#they aren’t real words! they don’t mean anything! they’re just gibberish that sounds good! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yoimix · 3 years

Text

haikyuu!! as types of best friends.

➼ ft. hinata, sugawara, bokuto, osamu+atsumu.

➼ playlist. talk too much - coin, higher - banks, romanticism - mrs green apple, me and my friends - james vincent mcmorrow

➼ a/n. these have light bff2l undertones hhn i love that trope, pls forgive me. </3 + there’s some timeskip spoilers for atsumu & osamu’s part.

❀ hinata :-

i wish the childhood best friends trope a very good evening.

no one’s better than hinata at making friends, even if you met after he spiked a ball into your face. you’re childhood best friends too !! so imagine being a child and having to pick up this goofball by the scruff, who has the audacity to ask you to play with him after giving you a scratched up forehead and teary eyes from a ball to the face. but, like, you were the one who said yes so it’s on you :-)

sometimes you bicker but it’s ok bc he would literally go to the ends of the earth for you if you asked. no kidding. he hates sitting still anyway so he’ll just gravitate towards where you are like you’re the sun. also gets you taiyaki in the evenings but climbs in through your window instead of using the front door like a normal person. (he has too much energy </3) if you hear someone yelling your name outside your window and ranting about volleyball games, you know who it is.

ok when he makes you mad with his bullheadedness, you'll be complaining with kageyama (who agrees vehemently) and hinata gets pissy bc you get along a little too well when you're throwing insults about him. (he's not jealous, no, of course not.) but.. how long can you stay mad at this sunshine child anyway?? you'll be pretending you never got mad at all within a few hours and go back to joking around.

he gets distracted if you're watching a match sometimes (bokuto somehow got it into his head that he needs to show off in front of you) so you got banned from watching. he overcomes it later on so you can cheer him on in his jersey too <3

gives you ALL his attention when you talk or even complain about your life. he reacts a lot to whatever you have to say so you have to pretend there aren’t people behind you glaring at hinata for having the same decibel sound level as a jet engine.

you have matching keychains you bought at a local fair !!! (you got a pochacco one for hinata but it’s super worn out by now so he keeps it in his wallet instead.)

he has not won a single multiplayer video game against you (*cough cough* mario kart *cough*) and you don’t even have to be good at it. if you call him a loser, he’ll lose even harder. gets unnecessarily mad at just dance and you have to calm him down.

... you’ve probably kissed bc the two of you (mostly him) were too eager for a first kiss and you got fed up with his pubescent ramblings and ended up kissing him. and then had an early mid-life crisis bc you guys are definitely just friends. (unless.. unless he doesn’t think that way.. surprise surprise 😳) also he's.. kind of bad for make out practice... it’s like kissing a month old puppy.. sorry :/. if you happen to make a lot of offhand comments and tease him about his kissing skills, he WILL turn tomato red and argue in gibberish. only do that in private bc the rest of the world thinks you’re sickeningly cute together >:(

overall, your best friend is a ball of sunshine (who occasionally pisses you off) and your #1 motivation to get out of bed. it's mostly bc he's somehow there to get you out of bed though you've repeatedly told him to not climb in through your window. at least the sun is smiling upon you every day <3

❀ sugawara :-

being best friends with him is such a secure relation !!

he’s your soft place to fall but also would provide gentle (not so gentle) reminders for your wellbeing (STUDY!!! WATER!!!! BREAKFAST!!). doesn’t get mad when you say you skipped breakfast but gives you this look of disappointment which is 100x more effective. still gets a granola bar for you though. also he literally carries bandaids for u and he’s been doing that since second grade bc you fell off the swing ONCE. you know, just in case. if you’re an accident-prone hazard to society, you’re in luck.

BEST HUGS especially if you had a rough day and want to sob into his shoulder. if u damage his $85 hoodie tho, he will make u do his laundry and also buy snacks for him. but like he is so soft (his skin is SUPER soft bc he actually follows a skincare routine now) and cuddly like a teddy bear, it's a small price to pay for salvation.

he will hype you up for anything you do !!!! new outfit? offers to be your personal photographer. scored an A+? will treat u to your fav ice-cream. new job? will tell everyone just how proud he is.

ALWAYS shares the last bite with you and smiles to himself when you eat it so contented. also!!! hanging out at cafes and taking cute pictures is a must <3 even though you’re not dating, you’ll have photos together that make you look a real couple which ensue teasing from daichi and asahi and admiration/jealousy from noya and tanaka. also he gets weirdly protective of you around the team (i’m looking at the moron quartet) and you have to pull the “koushi you’re not my mom” card. it really strikes a chord with him when you say that out loud.

will egg your ex's house with you if you say the word. somehow gets more pissed than you at your ex (if they're a shitty one). it's kind of scary when he's mad too so.... good luck calming him down. he's also really good at sarcastic trash talk so if you happen to meet your ex on the street... send prayers for their self-esteem.

you don't really fight often but if you happen to disagree, he'll go about it in a pretty mature way and talk it out. if you pick a fight on purpose, he'll catch on to it and either tickle you (excessively) or flick your forehead as punishment for trying to rile him up. it’s impossible to prank him!!!!! it’s like he’s got a sixth sense or something so you might as well give up on anything of the sort.

you said you want to get a dog (or cat) with him in the near future and he somehow equated that to having children. turned bright red and started saying it’s too soon to be thinking of that while you had daichi stop you from smacking some sense into your overly imaginative best friend. (i mean, you do need to live together if you want to raise a pet sooo)

his lockscreen is a picture of the two of you so a lot of people who try to hit on him take the hint quick. he says it’s unintentional but you know he can be terribly scheming at times. if you say something like “why don’t you date me for real, coward” he will malfunction and not be able to look you in the eye. (“don’t joke around, y/n” “what if i’m not” “it kind of feels illegal to date you” “what do you mean?!💢”)

anyway you are one lucky mf if you have sugawara koushi as your best friend even if there are both ups and downs (mostly ups). having someone care for you so blatantly certainly makes the question of romance arise but you’re content with the most loving best friend ever.

❀ bokuto :-

you guys are the “two best friends in a room, we might kiss” “yes we will” “what” type of best friends PLS

it doesn’t matter what stage of life you met him, it’ll feel like you’ve been best friends since the beginning of time.

it’s just so easy to make friends with this airhead and by god’s gift, you cannot physically get annoyed at this man. sometimes his friends will complain about him being forgetful or blunt but you’re just there like. yeah. that’s bokuto. love him for it. (you seem to have a lot of patience.)

he probably gets into trouble with authority unwittingly, so save your weekends to sweet talk his way out after accidentally implying the coach has a weak mindset. afterwards, you go get ice cream or something and hang out at the dog park to forget it happened. (the amount of second hand embarrassment bokuto has given you though... you need some hard drugs to forget all of it.)

you probably make a lot of friends through him in high school/college but at the end of the day, it’s just you and him and sometimes akaashi making sure you guys are alive. if you guys are alone together on a friday night, you’ll still be having fun!! very often, it takes shape as karaoke :-) bokuto thinks he’s really great at rapping for some reason (he’s not) so cue you screaming the lyrics in an attempt to ruin your part of the song equally. also he always sets the key wrong??? although you sing the same songs each time?? sometimes he picks a song neither of you have ever heard and the both of you try to guess the melody. he’s terrible at it but at least he’s funny. there’s not a single song he hasn’t had a voice crack in.

if you go clubbing/partying with him, get prepared to be introduced as the friend of “the guy who did four keg stands in a row before proceeding to do a cartwheel unprompted and somehow not throw up”. is on first name basis with the bartenders/hosts and gets you free drinks. also gets hit on often but is oblivious unless they’re being very straightforward. if he’s not into them... you have to pull the s/o card and save his ass. oh also he barks at anyone that gets near your drink.

will always exaggerate when introducing you to new people. “y/n and i met when i saved them from drowning a terrible death.” “it was the children’s pool and you were the one that was screaming.” “and then y/n didn’t really thank me but it’s not like heroes need thanks to do the right thing.” “kou, i will push you into a pool right now, let’s see how well you swim.” (he learned swimming to impress you so joke’s on you.)

he likes to watch you do stuff at the end of the day, so if you see him go o_o at you doing homework, you can just put your earphones on and focus on your work. even if he’s making.. a strangely.. adorable expression. also LOVES to listen to you talk about your day when he’s tired, he says it helps him sleep better (so expect a lot of nighttime calls). moreover, if you say you had a bad dream, he’ll comfort you with his ridiculously confident tone of voice (unless the dream was about something bad happening to him, then he’ll freak out and you’ll have to comfort him instead </3)

ok one thing that’s annoying about him is that he probably leaves food crumbs over your stuff like laptop, bed sheet, etc. you clean it up but bokuto.. is a bit... distracted to notice the mess he’s making. it’s usually pretty difficult to get him to be more aware, but like your glare is enough to make him at least try to be careful from the next time. (either that or he’s become sensitive to your change in mood/emotions bc you know... you’re best friends after all.)

i’m not gonna lie, he probably catches feelings for you at some point. he wants to, like, keep it lowkey bc akaashi told him to take your feelings into consideration too but?? it’s so hard?? you’re literally so pretty?? everything you say is like music to him??? he reacts reflexively to all the firecracker feelings u give him. he probably says he likes you all the time but you dismiss it with “as a friend right :-)”. there’s no climbing up from that one, sorry bokuto.

to summarize, if a moody golden retriever was your human best friend.exe

❀ miya twins :-

they feel like a set. it would be strange to have one of the twins as a bff and not have the other one around whoops 🤷‍♀️

either you and osamu bully atsumu in your free time, or you and atsumu annoy osamu for fun (or both) <3. it’s always a good idea to team up with osamu and prank atsumu for fun btw. (put wasabi in his breakfast pancakes and you’ll get a very pissed off but weirdly cute tsumtsum. you can blame it on osamu if you don’t want to face his wrath.) your alternative is to embarrass osamu in front of strangers with atsumu, have fun with that. (second hand embarrassment also works.)

when you were younger, you pretended to not be able to distinguish the twins bc it would visibly rile atsumu up and then you’d go “ok you’re atsumu”... which would further rile him up. osamu got used to your shenanigans though it ticked him off the first time too LOL. call them the wrong name on purpose and they’ll start a riot; be careful when you’re playing with fire pls.

you guys played a lot of knight and prince/princess/royal when you were a kid and atsumu would always try to make osamu the evil dragon holding you captive. in the end, you were somehow the knight, osamu the prince to be rescued and atsumu the big, bad dragon. (it’s kind of funny in hindsight. your parents have photographs of the three of you fighting like no tomorrow.) also speaking of which, your parents are also friends and have bets on which twin you’ll marry (or if you will at all). it’s tearing your parents’ friendship apart.

these two have DEFINITELY fought over whose jersey number you’re going to wear to the games ( “oi, ‘samu, stop brainwashing my best friend into wearing your stupid double digit number” “you know i’m the best friend, ‘tsumu. they clearly like me better over yer ratty ass.” “what did ya say?!?!? if anything, you’re the one that looks like ratatouille.”) you wore kita's jersey number to games.

imagine sunday picnics with the boys !!! by that, i specifically mean osamu and his perfect bento boxes <3 sometimes the two of you will cook together before your outings while a sulking atsumu stands outside bc you didn’t let him. (let him in, you monsters.) he says he can cook too but the last time the twins’ bickering almost burnt the whole kitchen down. the picnics continue well into adulthood and you get to diss your boss to the twins who will always support your rants. (sometimes atsumu will tell you it’s your fault but you can smack him off. we only need supportive besties here 🙄)

if someone hurts u.... they’re going to need divine intervention to be safe... you have two well-built, physically adept best friends ready to beat the shit out of anyone who deliberately breaks ur heart.

when the twins get into a physical fight...... oh boy. it kinda pisses you off that they’re spewing profanity at each other and you’re the one getting glares. but at the same time, you don’t really want to step into a fight that has nothing to do with you. people should solve their interpersonal issues on their own. they have never fought over you, this isn’t twilight <3

but the question did come up once on which twin you like better; it’s not something to seriously fight over though. if you chose osamu, atsumu will complain for six days straight and you’ll start to regret ever answering the question. if you say atsumu, osamu won’t feed you his onigiri anymore for a few days which is just as bad. the safest choice is to say neither bc it will both be funny and you won’t suffer too many consequences. if you say you love the both of them for being your best friends all this time and go all mushy, there’s a slight chance they’ll go soft too. god help you from the bone crushing hug you’re about to receive 🙏

you make sure to not miss any of atsumu’s official games !! sometimes he’ll wave at you and make the reporters give you hell bc he’s a little shit. just push osamu to them and run away if it gets that bad. (he gets free advertising for his shop, he should be grateful.)

osamu is super good at cheering you up!!! whether it’s with food or with pleasant talk, you’ll be feeling much better with a full stomach and a calmer state of mind. as for atsumu, he’s really good at you cheering you up by distracting you. he’ll talk about his team or this new serve he learnt and the world will seem a lot brighter bc he seems so happy about it. whichever twin you go to, it’s win-win.

in return, the twins take up a good chunk of your time. sometimes atsumu will crash at your place after a game though you’ve told him to not lead the damn reporters here. osamu makes you taste test his experimental onigiri... which are not always good..... no seriously, why’d he put honey and tuna in there ?? but still, your life is ridiculously colorful with them around.

anyway, what can i say except what’s better than one best friend?? two best friends !!!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #bokuto x reader #sugawara x reader #hinata x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #atsumu #osamu #bokuto #sugawara #hinata #rosemi.hcs #kind of all over the place but it's about the vibes thank you #feel free to correct any typos i made im about to pass out gn ;-;

158 notes · View notes

queenaryastark · 4 years

Note

George RR Martin: dragons are weapons of mass destruction, they're symbols of destruction and not of rebuilding, it's why the targaryens lost their power because their rule was built on fear and when the dragons died it only took a small spark to cause a rebellion, daenerys should read fire and blood so she can learn how not to use dragons daenerys herself: dragons plant no trees, If they are monsters than so am I Yall: i cant read suddenly i dont know

LMAO! I can’t even call that paraphrasing since this jumble of out of context gibberish completely misinterprets GRRM’s words and intent.

First off, no one said dragons weren’t weapons of mass destruction. Them being powerful weapons is pretty obvious. Them being weapons does not erase the violence and cruelty of characters who do not have them. The mass destruction the Starks and Lannisters have wrought against the Riverlands and Westerlands was done without the aid of dragons. So was the mass destruction the Greyjoys and Boltons wrought on the North. The Tyrells were able to commit mass murder by cutting off food supplies, which led to mass starvation, which was their specific intent.

Dragons are dangerous. Obviously. So are people, as George R. R. Martin goes out of his way to tell us in every chapter of his work. The man literally depicts Robb, Stannis, Balon, and Joffrey as equally as violent toward the common people and the land of Westeros. He even gives Dany this metaphoric image of the four of them:

“In one room, a beautiful woman sprawled naked on the floor while four little men crawled over her. They had rattish pointed faces and tiny pink hands, like the servitor who had brought her the glass of shade. One was pumping between her thighs. Another savaged her breasts, worrying at the nipples with his wet red mouth, tearing and chewing.” -- A Clash Of Kings

And that is far from the only time he frames them in an equally negative light given their level of mass destruction.

when the dragons died it only took a small spark to cause a rebellion, daenerys should read fire and blood so she can learn how not to use dragons

You think Dany should read Fire and Blood? I agree. I hope she gets a copy once she arrives to save Westeros from the warlords, opportunistic politicians, and the Others. Though you should probably try to find someone who can read it to you and explain what all the big words mean. If you look in that book, you will see that the Targaryens became extremely popular and loved. They decreased the amount of war and destruction, they streamlined the laws, they established roads, and they removed a couple of the abuses that were the norm. They were far from perfect. But in that imperfection, Dany could learn from them too.

As for a “small spark” causing a rebellion as soon as they didn’t have dragons... *sighs* If you don’t know about a topic, that’s fine. Not everyone can be an expert on every topic. But you Sansa stans (yes I know you’re a Sansa stan and you probably have that hideous image of ST with her trademark vacant expression and that ugly ferret crown as your icon) should actually fact check yourselves before trying and failing to present yourselves as an authority on anything. The last dragon died in 153 AC. The Targaryens were overthrown in 283 AC. Even before 153 AC, the dragons that lived either weren’t under their control, were pretty young, or were deformed. In other words, they continued to rule Westeros without dragons for a significant amount of time. In that time, not only did they rule, but they were able to bring Dorne into the realm peacefully.

Even the wars they had were far fewer than the amount of constant wars that happened while the kingdoms were separate. The Blackfyre Rebellions were sparked by Westerosi racism and xenophobia against the Dornish, as well as the greed and opportunism from the Andal/First Men supporters of the Blackfyre claimant. Notice how in those rebellions the people of Westeros supported either the Targaryens or the Targaryen blooded Blackfyres? No matter which side the lords took, they were supporting a Targaryen because they support that family. Like in real life civil wars, they just supported different members of that same royal line. It wasn’t because they feared them. They wanted their rule. They just wanted the rule of a specific claimant over another based on their own values or what they thought they could gain from a change in Targaryen leadership.

