to ignore me. so i started hassling him about why he was spending time with other people, which made him feel pressured and not like spending time with me, and also like i was isolating him from his friends.

we foguht some. we hurt each other. i snooped on his messages b/c i thought he was cheating on me with an ex-GF and still friend. he went and stayed at that friends' house because he felt afraid he had no space or privacy ; i interpreted this as proof of him favoring even his ex over me for spending time with in person, and not that he needed to stay at the house of someone he could get to easily in order to get space away from me and breathe.

then i went into a mental health inpatient program for 2 weeks and went on new meds in september. a light switch fucking flipped. my emotions settled around and i realized i'd been obsessive and paranoid and jealous and ragey. i realized that 80% of the fault was in my head and i flared up and hurt him when he already wanted nothing but to be back in his home country with familiar things, not dealing with feeling all alone and scared and unsafe with someone who'd promised to be one way and was another. and i was absolutely horrified with myself and what i had done. i genuinely couldn't recognize the person who had spoken and acted like that to him - like my diary entries don't even make sense anymore!!!

it turns out my meds totally stopped working. we think after a viral infection that left me terribly ill, my doc had seen this before where serotonin meds stop absorbing after gut infections, but also SSRI poopout is real. the doc said i'd gone into a mixed bipolar state and somewhat dissociated. we put me on a new drug. we ran through a few therapy types - DBT, CBT, ACT - and individual and group therapies. i came out of it feeling a lot more normal and like myself. i recognized myself, i was better.

also today i found out my family has a history of mental breaks requiring hospitalization in their late 20s-early 30s and i'm 33. my grandmother had one, my mother had one, my aunt had one. all went off the rails and ruined friendships and relationships with out of character behavior which then resolved after meds and inpatient. i was never told any of this until today, when i called the mother i'd cut off to tell her i just came out of inpatient. she said "oh, yes, that runs in the line". prior to this she'd always told me it was 'just depression'. i'm telling my doctors next week b/c i think that this probably would have impacted what they tried for my care and how they treated me, to know this was in the lineage and not just depression/anxiety.

i thought that i'd be able to fix things. but it turns out i can't fix things. he's just too hurt by me being reactive and swinging between jealousy/frustration and sobbing tears/SI. he just wants to go back to his home country and divorce and forget this happeed. he says maybe we can be friends again over text a country apart like we used to, but being near each other is too painful and he doesn't want to be in a country with nothing for him. i was actively damaging him while he was here and the homesickness was too killer.

i wish he'd forgive 'sick me', who neither of us recognized, and i wish he'd give 'normal me' a second chance. because we do click so well online, we have values and aspirations and dreams for the future that were so compatible. we made each other happier and supported each other through difficult times in our past. i thought if i'd been enough for him to move out here and give this a shot so we could build something, that he'd want to keep trying.

but that version of me that went on a mental break did too much damage to all trust and bond. he can't believe it will get better between us, that i'll treat him better, that he could love america. he wants to go without a second shot. and i can't really blame him? because if i read online about X doing to Y what i did to him, i'd be like "dude gtfo out of there, they've hurt you too bad, trying to control who you speak to and whats in your space when you're alone with them in another country dependent on them is fucked up'. but i'm still...i'm wishing 5 years of friendship and a few of dating would let him also look past what happened and give it a shot to see if we could do the 'in sickness and in health' thing and try to patch things up because it Was a true mental break and a problem with meds, i was genuinely mentally ill with a short-term not-myself problem, i am working on it and trying to become a better person and make amends for the harm i caused and repair things. i was hoping the weight of history would give us that. but he doesn't want to see me or be here, and... i have to stop crying and clinging to him not to go, because that's the same old behavior i did while unstable and it doesn't show that i've changed or am doing better. i can think it's incredibly unfair sick me is being judged by ill me's standards when even he acknowledges that sick me and drunk me are miles apart and he can tell that i've changed; and he said too little too late, because too much happened to sweep under the rug. and i don't want to like pretend it didn't happen, just try to patch over it and work past and have a future where we said 'good thing we endured the marriage wrecking part in year 1'. and i can't make him give me a second chance, and maybe after reading all this people will agree i don't deserve it.

but i'm mourning the dreams for the marriage i wish i had been able to build, and the forgiveness i wish i had. i'm angry at my ill self, and i'm sad too that it got that far and nobody realized for months how OOC the break was and got me treatment earlier. i'm grieving that i've destroyed my relationship with my best friend with my actions. and i'm going to miss him so badly when he moves out.

#extremely personal rambling #intense grief here

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getmemymicroscope · 2 years

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It seems that there is a whole new movie genre of 'mystery' movies that are entirely based on the concept that, at the end, the criminal gets to walk away and turn a sad/crying face into a 'haha, I fooled you all' smile as they leave. The Usual Suspects, of course, and it's Bollywood remake Chocolate; more recently, Aksar, Zid, Ittefaq - and that's just off the top of my head. It's almost to the point where it's predictable now - the whole story is just an exercise in "can we tell a story where our culprit can be one of the main characters and also fool the investigators to the point of getting away with it?" Which is probably pretty easy when you make your investigators, well, not super smart.

Not that that's necessarily the problem here - he may be plenty smart, but he gets drawn into this conveniently 'too easy' story and falls hook, line, and sinker for it, eating up the story that is fed to him. Of course, in the end, he did technically solve the case - they jump ahead, somehow, but out of the blue we get a confession from the killer. Like, it literally makes no sense: the forensic guy, or lab guy, or whomever his is supposed to be, just says "the killer knew about Tom's liver disease" (which they all did!); the cop flashes back to all 6 suspects; and then, just like that, we're getting a confession. No idea how he got to that point - somehow, they skipped the most important part of his deduction.

We got to see him making house calls, flirting with some random doctor, having debriefings beside a railroad, talking to a psychiatrist while taking way too much interest in the personal life of the victim's wife, and so on, but when it comes to his actual deductions, we just get a pointless cut scene of a interviews he's already performed, followed by him saying "don't you want to know the killer?" to said wife, and then ... BAM! confession from the bad guy.

So yes, he did it. But he missed the entire story behind it, of course - something you do figure out before they reveal it. The emotional manipulation that is going on is pretty damn strong, and a character mastering "how to act bipolar" in like 15 minutes is also pretty ridiculous (medically, this movie is a slight nightmare).

Worst of all, though, is the acting (it gets painful, repeatedly) and, even more than that, the editing. The jumps between scenes, the filming during many of the scenes: it's trying to be one of those movies where the city, the backdrop is like another character - but it fails miserably, because it just gives us random cut scenes of the city (see above, with detectives talking at a rail station for no reason, or when he's randomly talking to the doctor while he's standing on the street) that don't add much of anything to the story. Instead, it just looks like our detective or cop or whatever he is is just pointlessly, repeatedly wandering around the city.

It's also slow moving, as if trying to give some importance and worth to the relationships it is trying to throw at us, but, like, the relationships are mostly measly and don't really give us much to work with. Most of the people, if not all of them, have like clichéd "I'm a gray person" backstories and don't really deviate from them much. Which is fine, usually, but not so much when you want to make these stories (like the city) a part of the story and its own characters. At that point, they probably need to be slightly more developed and put to better use. So, instead, this just kinda hams.

Which is sorta unfortunate, because even with the twist(s) you can see coming, the story is actually pretty good. And, given that you (eventually learn that you) have an unreliable narrator, that also adds a bit of confusion. But the story quickly eliminates a couple of potential suspects by never really showing them again: in fact, it starts off with someone saying that there were like 20-25 people in the party, and our suspect pool from the start is only like 6, and 3-4 of those people are only spoken to once before essentially disappearing (aside from the flashbacks to the actual party, or to the interviews taken right at the start of the movie), and they make it pretty easy to guess what's up.

The logic this movie uses to let the character get away with it - "it was justified, because he was an ass of a person" - combined with the logic used to discard any sort of sadness about entrapping someone else and getting them to actually commit the crime - "it was justified, because he was an ass of a person" - is an interesting route to take.

Also, it's very weird because I know they mention it a couple times - but when the justification for trapping said person comes out, it is sort of a shock because the justification of "he's married but has wandering eyes" really just surprises you because, for the entirety of the movie, you never see said spouse/family. They mention it once or twice, briefly/quickly, and move on. The other families and couples/spouses, you see. The single people are mentioned as being single. And yet, in this case, just a brief "has a family" is thrown in amidst a whole bunch of other stuff.

The dialogues are meh, but the dialogue delivery is confusing. Also, them frequently switching to English mid-convo, for just a few sentences, and then back, is odd. Made worse by how basic/unreal some of the dialogues seemed. I guess I'm just not very impressed by the overall execution of this movie and the final product, though the story is pretty well done, if a bit too slow-moving and too focused on trying to be more classy/deep than it actually is.

That poor cop was trying to do his job but somehow, even while apparently figuring it out (unless the guy just came to confess, which is completely possible since we have no idea how they got to that point) he still got absolutely played like a fiddle.

#movies #movieblr #gmmm does movies

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arrowflier · 3 years

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Fic prompt: How do people who tangentially know Ian react when Gay Jesus goes viral? Do they reach out to Ian/the Gallaghers? Lip's college friends, Milkovich cousins, ROTC classmates, Kash and Linda ... Is Gus Pfender telling someone Gay Jesus was his brother-in-law for 4 seconds? :D

I Heard it Through the Grapevine

“This is a pretty new one,” Gus Pfender said into the mic, sitting onstage at a little bar on the outskirts of New York City. “About a girl I knew a while back. A girl that was totally crazy, you all know the type.” He paused and waited for the knowing laughter to die down.

“No, but really though, she was!” he continued, idly tapping on the neck of his guitar as he talked. “She got me to marry her and everything, then slept with her ex, then tried to marry some other guy before we were even separated! Can you believe that?”

The laughter was more awkward that time, but he didn’t notice.

“Anyway, turns out she came by crazy honestly, runs in the family or something.” Even his band mates were starting to get a little antsy behind him, but he wasn’t quite done throwing his ex under the metaphorical bus.

“Yeah, get this—her little brother started a cult, called himself Gay Jesus or somethin’. Just saw him on the news—he blew up a van!” Gus laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool, but the audience was quiet.

The drummer cleared his throat behind him, and Gus finally got with the program, righting himself and coughing into the mic before saying, “Anyway, here it is; sing along loud if you know it, maybe she’ll hear us all the way back in Chicago.”

And he launched into the opening chords of “Fuck You Fiona”.

In the audience, Mandy Milkovich straightened up at the first round of Fiona’s name echoing around the dimly lit room. Her date—well, her client—touched her arm, and she jerked away before she could remember herself. Remember that she was supposed to like being touched, now.

“Sorry,” she simpered at the short older man, putting her hand on his when he let it fall to the table between them. “You just surprised me, hun.”

She smiled at him sweetly, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth until it hurt. “Be right back,” she promised him quickly, before standing and grabbing her purse from the back of her chair. “Just need to go freshen up for you.”

She cringed as she said it, but it had the desired effect, the man just waving her away as he turned his attention back to the stage just in time for the rousing chorus of “fuck you”.

As soon as the bathroom door slammed shut behind her, Mandy was leaning over the sink, breathing heavily. Chicago. Fiona. Crazy family. Little brother.

Ian.

She fumbled in her purse for her phone, a sleek black thing that one of her more dedicated clients had bought for her. She swiped past the homescreen that he had set to a picture of the two of them, and opened up her browser.

Ian Gallagher she typed in, holding her breath as the results of the search loaded.

It came out in a single whoosh when she saw it, leaving her limp against the dirty porcelain.

Chicago’s Ian ‘Gay Jesus’ Gallagher Charged with Arson and Destruction of Property read the very top headline. Mandy skimmed the rest through the tears that filled her eyes, not daring to let them fall.

Ian Gallagher, middle child of six, pled guilty by reason of insanity at his trial last week, claiming his unmedicated bipolar disorder was the reason for his irrational behavior.