Even with the Baratheon rebellions, they were still Targaryen blooded claimants. With Lyonel Baratheon, he felt his family was insulted when an engagement between the crown prince and his daughter was broken so the prince could marry a peasant. This might seem like a “small spark”, but this would have been considered hugely offensive by the classist nobility. Note how this rebellion was resolved incredibly easily to the point where I don’t even think it warrants being labeled an actual rebellion. It seems more like it was set up for the next Baratheon rebellion since it resulted in that House gaining even more Targaryen blood than it already had. That’s the thing, the nobility wanted their children to marry Targaryens. Doesn’t sound very fearful, does it?

Robert’s Rebellion wasn’t set off by a “small spark”. The kidnapping and rape of the Lord of Winterfell’s daughter and the betrothed of the Lord of Storm’s End is not insignificant. It also didn’t set off the rebellion. The murders of multiple lords and their heirs is also not a small thing. It didn’t set off the rebellion either. What set it off was the combination of those two events with the demand for the executions of the new Lord of Winterfell and the Lord of Storm’s End. Those events taken separately are not small sparks and they certainly aren’t small when put together. It took something HUGE to make a big part of the realm turn on the Targaryens. Even still, the rebels were in the minority since most of the other regions either stayed out of the conflict waiting to see how it played out or stayed loyal to the Targaryens. If Tywin had continued to stay out of the conflict, the Rebellion could have lasted indefinitely with either side winning since the Crown’s forces outnumbered them and occupied the Stormlands.

You also seem to miss the fact that quite a few people in Westeros are still Targaryen Loyalists and want to restore them to the throne. You even miss the fact that Robert, Joffrey, and Tommen’s claim comes from their Targaryen blood.

So no, the Targaryen rule was not based purely on fear. They clearly retained loyalty and love without the benefit of dragons as weapons.

daenerys herself: dragons plant no trees, If they are monsters than so am I

It’s funny how you can try to quote the book while having no understanding of the passage you’re quoting. Here’s the paragraph you’re referring to:

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought.Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros?I am the blood of the dragon, she thought.If they are monsters, so am I. -- ADWD

This takes place in Dany’s second chapter of A Dance With Dragons after she has captured and chained two of her dragons and failed to capture the third. Why is she trying to chain them? Because Drogon killed one (1) child. That’s right. Not only is Dany compensating the people for the sheep her dragons were eating. She has no tolerance for them killing innocents. The quote above is not her glorying in the destructive power of the dragons. Nor is she going around without an ounce of guilt for terrorizing, maiming, and murdering innocents the way Robb, Balon, Stannis, Joffrey, Tyrion, Cersei, and every other leader in Westeros does. That is what this passage is PROVING. Seriously, using the “If they are monsters, so am I” quote is proving that Dany has guilt over the life her dragon has taken and that she has taken steps to prevent that from happening again. Compare that to Tyrion’s complete lack of care when it comes to the mass murder his family is causing:

"A lordling down from the Trident, says your father's men burned his keep, raped his wife, and killed all his peasants."

"I believe they call that war." -- Tyrion, ACOK

While Dany is trying to preserve lives, the mass murdering leaders of Westeros see murder and rape as the norm and completely acceptable. Even the noble Robb Stark tried to move the carnage that he and Tywin were inflicting on the Riverlands into the Westerlands and was upset that his plan to do so was partly thwarted by Edmure. His issue wasn’t with the common people suffering and dying. He just wanted the suffering and dying to happen to the common people of the Westerlands (the ones who hadn’t been forced into service as arrow fodder by the Lannisters yet) instead. Yet, you’re trying to use Dany’s guilt at one (1) child being killed by her dragon as proof of...something?

As for Dany not planting trees, yes, she fears that’s something Targaryens can’t do. But the text shows that her ancestors could and did. Dany is also planting trees in ADWD and was in the process of making Vaes Tolorro bloom in ACOK before she was invited to Qarth. The Golden Company (who wants to put her and Aegon on the Iron Throne as a pair) are even upset because they think she’s only interested in planting trees in Meereen.

When analyzing a literary work you have to understand that what the characters fear and the guilt they feel are not signs of their permanent situations. They’re signs of their internal obstacles that will be overcome in their arcs. Dany fears her dragons and fears herself and fears that she won’t be able to achieve peace and positive societal growth. Its good that she fears these things because this shows she acknowledges these issues so they can be overcome. The current Westeros leadership don’t see the issue in their mass murdering, which is an issue all on it’s own.

Its alright if this series is above your comprehension level. There are books out there for you to read that are better suited for your capabilities, like Hop on Pop or Green Eggs and Ham. It’s probably best if you stick to those.

#this is why sansa stans shouldn't have access to keyboards #fandom wank #Anonymous

147 notes · View notes

afterthelastreset · 4 years

Text

Rules Of One’s Soul Ch 2 A Game of Souls

(Mak belongs to @coffincrawler )

He woke up still groggy in the morning, and wouldn't have gotten up if it weren't for the fact that the King would've been displeased and no one wanted to displease his highness for fear of his anger. And because Lancer needed someone.....

The next few days fell into a similar routine of getting up, putting up a fake smile, and just doing anything but go near that elevator or trying to remember that night. He busied himself with his noble duties of puzzle making and being what Lancer put into terms a 'Lesser Dad'. Or in his own terms, a permanent royal caretaker. Which was basically what he was being told to do anyways, so no real loss. He really didn't mind. He could use the distraction. Honestly he didn't know how much time had passed. Days, weeks, a month or two maybe? Didn't matter. As long as he didn't see that thing ever again he was totally fine. He had a hard enough time dealing with the anxiety and empty feelings that came with the memories. Made him constantly want to vomit.

About maybe a year had passed since the incident and it was slowly starting to get better. He didn't improve on puzzles but he made an upgrade to the control crown that seemed useful. Until the fateful day the lightners fell down. That was a day he truly wished he didn't see the king's anger. But thing's turned out much for the better it seemed. 'King' Lancer was much more friendlier and trustworthy than his father though there was still work needed to be done. It was when he announced releasing all prisoners prior to his father's downfall, that the real melt down started.

The possibility of Jevil running around?? Free?! Where that lunatic could attack him-....anyone at any given moment and spread his insanity like a plague?!?! All the feelings of unwanted belonging, sickness, and that kiss- if he could even call it that- all came rushing back at ounce and he nearly passed out from all the overwhelming thoughts alone. By god he tried as nicely as he could explain to the child that releasing the kings and many common folk were fine, but the Jester would be too mean to let out......

It didn't work.

The overwhelming feeling of dread filled him the very day the other kings were released and slowly everyone were reinstated back to their positions as Kings, servents, civilians, guards, etc. While all of this was going on, the spooked duke didn't see any trace of that menace or hear any of that wicked laugh or gibberish wording. Lots had noticed the Duke's strange behaviors, and only Lancer had a mind to talk-

The child came bounding up to him, tugging on his pants leg to get his attention. "Hey, Lesser Dad. You aren't looking too hot. Are you sick or something?"

A flinch. The Duke brought another strained smile to his face and gave the boy the calmest look he could muster. "O-Of course, mine littlest worm. W-What ever gave thou that silly thought?"

He cocked his head to the side and gave an obvious confused look. "Well, you're acting really weird. Like, when Dad used to yell. Are you sure you're ok?"

"Ahahaha. No need to worry about-t mineself. Thy King should just tend towards his d-duties and thine subjects."

"Ok...If you're sure-?"

"I am! Don't worry non. Eh..." His eyes glazed off to the side for a moment as if uncertain about something, before looking back to the child. "B-But on a curious notion......have thee seen thine foolish inmate a-around lately?"

Lancer tilted his head further with a blep, not exactly sure what he was talking about for a moment, before realization flashed across his face. "Oh, you mean Uncle Jevil??" He flinched at the name, but Lancer didn't seem to notice. "Someone unlocked his cell, but he won't come out...But he still eats stuff."

"Well, we cannot simply force thee to cometh out if he doesn't wanteth too, can we? Ahe....W-Will thou excuse me?"

Carefully prying the hands of the child off him, he turned and began to walk away-

"Where are you going?"

He looked over his shoulder for just a brief moment, "I just need to makest sureth of something. G-Go on back to doinge what thou waseth attending too."

"Oh...Ok, Dad."

He watched as Rouxls quickly made his exit towards the other side of the throne room and out one of the giant doors. What was going on with his Lesser Dad?

A few days had passed since the incident and he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not. On one hand, the lunatic hadn't even left his cell even though it's open, which was good. On the other hand, the stupid cell door was wide open and he could get out at any given moment, which was unacceptable! His own fears escalated by one thousand when Lancer said the words 'Uncle Jevil'. How-.....WHEN did that come to be?! When did Lancer even have time to even sneak down there let alone give that menace the title of Uncle?! Where did he go wrong!?

Luckily, Lancer was too busy with his new duties as King to even worry about Jevil. For the moment at least. But the sensation of knowing the innocent child could be easily influenced by him, and get hurt in the process.....He tried not to think too much about it or let his emotions cloud his trust in Lancer's new abilities as King but it all came to a head when one afternoon the child rammed headfirst into his leg when exiting the kitchen. The small child landed on his rump with a thud and a metal plate clattered against the ground, sending food all over the ounce clean floors.

"Lancer! Watch'est where thou runeths off too," he said scolding the round child, "What would thine people think if they seest their king running into things with food in his hands?"

"Sorry, Rouxls." He quickly got up to give the much taller man a hug around the leg before swiftly turning back around to pick up the scattered dark candies. Rouxls rose a brow at all the sweets and sighed.

"Lancer, you shouldn't eat so much junk food this early into the day. Tis most unbecoming of a king."

"Oh. They're not for me."

"Then whom art thou-?"

"Uncle Jevil likes sweet things. He really seems to like dark candy from Mr. Seam's shop, so he's gotta like these."

Rouxls froze. He suddenly felt his body nagging him and the familiar rock feeling in his stomach fly back at lightning speed. He swore he would've fell over if his body wasn't frozen in utter horror at the moment. Lancer, not noticing his father's sudden silence continued-

"I haven't seen anyone take him food in a while. They say they're too scared of him attacking them, which is weird if you ask me. So I'm going to make sure he's fe-"

"NO!"

The sudden shout startled them both as Lancer flinched back up to meet the melting man's frozen posture. Thinking quickly, Rouxls smiled that strained grin of his and gave a small chuckle, a habit he inherited to mask stress or emotions the King wouldn't be pleased with. Old habits died hard as they say. Lancer was still staring up at him in disbelief before asking-

"N-No?....Why not?"

"I- Um- He-......Y-You can't go down there?!"

"Why not?"

"I-...Because it's..." He could feel the slimy sweat start to run down his face, he had to think quickly if he wanted to keep the child from becoming suspicious. "B-Because thou cannot just s-simply leave thine's position as king now, can thee? W-What if there's an emergency that requires thou's attention? Being king means you have to take a lot more responsibility now."

"Oh. That's a good point. I don't want to miss anything." Rouxls sighed in relief at the notion he wouldn't go- The sickeningly sweet smell of the star shaped candy hit him before Lancer thrusted most of the picked up candies at him with a toothy grin with his tongue sticking out. "Then you can do it instead!"

.....What?

"What?! L-Lancer, you can't be serious? Art thou?"

The young spade held up his paws again. "Yeah! You help me with lots of things, and no one else will do it, but you're really brave Lesser Dad!" His tiny tail wagged behind him. "If you can talk to Ex-King Dad then you can feed Uncle Jevil!! He's not scary anyways, he's actually really fun!!"

"B-B-But-.....Ahehe. L-Lancer, doth thou know that a king needs his royal advisor? I-I won't do it when you-"

"Lesser Dad, who's king?"

He sighed. "Thou art king. But I-"

"Then as King Lancer, I order you to feed the Royal Fun Uncle!"

"Lancer, I shouldn't-"

"Follow the rules, Lesser Dad."

He stared down at the blepping child for a while opening and closing his mouth like a fish. There was no loophole around this, and he must follow the kings given out by his liege.....No matter how young they were or how terrorfying it was. So sucking a deep breath and ignoring the flair up of dread in his stomach, he made a graceful bow before hissing-

"Of course, Mine Majesty. I'll be sureth thine jeaster gets nourishment- OOF!!"

The sounds of candies scattered against the floor as his body was tackled by the happy spade child in a hug. Rouxls fell onto his rump just as the energetic spade let go and hopped off.

"Thanks, Lesser Dad!," he happily shouted over his shoulder before running off, "I have new king stuff to do before bad stuff happens!"

The taller man watched the round child bound off down the hallway and around the corner before disappearing. Leaving him sitting there on the cold stone floor surrounded by scattered dark candies. The sinking feeling in his stomach got heavier. He would have to go bad down there and feed the touched starved lunatic. He just hoped that he wasn't on the menu.

======================================================================

BING!!

He flinched hard at the soft ding of the doors as they slowly opened to show the stone steps leading into the dark abyss below. The Duke remained routed to the spot staring straight down into the unholy darkness, faintly making out the outline of the bars and stairway thanks to the few torches lit up on the walls. But no yellow eyes looked up at him. No insane laughter echoed off the walls. Nothing. He cautiously leaned out and took a good look around the entrance -he wasn't about to let that maniac spring out on him again- and nervously ran his eyes over the cold stone walls with what light was available to him. Nothing.

His body slowly began to melt from the added pressure that the small imp could literally be anywhere in this mess, the emotions of fear and anxiety bubbled up, and the urge to just leave was very strong. But he couldn't. He couldn't ignore the rules to follow when it came to his majesty's orders. He'll just leave the food by the door and run. Yeah that'll work. His body trembled as he slowly took a step forward, and placed it on the first step. Nothing. A small bubble of relief came over him. So taking a deep breath, he slowly placed one foot after another and descended the stairs, the sounds of his footsteps echoing off the walls. A strange feeling nagged him closer to the bars as he lowered into darkness, heartbeat increasing. He ignored that heartbeats and feelings that twisted in his gut and just kept going. When he had gotten to the bottom of the stairs he stopped.

He stared silently ahead. Frozen.

Silence echoed throughout the cell with the only sounds being the drips from the ceiling and his heavy breathing. He could see the many plates of food that was left there, most likely by a guard in a hurry to get the task done and get out of there, they were all indeed empty which meant two things. Jevil never really left, or they had a rabbick infestation in the lower half of the dungeons. Either way, it was terrible to him, and something that needed to be done. He'd just get it over with. He slowly turned his head over to where the cell door was, to Rouxls horror it was wide open for the world to see. He took a moment just staring at the open doorway with mixed emotions....before starting towards it. He could just leave Lancer's gift right where the other's left the food, but....I don't know. Something just compelled him towards the opening. Like a moth to a flame. It was probably just his parental instincts telling him to make sure, for Lancer's sake, but.....There was something else. The nagging feeling and tugging his soul received everytime he even remotely thought of the dungeon or Jevil. He just needed to look to make them go away. And the only way to do that was too look. If Jevil wasn't in there, then he had a big problem.

The cell door was a little smaller than he anticipated which caused Rouxls to bow down in order to go through, but it didn't shake his feeling of dread whatsoever. And all too soon he found himself just standing a few steps away from the entrance staring out at the surrounding darkness. It was so dark he couldn't tell where the back wall was, it was certainly dark enough to hide a person yet it seemed completely empty. There wasn't any noise at all or anything to indicate any living being was here other than the abandoned empty plates outside. Whatever, he had a bigger problem to deal with now. Keeping Lancer safe from that freed Lunatic-

"Rouxls, Rouxls? Have you come back, back to play our game?"

Two yellow pinpricks appeared from the darkness, making the Duke freeze. From the darkest corner of the room, the jester's face emerged along with the rest of his body. The two just stared at each other for a moment, not moving. Jevil staring almost like not believing the man before him was real, before a wide fanged smile started to spread across his face. Rouxls reacted by giving a small strained smile of his own feeling more of his body start melting. The urge to just turn and bolt grew, but this time....THIS TIME his heartrate increased in a strange way that sent heat to his face and he mentally cursed the stupid soul mate conspiracy.

"Have you come back, back to me? Noone's ever returned on their captured, captured free will?" He asked in a hollow voice. But it didn't sound like the emotionless hollow voice of a madman, it sounded more devoid of any happy expressions except maybe a little hope stuck into it. From the way the yellow orbs eyed the taller male, it seemed he was searching for some concrete. They stopped at the small amount of food in his hands. His smile just became a little bigger and he looked back up to Rouxs with a hopeful feeling in his eyes. "You brought me dark candies, candies? Feeding me?"

"...L-Lancer has toldeth me t-thou has a liking for....s-sweet things? *a-hem* H-Here. These art meant f-for thou," he somehow managed to stammer out while holding out the plate of food towards Jevil.

"For...me, me?" He stared at the plate in Rouxls hands for a moment before he blinked and began to approach the larger man from the other side of the room. "You brought food to me?"

"L-Lancer wouldn't have wished it any other way." His eyes wary looked over the smaller jester approaching. He never really noticed before, but Jevil seemed a lot smaller when he wasn't forcfully hugging him or bouncing around his cell. His clothes looked worn, not exactly old, but had a few tears here and there and missing a patch or stitch. The ruffled collar around his neck and his shoes seemed to be new though. Probably Lancer's doing? He didn't look the least bit grimy or dirty as a prisoner should be. He looked.....strangely almost normal. Or as normal for a court jester to look. The bells on his hat jingled the closer he got to the duke and for maybe the first time, didn't look that threatening. But as he learnt from before, don't underestimate anything down here. "I-I'm surest thou will like thine delicacy to thou's ta-"

The plate was quickly snatched from his out stretched hands, he froze in surprise as the Duke watched a smiling Jevil open his mouth wide and just poor the candies into his open mouth before snapping it shut like a trap puzzle. The snap echoed around the room followed by the clatter of the plate when Jevil dropped it. The jester happily giggled at the shock on Rouxls face, wagging his tail and jumping up into the air to sit crosslegged in mid air. How could he even hover?? A clawed hand grabbed at his own, and when he didn't pull away, clung onto it.

"I almost thought for sure, sure you'd never really, really come back since yesterday. Lancer was kind enough to open my freedom, freedom for others to come join, but sadly, sadly no one has stayed for too long. Only giving me plates and food and nothing more, more." His eyes widened just a little as he let out a series of giggles. "I was sure you'd come back, back!"

"Thou...did?" Was he expecting Rouxls to just waltz down the stairs at any moment any day since ...well since who knows when? That was a bit...sweet. But also a bit weird.

He gave a dry chuckled and gave a face that could've been sheepish. "I knew you'd want to finish the game, game you started.~ Just couldn't resist the urge to back, back down from a challenge to your captured rules.~" Oh, good lord. Did he think Rouxls came down there to give him food because he missed him?! "I admit I maaaaaay over down my heart's, heart's desire for you-" Rouxls internally winced at the mention of the heart attacks. The cut on his shoulder stung for days. "-but it's all in the name of your opponent's affections, affections.~" Wait. Was he saying that the heart attacks was his way of showing his affections?...He wasn't sure how to take this strange news. "But I wonder what the great Duke of Puzzles, Puzzles will make as his next move?~"

Rouxls stared at him for a moment and he couldn't help the next words that stumbled out of his mouth. "Art thou forgetting what happened the last time I visited thine prison cell?"

"Which part?~," he purred almost dreamingly. His hand now kneeding Rouxls's held hand, "The usual, usual retreat and gathering of wits for the game, game is to be expected-"

"How about when thine attacks or didst thou forget my reaction to that...." he shuddered a bit "...kiss? What was that? A surprise sprung on thou's opponent to lower mine defences?"

Jevil giggled and rose a brow to being questioned. "Maybe, maybe. But You can't deny, deny your soul's calling towards me.~"

Without warning, he reached out his other hand to place on his chest, over where his soul throbbed at the touch. Rouxls flinched at the sudden reaction his own soul had towards one touch. What the-? Jevil however looked rather pleased at his soul's reaction to his own and sighed in a content way.

"Opposites, opposites do really attract.~"

"N-Now holdeth on one moment," he stammered out as his face flushed a lighter blue, "Thou does not see t-the rush thou's pushing?! A-And what of mine feelings?"

"Your soul calls out to mine, mine. You came back, back. What more feelings do you possibly need?"

He didn't say anything for a second. "Well....I say we take thou's......game slower."

"Slower?" He asked tilting his head.

"Y-Yes. A-As you can see-" He straightened his back up to speak professionally. "-I-I'm still Lancer's caregiver and thine majesty needs a royal adviser and whomst tis better than I?"

"Understandable.~ Lancer's naivity could cause problems."

"And who'll take care of other things liketh lawkeeping, mine shoppe, thy puzzles,-? Certainly not Lancer."

"Of course not."

"Then you understand?"

"Of course." He sighed in relief, which was shattered by what he said next. "I've always wondered, wondered what the outside of freedom had turned to be. Is Everyone still, still trapped or free? Perhaps it's time to make a journey."

He felt his stomach drop again."Wha....What does thou mean?"

He grinned. "I think it's time to take our game, game.~" He purred and leaned closer to rouxls who gulped and leaned back slightly from Jevil's advancing face. He felt his face flush hard at the sudden closeness as the imp whispered. "To the next level. Level.~"

A quick peck from the imp's cool lips got him to freeze in place as Jevil giggled and seemed to jumped around him and out the cell door behind the frozen duke. Rouxls stared blankly ahead as his brain processed what had just happened, and he could only say one thing about the situation-

"Oh, fucketh me...."

#seam x jevil #jevil x rouxls #Roulxs Kaard #Lancer #deltarune #Rouxls Kaard x Seam #Seaxls #Jeam #Nosuit

12 notes · View notes

mobius-prime · 4 years

Text

281. Sonic the Hedgehog #204

Heavy is the Head (Part Two): Iron Khan

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Matt Herms

Things have gone from bad to worse with Khan now under the Iron Queen's control. The Freedom Fighters are forced to scatter as he calls down a magical storm on them, and Sonic barely returns from taking Bunnie to safety in time to save even more helpless would-be victims.

Sally quickly explains what happened while he was gone, and Sonic eagerly races forward to fight Khan, despite Sally calling after him not to hurt him. Sonic tries to at first talk Khan out of it, telling him to fight back, but the Iron Queen gleefully reminds him of how extensive his cybernetics are, giving her total control. Snively, still holding onto Khan's power ring crown, snaps it in half while revealing that this was the only thing protecting him before… and then the Iron Queen drops the bomb that she'd in fact controlled Khan more recently than previously known, and used him to wipe out the Dragon Kingdom Freedom Fighters. That's right! Khan had his body seized by a tyrant and was forced to literally murder the local Freedom Fighter chapter, which is why they're no longer around to help. Considering everything else that's happened to him in his life, if that doesn't spell serious trauma, I don't know what does. However, all this does give Sonic an idea, and he asks everyone to stall Khan while he makes a quick stop at the Lake of Rings, which Antoine takes to with gusto.

I mean, as much as you do have a point, 'Twan, again, we're talking about a severely traumatized unwilling pawn here. Sally, Vector, and Mighty jump in to try to help, but Sally is easily swept aside as the two Chaotix grab hold of Khan. Sonic, meanwhile, paces impatiently next to the lake, while Nicole explains that the rings here are created artificially with the energy runoff from the radioactive ruins of Robotropolis, and thus she can only make them so fast. However, when they spot Vector and Mighty flying across the sky like two distant, lightning-fried meteorites, she changes her tune and diverts some more power to production, just as Khan makes a beeline for Sonic.

Man, good thing rings don't need to be forged into shape, huh? Just jam one onto your skull and it'll fit perfectly! Really, it's a wonder power ring circlets aren't in fashion across all of Mobius. Fortunately, Sonic's plan works and Khan comes back to his senses, drenched and depressed. To Snively's surprise, the Iron Queen happily sounds the retreat, content to have humiliated and demoralized Khan for now before her next planned assault. Sonic realizes that this is why Khan had his outburst of anger last issue, and Khan confirms it, blaming himself for everything that's happened here today. Antoine gets in his face and angrily agrees, clearly still worked up about Bunnie, but an unexpected trio interrupts him - Rory, Sasha, and Snaggle, now coming to Khan's defense.

Sally hugs him, Khan and Antoine apologize to one another, and it's really just a bunch of warm fuzzies all around. Seriously, though, something like this was much needed for Khan. In every prior appearance, he's been pretty two-dimensional, being mostly just an egotistical and slightly crazy magic monkey with no real personality. I mean, he originally spoke in third person, for crying out loud. Ian's done what he does best, and breathed some new life into an old, stale, and nearly forgotten character, making him into someone we can actually give a Renfield T. Rodent's ass about.

Back in the Eggdome, Snively pays a quick visit to his uncle, still wrapped up in a straightjacket and locked in his padded cell, to gloat about how well things are going without him, before becoming annoyed that gloating just isn't as fun when the person you're talking to is stuck in their own head. Eggman babbles on throughout the entire thing, but though his words may appear to be gibberish at first glance, nearly every single phrase has some kind of significance. He repeats "hate that hedgehog" several times for obvious reasons, and other phrases that seem nonsensical are actually very clever references to much, much older issues. Several more phrases seem to be made up of technobabble to some degree, suggesting he's not totally lost in there, but perhaps the most significant phrase, I find, is "They always loved Colin more." Colin, if you'll recall, is Robotnik's brother, whom Eggman killed just before Robotropolis went boom. This one little line immediately gives a lot more insight into just how Eggman - and the original Robotnik - came to be who they are today. It seems to suggest that, ultimately, a lot of his awful personality stems from jealousy of the attention his parents gave to his brother instead of him. We know precisely jack-all about Eggman and Colin's parents, mind you, and as far as I remember this isn't a plot point or anything, but it does get the imagination going, doesn't it? It's easy to imagine Colin as the golden child, the grand military general leading the Overlander race to glory, while poor, ugly, non-charismatic Julian gets neglected, fueling his feelings of resentment until he uses his natural talents as an inventor to get revenge and force the world to acknowledge his genius. I'm not trying to say that Robotnik is a sympathetic figure by any means, but many cruel, manipulative, domineering people do unfortunately get their start after facing rejection from authorities in their life.

Anyway, this is all just speculation - this little line never gets brought up again or expanded upon, so it's all left up to our imaginations. After Snively walks away, Eggman continues his ramblings, but there's one more significant phrase hidden in there…

Wh- I'm sorry, but what kind of a locking system is that?! Y'all are currently living in a base designed by a mega-genius who's life's work is in tech, and the best you can shell out for to keep him locked up is a simple slide lock like you'd find in a bathroom stall? Man, you guys are terrible at security. You basically deserve to have him escape at this point.

Friend in Deed (Part Two)

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Jamal Peppers Colors: Matt Herms

Oh, right, back to the whole situation with Espio dangling Knuckles over the edge of a cliff and whatnot. Knuckles asks in disbelief if Espio has really turned traitor and is actually willing to steal the emerald and hand it over to the Iron Queen, to which Espio hesitates and then asks to confirm if he would indeed need to kill Knuckles to take the emerald. Knuckles affirms this without hesitation, and then Espio pulls him back onto solid ground, saying that he then has conflicting orders. Knuckles is obviously confused and wants an explanation, so Espio says that the only way he can help him is if he breaks the Bride of Four Houses' hold over the clans.

Man, I take it back. Ian, you're allowed to be proud of your intricate worldbuilding, but this is like the fourth time you've explained to us how it works through the characters. Trust your audience, man! Espio cuts himself off in the middle of his explanation, claiming he's said too much, and runs away while turning invisible despite Knuckles calling for him to stay. Knuckles merely quietly wishes him luck under his breath, knowing now that Espio isn't doing this because he truly wants to.

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 204 #writer: ian flynn #pencils: steven butler #pencils: jamal peppers #colors: matt herms

13 notes · View notes

mintchocohip · 5 years

Text

taking care of sick sub!bts

requested 〉 headcanons for taking care of the members when they’re sick!

warnings 〉 sexual healing, mentions of porn

a/n 〉 to everyone living in places where the weather is becoming colder: stay healthy! 🍂

𝙏𝘼𝙀𝙃𝙔𝙐𝙉𝙂

Taehyung expects you to get grossed out, or annoyed. He doesn’t blame you for having emotions and reservations. You aren’t grossed out, and you aren’t annoyed. Somehow, if you were doing this bitterly, Taehyung would feel far less guilty. When he sees exhaustion hint over your face, it lifts a weight off his chest. The two of you are suffering together.

His sore throat is the worst part. Taehyung hates it. The discomfort makes him want to crawl out of his skin. His eyes tear up and his eyebrows flinch every time he swallows. A cup of ginger tea that is 90% honey and lemon pulp trembles in his hand and twitches against his jaw as he swallows it down, but the hot, fresh curry you ordered for him disappears when he abandons a spoon and just cleans the bowl with his fingers. “Another?” His red eyes blink with amazement, as he swipes off his hands on the towel you wrapped over his pillow, “can I have another one of those?”

Taehyung’s stomach has become a bottomless pit. Anything with a serving of rice tastes and feels like the world’s best medicine. Hot takeout dishes, crunchy biscuits, and fizzy drinks send you on constant voyages to take out bags of recycling and trash.

Hot baths are curative. Gently soothing Taehyung out of bed doesn’t work. Taehyung snaps at you to leave him alone. When he finally rolls out of bed and drags his feet towards the bathroom, he doesn’t look happy about it. The apology will arrive when he’s feeling better. He nodded weakly when you asked if he wanted a bath. He was hoping he could teleport into it. As he slips into the water, Taehyung’s shivers and pained expression fade with slow relief. Watching him relax fills you with slow, happy relief, too. You pull up a chair by the side of the bath. You were planning on amusing yourself with your phone. As you watch Taehyung hug himself and rest, you realize minutes have drifted away.

𝙔𝙊𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙄

“Don’t worry about me. Take care of yourself.” You texted him a few times, but he never answered. You feel like you’re invading Yoongi’s space. You also know that if you don’t check up on him, once the fever and chills have disappeared―Yoongi will feel ignored and pained that you didn’t try.

He’s working on his laptop, sucking through a bag of coughdrops, and shivering under a blanket he tugged around his shoulders. “I’ll just heat you up some broth.” “That doesn’t sound good.” “A cup of tonic water, then?” You watch Yoongi aimlessly click on links, before typing out gibberish five times until he finally spells his search term correctly. “I don’t want to drink anything.” “Okay. Then... let’s just go to bed. The hormones will make you feel better.” Yoongi is twitching his mouse aimlessly around the screen. “You’ll get sick.” “Let’s get sick together.”

Yoongi wants to think the idea is unromantic and offputting. He can’t deny the way it makes him feel. He’s too stuffed up and weak to do anything, but he knows you’re satisfied using his body however you want. The fact that he’s able to feel satisfied amazes him, and the fact that he drifts off to sleep easily for the first time in days makes him tear up and and shudder in the few minutes he has before everything goes black.

Long naps drift Yoongi away. The thermostat is pumped up hot, but he’s still shivering under layered pajamas. At some point, he migrated onto the couch with a throw blanket. He’s chattering his teeth and curled up in a ball when you find him after your shower. Tucking him into a thick blanket is like wrapping up a Yoongi burrito. Yoongi is curled up tight. One half of the couch is unoccupied, so you slide into that space, rest your head on his hip, and smile when you feel Yoongi’s body unwind.

𝙅𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙆𝙊𝙊𝙆

Humidifiers, scented lotion, cotton swabs, clothing changes, and constant showers are a necessity. Jungkook needs to feel clean.

He doesn’t want you to take over completely. Jungkook accepts some help. If you pull down the ankles of his sweatpants and slide on his socks, he stops trying to do it himself. He hands you his blow-dryer and comb wordlessly after a shower, before drifting onto the floor of the bathroom and tugging the towels you heated up around himself. It’s his way of showing he wants to bow over with exhaustion, and let you sweep warm air and soothing shapes over his scalp.

Jungkook doesn’t get sick often. It unbalances him when it takes him. Not being able to do anything without a headache unnerves his emotional energy. He feels like a different person, and feeling like a different person makes him shy and uncertain around you.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Jungkook manages. “On the couch? No,” you can’t mask your surprise at Jungkook’s barely audible offer, “I’ll sleep on the couch.” “Oh... you don’t want to sleep in bed with me?” Jungkook feels gross. He doesn’t want you to get sick. He also wants you to stick to him like glue. Those desires are balanced on constantly contradicting offers and questions.

His awkward questions around whether or not you want to cuddle are answered with actions. You insist on being the big spoon. Jungkook keeps wordlessly offering to hug you and squeeze you like he isn’t limp as a ragdoll―crawling into bed with him, you wrap your legs and arms around him until he can’t move, give him a few soft words about how much you like spending time with him even when he’s sick, and squeeze him until you can hear his heavy breaths wheezing out into sleep.

Yesterday morning, Jungkook told you he would be feeling better in a few hours. Tonight, you set him up with cups of water on the bedside table, an open capsule of effervescent tablets, tissues, and a kiss on the forehead to tell him it’s okay to need time.

𝙃𝙊𝙎𝙀𝙊𝙆

Favorite stuffed toys get hugged, squished, and tossed. Hoseok isn’t afraid to feel needy for his favorite things when he’s sick. This is a private moment, too―so, he isn’t afraid to let out little blips of brattiness. When his toys hit the floor, he stares at them with half-lidded eyes and expects you to pick them up for him.

If you don’t pick up the toys for him, Hoseok slides out of bed in a single sleek movement, picks them up, rearranges his bed, cleans, and finds something to do with his time. It’s all or nothing. If you aren’t going to take care of everything, then Hoseok has to admit it to himself: he doesn’t need your help. He can take care of himself.

He doesn’t want to take care of himself. You don’t want him to take care of himself, either.