Oh god, Ian.

Last time she saw him, Ian had his shit together. He had a job, and a boyfriend, and he was taking his meds, and he kept her calm and helped her deal with a fucking body and gave her a place to stay for the night. What had happened since then? How had things gone so wrong for him again?

She didn’t know. She needed to know. She needed to know that he was okay.

Mandy bit her lip, mind racing as she considered her options. None of them were good. Mickey was gone. She didn’t speak to the rest of her family. She could call Iggy, or Colin she supposed, but she wasn’t even sure they weren’t in jail themselves. Besides, if they weren’t, she didn’t want Terry overhearing.

With shaking hands, she dialed a number she had been pretending she didn’t know, instead. A number that she had been trying her best to forget.

Phillip Gallagher picked up on the very first ring.

“Yeah, alright. No, I know, Mandy. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.”

Lip sighed as he pressed the end call button, rubbing a hand over his face. Joaquin, sitting next to him, blew a stream of smoke in Lip’s face until he straightened again, coughing.

“The hell was that for, asshole?” he asked, waving the smoke away. “You know how much shit I’m gonna get if Tami smells that on me?”

Joaquin snorted. “Still can’t believe you shacked up with your baby-mamma, man,” he teased. “You have a kid now, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, well,” Lip muttered, reaching over to steal the joint right out of his hand despite his warnings about the smell. “A lot of things have changed since the last time I saw you.”

No shit. The last time Joaquin had seen Lip Gallagher, he’d been helping him steal money from the high-end startup Lip was working for. Then he’d just disappeared, only to wander into the little cafe where Joaquin liked to take lunch just a few days ago. They’d been catching up a little bit each day since, but Joaquin’s head was still spinning trying to equate this short-haired, run-down family man with the brilliant guy he knew back in the day.

“So, who was that?” Joaquin pried. “Who’s Mandy? You two-timing your girl already, Gallagher?”

“Fuck no,” Lip exclaimed, nearly spitting out the joint. Joaquin snatched it back immediately—the Gallagher he knew never would have risked the good stuff like that.

“No,” Lip repeated more calmly. “I uh, used to date her,” he revealed. “Before I knew you. But that was a long time ago.”

Joaquin nodded. “So what’s she callin’ you for then?”

Lip rubbed at his lip—Joaquin giggled in his head at that thought—and went quiet for a long moment. Joaquin just sat by him and smoked, content to wait it out.

“She was asking about my brother,” Lip answered finally. “They were friends.”

“Which brother?” Joaquin questioned. “The janitor, or the crazy one?”

Lip eyed him oddly. “The janitor is the crazy one,” he said, but Joaquin shook his head.

“No, no,” he rambled, “the little guy, the one you thought was dealin’.”

“Carl?” Lip clarified, and laughed, fingers picking idly at the knee of his jeans. “Nah, Carl’s actually doin’ alright now, I think. It’s Ian. The one you met.”

“What’s goin’ on with him?”

Lip hesitated, and then, “You heard about Gay Jesus?” he asked, and Joaquin felt his eyes go wide. He almost dropped the joint himself this time.

“No way,” he breathed out. “That was him?” He gestured wildly. “With the kids, and the cult, and the van?”

“That was him,” Lip confirmed grimly. “Off his meds, we think. That’s what he says, at least.”

Joaquin whistled, and handed the joint back. “Think you need this more than me right now,” he said.

Lip didn’t disagree when he took it.

Linda looked up when a stranger entered her store, then promptly rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine. The kids were with the sitter and the store was practically empty, so there was no reason not to take some time for herself for once. A single stoner wandering around the aisles wasn’t that much of a concern.

Still, she kept an eye on him as he poked through what they had to offer. He wasn’t bad looking, despite his floppy hair and red-rimmed eyes—reminded her a little bit of a young Kash, even.

She promptly hated herself for thinking of her absent, no-good husband, and hated the stranger in the store for making her do it.

So when he finally came to the counter, holding two bags of chips and a Red Bull, she might have been just a tad ruder than normal.

“Put it on the counter,” she ordered gruffly when he just stood there, staring into space.

“Whoa, yeah, sorry, sorry,” he rambled, doing as he was bid. “Just came from visiting a buddy, guess I left my mind behind a bit, huh?” He giggled. A grown man just giggled in her store.

“Maybe you know them, the Gallaghers?” He continued while she rang him up. Her hands barely paused when she heard the name. That was a long time ago, and they didn’t come here anymore.

The stoner was still talking, though. “Man they’ve had some bad luck, you know?” He shook his head. “First with Lip’s stuff, now his brother again?”

Linda stilled, bag of chips still in hand.

“Which brother?” she asked despite herself. She shouldn’t care, but somehow she still did. That little shit had stolen her husband, got his boyfriend shot in her store, and bailed on her with no warning, but when he had been there, he had been good to her. Helped her run the store, even helped her with the kids if she begged. She’d been sad to hear it when he went off the rails, but the rumor around town was that he was doing better, now.

“The crazy red-haired one,” the stoner answered, and she guessed a rumor was all it had been. “They call him Gay Jesus now, he blew up a van and everything.”

“Ten seventy-five,” she told him, not commenting any more on the topic. It wasn’t her business.

But as the stranger walked out the door, leaving her to her magazine again, she considered sending some sort of basket to the Gallagher house. For old time’s sake.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t even notice the bell over the door ring a second time as someone else hurried out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Iggy Milkovich muttered to himself as he rushed off down the street away from the Kash’N’Grab, forgetting to even steal anything in his hurry.

Ian fucking Gallagher. Gay fucking Jesus. How had nobody around him seen that coming?

Iggy remembered when Ian was living with them, before he went crazy the first time. Or while he went crazy the first time? Who fucking knew, that kid was always off the rails if he thought taking up with Iggy’s kid brother right under Terry’s nose was a good fucking idea.

But there was that one time, when things were mostly still going good, when he remembered hearing Mickey talk to his boy about crashing some funeral. A funeral for a fairy soldier that Ian knew when he was going by his brother’s name out at bootcamp. They’d come home from that thing with Ian practically vibrating, bouncing off the walls with fury at the protest they had wandered into, and he had seen the way it made Mickey freak out.

Mickey was in Mexico now. Iggy knew that. Everybody fucking knew that, even if they pretended they didn’t. And it was a bad fucking idea for him to find out about this, for so many reasons.

But Iggy couldn’t do that to his brother. He couldn’t hide something like this. And if Mickey found out some other way, from someone else…well. There was no saying what stupid shit that fucker might do.

So when he got home, he hit the bong to calm his racing heart. Then he picked up the phone, and dialed a number he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Yeah, thanks Ig,” Mickey said into his burner phone. “I already knew.”

His partner for the day, some new cartel wannabe that got paired up with the Gringo to see how he managed the streets, gave him a weird look as he shoved the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Who was that?” the burly man asked, voice rough, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Your girlfriend,” he answered dryly. “Wanted to know if I had dropped your ass in the grave yet so we can go fuck in peace.”

The idiot looked like he actually believed it, and Mickey snorted.

“A fuckin’ contact, okay?” he revealed. “And none of your fuckin’ business ‘til you manage to climb the ladder past ‘basic bitch errand boy’, so get the shit and let’s get movin’.”

At least the moron followed instructions.

Mickey wiped a hand over his face while the other man’s back was turned, gathering himself. It was confirmed, then. First by those weird-ass rainbow shirts, and now by Iggy, who wouldn’t lie to him about something like that. Ian Gallagher had gotten himself in trouble, and Mickey wasn’t there to save him this time.

He sighed as his partner came back with the rest of the goods, and they set off to a new position on the next corner.

One way or another, it looked like Mickey Milkovich was going back to Chicago.

#this one was really fun #thanks for the cool idea!#forgot the ROTC kids though #daily speedwrite #gay jesus #ian gallagher #gus pfender #mandy milkovich #lip gallagher #joaquin #linda karib #iggy milkovich #mickey milkovich #lots of mentions of the exploding van #not sure how to warn for that but I know somebody asked for warnings for car crashes and car accidents and this might count

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apolloloki97 · 3 years

Text

“Gay Judas” Mickey Milkovich x Ian Gallagher

Summary: When Mickey hears about Ian’s Gay Jesus bullshit, he decides it’s time to intervene.

Word Count: 2235

Warning: Swearing, Bipolar Disorder

Song I Wrote To: “Heat Waves Stripped-Version” by Glass Animals

Note: I really needed Mick to show up and shut this shit down and so I wrote this.

--------

Mickey Milkovich had uprooted his life for Ian Gallagher and he was happy to do it.

That is until it involved Ian being a complete moron.

Mickey had been at a random bar somewhere outside the main city he was staying in while in Mexico when he had caught a shot of his ex-boyfriend’s face on someone’s phone nearby. All it said was Chicago’s Gay Jesus and Mickey knew something was very wrong. It didn’t take him long to find the articles about Ian’s new crusade and that was when he had risked a call to Svetlana.

Hearing that Ian had become some kind of gay symbol was one thing, but the way he was doing it told Mickey another: Ian was in a manic stage and nobody was helping him. That was how he found himself back on the streets of the Southside with an angry Russian hooker by his side. “This one,” Svetlana said as she pointed to a church on the corner.

Both Svetlana and Mickey paused as they stared up at the banners that hung on the outside of the church. “Fucking hell, Ian,” Mickey swore as he saw the ridiculous illustrations of the ginger on banners and even t-shirts.

“What’s the plan? Punch moron till he stop?” Svetlana asked.

“Depends on if his little cultists swing first,” Mickey said as he scratched at his nose with his thumb before taking a deep breath. “Alright, Svet, take me to church.”

Ian was in the middle of a sermon, sort of, when Mickey burst into the room, Svetlana following right behind him. “Alright rainbow warriors, take a fucking seat!” Mickey yelled, announcing himself. Ian stared at the man in front of him, unable to think clearly. Trevor, who had begrudgingly gone to this specific meeting was looking between the two in confusion.

“What the shit!” Ian exclaimed, unsure of what else to say.

“Svet, grab him,” Mickey ordered and then all five-foot-seven of pure Russian confidence was charging down the aisle towards a surprised Ian. Mickey watched as Svetlana grabbed Ian and nearly tackled him to overpower him. Ian was strong, always had been, but Svet was just as pissed at him as Mickey was.

“You idiot,” Svetlana said as she grabbed Ian by the back of his neck and took his arm, dragging him off the dais. Ian stumbled after her, still trying to get the right words out.

“Hey! Let him go!” one of Ian’s disciples said as they moved to follow them. Svetlana pulled her knife and leveled it at the girl. Trevor stood then, ready to intervene.

“Fucking hell, Svet! Put the damn knife away, we’re in a fucking church,” Mickey said as she lowered the blade and continued to push Ian towards the door, but Gallagher was starting to resist.

“Come, Orange Boy, we need to talk,” Svetlana said, hooking her arms around Ian’s biceps.

“No! Ian! You can’t just take him!” Another girl said as she cried out for her "savior".

“Ah, don’t worry your little gay heads about it, I’ll bring your pariah back in one peace,” Mickey said, flipping her off before going to follow Ian and Svetlana.

“Who the hell are you?” a younger man said, trying to step into Mickey’s path. Mickey just grinned at him before punching him in the face. The guy fell amongst the pews and Mickey turned to the rest of the room, splaying his arms wide.

“Just call me Gay Judas,” Mickey said with a wink.

“Mickey!” Ian screamed, causing Mickey to roll his eyes. Trevor began to move toward as Mickey’s name fell from Ian’s lips. He knew immediately that this was the Mickey and Trevor was not about to let the convict take Ian away from him.

“Svet, get the bag!” Mickey said as he ran off after them. Trevor followed, bursting through the front doors just to see Svetlana throwing Ian into the back of an SUV with a black bag over his head. Mickey slid into the front seat and started up the engine. He gave a salute to Trevor as he hit the gas and sped off.