Taking care of everything means taking care of everything.

Feeding Hoseok healthy food is nearly impossible. Vegetables are picked around in favor of fat, flat noodles. Fruit is tasteless, and he pushes it around his plate. Breakfast food tastes amazing, but handfeeding is the only way to stop him from tearing the omelette into pieces on his quest to remove every slice of mushroom.

It hurts to talk, so Hoseok doesn't talk. He won’t tell you why he drew you into the bedroom with the sound of his whining, but when he’s spread out like a starfish and looks like he’s about to cry, he probably wants some water eased down his throat. It’s painful trouble. Pets behind his ears are his reward. Am I being annoying? Do you want to take a break? He catches your arm. His placid expression has broken with an insecurity in his eyes. You do your best to read it. “It’s fine,” you smile, as you pluck his hand away and rest it back down onto the bed―”I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to.” Even if that wasn’t his question, Hoseok is closing his eyes and smiling faintly as you reach forwards to pet his hair.

𝙅𝙄𝙈𝙄𝙉

Jimin is lounging around on the floor in a sea of pillows and blankets. He wishes he had a crackling fire in front of him, and snowfall outside the window. Delicately cushioned headphones surrounding him with the quiet hum of a snowstorm are a fine replacement for the real thing.

Taking care of Jimin is simple. You keep your voice low; you walk slowly. He mostly wants to be alone, and he just needs quiet and calm.

Sometimes, you receive a text from the other room. i look pretty, Jimin typed lazily under the blurry selfie he sent you. Very pretty, you agree.

The headache his awful―Jimin swallows some pills for it, and watches some porn for it―but he’s good at resting, and keeping his imagination occupied through long, monotonous hours.

Getting sick makes Jimin wistful, and romantic. It feels awful. But, there’s an element of coziness and acceptance in just staying at home, making himself comfortable, and forgetting everything else. He needs things to feel cozy, of course: blankets, sources of heat, dim lights, diffusers, and something to watch. Those things are available, though, and he is fine with making things as easy for himself as possible.

Thin defenses make everything amusing. The laughter is pained. Jimin is curled up under the blankets with something―you step around the shape he’s made on the floor―and the laughter is morphing into a harsh coughing fit. Jimin requested some paper and a pen through mime, earlier today. He finds you in the bedroom, and shows you something he drew―his attempt to recreate one of Fernando Botero’s Birds of Peace―and he’s falling against you with contagious full-body laughter.

𝙉𝘼𝙈𝙅𝙊𝙊𝙉

The only tissues he has left are old packets found at the bottom of a drawer. They’re patterned with cute frogs. Every time he swipes his nose, Namjoon feels like he's committing a crime. “Do you have any tissues without patterns on them?” You hand Namjoon a roll of paper towels for now, and pull your shoes on. You’re planning on buying bags and bags of plain tissues.

A stuffy nose frustrates Namjoon. He can smell his own sickness; everything smells like sickness, and he keeps apologizing for his own scent. The brief joy of sweet body lotions during a shower or the creams you rub over his skin before handing him the fuzzy bathrobe you laundered flutters away some of that insecurity.

Laying a damp towel over his burning forehead is the easiest way to make Namjoon feel cared for. If you offer to lightly massage his shoulders, his whole body shivers the moment your fingertips light down.

When Namjoon is awake, hot food gets inhaled. He eats well normally, but he’s rarely ravenous―when he’s sick, Namjoon migrates into the kitchen, piles random things on the table, sits down with his phone, and digs in. Guilt makes Namjoon tidy. He washes down the table with a rag when he’s finished, but if you brush stray crumbs off his bathrobe or ask whether that stain is ice cream, he numbly notices the fact that he’s still a mess, nods, and lets you help him clean up.

Getting sick gives Namjoon a social itch. His phone is constantly lighting up with notifications. He wants pictures of his friend’s and family’s days; trees they saw, or a lovely sunrise. He wants idle text conversations. You offer to let Namjoon lay his head on your lap while you facetime with a mutual friend. You don’t realize he’s knocked out and drooling until a few hand signals on the screen direct your eyes downwards. You pet Namjoon’s hair, and finish up the conversation in whispers.

𝙎𝙀𝙊𝙆𝙅𝙄𝙉

Seokjin exaggerates everything. He makes him feel better by making it look worse.

He sniffles and goes hoarse as he walks up and tries to initiate a conversation with you. Doing housework shakes him and trembles him, but you walk into the room to find him elbow-deep in the sink, or folding laundry slowly. He wonders aloud if the two of you should go see a movie this evening.

Seokjin really just wants you to turn him down again, and again. He feels relief every time you say, “Stop. Stop pushing yourself. Come sit down.” or “No. You’re sick. Don’t be ridiculous. We’re staying home.”

When you say those words, wrap your arms around him, and pull Seokjin close, he feels like his body is trying to shake and tingle away like leaves shaking off a tree. Arms cradling him are a comfort that his pain is being seen, and heard, and known. He goes limp, he shivers, and he sighs himself down into a watery, misty acceptance.

Drooly sleep wakes Seokjin up in the middle of the night. He’s cold, and frustrated. He just wants to sleep. The wet patches on his pillow brim him up with tension that could tear his pillowcase into a million pieces. The reminder that you’re sleeping behind him is sudden, and when your arms slide around his upset stomach, Seokjin is relaxing, whimpering, and rolling around to disappear under your arms and legs and weakly bury his face against the warmth of your neck.

He knows he’s gross and messy. He’s been gross and messy around you before.

Seokjin is thankful. He doesn’t feel better yet, but he still wants to thank you for staying with him. Unsure of how to show his thankfulness, he mostly just stares at you from under the sheets when you walk into the room, and twitches his fingers to show he wants you to hold his hand.

#sub!bts #domme!reader #member x reader #ot7 post #sub!taehyung #sub!yoongi #sub!jungkook #sub!hoseok #sub!jimin #sub!namjoon #sub!seokjin #mch #headcanon

235 notes · View notes

darks-ink · 5 years

Note

Could you perhaps do, if you are still doing ficlets, of Wulf getting captured by either Danny's Parents or Vlad

So my original idea for this one was pretty similar to Captivity, so I forced myself to come up with something else, and I’m pretty sure I like this take more? So here you go, anon, hope you like it too!

---

“Not so tough now,are you?” his mom taunted, and Danny clenched his fists tighter.Forced himself to take a deep breath, to stay calm.

A scoff from Maddieat the lack of an answer, and then the sound of footsteps as shepaced away from the containment area. He could do this. He just… Hejust had to be brave.

He straightened hisspine, unclenched his hands a little. Then, mustering all the couragehe had, he stepped down the stairs and into the lab.

The noise of hisfeet on the stairs immediately drew the attention of his parents, andthey both looked up at him. Behind them, deeper in the lab, the onlyother person looked up too, hope sparking in his green eyes.

“Danny?” his momasked, her expression hard to read while she was wearing her goggles.“Why are you down here, sweetie?”

He made a face, thenshrugged, faux-casual. “Just, uh…” His eyes caught on the ghostin the far back, slumped in on himself, heavy shackles on his wristsand a mean-looking collar around his neck, and he trailed off.

Maddie followed hisgaze, then turned back to him, her arms crossed. “You’re not herebecause of the ghost, are you? It’s a menace, Danny, like allghosts.”

“You can’t dothis,” he insisted, instead of arguing. He’d tried plenty oftimes, and so had Jazz. No matter what, they refused to believe them.Preferred to follow their own outdated and misguided research, ratherthan listen to actual proof. “He’s a living creature. Well, notliving, but a sapientcreature.”

Jack shook his head.“Danny, kiddo, ghosts aren’t intelligent beings. They’re justsemi-sentient ectoplasm, doing whatever they want to do. The onlygood thing this one will do is advance our research.”

“No, you can’t!”Danny stepped forward, closer to the cage. Its shield was based on aGhost Shield; it wouldn’t affect him in human form. “You can’thurt him! I won’t let you!”

His parents shared aglance, brief but meaningful. Then Maddie said, cautiously, “Whynot?”

“Because he’s--he’s--” Danny scrambled to think of a reason. Well, might as wellgo with the truth, right? “Because he’s my friend!”

“Your friend?”his dad echoed, slowly. His eyes were narrowed at Danny, and he hadto withstand the temptation to cower under the inspecting gaze.“Since when?”

“And how?” hismom added, her posture considerably stiffer.“You should know better than to associate with ghosts, young man.”

“He-- He--”Danny glanced past them, at the enormous ghost that laid there. Hisbright green eyes gazed back, clearly following the conversation evenif he didn’t understand it. Like this, it was like nothing had everchanged. He’d just traded one prison for another.

“He saved mylife!” Danny blurted out.

“What?” both ofhis parents exclaimed,in perfect unison.

“I, uh, yeah.”He shrugged, an attempt at returning to his previous casualness, likehe didn’t regret spouting thatout. “He saved my life, during that first ghost invasion, with allthose guard ghosts? A, uh, a bunch of those surrounded me, wanted toattack me. Wulf fought them off for me.”

Hisparents shared another uncertain look. Behind them, Wulf seemed topick up on the change in mood, ears cautiously perking up. Thetip of his tail started twitching into something that was almost ahopeful wag.

“Why didn’t youtell us?” his mom asked, coming closer and pulling her goggles up.“Why did you rely on the protection of this-- this ghostinstead of us?”

“Well, I didn’texactly get a choice, did I?” Heflapped his hands, aggravatedly. “They just pounced me! What didyou want me to do, tell them to wait so I could call you guys?”

“It doesn’t evenspeak a real language,” his dad muttered, frowning at Wulf insteadof looking at Danny. “Just some made-up gibberish.”

Danny shook hishead. “Nah. I mean, it ismade-up, because all languagesare,but it’s not gibberish. He speaks Esperanto.”

“And how do youknow that?” his mom asked skeptically, one eyebrow raised.

“Tucker taughtme,” he told her honestly, letting his muscles relax just a tinybit.

He’d planned onbreaking out Wulf as Phantom, but his parents had recently updatedthe anti-ghost protection, and he wasn’t sure howyet. He figured he could try as Fenton instead of risking gettingcaught himself. “A lot of nerds speak it, apparently, as a secretlanguage.”

Hismom crouched in front of him, frowning at him, clearly not convinced.She stared at him, and Danny straightened his spine and stared back.After a long moment she seemed satisfied, because she stood up again.

“Notovershadowed,” she told Jack, simply.

“Wait, what?” Hefelt like someone had upended a bucket of ice water over him. Theyreally thought he was overshadowed because he was, what, protecting aghost? Like he and Jazz hadn’t defended them before? “Yeah, I’mnot overshadowed! I’m your actual son,telling you that I won’t let you hurt this ghost! What about it?”

“We had to besure, kiddo,” his dad said, tone almost cheery butclearly fake. “You neverknow with those ectoplasmic bastards.”

He growled, thenstomped forward. Past his parents, not stopping until he stood nextto Wulf’s cage. The ghost sat up a little in interest, ears perkedand tail slowly thumping against the ground. Danny swung out an armin his direction.

“How would he evenhave done that? You guys have him locked up!Look at him!”

“It could’vesend a friend.” His mom narrowed her eyes, staring at him and Wulfbehind him. “It would make sense.”

“More sense thanme wanting to protect him for saving my life?”Danny balled his fists, forcing down his anger. He couldn’t havehis anger take over, couldn’t have his eyes glow. That would bedisastrous, would ruin everything he had achieved. “Ordo you just refuse to accept that maybenot all ghosts are bad?”

Narrowinghis eyes, he stepped closer to the side of the cage, three pairs ofeyes following him. “Now, either you guys are gonna free him, or Iwill.”

“You wouldn’t,”his dad said, moving closer despite his words. “Danny, it couldrevolutionize our research! A ghost capable of making ghost portalslike it’s nothing! Imagine what we could do with that knowledge?”

Danny,quite frankly, didn’t want to. His parents might not have feltinclined to enter the Ghost Zone via their own portal just yet, butif they started creating temporary portals? Who knew what kind ofinnocent ghosts could be captured and dragged into their lab?

He shook his headviolently. “No! I won’t let you experiment on him! If you want tolearn more about his abilities, you can settle for askinghim, like a normal person!And maybe, maybe, ifyou hadn’t resorted to,” he threw out his hands, gesturing at thelab around them, “to this,to locking him in a cage,maybe he even would’ve helped! But here we are!”

“Danny,” his momsaid, voice low and icy, “Step away from the ghost.”

“Sure.” Hesmirked, moving another step to the side. He saw all the eyes aroundhim open wide, his parents’ in shock and Wulf’s in excitement.Then he slammed down his fiston the large red button on the control panel.

With a hiss, thecontainment unit opened. A click released Wulf’s collar, and anadditional two clicks loosened his shackles, too.

The ghost pushedhimself onto his feet easily. Wrapped his clawed hands around thesides of the now-open cage ashe walked out, nails clicking on the steel floor and tail swishingbehind him. His green eyes moved over Danny’s parents, then settledon him.

“Hey Wulf,” hegreeted the ghost, inclining his head. Then, in Esperanto, he added,“They didn’t hurt you too bad, did they?”

“Amiko,” theghost said, matching him with a head-bob. “No, it wasonly the cage. You came before anything could happen.”

Danny opened his mouth toreply, but his mom stopped him before he could say anything, afurious expression on her face. “How could you?!”

“How could I?”He whirled around to face her, seeing Wulf puff himself up to loomover him, protectively. “You are the ones who locked myfriend, someone who saved my life, in a cage! You are the oneswho threatened to hurt him, to experiment on him!”

“It’s a ghost--” hisdad started, but Danny interrupted him before he could get furtherinto the spiel.

“A ghost, yes, yes, Iknow!” He blew out a noisy breath. “Honestly, is that all you cansay? If Wulf had been human you would’ve sung his praises for alleternity for less, but because he’s a ghost he’s a vile beingbound to betray me? Come on, man.”

He could see both of hisparents reach for ghost weapons, as covertly as they could. So hestepped right in front of Wulf. Then, purposefully, turned his backfully to them, looking at Wulf instead.

“I think it’s best if you leave. I don’twant you to get hurt.”

The ghost narrowedhis eyes, ears lowering to his neck. “They are upset. Idon’t want them to hurt you instead.”

“They won’t,”Danny insisted, shaking his head. “They might be willingto shoot Phantom, but they won’t hurt me. It’ll be fine, Wulf, Ipromise.”

Wulf hesitated amoment longer, then nodded, clearly reluctant. He tensed his paw-likehands, claws fully unsheathing.

With another nod ofassurance from Danny, Wulf wound back his arm, then soundlesslyripped through reality to form a portal to the Ghost Zone. He tookone last look, then jumped through the portal.

The tear repaireditself almost immediately, and it was like nothing had ever happened.

Until Danny turnedback to his parents, and was greeted by their furious expressions.

He laughed, a lastkernel of dread in his stomach, and said,

“So, uh… Iguess he’s not welcome back?”

#danny phantom #dp fanfic #phanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #wulf #danny fenton #prompt fill #dark writes #Anonymous

107 notes · View notes

xjamlessparkx · 5 years

Text

divorce | myg | 08

summary: in which you have to go through a painful process of your own family shattering

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: angst

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

"Talk?" Suddenly, you started laughing as you ranged from one side to the other side hysterically.

He held your elbow slightly but you freed yourself, pushing him away.

"I don't want to talk to you..." you lifted your hand and tried to walk past him when you tripped over your own feet, falling forward. He grabbed your upper arms as he lifted you up, preventing you from falling.

"Please Y/N..." he begged, holding you close to himself. You shook your head going forward again. He grabbed your hand and turned you around. "Let me drop you home and let's talk on our way home" He didn't even give you a chance as he dragged you with him. You shut your eyes from time to time, the fatigue feeling overcoming you. He helped you in the passenger seat and jogged to the other side of the car. To be honest, you were too tired to fight back that's why you let him drop you home.

He drove off and hesitantly tried to start the conversation. "You seeing Yuna wasn't my first intention...-" you cut him off.

"Yuna? I don't know that name..." You snapped and turned on the radio. "Waaah!" You cheered, clapping in your hands as your favorite song played. It was a 90s ballad and you started singing along to the lyrics which you forgot a little. It was more gibberish than real singing.

He sighed deeply as he shut the radio, turning to you. "Y/N you're making everything harder for me..."

Without taking up to what he said you clicked on the button to let the music play again. You turned the volume on and started dancing to the sad ballad. While singing you spotted a weak smirk on his lips and you laughed loudly.

"Yoongi, you're so handsome!" You put your hands under your chin, trying to sound as cute as possible. If anyone would see you like that, they wouldn't believe that you were a mother of two children. He chuckled at your statement, his blood rushing up to his cheeks. At that moment you realized that you were about to divorce. You weren't sober but you remembered everything in a matter of time, you just acted irrationally and emotionally. Turning the volume off you turned around, looking out of the window.

"I forgot ... I can't say that anymore." You bit your lip, feeling your throat burning. Hearing Yoongi swallowing hard, he cleared his throat.