Ian swore from the backseat as Svetlana kept him contained, holding down his arms. “You fuckers!” Ian yelled. “Let me go! What the fuck ever happened to Mexico!” Mickey ignored him, not wanting to answer any questions just yet. Not until they were alone. Mickey didn’t have a lot of time and he needed to make the best of it before his deadline.

They arrived at the Alibi soon after and Svetlana helped Mickey drag Ian into the basement that Kev usually used to store weed for his and Lip’s “ice cream truck”. Now it was mainly used for interrogations or in Ian and Mickey’s case, interventions.

Svetlana and Mickey threw Ian down onto a chair and then tore the bag from his face. “Again with the fucking bag!” Ian shouted, nearly growling at Mickey.

“Shut up, Red,” Mickey said with a warning look. Ian looked around and began to settle down as he realized where he was. Still, it didn’t comfort him to know that his ex had essentially kidnapped him.

Again.

“Thanks, Svet, I owe you,” Mickey said. Svetlana leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before sending another glare at Ian as she turned to leave. As soon as the door closed and locked behind them, Mickey walked forward and landed a punch to Ian’s jaw.

“Fuck!” Ian yelled.

“You’re lucky that’s all I did, you fucking idiot,” Mickey said.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ian asked.

“I’m here, you moron, to shut this shit down,” Mickey said, grabbing at Ian’s Gay Jesus t-shirt. “Do you know how many fucking busses and trains I had to take to get back here? Fuck, Gallagher… what the fuck are you doing, man?” Mickey said, lowering his voice a bit more as Ian also began to settle.

“I’m helping,” Ian said, still trying to grasp the fact that Mickey was in front of him, that Mickey was home.

“Helping who, Ian? The fucking loons who want to lick your boots? What about being an EMT?” Mickey asked.

“It wasn’t enough,” Ian argued.

“Says who?” Mickey countered, but Ian just remained quiet. Mickey swore again, rubbing at his temples as he began to pace in front of Ian. He had planned out this whole speech he was going to say, but now he could barely get the words out. He couldn’t look at Ian without thinking about how the man had left him at the border, alone and heartbroken. However, he knew that Ian was always going to be dealing with bullshit like this. “You’re off your meds, aren’t you?” Mickey asked though he didn’t really need an answer. He knew what it looked like when Ian was manic.

“Fuck you,” Ian said.

“Uh, no,” Mickey said, crossing his arms. “I didn’t get back across the border for this shit or for you to be all dismissive when I ask about your fucking well-being. Nobody has fucking noticed have they?” Mickey asked, knowing damn well the Gallaghers forgot Ian existed half the time. Ian didn’t respond, but that was an answer in itself. “Fucking Gallaghers,” Mickey swore causing Ian to look at him with recognition, seeing his Mickey again was making his heart ache. “Get it together, Ian,” Mickey said.

“Right,” Ian scoffed and Mickey began to lose it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? And don’t give me all this 'woe is me bullshit', you’re smarter than this.”

“These kids need my help!”

“There are other ways to help them, Ian! Social workers, cops, hell a fucking walk-a-thon, but not this! This is unrecognizable.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Ian challenged.

“That’s a bunch of bullshit and we both know it,” Mickey said. “I know you inside and out. I know your soul like the back of my fucking hand. Don’t you tell me that I don’t know you, Ian Gallagher. Don’t you say that shit to me.” Ian was quiet then, trying to keep it together. “You want to mean something? Start by setting a decent example for these kids that are following you like a bunch of gay ugly ducklings.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Ian said.

“Stop,” Mickey said, approaching Ian. He leaned over and braced his hands on either side of the man below him, his hands digging into the armrests. “You mean something to this world, Ian, but you don’t need to go off the rails to prove it,” Mickey said with a desperate tone to his voice.

“Why do you care?” Ian asked, staring up into Mickey’s eyes.

“Why do I care?” Mickey echoed. “Did you forget everything that fucking happened at the border?” he asked as he pushed back from Ian. “I fucking love you, you idiot and I’m worried about you.” Ian was quiet for a moment before he finally sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“It got out of hand,” Ian admitted.

“Yeah, no shit,” said Mickey. “Fuck, where the hell is your family?”

“Busy,” Ian said with a shrug. That also didn’t surprise Mickey. The time Ian left to join the military, Fiona had barely looked for him. In fact, Mickey couldn’t remember anyone actively looking for Ian until the Army came looking for Lip. That had pissed off Mickey to no end, even if he never told the Gallaghers that.

“And what about that boyfriend of yours?” Mickey asked, remembering Ian talking about his relationship when Mickey had escaped.

“He saw me losing it,” Ian divulged with another shrug.

“And he didn't do anything like drag your ass to the clinic?”

“No,” Ian said.

“Fucking hell, Gallagher, you need better friends,” Mickey said, running his hands over his face. His stubble was growing out again and he desperately needed a shave. “This shit stops now, okay?” Mickey urged and Ian nodded, trying to keep it together. Mickey kneeled in front of him and from his jacket, produced the familiar orange bottles that held Ian’s meds. “I picked these up on my way.”

Ian stared at the pills with disdain but didn’t shove them out of Mickey’s hands to the latter’s relief. “You broke into my house…” Ian said.

“I still have a key, moron,” Mickey said and then softer, “Come on, baby.” Ian stopped at the use of the pet name. Mickey never tended to use anything but the more insulting nicknames, but there were times when they just slipped out and the gentler side of Mickey was revealed. A side that Ian loved the most.

Ian opened his hand and Mickey doled out his dosage before grabbing a bottle of water from the storage crate and handing it to Ian. With a deep sigh, Ian took all his stabilizers and antidepressants in one go, following up with a few swigs of water. Mickey relaxed as soon as the meds were in Ian’s system, feeling exhaustion weighing on him from all the days he had spent worrying about the love of his life. “Stop trying to fuck up this life you have, Ian,” Mickey said, reaching out to hold Ian’s face in his hand. “You’re so much better than this.” Ian leaned into his palm, savoring the small moment.

“I missed you,” Ian said, closing his eyes.

“Missed you, too,” Mickey whispered. Leaning in, Mickey rested his forehead against Ian’s and tried not to let the tears that threatened to spill cascade down his cheek. He didn’t need to get emotional now, he didn’t have much time left.

“You better get back to Mexico,” Ian whispered.

“I ain’t going back,” Mickey admitted. Ian pulled back just enough to see Mickey’s face.

“Why?” he asked.

“I made a deal,” Mickey said with a sad smile. “I rolled on a cartel back in Mexico. Told the Feds I’d finish my sentence here as long as they gave me the afternoon to finish something up. I took down some pretty fucked up dudes so they agreed. I gotta turn myself in in about twenty minutes.” Ian seemed to deflate then as realization set in.

Mickey was going back to jail because he came to save him. Again.

“I’m sorry, Mick,” Ian said. Mickey was shaking his head already as he ran his hands over Ian’s shoulders and up to his neck, relishing in the feel.

“Don’t apologize,” Mickey said, “but fucking visit me this time, will you?”

“Every week,” Ian promised without hesitation.

“Soft,” Mickey teased, and that caused Ian to laugh finally. He then turned serious.

“Thanks, Mick,” Ian said. "Thanks for coming to get me.”

“I always will,” Mickey promised. “Especially when you’re going all psycho-ginger on me.” Ian laughed again and then surged forward to kiss Mickey, crushing their lips together. Mickey savored every taste and feel of Ian’s lips on him, knowing it was going to be a while before they had another moment like this. He didn’t think Beckman would offer conjugal visits anytime soon. When they separated, Ian smiled again.

“Stop kidnapping me, Milkovich,” Ian said as he kissed Mickey quickly again.

“What can I say?” Mickey said. “I’m a whore for the dramatics, Gay Jesus.”

“Oh, shut up, you fucking convict,” Ian said as he grabbed him again.

Regardless of what the future held, they still have twenty minutes.

#Ian x Mickey #Ian Gallagher #Mickey Milkovich #shameless fanfiction #shameless #shameless fic #Gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #Gay jesus

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #252: DECIDING FACTOR!

February, 1985

Who on Earth is strong enough to smash Hercules? Hint: there’s two of them!

Well I have my guess but I happened to guess right so I won’t be sharing. Let’s sayyyyyyyy.... Más y Menos.

Its very rude of DCAU’s Más y Menos to be picking on Hercules. Maybe sí podemos but that doesn’t mean ustedes should.

Anyway.

Last times on Avengers, Vision walked through a null field created by Annihilus and promptly fell in a robot coma and had to be put in a tube. He regained consciousness and Starfox hooked him up to the Titan supercomptuer ISAAC after which Vision started behaving oddly. When half of the Avengers got back from Secret Wars, Vision convinced Wasp to step down as chairman and nominate him. He’s created a second branch of the team in California under Hawkeye’s leadership. He’s pushed the president into making the Avengers chair a member of the Cabinet. He hid Starfox’s secret sexy power from the rest of the team. And just last issue, it was revealed that Vision and ISAAC have built a take-over-the-world-for-its-own-good device with Vision only lacking the will to pull the trigger on it.

So, uh, stuff is afoot.

Vision stuff. And, oddly enough, Doc Sampson stuff.

Vision is very impressed on seeing what seems to be Doc Sampson’s demo reel and offers him membership in the Avengers.

Doc Sampson turns him down because he doesn’t see himself as hero material and he already accepted an offer to join the faculty of Northwestern University.

Vision: “That needn’t rule you out, doctor! What would you say to heading a new, Midwestern branch of the Avengers? I should think you’re make an excellent group leader!”

Wow, Vision. You’re coming on a little strong there.

Midwest Avengers seems like the kind of thing that would be made up to spoof the expansion team idea, kinda like the Great Lakes Avengers of later. But if Vision seems desperate to get Doc Sampson to join the Avengers, well I think he is desperate.

Vision talked to ISAAC of his frustrations on trying to spread the power and influence of the Avengers. He has his take-over-the-world-for-its-own-good device but he doesn’t seem to want to use it. So he’s trying to repeat the trick with the West Coast Avengers. Sign up more and more Avengers. If you told this era of Vision about the 50 State Initiative, he’d be all over it.

But Doc Sampson turns him down. For the best. God only knows who Vision would have finagled into being on the Midwest Avengers in Chicago.

Doc Sampson: I wonder if I made a mistake in turning down the Vision’s offer? Being part of such a team would have given me an opportunity to observe some highly unusual psyches up close. But, no... I could hardly maintain an impartial detachment in such a situation.

Yeah. A Doc Sampson led Chicago-branch would have been an implosion waiting to happen. And Sampson will get his chance to pick the brains of a superhero team later with X-Factor. He does not maintain an impartial detachment.

On his way out, Starfox very much wants to discuss this newspaper headline. As he’s from a more advanced space civilization that doesn’t have prejudice probably, this is very baffling to him.

He hasn’t been on Earth long enough to learn that “ANTI-MUTANT FEAR GRIPS U.S.” is Tuesday.

I wonder if it corresponds to anything going on in the X-books. I tried to look it up but the same month as this issue, X-Men was doing a Kulan Gath thing.

Anyway, Vision and Doc Sampson agree that anti-mutant fear gripping things is bad and could tear society apart.

So in case anyone was ever wondering: the Avengers officially think anti-mutant fear is whack.

Anyway, on the mansion’s back patio, Captain America and Scarlet Witch are just having some old friend hangout time.

It’s a nice moment, really.

Wanda is drinking tea and Cap is just sketching her because they’re comfortable enough friends to hang out in a tea sketch party.

Anyway, Cap is also familiar enough with Wanda to know that she’s well vexed.

And she admits that she’s well vexed by two things. Of course, by the new wave of anti-mutant phobia because it really seems like a cruel cycle where every time people seem like they’re chilling out or there’s a swell of tolerance, it just gets yanked back. A cruel yo-yo of intolerance.

Also, its happening when she’s having personal trouble with Vision. He’s keeping secrets and he has some really extreme moods.