You didn't even reach your house and you spotted a small takeaway which was still open. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering why it was still open in the middle of the night but the thought of eating something right now didn't leave your mind. You licked your lips.

"I'm hungry!" You yelled you gaze still on the small takeaway as you started hitting Yoongi's shoulder. His eyes widened and he shook his head.

"I think it's better if you rest a little bit-" he exclaimed but you interrupted him when you started whining loudly. Begging him to go to eat something.

"Pleeease!" You pouted and he took a deep breath as you felt his car stopping in a parking lot near the takeaway. You ran up to the public place, not minding Yoongi who followed you quietly behind.

"Ahjussi, please bring me some black noodles" you yelled and Yoongi tried to shush you out but you only chuckled when he tried to. He sat on the opposite side of you, watching the man bringing your food. You licked your lips as you started eating as if it was the first time in your life where you saw delicious food.

At that moment, Yoongi realized how much you've changed physically. His eyes were focused on your cheekbones as you slurped the noodles, how it showed your bones clearly. Your eyes were a lot smaller as if you never had the chance to sleep or rest nicely. He noticed how much of an amount of weight you've lost. Biting his lip, his gaze stopped at your hands, holding the chopsticks while you ate deliciously. He wasn't lying, he felt full when you ate.

"Aren't you eating?" You asked, making him wince and come back to reality. He shook his head slowly, smiling at how you enjoyed your meal as if it was your first meal for today.

You finished up the noodles and grabbed your purse to pay the meal. Suddenly, you felt a warm hand surrounding yours. As you looked up you saw Yoongi putting money on the table.

"I'll pay you back!" You said immediately but he chucked at your statement, knowing that he wouldn't accept it even when you tried to pay him back.

Just as you wanted to stand up he stopped you, pointing his finger at your lips. "You still have sauce on your lips-"

"Here?" You wiped the part away but he shook his head, telling you that it was the other side. When you couldn't find the spot he reached out for your lips, his thumb brushing your bottom lip softly. His eyes were darted in yours and his expressions were blank. His fingers not leaving your lips as he wiped the sauce away with his fingers. Biting his lip, he rested his other fingers on your jaw. You were looking at him strangely, not noticing how much he was affected by his own behavior. He winced, his eyelids blinking a few times as he pulled his hand away.

"We, we should head home..." he muttered and you nodded, walking past him while trying to hold your balance. You hopped into the car and he drove off.

"Thank you ..." you mumbled and smiled weakly at him. "Sometimes you're such a jerk and other days you're like the nicest person on earth..." you clarified as you leaned back in the seat.

He chuckled at your words, furrowing his eyebrows questioningly, "Wow... thanks for this nice compliment" he exclaimed sarcastically.

He helped you out of the car and opened the door to your house. It was dark and he assumed that everyone was already asleep.

Suddenly, you pushed him as you let yourself fall on the couch. You started sobbing loudly, burying your face in your hands. Mood changes were absolutely a thing for you while you were drunk.

"Y/N?" His soft voice brought you back to reality. You lifted your head and looked at him, standing in front of you.

"It hurts" you cried and he furrowed his eyebrows, not being able to tell what you were trying as to say right now.

You clenched your fist as you started hitting your chest multiple times, over and over again, pointing at your heart, "Right here!" You wiped away your tears as you looked up to Yoongi.

"Why did you do this to me? Don't you see how much I suffer? Can't you see that I can't be as happy as you are?" Your sobs were actually swallowing half of your words but Yoongi still understood. He couldn't move, shocked by your words and he also wanted to listen more.

"When I saw that girl in the office I knew that I lost you... but the moment I saw her in the passenger seat I felt so betrayed and awful..." you stood up, grabbing his collar, "I can't lose my children ... they're all I have!" Your forehead dropped on his chest as you started crying loudly, forgetting about your children who should be asleep right now.

"I, I'm sorry... I didn't tell you about our meeting with the kids. Please don't worry, you won't lose them." His hands were on your shoulders, pulling you back so he could look into your eyes. You shook your head as you lifted your head.

"She tried to make them call her 'mom'. Is it so easy to be a mom? Are you going to take my children away once we divorce? Does my effort and love not matter at all? Are you going to let them forget me and start a new family? With someone you love?" You muttered the last words were more of a whisper than a real statement.

You let yourself fall on the couch again as he sat down next to you.

"Yuna insisted to get to know with the children. She thought that it would be a good opportunity since the children are a part of my life..." he started, "I know I should've told you about us spending time together with the children. But I didn't even tell them that she is my girlfriend-" he mumbled, as he moved his hands away from you.

"So it means that she is their second mom to you? I don't want my children to have any contact with her. Damn it! I hate the fact that you belong to her. I can't stand the fact that I wasn't enough for you, for your love. That I wasn't strong enough to rescue our family..." you sobbed, tears streaming down your face as you started hitting your knees. "I, I hate myself so much Yoongi!" You cried out as you dropped your face into your hands again. Yoongi bit his lip, not knowing what to do right now. He didn't even know how he could comfort you. He was feeling sorry for the way he made you feel. Feeling sorry, for not noticing and not considering your emotions and feelings.

"You moved on. You have a new girlfriend now. That's why you left me. You didn't love me anymore and clearly, my love wasn't enough..." you leaned back, slowly as your back touched the couch. You closed your eyes and your body relaxed. Breathing quietly you whispered, "How will I ever be able to move on when you're still the only one in my heart?"

After that, you didn't know what happened. You drifted off to sleep and were woken up by the loud swearing of your mother who was walking frustrated through the living room, searching for something. You noticed a blanket over your body, trying to remember last night and how you ended up here. But you didn't really remember anything that's why you decided to stand up. Maybe a hangover soup would be good. Actually, you felt quite embarrassed for your low alcohol tolerance and getting drunk by one bottle.

You threw the blanket from your body as you stood up, feeling the pain in your head as you hissed quietly.

"Y/N! I can't find Ahran!" Your heart sank at the words of your mother.

"What do you mean? Are playing hide and seek again?" You chuckled as your smile faded slowly, noticing how serious your mother was.

"H-how!?" You jumped up and furrowed your eyebrows.

"I don't know ... I woke up and wanted to wake up Junsun and Ahran but Ahran wasn't in her room anymore. She isn't anywhere to find, I'm worried..." she stated and you hear Junsun from upstairs calling for his sister who didn't answer.

"Mom, did anything happen yesterday?" You asked her while you grabbed your phone, dialing Yoongi's number. Maybe she was with him and you really hoped it to be like that.

"Nothing happened. After you went to work we left to go home as well. We watched a movie, played games until they fell asleep. Nothing suspicious..." she clarified and you sighed deeply, biting your nails.

"Hello?" You heard the voice from the other side of the phone.

"Is Ahran with you?" You asked immediately.

"No ..." he said, making you shut your eyes and hit your forehead with your palm.

"Is everything okay?" He mumbled, sounding worried.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tears coming up, "Ahran is missing!"

"What?! How?" He yelled through the phone while you shrugged your shoulders, walking hysterically from one side to the other side of the room.

"I, I don't know ... I will go and search for her!" You mumbled, your voice cracking.

"Wait! I will pick you up, let's watch out together!" He clarified, ending the call. You sighed deeply, sitting down on the couch. Junsun ran downstairs as he jumped up to you, sobbing silently.

"Mom, Ahran isn't home ..." he muttered. You kissed his forehead, stroking his hair slowly.

"We will find her okay..." you promised as you stood up, grabbing your jacket.

"Mom, stay with Junsun. Yoongi and I will find her, I promise. Call me if she comes home..." you exclaimed as you put on your shoes.

"She isn't with Yoongi?" Your mother asked worriedly and you shook your head.

"Clearly not!" You opened the door, being confronted by the cold breeze, blowing through your hair.

"Call me when you find her!" She yelled, standing next to the doorframe. You walked up to the entrance of your house, looking in every direction, watching out for all details while you waited for Yoongi to pick you up.

Suddenly, you felt your heart dropping from its place. You were ashamed of yourself. How you were drunk yesterday and couldn't watch out for your children. The tears started streaming down your face while you wiped them away, one by one.

You saw Yoongi's car approaching you, your heart jumping from hope as he stopped in front of you. Jogging to the other side, you got into the car. He didn't even wait as he drove off.

"How did it happen?" His voice was concerned as he drove fast, looking everywhere.

"I, I don't know... I woke up and my mother told me that Ahran was missing. I believed that they played a game but my mother told me that she looked everywhere in your house, not finding her-" you were cut off by Yoongi hitting the steering wheel, groaning loudly.

"Why did she even leave?" He mumbled under his breath, trying to think of a good reason for her loss but he couldn't find a rational reason.

"It's my fault ... I, I shouldn't go drinking after work, I should've been home early. I could've avoided that. I'm the worst mother in the world, I, I'm so sorry-" you felt the tears blocking your view as you grabbed the roots of your hair, pulling them slightly. The car made an abrupt stop and your head fell forward. You turned to Yoongi who had stopped the car as he faced you. His hands reached your face as he cupped it and wiped the tears away.

"Don't say that you're the best mother in the world! It's nobody's fault!" He smiled weakly at you while he stared into your eyes, intensely. Something felt strange. As if there was a similar scenario like that, you bit your lip and it made you feel confused. You slowly turned your head to the road and he noticed his action while he pulled his hands away, fixing his eyes on the road.

"I think we should look in the park" you mumbled, feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks while you opened the door of the car. He walked out as well.

Since it was a small area in which you lived it shouldn't be that hard to find her and you hoped that she didn't leave any further or wasn't taken away by some stranger. The thought of her being kidnapped send a shiver down your spine. You started running through the roads and parks, constantly yelling her name with Yoongi.

"Ahran!" You yelled, asking people if they saw a similar to the girl you described. The more people started shaking their head, the more hope you started to lose.

"Y/N..." you dropped on a bench in a park, near to the city as you hid your face in your hands, starting to sob silently. You heard Yoongi panting loudly, "We will find her ..." he tried to say between his breaths.

In that moment everything went silent and you heard a silent giggle which was totally familiar. You lifted your head, slowly, looking to the direction where the giggle came from. Slowly, standing up you walked up to the direction. Yoongi followed you, not hearing anything. You pecked your head behind the brush.

"A-Ahran!" You voice cracked once you saw her sitting in the grass as she playing along with a small puppy. He eyes widened the moment she saw you. You dropped to your knees, pulling her into a tight embrace while you kissed all over her face. "How can you make mommy worry so much?" You cried loudly, feeling Ahran pushing you away. You fell on your hip, Yoongi grabbing your upper arms gently, preventing you to fall fully on the ground.

"Go away!" She yelled.

"Ahran ..." you mumbled, your throat burning as you didn't know why she acted strangely.

"I heard you two last night!" She stood up as she stomped up to Yoongi, pushing him with her weak hands. "You left mommy because you love someone else, not us!" She cried out as she tried to ran away but Yoongi grabbed her hands. You weren't really able to tell what she was talking about right now.

And then it hit you. The memories from yesterday started flushing in front of your eyes like a short movie. You remembered every word your mouth left and your concern to Yoongi.

"Ahran ... that's not true. Your father loves you, only you!" You mumbled as you stood up, looking at Yoongi who was really confused about her behavior.

"Ahran", he started, "I, I would never leave you for anyone in this world..." his voice cracked as you examined his face. His eyes were red from crying as he breathed out quietly.

"Why didn't you tell us then? Why did you act like she was a good friend of yours as you brought us out together with her?" She tried to escape from Yoongi's grip. You couldn't believe what you did, but in that moment you kneeled down to her level, taking her hands in yours.

"Look, your father wanted to tell you. He just waited for a good moment." You exclaimed. You couldn't let Ahran detest her father. Since that girl was a part of Yoongi's life you would have to face her more often, knowing that you can't avoid it.

"You're afraid that you will lose your father, right?" Her eyes lit up as she glanced at you, biting her lip. "This will never ever happen. Not in a million years. I and your father love you much than anything else in this world!" You clarified as you started caressing her hair. Yoongi kneeled down as well, nodding at your statement.

"Of course we do." He assured.

"That's why you lied to us..." Ahran was cut off b her father, sighing deeply.

"We, we didn't lie we just-" she shook her head, sliding her hands out of yours while she calmed down a little bit.

"Staying silent and hiding isn't better... that's what you teach me. Also" she stepped away a little bit, "I don't want another person in our life."

Yoongi was frustrated as he let himself fall on the grass. He took a deep breath.

"You're right..." you started, grabbed her hands and guiding her down so she would sit on the grass as well. "I never wanted to share my parents with anyone as well. It's hard, I know" you licked your lips, sitting down on the ground as well.

"Think about it. Your father never wanted this turn out like this neither did I. Sometimes the worst things what people expect the least happen in one's life." You stroked her cheeks not really believing the words which were leaving your mouth right now as you spoke.

"Think about it differently. You will grow up with three people loving you. Maybe this isn't as bad as it seems" you smiled weakly, feeling Yoongi's gaze on you. He knew that the words which left your mouth were a lot more different from yesterday. You didn't mean your words but you wanted Ahran to smile again. Sooner or later, you had to face this. No matter when.

She bit her lip as she exchanged glances between you and Yoongi.

"But I won't ever call her mom!" She pointed her finger upwards. Yoongi chuckled slightly.

"You don't have to" he took Ahran's hands in his as he lifted his head to the side to look at you, "You only have one mother"

For you, it felt like he gave you the first warm smile ever, wholeheartedly as his eyes didn't leave yours.

"Dad," Ahran started while she looked down at the ground, playing with her hands, "Can you... can you stay at home tonight?"

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bangtan angst #bts scenarios #min yoongi angst #min yoongi scenarios #min yoongi series #yoongi series #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi x you #bts x you #bts x reader #bts angst #bts series

162 notes · View notes

supertodd5000 · 4 years

Text

Mono? Stereo? Both?

Admit it. You’re flummoxed, fried out and forlorn. And it’s not because your baby left you. No, it’s because you woke up one day and realized you’re a record collector. With a serious problem. And not just the physical kind. It’s true that record collectors suffer from a host of very real problems – lack of social graces from dealing with heavy-handed and judgmental record clerks, bad breath from breathing in mold spores wafting up from water damaged records, plumbers butt, and a scoliosis-like malady called “crate-diggers hump” (not as sexy as it sounds) acquired from years of slouching, sagging and stooping over anything and anyone just to fat-finger a copy of that one record that makes your heart flutter, your spleen ache and your bowels tremble.

No, your current dilemma is a horse of a different color. Which version of your favorite records sound best? The mono or stereo copy? Which one should you buy? Should you buy both? Neither? Your mind is melting.

These days there’s something akin to “Mono Mania” going on in the world of record collecting. To many of us it’s quite welcome. Especially if we’re one of the poor bastards not old enough to have purchased The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society in mono when it came out and we don’t have enough cold, hard cash to buy a minty fresh original flip-back gatefold copy for $425. To us, a sealed mono reissue is just what the doctor ordered.

To others, this mono vs. stereo issue is as baffling as watching your grandmother cut chewing gum out of her dog’s hair. What’s with all these monophonic reissues? To a cynic it seems like it’s the well-orchestrated and profitable reissue of every single recording ever made in a unique mono mix. You’ve seen them poking out of record bins everywhere. They’re typically pressed on 180g vinyl, tucked gently into nice inner sleeves hidden within tip-on covers and created lovingly and painstakingly (note: these are words that usually mean “expensive”) using “the original mono mixes.” But are they better? Sometimes. Sometimes not. Sometimes they’re just different.

This next bit of quasi-intellectual, ponderous gibberish is purely subjective. More so than everything up to this point in this pointless essay. Back in the mid-1960s there were primarily three reasons for buying a mono recording when a stereo recording was also available: you had a hi-fi system with only one speaker (more common that you think), you were deaf in one ear like Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys (look it up) or you were a cheapskate (mono records cost about $1 less per album). Sometimes you were all three. Sad.

Why jump back to the mid-60s? Because that’s a period of time when record buyers had a real choice to make. In most cases you could amble into any record store in the world and buy a great sounding, thick pressing of your favorite record in mono or stereo. Sometimes fake stereo. More on that later. Before the mid-60s, stereo records were a bit of a crap-shoot if you were into rock, blues or jazz. They might sound goofy. With instruments and vocals haphazardly panned left or right. It took a while for engineers to figure out how to make the most of stereo, and at the same time artists were figuring out how they wanted their music to sound.

Classical music is a bit of an exception to this. Conventional wisdom is that stereo recordings of classical music tend to sound better earlier on. And as far as jazz goes, producers and engineers like Rudy Van Gelder, Orrin Keepnews, Creed Taylor and Teo Macero were also a bit of an exception. They got into stereo early on and figured out how to make stereo sound cool with very few microphones. You can read on and on about this (and should) from many sources that are far more expert on this topic than your lazy, stoop-shouldered author.