Scarlet Witch: “One moment he’ll be friendly and open, and the next he’ll get so remote!”

I wonder if its possible for Hank Pym’s bipolar disorder to have skipped a generation and somehow been inherited by Vision. That’s entirely not how anything works but I dunno. That sounds like Hank.

Since Cap has been wondering about Vision’s behavior (he and Monica Marvel had a discussion about it in the previous issue, remember?), he agrees to go talk to Vision.

Vision is having solemn thoughts in the mansion’s library, having been upset by the Daily Bugle that Starfox was waving around.

Vision: The world is beset by so much strife. Humanity cries out for peace... Yearns for life and prosperity... but in the end it denies itself that which it most desires! Mankind might never put aside its prejudices. Too many have refused responsibility for their own actions. How can they be expected to save the world? And, yet, who am I -- a synthezoid, an artificial being -- to rail against men of flesh? My encephalatron command chair would give me the power to bring peace to the world... and yet I hesitate to use it! Can I find the courage... make the sacrifice necessary to use that power?

That’s when Cap wanders in to give Vision a talking to. A supportive, helpful talking to.

Since he assumes that what Vision has on his mind is the burdens of leadership, he confides that he knows how tough it can be to have to always make the right decision at a moment’s notice and that he’s here if Vision needs a sympathetic ear.

Vision admits that chairmanship isn’t what he expected. He’s not unaware of the strain that its putting on his marriage. Especially since he insisted that they rejoin the team when Wanda would have preferred to return to their civilian life in New Jersey.

Cap tells him just talk to her more, ya goof.

So this is a very nice conversation between friends and peers that Vision drops a bomb of a totally-a-hypothetical into.

Vision: “Cap, what would you do if you discovered that you could bring peace and prosperity to the entire world... but only at the cost of your personal well being, perhaps of your own existence?”

Cap: “What?!”

Vision: “We have all put our lives on the line many times to stop world-threatening menaces, but it occurs to me that we’ve seldom tried to do anything to cure the world of its ills.”

Cap: “We do what we can, Vision. There are no fast and simple ways to eliminate want or fear.”

Vision: “But what if there were a way to insure a lasting peace to the world, to bring about a new golden age? What if you could only bring it about by sacrificing yourself? What if you could make the world a paradise, but you could never enjoy it yourself? Could you do it?”

Cap: “It pains me to say this, Vision, but I honestly don’t know. I don’t believe I could know unless the situation actually presented itself. Life should never be given up lightly, but... if there were a way to truly save the world... I’d like to think that I’d make the sacrifice. But I’d have to be certain that it would work!”

Vision: “Yes... Yes, there could be no room for doubt.”

I do really like the slow unfolding of whatever Vision’s Supervillain Actually Its Well-Intentioned plan is. His doubts and how he poses a very specific hypothetical to Cap to see what The Iconic Avengers Leader thinks.

At this point my guess is that Vision is going to turn himself into a supercomputer like ISAAC to take over the world, for its own good. Since it was apparently inspired when he was plugged into a supercomputer and was running the mansion.

Anyway, Wanda runs in and interrupts the totally-a-hypothetical discussion with big, alarming news that their house from the Vision and Scarlet Witch series is on fire.

That’s rough.

By the time Wanda, Vision, and emotional support Captain America show up, the ire is unstoppable and the firefighters just let it burn down.

That’s rougher.

Later, Vision and Wanda pick through the smouldering rubble.

And worse of all, this wasn’t a random electrical or grease or magic fire. It was arson. And the arsonist even called the cops to make sure everyone knew it.

Scarlet Witch: “So! I should have known! The blind, unreasoning fools! Do I have to fight them for the rest of my life?!?” This is so maddening! Losing my temper won’t bring our house back... all I’ve done is frighten the neighbors. That’s always been the biggest problem in being a mutant... No one will let you act human.

Some random bystanders basically gloat that the “weirdies are finally leaving” causing Captain America to go off.

Captain America: “For your information, mister, those ‘weirdies’ have saved your hide a dozen times over! They’ve fought and bled so you could have a home!”

Bystander: “N-now hold on, Cap! Me, I don’t have anything against ‘em... but why’d they have to move into my neighborhood? I mean, all our houses coulda caught fire from that blaze! This never woulda happened, if they hadn’t moved here!”

Captain America: “Mister, today somebody decided that he didn’t like mutants. Tomorrow, maybe someone will decide he doesn’t like blacks... or jews... or you! We’re all in this together. The American dream has to be there for everyone, or it can never truly work for anyone! It’s our duty to do everything we can to make sure it works!”

I doubt Bystander is very convinced. Maybe momentarily shamed. But in an hour he’ll be like “am I wrong about mutants? No, its the tolerant people who are wrong.”

But Vision... Vision has made up his mind.

Vision: ‘Do I have the right to take over the world for its own good?’

Vision: ‘Moral quandary resolved.’

The next morning, Vision has exciting new terrible news for the team. The US Army Corp of Engineers have dug up Thanos’ secret base in Arizona from his first appearance in Iron Man #55. And despite Vision protesting how dumb it is to poke unknown alien technology in hopes of finding a cool new weapon for America’s strategic arsenal, the Department of Defense is having the army poking unknown alien technology in hopes of finding a cool new weapon for America’s strategic arsenal.

Captain America: “Blazes! I believe in a strong defense as much as anyone, but the hardware Thanos used is way out of the army’s league!”

Starfox: “Perhaps more than even you can imagine, Cap! My brother Thanos was a ravager of worlds... he coveted power and worshiped death! His hidden base could well hold the means to rip this planet asunder!”

Cool, cool.

Man, I hate it when the US Army blew up the world in 1985 by poking alien gewgaws.

Anyway, Vision did manage to talk the government into allowing a small group of Avengers to act as advisers.

Instead of rounding up scientific geniuses slash superheroes like they did for Bruce Banner’s lab, Vision just selects everyone he has handy.

He says he’d like to assign the West Coast Avengers (who in fairness do have two scientific experets - Mockingbird and Wonder Man, kinda) but they’re busy with an off-panel mission in the Pacific. Just because they don’t have a book doesn’t mean they stop doing stuff.

So instead Vision selects Captain America, Hercules, Scarlet Witch, and Starfox (who in fairness is a great choice since he knows space science and Thanos) and sends them off.

Yeah. Vision is totally going to get up to stuff while they’re gone.

This foreboding is enhanced when Captain Marvel shows up and Vision tells her he has a special assignment for her.

Vision: “Our deep space monitor has picked up some disturbing signals -- that seems to be emanating from Sanctuary II, the starship which once belonged to the mad Thanos! After the arch-fiend’s final defeat, we left his ship to drift beyond the orbit of Pluto!”

Since she’s the fastest Avenger he asks her to leave at once, fly out to the ship to check it out, and then report back.

So. Light is the fastest thing, the speed limit of the universe. Give or take tachyons which are FTL and also hypothetical. And I don’t know if Captain Marvel can turn into tachyons. Point being, the speed of light is really friggin fast but the universe is really friggin big. Even something as ‘close’ as our solar backyard where Pluto is located is 4.9 billion miles away and takes light 4.6 hours to get there from Earth.

He is definitely getting Captain Marvel out of the way where even her nyoom will take a while to get back.

The Vision slowly stalks through the corridors of Avengers Mansion. On the second floor, he pauses before the door of the quarters he for so long shared with his wife... recalling past joys and sorrows. And then, he moves on -- solemnly descending the grand staircase, as if for the final time.

O_O

Uh...... plus side is that he gives Jarvis the day off to take his mother to Montauk Point!

I just like seeing Jarvis in Avengers.

He’s always around but only occasionally seen.

My god. His vacation clothes though.

Of course, Vision being nice to Jarvis who deserves good things is only partially because Jarvis is a cool guy who deserves nice things.

Vision has managed at this point to clear everyone out of the mansion and he locks the doors behind Jarvis so that NO ONE CAN INTERRUPT WHAT HE MUST DO.

Meanwhile, team ‘prevent the military from doing anything stupid’ arrives in Arizona and at the site of Thanos’ former base.

Huh. I was half and half on whether Vision was just making shit up to get the Avengers out of the house but I guess something really is going on.

Makes sense. If they went there and found nothing, they’d return too soon.

I wonder if there’s something really going on with Thanos’ ship Sanctuary II too.

If so, was it just a great coincidence that Vision had two different emergencies he could divert the team with the day after he decided to go through with his plan or is it just the Avengers’ lot that there’s constantly emergencies going on and he had his pick of them?

Anyway. Colonel Farnam of the US Army is convinced that they have everything under control at Operation: Prize Package and don’t need any Avengers supervision.

Colonel Farnam: “If we can figure out how just a fraction of this gear works, the United States will never again need fear an enemy power!”

Captain America: “I’m told that similar sentiment was expressed following the development of the crossbow, Colonel.”

Nice sass, Cap.

But, like, the instant that the Avengers are escorted inside the base, Starfox spots some technicians messing with a machine to see what it does and they tell him to screw off when he tells them not to mess with things they don’t understand.

Starfox: “GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

Scientist: “What are you, crazy?! We’ve spent twelve hours trying to goose this transmitter to life... we’re not going to stop now!”

He has to drag them away from a sudden energy surge as the machine activates by itself with a programmed homing signal that will bring Something to the base.

Colonel Farnam: “Now hold it right there, Avenger! Only my men are authorized to monkey with these machines!”

Starfox: “Colonel, I was raised among machiens such as these! If I can’t fix these settings, your men don’t stand a chance!”

Colonel Farnam: “I don’t care if you were raised in... GOOD LORD!”

Geez. It may have been partially a ruse to get the Avengers out of the house but its a good thing Vision sent the Avengers here. The US Army was clearly going to doom the world unsupervised.

GOOD JOB RANDOM SCIENTISTS

NOW HERCULES IS GETTING HIS ASS KICKED

IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED, YOU MONSTERS??

Anyway, the Blood Brothers are some Thanos minions from early days. Weird that they never showed up for the MCU. Like, look, they didn’t need to be part of the Black Order. They don’t have the theme naming.

But these two dinguses would have made great antagonists in one of the earlier movies.

Though Starfox and Hercules get wrecked for being the nearest to the Blood Brothers when they appear, Cap and Scarlet Witch do better for being slightly forewarned.

Captain America can do the backflips to keep from getting punched and Wanda’s do anything powers are as helpful as always.

Meanwhile, back at Avengers Mansion, Dane Whitman (sometimes the Black Knight, sometimes just exhausted), arrives and tries to use his old Avengers ID card to enter.

The security system does not like that.

Anyway, back in Arizona, Starfox rejoins the fight. That’s good.

Wanda tries to do her patented ‘all oxygen play keep away from this guy’ move on one of the Blood Brothers but his super strength lets him slam the ground to break Wanda’s concentration.

The other Blood Brother tries to strangle Captain America who got knocked into a pile of rubble but Hercules emerges from underneath the rubble to do that greatest of comic book tropes.

Ah, grievous harm with a body. How I love you.

But though the Blood Brothers heads are hard enough to knock each other out, the fight did do some lasting damage.

TO MY PERCEPTION OF HERCULES!

When the Blood Brothers beat the shit out of Hercules at the beginning of the fight, they apparently tore his Hercules skirt.

And Hercules isn’t wearing anything under his Hercules skirt.

So the other three Avengers get to see Hercules’ mighty adamantine mace, so to speak.

That’s all well and good.

Except its not!

Hercules? Being ashamed of public nudity??

That doesn’t sound like the Hercules I know!

Tsk tsk, how retroactively out of character! Annnnd possibly not retroactively? Didn’t he compete in the original Olympics which were no pants allowed?

You’ve corrupted him, modern society!

Anyway.

Captain America starts yelling at the colonel because if the Avengers hadn’t been here, it would have been a major disaster.

Captain America: “You were warned -- Washington was warned -- that something like this could happen! But those warnings were almost totally ignored!”

But back at Avengers Mansion, Dane Whitman wakes up and sees this argument being broadcast on a jumbo screen.

Vision: “People never listen to those who know better! I shall have to change all that!”

Vision: “Hello, Dane. I’m sorry you had to be incapacitated. But your arrival was most unexpected... and I really can’t afford any interruptions now! You see, I have to save humanity from itself!”

Something about you seems different, Vision.

Did you become one with the universe? It’s a pretty popular move.

Follow @essential-avengers because whoa what huh? Vision what? Also, like and reblog. Its necessary to save humanity from itself.

#avengers #Blood Brothers #the Vision #Scarlet Witch #Starfox #Hercules #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #Black Knight #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging

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krabmeat · 3 years

Text

𝚓𝚞𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: Wilbur Soot

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: he/him

𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: mentions of death, implied s_!c!de, aggressive and angered yelling, glass shattering

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: this is gonna be a 7 part series im doing where I write all of the songs from the album "Your City Gave Me Asthma" by Wilbur Soot as short stories! this is the first one of the 7, jubilee line- hope you enjoy!! this short story does deal with extremely heavy topics, so please reach out to a professional or a trusted person in your life if you deal with similar emotions or similar situations. your emotions are valid and deserve to be dealt with, no one expects you to handle your sh-t alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wasting your time.

“Wilbur, what are you talking about?” She’s trying to help again. It’s tiring. She’s my therapist, but also my friend and roommate so I see her often. She can see how much I’ve been struggling with my job, and she’s been trying to help. I don’t think I want it. My eye bags are more defined since I’ve tilted my head down to lace my fingers through my slightly greasy hair. I’m thinking. My eyes are closed when she speaks up again. “Wil!” I snap my eyes open and look up at her.

You're wasting mine.

I don’t know where my body is taking me. Pent up impulse has taken control of my body, and I stomp my way over to the door while briskly grabbing my beanie and trench coat from the coat rack. “Wil, where are you going?” “Away.” She desperately grabs onto my upper arm. She’s concerned, but am I? In any other situation, I would be. But it doesn’t feel like me talking.

I hate to see you leaving,

Her voice was shaky when she spoke. There are tears in her eyes. It’s strange, really. She always managed to let her tears roam as they pleased, it’s always been something I’ve found fascinating about her. But my curiosity doesn’t seem to be where it usually is on my mental shelf. I think I may have misplaced it. I take one last glance around the place before calmly removing her hand from my arm.

Fate worse than dying.

I don’t know how late it is until I hear 11 distinct chimes roll out across the city like a blanket. Even then, I don’t know how long I’ve been walking but I think I’m getting close to my destination. But why am I feeling dizzy? Oh right,

Your city gave me asthma

Probably one of the only things I brung with me, I found an inhaler in my coat pocket. It’s got enough to last me to where I’m going. With the last puff in it, I chuck the empty inhaler into a nearby alley. Climate change hits hard everywhere, but it gets bipolar in London. It doesn’t matter to me right now. I’d turn it all to ash from the fleeting joy I get from adding more smoke to the sky.

So that’s why I’m f*cking leaving.

The inhaler helped me breathe, but the dizziness is still there. The inhaler doesn’t even matter, the air is still dense and damp from the drenched night before. The world around me is melting, but when I blink it’s like everything was inflated back to normal with an air pump. Before I know it though, my lack of eyesight sends me tumbling to the ground. My arms and legs are damp, I tripped on a puddle.

And your water gave me cancer.

I’m never usually this mad. Bottling up comes easy to me, yet I find myself angrily stomping on the puddle, causing me to fall again, leaving more scrapes scattered across my pale, cold skin. The concrete meets my knuckles, aggressively landing blows to its invisible face.

And the pavement hurt my feelings.

I get up from the ground. The blood from my knuckles is unrecognizable, washed away by the sudden downpour. The buildings have become a haze. Familiar, but I don’t know what it is. Not the familiarness associated with a home, or a warm and comforting hug. As if I’ve seen it before, constantly looming over me, watching me like a renewed episode of their favorite show. They already know what’s happening, they know what’s coming. I can’t take it. There’s a rasp in my voice and I’m surrounded by re renovated apartments and business buildings, factories puffing their black cigarette smoke out for the ignorant tourists to see.

Shout at the walls,

My tears are confused with the rain, but both are dripping viciously from my face as gravely shouts and yells stream out of my mouth. Nearby bottles and littered beer cans are pleading for mercy, crushed and shattered by my aggressive hands thrown against the walls.

Cause the walls don’t f*cking love you.

My senses are getting overwhelmed, my arms and legs shaking from either the cold or the jolt of sensation I get when the glass shatters into a million pieces before I could stop it.

Shout at the walls,

“SHUT THE F*CK UP, WILL YA!?” My head tilts upwards to see a man at his windowsill with a dirty glare coming my way. A few seconds later, a little girl appears behind the man, seeming to have just woken up. A soft and whispery “Dad…?” Can be heard from the little girl. The softness I feel from the small wholesome moment soon turns into mind-numbing guilt. I run away, the numbness going to my legs as they once again travel on their own.

Cause the walls don’t f*cking love you.

My legs burn and sting with every stride and step they take along the path. I’m almost there. The strange looks and stares I’m getting are blocked out by the splashing and slapping of my damp shoes against the thin puddles on the ground.

Clap, clap

It’s almost as if this place is a second home for me. It’s my home, crowded with chatter and people making their ways through the Jubilee line. I’m so familiar with this place, you’d think I actually live here. I make my way to the glass barriers that block me from reaching the train, my damp feet still slapping against the ground.

Clap, clap

The barrier frustrates me. The visitors see it as a safety precaution, London’s trying to keep us safe! But we know, I know. It represents ignorance, laziness, failure. London’s desperacy to please those foreign to this place while ostracizing those who have been fed to the brim with government immaturity. I’ve broken barriers like these, it was easy for me to shatter the flimsy glass. The crowds and crowds of people stop, scream, panic, run and express their disgust all at once. I stood on top of the railing, the only other thing in my way. The tracks are calling to me, but so does a voice.

There’s a reason that London puts barriers on the tube line!

This voice isn’t familiar to me, which is why it bothers me so much. Foreigner. They don’t know. They COULD know, it’s not as if our hierarchy here has made a completely opaque wall between their intentions and actions. I’m still on top of the rail, but my back is faced towards the tracks. My eyes land on a short, blond white woman. Her voice sounded like she was talking with sticks in her mouth, nothing like the smoothness of a British accent. I fail to turn around in time before another voice is heard from another part of the station.

There’s a reason London puts barriers on the rails!

A tall man with ginger hair and lanky arms speaks up. He’s just like the woman, uneducated. Poor foreigners. The brotures and online ads and magazine cut-outs only give webs of lies and deceit when advertising to come to London. It speaks of the grand sights but not the horrid trauma that children here have to bear their sight to because of our crippling economy. The photos show places with warm rays and never the vicious rain and storms or scolding heat. The videos show clear, blue skies and never the gray turning grayer from the remains of society's mass-production. I’m done listening to these people. But one in particular stops me.

There’s a reason that London puts barriers on the tube line,

A tone I recognize, but a face that’s a haze. The man is from here, his voice says it all. His gray outfit and security guard patch on his vest. He knows what I’m thinking. He understands. Understanding would have been useful about an hour ago, yet I still find a soft smile slowly etching on my lips. I spread my arms out, like a bird with its wings spread out from its body. I wish I had wings, I would fly out of this wretched town. Fly out to freedom like Icarus. He flew too high, however. Where I’m going, the only upwards I’ll be is 6 feet under. But I’m ready for that. My face expresses a feeling of relief, tranquility, satisfaction. I haven’t smiled like this in years, it’s nice to close things off with a smile. The buzz of a train can be distantly heard, and I look out to the crowd. With the breeze of the air pushing against my falling back, I manage to breathe out a final arrangement for the crowd to hear.

There’s a reason they fail.

#wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot fanfic #ycgma #mcyt #mcyt fic #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #dsmp fic #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fanfiction #song fic #song fanfic #song fanfiction

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rochey1010 · 4 years

Text

I must be the only one who liked these clips. I think many of you put eliott on a pedastal. He's this dashing prince that can't be flawed or dark. Thinking like that does a great disservice to his character.

I have a mental illness. Let me tell you why i relate to characters like Eliott and Lola. Because their thinking in those clips, and in life is 100% true. I made a post early on in the season of Eliott hitting bottom. And it's coming true. Of words said that would end up foreshadowing events to come. And they're coming true.

Mentally ill people's thinking are basically a barrage of negative thoughts that permeates the mind and sometimes drown out rationality and logic. Things like self loathing, toxicity, inadequacy, wrong, defective, freak.

And what helps those words stick is others through ignorance, hate or judgement reinforcing them. Eliott's own love Lucas did it in S3. Remember guys words hurt, sterotypes and predjudices hurt. How many times has Eliott stood around people with judging eyes that Eliott can't think for himself or is about to go mental. Hell the freakin fans are guilty of it. And how many people look at Lola and think she's gonna fall off the wagon and is a lost cause. You have to understand that it's not just Eliott and Lola's thinking. It's society and their thinking and how they treat others.

There was a time when a mental illness was a dirty, shameful secret and people were thrown in institutions to rot. That they were considered a waste of humanity and beyond help. Even today there are stigmas. Do you remember how we acted when Fifi died. Oh no eliott's gonna break and spiral. Waiting for eliott to slip. Even when other fans who understood bipolar posted that it's harmful to keep that kind of thinking. Not everthing a person does is because of their mental illness, that eliott is strong and can cope with upsets etc. There you freakin go. Now ask yourself why eliott feels that way when we clearly do about him.

And then lets hammer it home with lola knowing about the manic episode on the barge. Eliott's worst night, a night of shame and chaos for him. And it's spread around like it's the best story ever. Like it's some gossip. And if Lola heard it. It means the crew talked about it. Hey maybe some even laughed at how funny it was. And now ask yourself why people care and relate to Eliott. 😭

That conversation at the table with lola and eliott is so godamn relatable. Lola is bottom and hurting. She's hurting herself with vices but she knows how to hurt others with the weapon of words. She's very adept at it. And she has being doing it with Eliott. Picking at his fears and insecurities and not because she's evil but because it's lonely being rock bottom and you want someone to hurt with you.

I said this about Eliott. The root of his bipolar is believing he's a fuck up and too much. This is very much confirmed. It's why he hides, omitts, and runs, because he believes if those he loves know the true him. They'll write him off as he's everything his negative thoughts tell him he is.

I said he was the darkest Even. And i knew he'd gone off the rails in the past and done self destructive shit. It does not matter how much Eliott loves Lucas. His mental illness does not care. It screams as loud as possible and twists his thinking. His fears and insecurities are dependent on 2 things:

Control

Inadequecy

You have to understand that a mentally ill mind doesn't work the same. These 2 Lola and Eliott. A depressive and a bipolar have no control over their moods and emotions, struggle with power and agency and fear it being taken from them. That's why Eliott didn't pull rank on Lola and turn into her dad. Because he tried to take her home first and it didn't work. She made a scene and pulled away. So he asked her what she needed and she said a friend and someone to drink with. You don't tell Lola what to do. Because when you do it goes badly. And how does Eliott know that? Because telling Eliott what to do is something he hates and goes badly.

So yeah i liked seeing flawed Eliott who messes up because he's young and struggles. Life isn't a cake walk for him. And Tiff's friend took the video which means it's getting posted. And Eliott will have to address his issues once and for all. And Lola will have to come to terms with her dragging a friend who has been nothing but supportive and sweet to her. This is going to hit Lola hard at what she did to Eliott. I Love Lola but she was acting toxic in this clip and had an agenda. She knew what her words were as we've seen them several times over the season. She basically stuck the knife into Eliott and preyed on his insecurities and fears. And like i said, this is just objective. I'm not blaming Lola and don't want others to either. As both Eliott and Lola are young living daily with mental illnesses.