Speaking of jazz, the jazzbos tend believe that mono is best no matter what. Original 1950s and early 60s pressings of anything on Blue Note, Prestige, Riverside, Impulse and Columbia are more valuable. And it’s true that these mono records often do sound best. To my ears they can sound louder, with clearer sounding instrumentation and, in the very best cases, the sound can seem to pounce out of the speakers. But how much better are they? I used to avoid stereo pressings of jazz records from the mid-60s and earlier. I was under the impression they were “fake stereo” created in dimly lit back rooms in order to jump on the stereo bandwagon. Some are. Some aren’t.

Let’s push on.

Stereo vs. mono. Which is best? It depends on the recording, the vinyl pressing and your personal taste. Sure, there are albums that everyone says are amazing in mono – the pre-1967 records by The Beatles, The Kinks, The Rolling Stones, The Pretty Things, etc. The list goes on and on. But there are recordings that sound more eventful and interesting in stereo (Interstellar Overdrive by Pink Floyd comes to mind). Rock records released between 1967 and 1970 tend to be the ones that are far more subjective. And you’ll find plenty of beard-scratching know-it-alls with strident opinions who’ll tell you what to think. Some of these guys are right. But many of them also live in their divorced mom’s basement and only emerge from their listening lair to attend a record fair or to run out to buy mom a carton of Benson & Hedges cigarettes. Occasionally, they come upstairs to rub their mother’s bunions.

People tend to crave the mono releases in part because they’re so rare. I know I’ve got my faves. I prefer the mono pressing of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles because (to me) it sounds more like a rock band and less like studio frippery. But the songs themselves are not that different. It’s not like hearing the record in mono for the first time could convince you that the stereo record you’ve been listening to your whole life sounds like a Jim Nabors Christmas album. Sometimes the performances are different or mixed peculiarly (the mono mixes of Don’t Pass Me By and Helter Skelter from the Beatles White Album come to mind).

For the purposes of this stupefyingly silly essay, I went back and did some side-by-side listening tests to confirm all my preconceived notions of what I like and don’t like in some hallmark recordings yanked from the overloaded racks in my fantastically disorganized music room. Stereo vs. mono. Which is it?

The Who Sell Out (US mono reissue vs. Japanese stereo reissue):

From memory I thought I preferred the stereo pressing of this. Armenia City In The Sky is a fave of mine and I thought stereo was the only way to hear this tune. Wrong. Not by a crazy wide margin in my case but wrong still. The mono pressing sounded heavier and punchier yet still retained the fun frippery of the studio trickery baked into the tapes on this record. Mono wins.

The Beatles “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” (Japanese stereo reissue vs. UK mono reissue):

I already tipped my hand on this one. As a kid I only heard the stereo copy. Loved it. No issues whatsoever. But, ever since hearing the mono copy of this record in college (several semesters ago) I became a monomaniac. Fact is, this might be the very first record where I became convinced of the majesty of mono. Mono wins.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience “Are You Experienced” (Reissues of US stereo, US mono and British mono pressings):

Ok, read anything about this record and the experts will tell you the British mono pressing is the only one worthy of a spin on your turntable. I don’t own an original mono pressing. Who’s got that kind of dough or good fortune? I DO own a mono British reissue. A US mono reissue. A few stereo copies including a stereo reissue (the double LP Hendrix Family version) I used for this test for a couple reasons (it’s readily available at record stores and my copy was also readily available). To my ears the stereo copy is the clearest, coolest sounding and has effective panning and the sort of soundstage tomfoolery that makes stereo fun. To me it’s the best-est. Stereo wins.

Bob Dylan “Bringing It All Back Home” (US stereo original vs. US mono original):

Here’s another one that the professional listeners with hyper-tuned ears say should ONLY be heard in mono. I remembered liking the mono best years ago. Then I listened today. I compared a mono original to a stereo original. The mono copy was snagged by me only a couple years ago. It had been (mis)priced by someone at a national used bookstore chain. The price was too good to turn down and the record is so clean I sold my mono reissue. The stereo copy I got from my wife’s uncle who owned about 300 records. 290 of those were Irish music except for a few Greenwich Village favorites like Dylan, Baez, Seeger et.al. Despite being a well-loved copy with plenty of tiny hairline scratches and marks, I prefer the stereo copy. To my ears it’s the opposite of what I said about The Who Sell Out. In this case, I thought the stereo had more punch. Stereo wins.

Horace Silver “Blowin’ The Blues Away” (US mono original vs. US stereo reissue):

Ok, one of these is a pricey collectible and the other isn’t. Bet you can guess which is which. I fully expected the expensive mono original pressing to blow away the 70s “black b” pressing. And it is better. Louder. Hotter sounding instruments. In some cases Blue Mitchell’s trumpet is positively piercing. Right up into the red in the mix (God bless Rudy Van Gelder). Same way with Junior Cook’s sax. But, the stereo reissue from the 70s is not bad at all. Nice and punchy. It’s a real stereo recording too. Nothing fake about it. Rudy Van Gelder recorded this session in stereo and mono in 1959 and he’s one of the few cats who knew what he was doing in the late 50s. Make no mistake, the mono is better. But if I found these two records cozied up together in a bin at my local record shop and the mono OG was $150 and the stereo reissue was $10 I’d buy the stereo copy in a heartbeat and spend the rest of the money on elocution lessons so I could sound smarter. Mono wins.

Note: I’ve found that most of these “black b” Blue Notes sound pretty good. I also love corduroy and canned beer so take that with a grain of salt.

Bottom line? It turns out the ears are the best test. Do YOU like how the record sounds? That’s what matters most. I prefer some mono records and some stereo pressings. I’ve even dabbled in fake stereo from time to time. I happen to love some records that have been “electronically re-recorded to simulate stereo.” After all, in many ways, life is a simulation. I can’t say I love tons of fake stereo records but I do love a few. In fact there are a few country music titles that fall into this sadly maligned category that I hold dear to my heart.

Here’s the insidious thing. Record collectors often have mono and stereo copies of their favorites. Sometimes the really sick bastards have multiple copies of pressings from all over the world. These people should be celebrated or pilloried. I’m not sure which. Perhaps a little bit of both?

Records. In the end I feel like we’re living and breathing in the promises and perils of records at the same time. Plumbing the depths of the dollar bin and scaling the heights of a pricey wall of record store collectibles. Sometimes on one dirty, dimly lit Saturday afternoon. And I loathe hyperbole. Sort of.

Mono. Stereo. Both. Indeed.

5 notes · View notes

juupajaa · 5 years

Text

🥀Suffering phase:

Ah man this is gonna suck. I hate this. Just feck everything about this stage. This is where it just turns so dark and brutal that there’s nothing that can make it work. I hope it’s at least informative and reaffirming. This might get heavy so read when you feel you’re ready.

So one day you wake up and go to engage in your disordered behaviour, but for some reason it didn’t really make you feel any special way. You don’t think too much of it yet. You try again later, but still you don’t get that good feeling from it. You do it again, and again, but it’s just not doing it for you anymore. I’m sorry to say this, but honeymoon is over.

Ok so here’s where eds and de split. I’m gonna go through de route first, since this is pretty much where de stops.

Some with disordered eating might recover right now. If your quality of life has improved, seeing your coping mechanism not work anymore can turn you back and make you run back to real life. For example, let’s say you started to use de to cope with pressure from school/work/hobbies. The pressure has now eased up and you don’t need to deal with it anymore. Your disordered eating isn’t needed and you can phase out of it in a short period of time and best case scenario, you never go back.

For other’s the situation hasn’t improved, they’re still at a bad place and can’t deal with the shit that’s going on in their life, so the disordered eating stays, despite it not helping anymore. Some might wallow in a state of not really getting worse or better, which can be extremely distressing since there is never any improvement or relief. Other’s might get into a cycle where their disordered eating perks up every now and then when they feel negative emotions, and sometimes is backs off and leaves when things get a bit easier for a while.

The thing about disordered eating is that it doesn’t solve your problem, so there might be pressure to try harder to engage in disordered behaviour, which can lead to your de turning into an ed. I’d like to point out that de is getting more and more common in western/modern society. Some things that probably have contributed to this are sugar addiction, high accessibility of already prepared food, and snacking instead of eating regular meals, but I didn’t check any of that so don’t take that as anything but my own ramblings. Here are some examples of what disordered eating is like and how to differentiate it from a full blown ed:

experiencing anxiety about food/nutrition/your body on the daily basis (eds have this too)

disordered behaviour, for example, restricting, purging, binging, obsessing over nutrition, other abnormal eating habits (eds have this too)

being able to take part in meals with others and act out normal behaviour most of the time, despite the extreme discomfort from the disordered thoughts (in eds, this ability is fading or completely removed)

being able to do things that go against your disordered thoughts most of the time, despite feeling extremely terrible about it (in eds, going against the disorder becomes near impossible)

being able to “switch it off” when needed, for example in order to keep it secret or to “take it easier for a bit” (in eds, there is no off switch, the disordered thoughts are constant and there’s no way around them)

being able to go on for long periods of time without really having that many disordered thoughts or without letting them bother you and hinder whatever you’re doing at the time (in eds, the disordered thoughts are intrusive, overwhelming, and they prevent you from doing unrelated things constantly)

I know this can be hard to hear for some, since the need and desire to get a full blown ed can be extremely strong. There’s no shame in that and I’ll tell you why. Your de isn’t helping you cope anymore and your life is overwhelming. Thanks to that bitch honeymoon phase, you know for a fact that this can help you feel better. The problem is however that it won’t help you, but you don’t have a lot of options, since you don’t know how to cope with your situation. The assumption is that you need to get even “better” at your thing in order to cope better again. It makes perfect sense, so don’t feel stupid for wanting for it to get even worse. For some it does, for other’s it don’t and we don’t know what exactly is that thing that makes the difference, but we all need help and new, better coping mechanisms, no matter if it’s de or a full blown ed we deal with. Disordered eating can be dangerous too and the discomfort alone is enough to start affecting you negatively. Further down I have written a list of stuff that you might experience from having disordered thoughts and engaging in disordered behaviour and a lot of what I will write about eds can ring familiar to you too. I’m not gonna talk more about disordered eating, but if you feel like you have it, I recommend looking more into it in order to understand it better.

So now let’s talk about eds. Ok so let’s say one day you get up to do something you were planning on doing, but suddenly you realize, you can’t do it. Your de prohibits you from doing something you wanted to do. And then it happens again. And again.

And AgAiN anD aGaiN.

You’re out of the honeymoon and your ed has fully formed. The difference between an ed and de is the frequency and intensity of your obsession with food/your body. It’s starting to take up hours upon hours of your day to do everything that your ed asks you to do and the pain, sacrifices, shame and guilt, are just barely worth the tiny bit of relief you get when you perform your disordered behaviour.

So by now some of you are getting malnourished. Now, being malnourished doesn’t mean you’re underweight, nor does it mean you haven’t eaten in two days. Being malnourished means you haven’t been getting proper nutrition in months. This can be because you don’t get enough calories in, you purge too much of your intake, or you are eating foods that don’t provide you with enough nutrition, such as eating only one or few things or not eating enough of something specific. You can be malnourished at any weight and you can be malnourished even if you eat multiple times a day or have some “good days” in between. Here’s what being malnourished might feel like:

You’re in a whole another world. It feels like other people aren’t even in the same universe as you

It can feel like everything’s a bit slow, even if days go by quickly, colours aren’t quite as bright as they used to be and sounds seem muted

Your work memory is so minimal that you’re having trouble getting through basic tasks without stopping to think about what you’re doing

You feel exhausted all the time, there’s no point in talking or doing anything, you just want to go lie down and even then you don’t feel like you’re resting

You’re either irritable or apathetic, rarely anything else

Even something as small as reaching for something feels like a task

You’re having trouble communicating your point to others and your point seems lost on yourself too

You’re having trouble following conversations and sometimes it feels like people are speaking gibberish and not real words at all.

Being malnourished is not fun, that I can tell you. It can sound similar to depression and those two usually go hand in hand. A lot of people with eds also have anxiety or depression and as we have already established earlier, other mental disorders play a part in your ed as well and equally, your ed might be making your other disorders worse.

Getting malnourished isn’t a requirement for an ed (or de) by no means and even if you aren’t malnourished, there are several physical symptoms you might get from the mere strain of having an ed (or de). Eds (and de) cause a lot of physical instability in your body, since your eating is disordered and you experience anxiety and stress over food/your body. Here are some physical symptoms you might experience from the continued stress alone (but trust me you probably are also malnourished):

digestive problems (constipation, diarrhea, bloating)

headaches, clenched teeth/tight jaw, neck and shoulder pains

hair loss, brittle nails, dry or irritated skin, dry mouth, bad breath despite dental hygiene

heart palpitations, a sudden sinking feeling in your chest

numbness in your limbs/shoulders, pain or weakness in your joints

excessive sweating, cold sweats, shaking/shivering for no apparent reason

irritability, fatigue, exhaustion, difficult to focus

insomnia or other sleep problems (too much, too little, not waking up feeling rested despite getting a good amount of hours in)

weakened immune system

So let’s talk about this stage itself, since we’ve been rambling about pretty much everything else. Suffering phase is pretty much what it sounds like. You’re just suffering. You’re not getting worse and worse and everything just kind of rots around you. You might be losing friends or hobbies, since your ed is making you avoid a lot of situations. You’re becoming isolated and you can’t really talk to anyone out of the fear they might intervene with your behaviour. Most of your day, if not every minute of it, is consumed by your ed and you have to keep on doing what you do, just to feel little less horrible. Here are some thoughts and feelings you might experience:

apathy over the loss of your other hobbies/interests/friends

increasing loneliness and isolation, yet you don’t want anyone to get close either

feelings of worthlessness, shame and guilt about yourself

disinterest in others, such as your friends, family, significant other

overwhelming and all-consuming disordered thoughts that get mixed into every situation, no matter if food is involved or not, making it impossible to focus on anything else most of the time

difficulty do handle anything unexpected or just mildly inconvenient without having to resort to your disordered behaviour for comfort

increasing fear, anxiety and discomfort

Suffering phase doesn’t have a time limit. It can go on forever. Some people die here, some keep coming back over and over again on endless repeat. Those with chronic eds stay here for years upon years. This is such a dark and miserable stage and while you’re in it, you might be so lost you don’t even realize to feel sadness for it. It can feel like there is no way out, there’s no way for you to ever recover, you don’t even want to recover, let alone try. I know it can feel like this is what you deserve and this is just how things are, but trust me, there is more stages to eds. It doesn’t have to end here.

The next stage is just around the corner, you just gotta start eyeing it. It is so hard to shake anyone out of this phase and we all know by now that the will to recover has to come from the inside. You’ve got to start hoping for something better. I know for a fact that you can still get a new start and there’s a reset button a little further down the road. Just please, start thinking about things you’d like to do. Places you’d like to go. People you’d like to meet and the person you want to be. Whatever these things are, think about them and try to get that spark of hope going.

5 notes · View notes

amberisntacoward-blog · 5 years

Text

(the forest fic but it’s not mine , i’m just here to make you read it.)