So based on my post. Eliott will hit bottom and that crying BTS is about to happen. And it looks like Lucas and Eliott are gonna address their issues. And Lola now has video evidence of her with her top off and Eliott being punched trying to help her. It's now self reflection time for Lola. I think she's gonna hate herself when she sees the state of Eliott.

#skam france #skamfr #lola lecomte #eliott demaury

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wonderlander-i · 4 years

Text

An unexpected turn of events

Pairing : Edward x f!MC (Robin Sparrow)

Warnings : none

Words count : 660

Author's note : One minute I was stuffing my face with a sandwich, the other I found myself writing this. Can I be anymore bipolar?

Anyway this is just a quick drabble but I hope you'll enjoy it.

"I have something to tell you"

Edward declared as soon as the young pirate walked into his quarters, closing the door behind her and eying him curiously.

Robin had no idea why the captain asked to see her as soon as she finishes her duties on deck. In fact, she had no idea on what was going inside his head most of the time. He was so mysterious, even way too mysterious for a pirate in the 19th century where revealing a small detail to the wrong person could end up your life and every one is extra cautious.

She often watched him, silently, as he leaned into the metallic railing of the ship and gazed into the evening sky, the wind blowing his silky dark hair away from his face.

She would never admit it, and only God knows if he'll ever find out that she watches him. But there was something intriguing about him. Something timeless about the way he contemplated the endless sea of stars, as if his soul was captured between the constellations.

She noticed every single detail. Every small mouvement. From when he wistfully sighs when the sun sets, finally taking cover behind the horizon turning the sky deep pink, to the hint of a smile that contrasts with his stern, stoic expressions when the crew suddenly burst into some uncontrollable laughters after taking one too many bottles of rum, to the soft crinkle of his nose when some salty water droplets spray his face, taking him off guard.

She'd smile herself, when the moonlight illuminates his handsome features.

Somehow, he was just like the moon. So glorious, so calm,so soothing.

Edward was never aware of her curious glances. And if he was, he never showed it. And she preferred it that way. She knew she could never tear apart the walls which englobed his heart. So why bother trying?

She frequently had to drag herself away, back to her quarters. Tearing her thoughts away from this wonder of a man. This so cold, yet so warm wonder of a man

This was all so useless. As useless as staring at his honey eyes in the golden hours.

His eyes radiated safety and warmth. His smile felt like home. Even in the darkest storms, in the deadliest fights, and when the world felt like it was ending. She craved to feel safe, and Edward was her shelter. She allowed him to be her shelter.

Robin straightened her posture and strided towards his desk which stood in front of the large window. Strangely, he wasn't looking at her. Though she suspected that it was an important matter that he needed to discuss with her, from the tone of his voice, his eyes didn't move from his agenda. His brows furrowed in concentration,as he furiously scribbled the words on the pale paper.

She shook her head in amusement and leaned on the wooden edge of the furniture, supporting her weight with both of her hands, still not earning a glance from him.

Robin smiled a little. He hadn't changed at all. After all this time she spent on his ship. After all what they've been through together. He was still the same complex man she met on the admiral's ship. One thing for sure, his devotion to the pirate life he lead inspired her. How he always placed his duties before anything else. He knew his responsibilities, and nothing could come in their way. not even his personal needs. This stupid Edward.

She leaned even closer to his face,taking a deep breath. The strong scent of his cologne making her dizzy, almost intoxicated. Her eyebrow arched. And when he remained silent, she whispered teasingly.

"What's the matter captain, are you professing your undying love for me?"

Edward slammed his agenda shut and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

Reckless. She was was so reckless... So daring... Never intimidated by him... And..

"Yes miss Sparrow, I am"

"... What?"

#distant shores #edward x mc #edward mortemer #choices stories you play #playchoices #choices #choices fanfiction

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ayellowcurtain · 4 years

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Sander and Robbe's mom meet each other in the mental institution and Sander talks about his love for this boy and Robbe's mom is amused, because she knows who he is talking about because Robbe already told her // - Maybe Britt came up to them and start on Robbe and then the boys get on her and make her actually see what she did was wrong? // - Sander drawing Robbe's face on Art therapy class in the hospital and Robbe's mom sees it and she gets to know their story through Sander's eyes. And then Robbe goes to see her tomorrow, comes out to her and she tells him she had already met his handsome boyfriend and is so approving and gives him the talk that Sander is not his mi // - or basically a redo of the hotel night where both claim the night back. // - Can you write about Sander meeting Robbe's mom and dad

There’s a part 2 coming later.

“You shouldn’t have listened to her, Robbe.” Jens says as they see Britt walking past them, giving Robbe another one of those looks like he took her favorite toy away from her. Jens says it way louder than needed and Robbe sees how Britt looks back and stares at him.

Robbe sighs, holding the strap of his bag tighter. He shouldn’t have listened to her, but now he already did. It’s too late and it’s been months. Sander must hate him now, think he gave up on them just because Sander is bipolar when that’s not at all the case.

“Yeah, it’s too late now so just leave it.” Robbe doesn’t intend to be rude, but maybe Jens notices how his voice changes as he walks away, leaving the school, thinking Jens will follow him out, maybe they can go eat something, take Robbe’s head off of Sander and Britt.

As he steps outside, his phone starts vibrating inside his pocket. For some dumb reason Robbe will never say it out loud, he was already holding his phone, hoping he would receive an unexpected message from Sander so he unlocks his phone instantly, almost shoving his phone back inside his pocket when he sees it’s his mom sending him messages, not Sander.

Hello, my love.

How are you? I hope you’re well.

I need to talk to you about something important...can you call me? Whenever you get this message.

Love you

Robbe wishes he didn’t open the messages so he could get some time to call back later, but now it’s done and he’s worried. What’s so important they have to talk about?

As he’s calling her, hoping this is not to talk about his dad, he turns back around, looking for Jens and he’s finally coming to meet Robbe, but he keeps looking back.

“What are you doing?” Jens is frowning, clearly thinking about something, still looking back every few seconds.

“I’m going to talk to Britt, man. It’s been months, she can’t go on looking with that bitchy face at you for the rest of her life.”

“No. Jens, you don’t have to-” Robbe whispers, trying to pay attention to his phone call too.

“Hello?” His mom finally picks up but at the worst timing. He tries to stop Jens from going, but he’s already rushing back inside and Robbe needs to talk to his mom.

“Hey, mom…” He says absently as he watches Jens run upstairs where they saw Britt minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart!” She sounds like what Robbe remembers of her before the divorce. Happy and light and with the softest, most warm and welcoming voice. It makes him really forget about Jens and the Britt drama, focusing on his mom again.

“Everything ok? You said you needed to talk to me.” Robbe adjusts his jacket on his shoulder, starting to slowly walk to his bike.

“Yes, yes. Hm, you know I’ve made a friend here at the hospital a few months ago. A lovely woman. I thought she was staying here too, but then I saw her dropping someone else. Anyway, her son is doing therapy here and we did some experimental art class here and he’s so good, Robbe. He draws like a real artist.”

He sighs as he waits for the street light to turn red. Robbe loves his mom, but he’s really not in the mood to have a long phone call right now, but he doesn’t say anything, just let her talk. He tries not to think about how his lack of excitement is because this conversation is making him think of Sander. How Robbe decided to believe Britt’s words and how he gave up after days of reaching out with no response. He should have tried harder, but it’s too late now.

“And we were talking about his art classes and even when we were talking, he kept drawing and just like magic, in an instant, I recognized his drawing.”

“W-what?” Robbe should have paid attention to what she was talking about, now he’s a little lost, finally managing to unlock his bike.

“I asked his name, he’s around your age. And he said his name was Sander.”

Robbe drops his lock, suddenly very aware of the conversation he’s having.

“Sander?” He checks with her.

“Yes, my love. Sander. And he was drawing you. I know I haven’t been as present this last few months, but I’m sure I would recognize your face anywhere. It’s such a beautiful love story.”

Robbe feels his knees buckle, leaning against the railing. Sander told his mom about them without knowing. His mom knows he’s gay. If they ever meet, Sander will recognize his mom.

“Mom…”

“Robbe, listen to your mom for once. It’s a beautiful love story. He’s so handsome, son, and so incredibly thoughtful. That’s all that matters. And from what I gathered, there’s some issue between you two, but whatever it is, I hope you’re thinking about yourself first and you’re worrying about the important things. Not about things that can be handled. It’s not often that people find their person, Robbe. Sander is special, he’s so full of life and he has so many layers. You deserve someone like him.”

Robbe covers his eyes with his hand, still listening to his mom talk about the love of his life like they’re actually friends and it’s fucking Robbe’s brain.

“Mom, I love you. I have to go, ok? But I’ll try to stop by tomorrow and we’ll talk. I love you.” He hangs up before it’s too late, knowing she won’t mind too much about it.

As he’s biking across the city, he has a lot of time to think of everything his mom just said to him.

Sander still thinks about them, he’s still drawing Robbe even after six months of no contact.

He has to stop for a second, scrolling through his phone gallery to find the picture he took of the note Sander left inside his shoe one day.

It’s a long bike ride, but it’s perfect to calm Robbe’s nerves. He’s sure it’s too late, but his mom gave him a whole lot of courage and so he just needs to try it. Robbe takes a picture of the front of the hotel, looking at it for a second, sending before he can talk himself out of it.

(photo)

I know I don’t have any right to ask you this, but I’m here. Can we meet?

Their first night at this hotel was the best night of Robbe’s life. In the end he felt dumb and insecure, but Britt’s words about Sander’s feelings didn’t turn that memory into a bad one for Robbe.

He had worse nights, so much worse.

As he waits outside, Robbe is not sure if Sander will actually come, but he is more than ready to wait for long, painful hours for an answer.

There’s no way to guess from which side of the street Sander might come, so Robbe keeps checking both ways. When he sees the platinum hair and the leather jacket, pink cheeks from biking through the cold wind, parking his bike just a few meters to the left, Robbe is instantly too nervous.

So he looks again to make sure that Sander is seeing him and he gets inside the hotel, waiting for the other one in the hall. Sander enters the hotel a minute later, looking skeptical, his eyes wandering around the room like he’s never been here before.

“...What…” Before he can ask anything, Robbe shows him the card.

“The penthouse suite.” He knows he’s pushing it, they haven’t seen each other in months and here Robbe is, imitating a night where they had lots of sex. His first intention isn’t to repeat that night, he’ll take whatever Sander is willing to offer, the plan is just to talk. If they’re done, Robbe needs to a least be sure he tried everything and that Britt wasn’t in the middle of them, that breaking up was their choice.

He holds Sander’s hand without thinking too much about it first, but Sander holds his hand back and Robbe almost stops walking to just look at their hands back together. He misses Sander more than he’ll ever be able to admit to himself or to Sander.

The walk to the penthouse feels so long, longer than the first time, but Robbe doesn’t let go of Sander’s hand, struggling to find the room because his brain is shorted. Sander is the one to point at the right door and Robbe leads them there, letting go of Sander’s hand when he has to use both hands to unlock and open the door, letting Sander in.

Robbe didn’t have much time to think of what would happen after this. He thought about what his mom told him and about reaching out, but there wasn’t enough time to decide what to do if Sander came to meet him today.

His brain can’t seem to function when Sander is right in front of him again after long, painful months. Robbe can’t control how he feels about Sander and how much he can be dependent on his kisses and touches.

“Robbe…”

“I just need you.” It’s what Robbe manages to say and when Sander tries to step forward to walk away from Robbe, maybe go explore the room, Robbe quickly puts one hand on his hip, keeping him against the door.

“Robbe…!” Sander says more firmly this time, but he stays where Robbe keeps him, watching as Robbe kneels in front of him, trying not to think on how desperate he looks, definitely avoiding to think Sander might stop him and say he doesn’t want it and Robbe will be there, on his knees, being rejected.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #robbe x sander #sobbe

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im-bipolar-but-thats-okay · 3 years

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To Med or Not to Med, Part Dos

Last year I talked about the choice to take medication and in another post I outlined the different medications I was taking. Today I want to talk about my choice to quit taking meds and how I am handling it.

I didn't stop on purpose. Not at first at least. It was around Christmas time, when I had forgotten to take my meds a few nights in a row. It really did not affect me as badly as it had on previous days I had forgotten. I think because I was no longer taking Latuda and was fully switched over to Vraylar.

When I was on Latuda and I would miss a night of meds, I would feel absolutely terrible the next day. The best way to describe it, think of a dam breaks in your head and water starts flooding in. I couldn't concentrate on anything and sometimes I would feel like I was floating underwater. I couldn't take it in the morning because Latuda would make me very sleepy, and that in turn made me cranky.

This time was different though. I barely noticed a change, and that is probably why I kept missing my meds. I didn't realize I was forgetting something. And then it got me thinking, "Maybe I don't need to take medication?"

When I was first diagnosed I was very active. I would get up at four in the morning to go to the gym before work or at six on my days off to ride my bike. I struggled with my moods and my depression, but I think I used exercise to deal with them. Once I started taking meds regularly, I stopped working out and started eating and drinking more. I gained a ton of weight. Now I have heard mixed things about the medication I was on. Some people say they can cause weight gain and some say they don't. I am not sure. But I know when I started to take meds regularly, I changed.

Did I change for the better though? Looking back now, I don't think so. In my last post about medication, I did mention it takes time to find the right mix of medication for you and to work with your doctor to find that. I tried that. I saw my psychiatrist monthly. She raised some dosages and lowered others, switched Latuda to Vraylar. Through the last 5 years on these medications that were suppose to help, I still felt depressed. I still had those days where I was scared I wasn't going to make it, and I still had those days where no one could shoot me down because I was flying so high. I had crazy irresponsible nights and days I couldn't get out of bed except to walk Kysay. When I took the time to really think about it, these medications didn't help me very much.

I also started to think about how I felt when on medication or when I forgot to take them. I realized I was constantly analyzing my moods and my brain and how these meds were making me feel that day. Am I feeling depressed today? Do I need to lower this medication or take more of this one? Am I truly happy today or am I about to be manic and this medication isn't helping me? I got tired of constantly trying to figure out what I was feeling but more importantly why I was feeling that way. What was making me feel that way? The pills or the normal cycle of bipolar 2?

I decided that at least if I was no longer taking medication, I would know these were my true emotions and feelings. I wouldn't have to worry about if something was affecting me and only had to worry about how to handle these emotions. I could be my truest self. And if my truest self was feeling sad today, I could do something to cheer her up. If my truest self was feeling a little manic, I could rail her in.

Of course, my psychiatrist was not happy when I told her I had quit taking them. After I explained to her how I was feeling, she was a little more supportive. She did explain to me if I felt like I needed to take them again to start slow and make an appointment with her immediately. And, of course, keep up with my therapy, which I haven't done because I have been perpetually sick but I went yesterday finally so get off my back.

So far, though, I think I have been handling it well. It is hard to see your moods and how you handle them when you are just stuck at home sick. I have had a couple of outbursts in the last month or so but nothing too crazy. And I am returning to my monthly therapy sessions, so that should help. I am happy with my decision for now. I think another important thing to remember is that whatever you decide, it is not permanent. I can choose to go back on medication if I feel like I am struggling.

The choice is your own, but make sure you talk to your doctor and therapist, maybe even your loved ones. Medication is not a bad thing. I think it just isn't for me right now.

#bipolar disorder #bipolar #mental health #mental illness #mental disorder #mental instability #mental health support #medication #antidepressants #depression #mania #hypomania #anti psychotics #mood stabilizers #latuda #vraylar

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space-cowboy2227 · 4 years

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Look, I have a lot of bones feels and I feel like I should put this out here because my emotional baggage weighs on me a lot and this is relevant to the fandom so... I also didn’t want to hyjack the linked post so...

When I was 14 I was diagnosed with PANS. Which is just a fancy diagnosis for strep throat or Pneumonia that hides out in your brain as a healthy braincell. Turns out, the issues I’d had for years and had been on multiple medications for wasn’t bipolar disorder or the like. It was PANS, strep throat I’d had for 7 years.

7 years of mental illness and on pills that made me gain weight, caused me to slip into depression and eventually force me into a mental hospital at the age of 10 and where I turned 11. All to learn that I didn’t have a mental illness at all. It was just some stray virus that hid out in my brain.

For 7 years I had been told I was a bad child and that I wasn’t going to amount to anything. I was told this by almost every adult I knew. My special ed teacher made a SPORT out of getting me into trouble. I cared too much about what people thought about me. Like I cared too much about everything else. So I built an entire persona out of who they thought I was. They wanted me to be the bad kid? Fine. I would be the bad kid. I became mean and distant and generally an asshole at the age of 7 because I kept being told I was bad.

But I still made friends. Friends who could see the kid I am. A lonely kid with no ability to control what set me off or how to not go off the rails. A kid who cared too much about what people thought about them and became the very reflection of what I was told I was simply because I was told that’s who I was.

I armoured myself with personality traits like being distant and detached because I care too much.

Fast forward to today, I’m 16 and in the Star Trek Fandom. My favorite character is Bones because I see a lot of myself in his character. I see a person who cares too much and hides it because its so much easier to get hurt when you go all in and put your heart and soul into something.

So yeah, there’s my baggage drop. Here’s the link to the post I didn’t want to hyjack. https://naquariala.tumblr.com/post/625835993864486912/mccooooooooooooooooooooooooooooy-orcses-good

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not-another-writing-blog · 4 years

Text

My world.

Pairing: Alpha x Reader

Warnings: angst, reader is kind of undercover, reader is married to Alpha, Alpha is referred to as Lisa and mention of murder/death

Summary: Judith wonders why the reader isn't celebrating Alpha's death

“(Y/N)?” Judith’s voice startles you out of your thoughts, and you pull your gaze from the stars above to the child who sits down next to you. “Mom made lemonade. She sent me out here to see why you arent inside. We’re celebrating. The wars over!” The enthusiasm in her voice makes you smile slightly, though you still dont move from your spot on the grass. “Are you ok?”

“I will be.” You look up to the stars again, a lone tear finding it’s way down your cheek, splashing onto your hand. “I just need to be alone.” No. You need something you’ll never have again. You need the smell of earth, and nature, and strong arms wrapped around you, and a gentle southern drawl humming in your ear.

When the head of your lover was dropped at Michonne’s feet you had fought back a scream of terror, and grief. Lydia had glanced your way, finding you through the crowd and sliding her hand in yours. She knew. She was grieving too, grieving a mother she loved, but had never gotten along with, mainly due to Lisa’s bipolar disorder, regulated just fine before the apocalypse, but without the availability of medicine, had caused her to go off the rails. You had loved her still, through everything, become hers in every sense of the word. Lydia even saw you as somewhat as a mother, turning to you for comfort once you joined the pack.

You had first met Lisa before there was a pack, back when it was just her and Lydia. You had saved her daughter from walkers, and been injured, though thankfully not bit or scratched, in the process, and Lisa had allowed you to stay with them, taking care of you, until you were fully better. Youd fallen for each other, so subtly it seemed to have always been the case. You were her world, and she was yours. You and you alone got to see her soft side.

You'd ended up with the Alexandrians one winter when you and the pack were migrating to warmer climates. You were crossing the river and the ice broke, but you dared not shout for Lisa because she was surrounded by the undead. Your eyes had met hers in a look of horror as you had gone under the water, believing that to be the last time you’d ever see her beautiful eyes.

You had been over joyed when Daryl had brought in Lydia. You acted as if you didnt know her, but it was one of the hardest things to do. You listened in when Henry questioned her, and were elated when it seemed like your beloved was still alive. You were on the guard tower when she came, and her eyes met yours, filling with relief and love. You snuck off to her camp every chance you had.

You were part of this group now, and Lisa asked you to stay, to take care of Lydia, though you wanted nothing more to return to your wife, to sleep under the stars with her again.

Nothing could have prepared you for this moment, Nothing. Your heart is shattered, and it will never be whole again.

“I’m just wishing my wife could be here.” You finally whisper. Judith looks at you, her expression far too wise for a child her age.

“I didn’t know you were married.” You had practically raised this kid, and you know she wonders why you never told her about your wife. “What was she like?”

“Her name was Lisa.” You say softly. “She had golden hair and the bluest eyes you ever saw. She could sing like the angels, and when she sang, the birds stopped to listen. We met during all of this, at the start. And we were separated when I fell under the ice, and met you guys.”

“What happened to her?” Judith asks, resting her head in your lap, and you begin to absentmindedly braid her hair, the same as you’d done for Lydia all those years ago.

“She died. Killed.” A sob threatens to escape, and you fight it back, focusing on the two bright blue stars between the trees.

“By a bad guy?” Judith asks innocently, staring up at you with a sad expression,

“No.” You sigh finally. “By someone who thought he was doing right, because Lisa had done something really bad. She’d hurt a lot of people, and he was just...trying to fix that.”

“Oh.” You sigh in relief as you hear Michonne call out for Judith, and watch her bound away into the house, leaving you alone under the night sky.

“I love you, you know. I never stopped. I never will stop. I need you Lisa. I need you to make everything ok, again. I keep thinking Im going to go down to the river, and you’ll be there, but I know you arent. Please, if...if you can, somehow, give me a sign that you’re ok, and maybe, that you love me too?” It may be your imagination, but those two stars are shining brighter than they were before.

Written by @thankyoualexkingston-blog 💕

#alpha twd #alpha imagines #alpha x reader twd #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead #red heart💕

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splendidlyimperfect · 4 years

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It’s been thirteen years since Natsu and Gray met in a program for troubled youth - since they both fell apart and helped put each other back together. Now they’re married and happy, loving each other and the shared family they found. But the past doesn’t always stay past, and when the things that broke them come back into their lives, Natsu and Gray have difficult decisions to make - ones that could change their lives forever.

Chapter Summary: Natsu meets his dad and tries to make sense of all the things he's feeling.

Chapters (11/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 Rating: Mature Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine, Cana Alberona/Lucy Heartfilia, Chelia Blendy/Wendy Marvell Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney, Sting Eucliffe, Freed Justine, Laxus Dreyar, Wendy Marvell, Chelia Blendy, Ultear Milkovich, Lyon Vastia, Lucy Heartfilia, Cana Alberona Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aged-Up Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Married Couple, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Drug Addiction, Mental Health Issues, Foster Care, Family Issues, Tumblr: FTLGBTales, Grief/Mourning, Childhood Trauma, Bipolar Disorder, Adoption, Families of Choice, Nonbinary Character, Trans Character, Genderfluid Character, Forgiveness, Absent Parents, they’re really in love but are sometimes dumb, Natsu is a stubborn shit Series: Part 14 of the only hope for me is you, Part 3 of if you jump i’ll break your fall

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“Stop chewing your nails.”

Gray reached out and grabbed Natsu’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. Natsu sighed, tipping his head back against the window of the ferry and staring out at the ocean. His leg bounced up and down as he shifted in his seat and Gray reached out his other hand to rub his thumb across Natsu’s knee.

“Breathe,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

“I can’t help it,” Natsu said, squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling sharply. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

Continue reading on AO3

Gray let go of Natsu’s hand and wrapped an arm around him instead, pulling him close and kissing his temple. “Did he text you?” he asked.

Natsu nodded, looking down at where his phone was balanced on his thigh. “Yeah, he’s gonna be there.” His voice was soft, and the uncertain look on his face made Gray’s chest ache. Gray was tempted to reassure him, to tell him that they didn’t have to do this now, that if Natsu wasn’t ready they could take the next ferry right back home and try again later.

Instead he pulled Natsu close and asked, “What can I do?”

Natsu shook his head, moving his phone to his pocket and turning in the seat until his head was tucked under Gray’s chin. “Just…” He trailed off. Gray looked down to see him playing with his wedding ring. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” Gray reassured him. “I promise.”

Natsu didn’t talk much for the rest of the trip. Gray eventually convinced him to walk around the ferry and stop at the gift shop, even though it was stuff they’d seen a hundred times. He spent the drive from the ferry into the city curled up against the door, holding Gray’s hand tightly and staring out the window. His mind jumped from memory to memory, getting more and more tangled until he was sure he was going to be sick.

“We’re here,” Gray said gently, nudging Natsu out of his thoughts.

Natsu blinked and looked out the window. “Already?” He chewed his bottom lip, staring out at the harbor in front of them. Ships bobbed gently in the waves as people milled about the market, everything warm under the summer sun.

“Where did he say—” Gray stopped, squeezing Natsu’s hand. “I think that’s him.”

Natsu immediately shut his eyes, fighting back against the twisting in his chest and stomach that threatened to tear him apart. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispered. “I can’t—what if he…”

“It’s okay,” Gray murmured, running his thumb across Natsu’s hand. “He hasn’t seen us yet; you can take your time.”

Natsu took a few more deep breaths, trying to calm the way his heart slammed against the inside of his chest. Then he slowly opened his eyes and followed Gray’s gaze down to a bench near the water.

It was his dad.

Natsu could tell Gray was saying something to him, but it was muffled, like Natsu was underwater. Natsu let go of Gray’s hand and unbuckled his seatbelt, and before he could stop himself, he was out of the car and running down the steps to the harbor. People crowded around and he pushed through, not even able to apologize as he kept his gaze trained on the bench where his father sat.

As soon as he approached, Neelan looked up, and Natsu froze, hands held awkwardly by his side. “Dad?”

“Natsu,” Neelan breathed, pushing himself up from the bench and taking a hesitant step forward. His hand hovered uncertainly in the air between them as his eyes searched Natsu’s face. “You…”

Natsu covered the last few feet between them and wrapped his arms around his dad, pressing his face to Neelan’s shoulder. “Dad,” he whispered again as Neelan returned the embrace, holding Natsu tightly and resting his cheek on Natsu’s head. He smelled like smoke and aftershave.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Neelan said, voice thick as he pressed his face against Natsu’s hair.

Natsu laughed wetly, pulling back and rubbing his face as he realized he was crying. “Yeah it’s—” He swallowed, fingers still tight in the fabric of his dad’s jacket, half convinced that this was another dream where he’d wake up feeling lost and abandoned all over again.

“I can’t believe you’re…” Neelan touched Natsu’s cheek hesitantly, and it took Natsu a minute to realize that his eyes were tracing the shape of the scar across his cheek. “I thought I’d never see you again,” Neelan said roughly. “And that’s my fault, I…”

He trailed off and looked over Natsu’s shoulder, expression shifting into something Natsu didn’t quite recognize. He let go of Neelan’s jacket, turning to see Gray, standing a little way away with his hands tucked awkwardly in his pockets.

“Dad, this is Gray,” Natsu said, letting go of Neelan and stepping back to grab Gray’s hand. “My husband.”

Gray reached out his hand and Neelan shook it carefully. “Neelan,” he said, voice rough. “You already know that, I guess. I, uh…”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gray said, giving Neelan a soft but genuine smile.

“All, uh… well, they’re probably not good things, I guess.” Neelan stuck his hands back in his pockets and his gaze dropped to the ground. “Sorry, I didn’t—never expected this. To see you again.”

Something in Natsu’s chest hardened at the words, and the excitement of seeing his dad was muddied by the familiar ache of abandonment. “You left,” he said before he could stop himself. Gray’s hand tightened in his and he shook his head apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t—we don’t have to start there.”

An awkward silence fell between the three of them and Natsu took the chance to study his dad. He looked exhausted – dark circles under his eyes, bitten nails like his own, pieces of hair falling out of his braided ponytail. There was something in the way he stared uncomfortably at the ground that felt like looking in a mirror.

“Are you, um, hungry?” Natsu asked. “We haven’t eaten—well, Gray did, on the ferry, but that food is stupid expensive and I wasn’t hungry, but I could go for a coffee right now. Do you drink coffee? I only like the Frappucinos or the sweet drinks with like, the strawberries in them, Gray’s the one who drinks gross black coffee. I think I saw a Starbucks…”

He trailed off when Gray gently squeezed his hand, trying to calm the way his stomach kept twisting and his heart kept skipping beats. “Why don’t I go grab us a coffee?” Gray suggested. “You two can catch up a bit without me.”

Neelan finally looked up and Natsu saw grateful relief in his eyes. “That would, um…”

“Est-ce que ca’t va?” Gray asked, grabbing both of Natsu’s hands and turning to face him. “Je peux rester si tu veux." A grateful warmth spread through Natsu’s chest.

“Non, ça va,” he said, leaning in and kissing Gray. “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime aussi,” Gray replied, returning the kiss and rubbing his thumbs over the back of Natsu’s hands. Then he turned to Neelan. “It’s good to meet you. I’ll see you both in a bit.”

And then he was gone, leaving Natsu alone with the father Natsu had been desperate to meet for twenty-two years.

“So, you, uh… speak French?” Neelan asked. He nodded toward the edge of the water and Natsu followed him, trying to keep in step with his father but not touch him.

“Yeah, Gray’s from Montréal. He taught me.”

Neelan nodded, tucking his hands awkwardly in his pockets. “Your mom spoke French too.”

Natsu was hit with the same sensation he’d felt looking at the pictures of his mom for the first time – like he was too far out in the ocean, wildly out of his depth. “She did?”

Neelan nodded. “Some, anyway. Her dad was from Tsawwassen, but her mom was from Québec.”

“Tsawwassen?” Natsu frowned. Ryos had mentioned once that he’d grown up there, only moving to Magnolia after his mom passed away. It wasn’t a large community, and Natsu was suddenly hit with the thought that Ryos’ parents might have known his mother.

The uncertain feeling intensified and he shook his head, filing the information away for later. Instead he followed Neelan, ducking through a crowd of people until they were at the railing overlooking the harbor. Natsu leaned on the railing and stared past the moored ships, watching the patterns the sun made on the water.

“So her parents are…” Natsu trailed off, realizing for the first time that he might have grandparents – even aunts and uncles that he didn’t know about. The idea was overwhelming and he closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar ocean breeze.

“They’re gone,” Neelan said quietly. Disappointment settled in Natsu’s chest. “She grew up…” He hesitated. “A lot like you. Young mom, deadbeat dad.” He let out a wry laugh. “She was sixteen when you were born. You were early – real tiny, probably fit in my hands.” He cupped his palms together. “She was… when she found out about you, she tried to quit. We both did.”

Natsu’s jaw clenched and he exhaled softly. He knew this part of the story – had pieced it together by the time he was twelve. One social worker had called it “Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome” – a fancy way to say he was born in withdrawal from whatever drugs his mom had been on. Mostly meth.

“I…” Neelan swallowed heavily. “After Becca died, I wanted to take care of you. I got sober and I tried my best, but I was eighteen and stupid, and I didn’t know how to be a dad. You deserved better.”

I didn’t want ‘better,’ Natsu thought as the anger resurfaced. I wanted my dad. You promised to stay and then you left, and I don’t understand why.

“I remember some stuff,” he said out loud, trying to keep his voice even. He stared down at the water, trying to pick out starfish on the rocks. “You read me Harry Potter.”

A smile crept onto Neelan’s face and he nodded. “It was the only time you’d sit still,” he said. “You loved reading.”

Natsu huffed out a laugh. “I hate it now,” he said. “I’m dyslexic. It’s hard to read. Gray reads to me, though.”

“He seems…” Neelan hesitated. “Good for you.”

Natsu nodded. “He is.” He chewed his lip. “We’ve been married for ten years – it was actually our anniversary back in June.”

“Congratulations.” Neelan glanced over at him. “How’d you meet?”

Natsu sighed, chewing his lip. “It’s… a long story,” he said after a minute. He moved his hand over to where the scar from his suicide attempt had been before the fire had burned it away. Neelan’s curious gaze flicked down to the marred skin. “That’s a shorter story,” Natsu said, smiling with relief. “I’m a volunteer firefighter – I was helping out with the Fort Mackay fires and ended up with this.”

He held out his arm for Neelan to see the scar. “It’s okay,” he said at the uncomfortable expression on his father’s face. “It’s been eight years; it doesn’t bug me anymore.”

Neelan shook his head, giving Natsu a soft smile. “There’s so much I don’t know about you.”

And whose fault is that? Natsu thought as the tentative excitement in his chest was soured by resentment. He sighed, trying to untangle the thousands of emotions that warred inside him.

“Sorry,” Neelan said, quickly flicking his gaze back to the boats bobbing against the docks. “I’m bad at this. Talking, in general but—I just… ever since you sent me that message…”

“Yeah,” Natsu said. “I know.”

They stood for a minute in silence, listening to the gentle lap of waves against the shore and the cawing of seagulls picking up scraps. Then Natsu turned to Neelan and said, “Let’s start simple. What do you do for work?”

Gray could feel the tension radiating from Natsu the whole time they were at dinner. By the time they said goodnight to Neelan and made it back to the hotel, Natsu was chewing his nails again.

“C’mere,” Gray said, closing the door behind them and tugging on Natsu’s hand until they were both sitting on the couch. “You okay?”

Natsu shrugged. “’m fine,” he said, but when Gray rested his hand on Natsu’s bouncing leg, he sighed. “I dunno. It’s weird.” He looked down at their clasped hands. “It’s like… I thought I had memories of him, from when I was little. I know he read to me and we went to the park and stuff, but it’s like…” He chewed his lip. “He’s a stranger. And I knew it wouldn’t be the same, it’s just…”

Gray didn’t say anything, just squeezed Natsu’s hand gently.

“I thought there’d be something,” Natsu said softly. “Like I would—part of me would know him because he’s my dad, and I sorta thought that when we first saw him, but the more we talk it’s just… I don’t have any idea who he is.”

He looked up at Gray, expression somewhere between confusion and disappointment. “I’m sorry,” Gray said, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. “Can I do anything?”

Natsu shook his head. “Just…” He swallowed and Gray could tell he was trying not to cry. “I thought… I just wanted my dad and I got a stranger who doesn’t have any idea who I am.”

“I’m so sorry,” Gray said softly as Natsu leaned toward him, pressing his face to Gray’s shoulder and cuddling close when Gray wrapped both arms around him. “Do you think it’ll be better tomorrow? You only had a few hours together today, maybe it’ll just take some time.”

“Dunno,” Natsu mumbled into his sweater. “Part of me just wants to go home.”

Gray kissed the top of Natsu’s head. “We can do whatever you want to do,” he said gently. “Whatever you need.”

Natsu sighed in frustration. “I couldn’t ask him.”

“Ask him what?”

“Why he left.” He rubbed his face. “Why I wasn’t enough.” Gray made a sad sound and held him tighter. “He said he quit—he stopped drugs and drinking and all that shit, and he tried, and then he just… I don’t remember a lot, but I remember him promising. He promised he would stay, that he loved me, that he would take me home with him, that he’d be around for my birthday. And then he left, and I don’t understand. Why did he stick around for eight fucking years and then just give up? What did I do?”

“Sweetheart,” Gray said sadly, trying to keep his voice from breaking like his heart was. “You didn’t do anything. No matter what happened, it wasn’t your fault. You were just a little kid.”

“But he loved me,” Natsu insisted. “He did, I saw—the pictures, and he told me, and I just don’t understand. If he loved me, why did he leave?”

“I don’t know,” Gray murmured. “Maybe you can talk about it tomorrow?”

Natsu sighed, rubbing his face and finally looking up at Gray. “Maybe,” he said as Gray kissed his forehead. “But right now I just wanna sleep.”

(see AO3 for French translations)

#fairy tail #gratsu #gray x natsu #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #fanfic #ft fanfic #angst #hurt/comfort #sequel #update #new chapter #my fic

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