"The rain," Tyler says. Josh nods, slowly. "It's like..." Tyler pauses, searching for the word. "Crisper," Josh says. "Exactly," Tyler says, nodding. "Almost like..." Josh frowns, "red? Maybe?" "Mostly," Tyler says. "With a hint of orange." "Orange, right." Josh points at Tyler. "That's right. I keep forgetting that one." "A lot of things are orange, though," Tyler says, frowning. "Not where I'm from," Josh says darkly. "Everything's just blue-black there." Tyler winces. "I can't even imagine that." "Don't," Josh says firmly. He shakes his head. "Don't even try." Tyler shudders a little. "Believe me, I don't want to." Josh nods. "Good." He sits up straighter suddenly, cocking his head. "My mom coming?" Tyler asks. Josh nods, standing up. "Keep it short, yeah?" Josh asks as he closes the closet door. "Okay," Tyler replies to the now-empty room. There's a soft tap on the door before his mom pokes her head in. "What are you doing, Tyler?" Tyler's mom asks, looking in. "Talking to Josh," Tyler tells her. He immediately regrets saying anything. "Tyler," his mom says, sighing. "Josh isn't real, remember? We've been over this before." "Right, Mom," Tyler says, nodding. "I'm sorry." "Tyler, I..." His mom pauses, looking unsure. "Don't apologize, okay? It's just that Josh doesn't exist." "Okay," Tyler tells her, waiting for her to leave so Josh can come back. His mom looks at him, something yellow-blue-red in her eyes. He forgets what other people call it. Josh would know. "Tyler, you have an appointment tomorrow, remember?" Tyler's mom says. "With Dr. Paulson." Dr. Paulson has lots of markers, a checkerboard, and a liberal use of a drawer full of candy so Tyler won't tell anyone about the one time everything tasted like metal and soap and magenta dipped in candle wax. "Okay," Tyler says, nodding. His mom bites her lip. "All right, Tyler," she says. "Remember to eat, okay?" "Okay," Tyler echoes, and she closes the door. Josh immediately opens the closet door. "Dr. Paulson," he says with a tone of distaste. "Why don't you like him?" Tyler asks as he watches Josh settle himself on Tyler's bookshelf. "He sounds so..." Josh bites his lip, searching for the words. "I would say purple-green, but I'm missing something, aren't I?" "Pink," Tyler says immediately. "Right, right," Josh says. He makes a face. "I don't like it when you go there." "Would you rather I go back to Dr. Craig?" Tyler offers. Josh recoils the best he can while perched precariously on a bookshelf. "No!" Josh exclaims. "No, no, never!" "I was kidding," Tyler says as he sprawls back onto his bed. "Some joke," Josh mutters, sounding irritated. "Don't kid about that, okay?" "Okay," Tyler says, suddenly reminded by his conversations with his mother. The sound of butter being spread on toast, bland, and purple-red acceptance. "No, really," Josh says, hopping off the bookshelf so he can grab Tyler's hand. "Don't joke about that. That was... bad." "It was," Tyler allows, and Josh presses his lips to Tyler's hand. "Please don't joke about that, Tyler," Josh murmurs. And Tyler is so charmed by the way Josh's mouth forms his name that he agrees automatically. Tyler can tell Dr. Paulson has had a long day. "Everything all right with your wife, Doctor?" Tyler asks politely. "Peachy," Dr. Paulson huffs, flopping down onto his chair. "Chocolate or lollipop?" "Lollipop," Tyler answers. He likes to suck them as obscenely as possible once in a while, just to check Dr. Paulson's priorities. The lollipop is red, tasting green-red-yellow, like cherries. Tyler's careful to rub it across his lips, making them as red as possible. "Last session we discussed books," Dr. Paulson says, not paying attention to Tyler's treatment of his lollipop. "And headaches." "Those two may as well be synonymous," Tyler says. "Yes, you mentioned that many times," Dr. Paulson says, sounding tired. "And the Bible-" "-has such small print you may as well be looking at a rainbow," the doctor finishes. "Although the first part-" "-of Genesis is almost entirely green, so you can read it," Dr. Paulson says. "I take very good notes, remember?" "I remember," Tyler says in the same tone he uses with his mother. Dr. Paulson, who is entirely familiar with Tyler's vocal tones, sighs. "Tyler, I'm sorry I'm not at the top of my game today," he says. He leans forward, and Tyler jerks back so quickly that the lollipop almost goes down his throat. "Sorry, sorry," Dr. Paulson apologizes. He takes off his glasses so he can scrub his face with his hand. "I'm so sorry, Tyler." Tyler doesn't say anything. He thinks that if he opens his mouth, nothing but the 'gibberish' only Josh seems to understand would fall out. His heart's pounding in his chest, and he places his hand over it. Dr. Paulson follows his movements and winces. "I'm so sorry, Tyler," he repeats. "I didn't mean to scare you." "I'm okay," Tyler says, pleased when he hears them come out as 'normal' words. "You're not, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says with a sigh. "You're not okay." He shakes his head slowly, as if to clear it. "What do you want to talk about today?" Tyler shrugs. "I don't know." "Have you been writing?" Dr. Paulson asks. "A little," Tyler mutters, picking a loose thread on his jeans. "Have you written about anything particularly interesting?" "The treehouse," Tyler says, before wishing he didn't say anything because Dr. Paulson's eyes go blue-orange-green, all interested and almost hungry-looking. "What treehouse?" Dr. Paulson asks, jotting something down in his notebook. "We- I found a treehouse in the woods," Tyler murmurs, scowling down at the carpet. He feels oddly exposed now. "What was the treehouse like?" the doctor asks, not looking up from his notebook. "I dunno. Woody." Yellow-purple. The way wet chalk feels. The lowest B on his piano. "Do your parents know about the treehouse?" Dr. Paulson asks. "Does it matter?" Tyler says, a little more defensively than he intended. Dr. Paulson blinks. "I suppose it doesn't," he says slowly. "I just wanted to know if you've been talking to them." "You could've just asked them that," Tyler points out. "You could've just asked me that." "You're right, Tyler. I'm sorry," Dr. Paulson says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Have you been talking to your parents?" Tyler snorts. "I thought so." The doctor leans forward slowly, so Tyler has time to prepare for his presence. "I think you should talk to them, Tyler. They really care about you." "They don't." Tyler knows he sounds like a child, like the smell of orange peels, but he doesn't care. "They do, Tyler. And they were so, so upset when they found out what had happened to you." "They never believed me." "Tyler, you weren't very easy to understand then," Dr. Paulson says gently. "You still aren't, honestly." "You seem to manage." "I've known you for a long time now, Tyler." "So have my parents." "Have they really?" Tyler is silent for a moment. "No." He pauses. "They don't know me at all." "Tyler, have you ever thought about making peace with your parents?" Dr. Paulson asks. Tyler scowls. "They should be the ones making peace with me." "They're trying, Tyler, really," the doctor says. "I guess you haven't noticed, but they're trying to make amends." "Well, they're doing a heck of a job," Tyler mutters. Dr. Paulson ignores that comment. "They said they've been trying to take you out more and participate in family activities." "I hate crowds," Tyler tells his doctor. "I hate board games. I hate TV." "They don't know what you like, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says. "But I'm sure they'll be happy to do whatever you do like with you." "I..." Tyler pauses. "There's nothing that I like to do." Dr. Paulson goes quiet for a moment. "You like Josh." Tyler blinks. "What?" Dr. Paulson has never willingly brought up the topic of Josh before. "I'm not saying that Josh is real, Tyler," the doctor says quickly. "But maybe you could try telling someone in your family about him." "And what purpose would that serve, other then to cater my delusions?" "It'll help you open up," Dr. Paulson says, ignoring his sarcasm. "You're much easier to understand when you're talking about something you're passionate about." Tyler thinks about this. "You'll have to tell my parents that it okay for me to talk about Josh." Dr. Paulson sighs. "I didn't mean for that to happen when I told them about Josh, Tyler. I'm sorry." Tyler shrugs. "Whatever." Dr. Paulson nods slowly to himself, jotting something down in his notebook. "I'll talk to them." "What are you going to say about me?" Josh asks as he picks at a piece of splintering wood in their treehouse. Tyler shrugs. "I dunno. There's a lot to say." "You could tell them how pink-red-orange I am," Josh says, flashing Tyler one of those smiles that make Tyler melt. "How sexy I am, how I sound like melted marshmallows, how my lips are the key C major, how I can-" "Oh, shut up," Tyler says, pushing him playfully. Josh laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grins. Tyler looks away before Josh can see him staring. "My parents think I'm crazy," Tyler says suddenly. Josh sobers immediately, frowning. "You're not crazy." "I know," Tyler says. "But telling them about you isn't going to convince them of that." Josh is silent for a moment. "What are you going to do?" "Talk to them about you anyways," Tyler says. "Fuck what they think." Josh grins. "You're really pink-red-orange when you swear." Tyler blushes. "No, I'm not." Josh looks at him thoughtfully. "You're pretty pretty, Tyler." "Pretty pretty?" Tyler says. Josh laughs. "Not my best word choice." "Why do we talk like this, anyways?" Tyler asks. "If we just used our words, nothing like that would happen." "You asked me to talk 'normally,'" Josh says. "For practice." Tyler frowns. "Why did I do that?" Josh shrugs. "Something about better communication." Tyler nods slowly. "Sounds like something I'd do. Back, y'know." "Well, yeah," Josh says. "You were all-" he makes a few indiscernible hand motions, "blue-purple. Jumbled." "Mixed up," Tyler says, nodding. "Not exactly," Josh says. "Sort of... I can't remember the word for it. Orange-green-purple." "Confused," Tyler translates. Josh nods. "That's it. I keep forgetting that one," he says. "Confused. You were confused. And like the letter M. The way August smells." "Confused, maybe," Tyler allows. "I don't know about lost, though." "You were lost," Josh says, sounding certain. "Maybe," Tyler says again. He watches Josh flick the lighter he always has on and off. "Why do you even have that? You don't smoke." Josh shrugs. "You never know when you'll have to set everything on fire." Tyler furrows his eyebrows. "What? What are you talking about?" Josh just shrugs agains. "You'll get it some day." "He dyed his hair the other day," Tyler tells his mom. They're sitting on the steps outside, watching the wind blow through the trees in their backyard. It sounds like a cool pillow on Tyler's skin, and he smiles. "What color?" his mom asks. "Blue. Bright blue," Tyler says, grinning a little to himself. "It was red for a while before, actually." "That's neat, Tyler," his mom says, still looking rather uncomfortable. "He has these really dark brown eyes," Tyler says, choosing to ignore his mother's discomfort. "Coffee eyes. That kind with coffee and hot chocolate. What's that called again?" "Mocha," his mom supplies. "Mocha eyes," Tyler says, nodding. "Tyler," his mom says, biting her lip, "who is Josh to you?" "What do you mean?" "Is he your friend?" his mom asks. "Boyfriend?" Tyler splutters a little. "What? No!" "It's... y'know, okay if you want a boyfriend," Tyler's mom says. "Just so you know." "Great," Tyler says, still wide-eyed. "What brought that on?" "You always have this goofy look on when you talk about him, Tyler," his mom tells him. "Yeah, but that automatically made you think I'm gay?" "Well," his mom shrugs, "you've never seemed very straight, Tyler." Tyler blinks. "Thanks, Mom." "It wasn't an insult!" his mom begins to protest, but pauses when she sees Tyler laughing. "I'm gay," Tyler assures her once he's done giggling. "I just never expected you to notice." "I do occasionally notice something about you, Tyler," his mom tells him. Tyler immediately sobers. He frowns, and his mom sighs, carefully taking his hand. "I'm sorry, Tyler," she tells him. "I know that an apology won't fix anything, that it won't change anything, but I am still so sorry." "Why-" Tyler swallows hard, "why didn't you believe me?" "I-" His mom sighs. "Dr. Craig seemed very professional, Tyler. He was supposed to be top of the line. And he was very smooth, very reassuring that there was absolutely no misconduct." She sighs again, squeezing Tyler's hand gently. "I regret not listening to you more than anything, Tyler." "Don't we all," Tyler mutters. "Don't we all." "How do you feel?" Josh asks one day. "Who are you, Dr. Paulson?" Josh rolls his eyes. "Come on, Ty," he says, passing him his pocket knife. "Show me. In 'normal' words." Tyler stares at the knife, warm and heavy in his palm, like silk on dewy grass. "Show me," Josh repeats. Tyler flips out the blade, pressing it to the wooden floor of their treehouse. "'Normal' words," he whispers to himself, trying to recall one for how he feels. T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D "Terrified," Josh reads. "Why?" Tyler shrugs, wiping the wood shavings off the knife before flicking it closed and handing it back to Josh. "I don't know. Always am," he says. "Why?" Josh repeats. "Of what?" Tyler shrugs again. "Of what's next, I guess," he says. Josh frowns. "That's nothing to be scared of," he says. "Why am I scared, then?" Josh smiles in that small, gentle way of his. "Orange-green-purple," he says. Tyler sighs, tracing his thumb over the carving in the wooden board. "I'm not," he murmurs. "Not really." "You are," Josh says. "Like stretched orange cotton. Not knowing what's around the corner is one of the best things ever." "Terrifying," Tyler says, shaking his head. "Maybe a little," Josh allows. "But maybe what's around the corner is the best thing you could possibly imagine." "What if it's not, though?" "What if it is?" "What if it isn't?" Josh leans forward, taking Tyler's fingers away from the carving in the wood. "But what if it is?" he whispers. "How are things with you and your mother?" Dr. Paulson asks as Tyler slides a peanut butter cup into his pocket. "Fine," Tyler says. "Fine?" Dr. Paulson repeats, eyebrow raised. "Better," Tyler amends. Dr. Paulson nods slowly. "You talked to her about Josh, then?" Tyler nods. "She didn't look too happy." "As expected, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says, still looking down at her notes. "It can't be comfortable for a woman to hear her seventeen-year-old son talk about his imaginary friend." "Who she thinks is imaginary," Tyler corrects before he can stop himself. Dr. Paulson pauses, finally looking up from his notes. "Tyler," he says softly, "Josh is-" "Yes, okay, whatever," Tyler says quickly. The doctor sighs, running his hand through thinning hair absentmindedly. "He's not real, Tyler," he says softly. "I'm sorry, but he just doesn't exist." "Yes, fine, whatever you say." Dr. Paulson rubs his face with his hands. "Tyler..." "Look," Tyler says, suddenly feeling ready to fight, "I know you think I'm crazy because of this, but Josh is real, okay? You're not going to convince me otherwise." Dr. Paulson chuckles dryly. "I'm seeing that, yes." "It's all blue-black," Josh says. "My home, I mean. That's why I like it here better." "You've told me that," Tyler says. "Lots." "That doesn't make it any less true," Josh points out. "I know," Tyler says. "I'm just saying that I hear you whenever you tell me." "But I don't want you to hear me," Josh says insistently. "I want you to listen." Tyler frowns. "What's the difference?" Josh makes a frustrated noise. "Some people- philosophers, mainly- say other people never hear each other," he says. "But I don't think that's true. I think everyone hears, but I don't think most people listen." Tyler's frown deepens. "I still don't get it." "It's like..." Josh shifts, taking Tyler's hand. "Okay, when I say 'take my hand,' you think of holding hands, right? Not of taking my hand someplace with you. Unless we go somewhere hand-in-hand, but that's a different story." He shakes his head to clear it. "What I mean is, you hear 'take my hand' but listen to 'hold my hand.'" "Oh." Tyler pauses, thinking. "I get it." He frowns again. "I think." Josh cracks a smile. "Well, at least you're honest." "Tyler, your psychiatrist and I want to start you on a new kind of drug," Dr. Paulson says as Tyler sits down. "What?" Tyler asks as he picks out a purple lollipop. "Don't you remember how it went last time?" "Not antipsychotics," Dr. Paulson says. "That was a mistake, I know." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "That was a mistake." "What kind of drug, then?" Tyler asks, unwrapping the lollipop and popping it in his mouth. "Lorazepam," Dr. Paulson says. He pauses. "Ativan." Tyler frowns. "Doesn't that treat anxiety?" Am I anxious? he wonders to himself. "It also treats insomnia," Dr. Paulson says. "Frankly, Tyler, you're starting to look like a skeleton. One in need of a good night's sleep." Tyler shrugs. "I think I'm okay." Dr. Paulson sighs. "Your mother told me she can hear you talking to yourself at three in the morning. Every single night." Tyler opens his mouth to say that it's not himself he's talking to, but decides against it. "I'm okay," he says instead. "Tyler, I really don't think you're getting enough sleep," Dr. Paulson says softly. "You look exhausted all the time." "I'm fine." "Tyler, this is honestly what I think is best for you," Dr. Paulson says gently. Tyler glares at him. "And why do you care about what's best for me?" He leans forward, undaunted. "I don't think you do," he says, placing his hand over his cheek deliberately. Dr. Paulson's expression drops. "Tyler," he begins, stopping. "Tyler, I'm so, so sorry about that." Tyler rolls his eyes, leaning back. "Whatever." The doctor sighs, rubbing his eyes. "There's no excuse for that," he says. "But Tyler, this really is for your own good.” He pulls out another piece of paper and jots something down on it. “I'm going to talk to your parents, and once I have their approval, we’re going to start you on Ativan. Okay, Tyler?” “Whatever,” Tyler says again. Dr. Paulson sighs again, rubbing the ring on his left finger. “Okay. Now, Tyler, I thought-” "Stop that," Tyler says, irritated. Dr. Paulson pauses. "Stop what?" "Stop putting my name in every other sentence you direct to me," Tyler says. "I know my name now, okay?" "Force of habit, T- force of habit," Doctor Paulson says. Tyler chuckles dryly. "I hate my name," he tells his doctor. "And why's that?" Dr. Paulson asks, scratching something down on his notepad. "It's just a reminder." Dr. Paulson pauses. "A reminder of what?" "It's just another reminder that no one's actually unique," Tyler says. "No one's actually special." Dr. Paulson sets his notepad onto the desk, looking intrigued. "Elaborate?" he requests. "Certainly," Tyler says. "You know, there's someone out there named Tyler Joseph. Maybe not now, but there will be. Maybe even both, depending on how long I live." He pauses, tapping his chin. "And if there really are infinite universes, there are an infinite number of Tyler Josephs, saying the exact same thing that I'm saying, thinking the exact same thing that I'm saying. Yes, there are an infinite number of worlds where Tyler Joseph is a plumber who crossdresses in his free time and has never once considered other universes, but that would mean there are also an infinite number of worlds that are an exact replica of this one. And if that's true, there's no reason for anyone to feel special." Tyler hums thoughtfully. "You could always argue, of course, that there may be no such thing as parallel universes, but even so, there's still going to be someone with your name in your past, present, or future. And I read that everyone has a doppelgänger on this earth, although the two doppelgängers may not live at the same time." Tyler sighs. "What's the point in being unique?" Dr. Paulson stares at him. "...and that's why you don't like your name?" Tyler laughs a little. "A rather wordy version of why, yes." "It's definitely interesting," Dr. Paulson tells him. "I'm definitely going to think long and hard about it later." "Good," Tyler tells him honestly. "I think everyone should think about it at least once in a while. Food for thought, you know." "Mom?" Tyler asks, walking into the kitchen. "Tyler?" his mom responds, turning to him with an expression of mild surprise. "I have something to tell you," he says, cautiously taking her hand and leading her to sit at the kitchen table. "What is it?" she asks. "I..." am in love with the boy you think is imaginary what do I do, "...uh." Tyler scratches the back of his neck. "Um." "Yes?" his mom says. "What's for dinner?" comes tumbling out. His mother blinks in surprise. "Spaghetti and meatballs," she says. "Why? Do you want to eat with us?" And for some unknown reason, Tyler nods. "So, let me get this straight:" Josh begins, "you tried to eat the spaghetti with a spoon, called your brother a periwinkle dust mop when he tried to give you a fork, listened to your sister talk about her basketball tournament, fell off your chair when your other brother kicked you under the table, watched your dad drink a nonalcoholic beer, listened to your mom talk about your sister's basketball tournament, and burst into tears when the brother who kicked you asked why you don't go to school." "That just about sums it up," Tyler says, nodding. Josh raises an eyebrow at him. "And why did you even go to dinner?" Tyler blushes. "It was sort of an accident." Josh raises the other eyebrow. "How do you accidentally wind up eating dinner with your family?" "I- ah..." Tyler runs a hand through his hair. "Well, I was going to ask my mom something, but, uh, I ended up asking her what was for dinner." Josh's raised eyebrows lift even higher. "What were you going to ask her?" Tyler feels his face flush even darker. "Nothing," he says a little too quickly. Josh's eyebrows rise so high that they almost disappear into his mop of bright blue hair. Before Tyler can stop himself, he's reaching out and pushing Josh's eyebrows down himself. They stare at each other for a moment before they both burst out laughing. They end up with their foreheads pressed together and fingers intertwined, and they're both still giggling as Tyler looks down at Josh's soft, C major lips. It would be so easy just to... "Tyler?" Tyler snaps out of it, looking back up into Josh's mocha eyes. Their foreheads are still pressed together. "Can I, um..." Before Tyler can think about it, he's shifting himself oh-so-slightly for their lips to touch. It's brief, but Tyler can still feel those perfect, C major lips unresponsive on his when he pulls back. "Oh," Josh says, looking startled. "Oh," Tyler echoes, standing up. "Oh, oh man, I'm so sorry, I- I'll..." He practically slides down the ladder. "No, wait, Tyler-" Josh calls, but Tyler doesn't look back. "You seem gloomy today,” Tyler’s mom comments as Tyler pours milk into a bowl of cereal. Tyler shrugs. “I’m all right.” She frowns. “You haven’t gone outside at all today.” Tyler shrugs again. “Not in the mood.” “Do you mind if I join you?” his mom asks, gesturing to the seat across from Tyler. He shakes his head. “Thank you.” They sit in silence for a moment. “I didn’t know you like that kind of cereal,” Tyler’s mom comments. “Hmm?” Tyler says, looking up. “Oh, yeah, it’s Josh’s...” he cuts himself off when he looks down at the floating brown and tan corn puffs, “...favorite.” Before he knows it, Tyler’s suddenly bawling into his bowl of Reese’s Puffs. “Tyler,” his mom says, sounding alarmed. “Hey, what’s wrong?” “Sorry, sorry,” Tyler says through a small sob. "I- I don't know, I-" Another sob cuts him off. "Shh," his mom says, suddenly kneeling next to his chair, hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay." Tyler wraps his arms around her, burying his head in her shoulder. He's suddenly bombarded by memories of when he used to cling to her after his unending nightmares when he was little. He stopped asking for his mom when Josh came into the picture, though. He'd cling to Josh instead. Tyler chuckles through a sob, wondering if he'll have to go back to hugging his mother after nightmares. "It's okay," Tyler's mom says softly, patting his back. "Sweetheart, it's all okay." "Mom?" he whispers into her neck. "Yes, Tyler?" she replies. "I'm in love with Josh," he says, voice cracking on "love." "Oh." Tyler's mom holds him even tighter. "Oh, Tyler." "And I know-" Tyler pauses to take a deep breath, "I know that you think he's not real, and everyone's so vehement about it that sometimes I think he might not be too. And where would that leave me?" He's starting to shake now. "Stuck in love with a ghost, that's what." "Oh, baby," his mom says softly. "I'm so sorry." The position they're in isn't very comfortable, and Tyler's mom slowly helps them both stand before guiding their way to the sofa. Tyler immediately curls up, burying his head back into his mother's shoulder. "I messed up," Tyler says, shuddering. "I kissed him and he didn't kiss back and I want to die, Momma, he means so much and I messed it all up." "Oh, honey," Tyler's mom says softly, running her hand through his hair. "I messed up," Tyler says again. "I messed up bad." "Tyler," his mom says carefully, "have you considered that this might be a good thing?" "What?" Tyler says, confused. "It's not healthy to rely on- on someone like you do," his mom says gently. "Maybe take a break from Josh?" "A break?" Tyler says, so appalled that he's stopped crying. "A break, Tyler," she echoes. "Just for a little while. Take up a new hobby or something." "Josh isn't a hobby, Mom," Tyler says, indignant by her implications. "He's a person. A person that I need to make amends with," he says, springing up. "Tyler, wait-" But Tyler's already dashing out the back door and running into the forest to find Josh. Tyler can hear Josh humming mindlessly when he approaches the treehouse. He cautiously climbs up the ladder, poking his head in. Josh is sitting there, flicking the lighter on and off as if in a trance. "Hey," Tyler says, and Josh nearly drops the lighter in surprise. "Hi," he says, pocketing the lighter. "Come in." Tyler hesitantly clambers in. "So, I wanted to apol-" He's cut off when Josh surges forward and presses C major lips to his. The kiss last longer than the last one, and this time both of them are contributing. Josh's mouth is warm and sweet, and Tyler can feel his own heart thumping madly. Josh's soft, blue-sky hands reach up. One cradles the back of his neck, and the other cups his jaw. Tyler's hands hesitantly reach up as well, grasping Josh's shoulders. They finally pull back, and Tyler slowly opens his eyes to see Josh's still closed, looking utterly contented. They just sit there for a moment, catching their breaths. "Why'd you run?" Josh asks, breaking the silence. "Why didn't you kiss back?" Tyler answers. There's another moment of silence. "I like you," Josh says suddenly. His voice sounds a little different. Like rain falling up. "I like you a lot." "I like you a lot too," Tyler says, and Josh beams at him, tiger-growl teeth peaking through C major lips. "Good," he whispers, odic, and kisses him again. "Oh," Tyler gasps into Josh's mouth, "Josh." "Good?" Josh mumbles as he twists his fingers. Tyler yelps. "Like- like-" Tyler throws his head back, hitting the wooden floor of the treehouse. "I can taste- ahh..." Josh swallows his groan, pressing perfect C major lips to his. Tyler whimpers again, bucking his hips up. "Josh," he gasps. "Tyler," Josh says, warm and low in his throat, honey and birdsong and dark, sweet orange. Tyler's a mess of gasps and moans as Josh gently moves his fingers inside him. He can taste something, like metal but not quite, and he's so so desperate for something, but he doesn't know what. "Please," Tyler whispers, not even sure of what he's pleading for. Josh's fingers press up, and the not-metal taste becomes so overwhelming that a sob is startled out of him. "Hey," Josh says, pausing. He cups Tyler's cheek with soft, blue-sky hands. "You okay?" "Yeah," Tyler says shakily. "Yeah, I'm okay." Josh presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Tell me if it becomes too much, okay?" "Okay," Tyler murmurs. He presses himself against Josh's fingers, and Josh smiles, all C major-sweet. "Come on," Tyler says, throat suddenly dry, "you can- ah." Josh goes back to slowly moving his fingers. Tyler isn't exactly sure of what he's doing, but it's good. He can feel something else in his veins, hot and desperate and red-black velvet. He groans, squeezing on Josh's fingers. "So good," Tyler grunts. "So, so... like- ah, not metal but almost, and velvet, and- ahh..." "Shh," Josh says softly. "I know." Josh slowly pulls his fingers out. Tyler frowns at the loss. "What?" he starts to ask, but Josh is suddenly shifting Tyler's hips and pressing something warm and hard against him. "Oh." "Okay?" Josh murmurs, looking down at him with wide, mocha eyes. "Yes," Tyler says, absolutely certain. "Yes." Josh gently pushes in, lower C major lip tucked under tiger-growl top teeth. Tyler's eyes roll back as he's slowly filled up. It burns, but it's like creamer for coffee, like red robin feathers, and it's okay. "Okay?" Josh whispers. "Yeah," Tyler confirms, closing his eyes. The not-metal in his mouth is building up again, and he gasps as Josh shifts his hips oh-so slightly. "Oh! Oh, ahh..." Josh kisses him again, and Tyler kisses back as hard as he can. "So, so, ahh," Josh moans into Tyler's mouth. "You're so, oh, oh..." Tyler kisses him, swallowing his groans. Josh is starting to move his hips in slow, steady motions, and Tyler finds himself moving his own hips to meet his motions. Josh is hitting something inside Tyler every single time, and Tyler can't help but whimper in a low, constant sound. "Tell me," Josh grunts, "tell me if it's too much." "It is," Tyler murmurs back. "Keep going." Josh laughs softly, startled, but obliges. Tyler runs his hands through Josh's soft, blue hair, tugging gently. Josh groans, fingers digging into Tyler's shoulders, and Tyler wraps his legs around Josh's waist. His hips shift up slightly, and whimpers when Josh starts to hit that place inside him even harder. "Come on," Josh grunts into Tyler's ear. "Can I...?" Tyler doesn't even know what Josh is asking for, but he presses his hips even closer to Josh's, squeezing, and with a yelp, Josh's movements stutter and still. "...are you all right?" Tyler asks. Josh is panting hard as he reaches down and wraps his hand around Tyler's- whoa. "I'm great," he says as he starts to move his hand. "Ack," is Tyler's reply. He reaches up, wrapping his arms around Josh's back, clinging desperately. The not-metal taste is more intense than ever, and he sinks his teeth into Josh's collarbone with a groan. "Oh gosh," he gasps out. "Oh gosh." Tyler feels the velvet in his veins, tastes the not-metal in his mouth, and he can start to hear a low humming, a perfect G sharp. He groans, high in his throat, and Josh mouths along his jawbone down to his neck. "Come on," Josh murmurs. "Almost there." Tyler doesn't what Josh is even talking about, where he's close to being, but he's too jumbled up and overwhelmed to ask. Josh twists his hand, rubbing his thumb over the top, and the not-metal in Tyler's mouth suddenly becomes so much, too much, and he sobs hard into Josh's skin. "It's okay," Josh whispers. "Just let go. Let go." Tyler lets go. He's falling, sinking, and he can feel himself shaking. The not-metal in his mouth finally comes spilling out as a moan higher than he ever thought he could make. He splays his arms out, one hitting the wooden wall, and he feels all of his muscles clench and unclench. The G sharp grows louder and louder until he finally screams, groaning and whimpering. Josh is murmuring soft, cloud-sweet words as Tyler finally quiets down. "Oh," Tyler says once he can finally speak. "Hi," Josh says against Tyler's neck. "Hi," Tyler echoes, ears buzzing. "That was- that was..." For the first time ever, there's something that Tyler can't describe. "Yeah," Josh says, kissing him chastely. "I know." "I know," Tyler says, and immediately wishes he could shove those words back in his mouth because Josh's mocha eyes go dark. "What," Josh says softly, C major lips pulling back to bare tiger-growl teeth, "did you say?" "I'm sorry, Josh," Tyler says immediately. Josh exhales in a way that Tyler can only describe as red-green-orange, like a stream over a bed of jagged crystal. Perfectly dangerous. "I'm sorry," Tyler repeats. "You don't-" Josh takes a deep breath, "you can't understand, okay?" "I-" "You have no idea what it's like," Josh growls, "to be terrified of going home. No idea what it's like to be frightened of your own parents." He stands up, pacing the best he can in the cramped space of the treehouse. "You have no idea what it's like to have to hide whenever your dad gets too drunk and destroys whatever he comes across, and your mother is too high to care. You have no idea what it's like to use your body to protect your sisters, your little brother. You don't know the fear that runs through you when your father pulls out his belt because he's feeling pissed off and needs something to take it all out on. You have no idea what it's like to be whipped as hard as a grown man drunk on cheap liquor and anger can manage. And let me tell you something, Tyler." He stops pacing and turns to look Tyler in the eye. "It. Hurts." Tyler swallows hard. "I- I'm sorry-" "Sorry, sorry," Josh sneers. "Everybody's fucking sorry." He resumes pacing. "Everything is blue-black," he repeats. He pauses, frowning. "For me," he adds. "What's wrong, Tyler?" Tyler's mom asks. "Huh?" Tyler says, looking up. "You've just been sitting there all day," she says, sitting down next to him on the sofa. "Is there something wrong?" "Well," Tyler says. He tries to stop himself, but the words suddenly come pouring out. "Josh and I had sex, okay? And ever since then he's been extra moody and I don’t know what to do. And yesterday we had a fight because I agreed with him when he said that everything is blue-black and he got mad because I don't know what it's like. And he's right, I don't know what it's like for everything to be blue-black. But he kept on yelling and yelling and Mom, he's hurt so bad at home and I want to help him but I can't and that hurts." "You- you had sex with Josh?" Tyler looks up to see his mother's face completely white. "Yes," he says slowly. "That's what I said, right?" "Tyler," his mom says urgently, squeezing his hand so hard it's to the point of painful, "did it hurt?" Tyler feels his face contort into a vaguely shocked and disgusted expression. "What?" "When you had sex with Josh, did it hurt?" his mom says. "Did he hurt you?" Tyler frowns. "Well, a little. But I didn't really notice then." He considers this thoughtfully. "It hurt to sit down the next day," he says truthfully. His mom looks absolutely horrified. "Oh, Tyler," she whispers, wrapping him into a hug. "I'm so sorry." "What?" Tyler says, confused. Why is she sorry? Wasn't the sex a good thing? It felt good. "It's okay," Tyler's mom says, rocking him gently. "It's okay. You're safe here." Tyler sits there, utterly bewildered. Was he not supposed to have enjoyed it? His mom runs a hand through his hair. "You're all right. No one's going to hurt you. Not anymore." Tyler's mom hasn't let him out of her sight since he told her he had sex with Josh. He hopes Josh will understand why he hasn't been out to make amends yet. His mom has only left his side to call a few people and to talk to his dad. "I'm just going to go say hi to your siblings, okay?" his mom says, when they hear the garage door open. "I'll be right back." Tyler nods slowly. He can hear his mom greeting his brother and sister when there's a tap on the living room window. He looks out to see Josh standing there, waving cautiously. Tyler runs to the window, opening it. "Hi," he says cautiously. "Come on," Josh says, gesturing out to the woods behind them. Tyler bites his lip. "My mom'll freak out if she comes back and I'm not here," he says. Josh sighs. "Please?" he says. "I'm sorry, Tyler. I didn't mean to yell. Please. I'm sorry." Tyler sighs, looking out. "Fine," he murmurs, climbing out of the window. "Hi," Josh says softly, cautiously taking his hand. "Can we talk?" "Okay," Tyler says, and they walk, hand-in-hand, into the forest. "I'm sorry that I blew up at you like that," Josh apologizes once they're safely hidden in the trees. "I'm sorry I said I understood," Tyler says. "I don't understand. I don't know what I was thinking." Josh smiles, C major lips a little sad. "Everybody's fucking sorry," he whispers, and Tyler leans in and kisses him. Josh's eyes are closed when he pulls back, and he looks peaceful. "Sing," he says, eyes still closed. "What?" Tyler asks, taken aback. "Sing," Josh repeats. "What do you want me to sing?" Tyler says, bewildered. Josh shrugs. "Something everyone would know." "Um." Tyler pauses. For some reason, all he can think of is "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." Josh finally opens his eyes when Tyler finishes. "Thank you," he says. "Sure," Tyler says. They walk deeper into the forest, hands still clasped together. "Have you ever noticed," Josh begins, squinting up at the darkening sky, "that when you squeeze your eyes together, everything changes?" "Yeah," Tyler says. "Not dramatically, though. Just enough to be unnerving." "Yeah." Josh snaps his fingers. "Like that- that guy. With the covered faces. Red-August-L name." "Um," Tyler says, thinking. "Uh, René Magritte?" "Yel- yes, him," Josh says. "Everything's not quite what it should be." Tyler nods slowly, squinting around the forest. Everything has a slightly eerie gloom to it, slightly off. He shivers, looking back at Josh, who- who isn't who he's supposed to look like. "You're not quite what you should be," Tyler says without thinking. Josh stiffens, and Tyler thinks he's going to yell again, but Josh just squeezes Tyler's hand. "That's okay," he whispers, "as long as you remember me." Tyler squeezes back. They walk in thick silence, all green-orange. Tyler can sort of taste it. "What if this isn't real?" Tyler says suddenly. Josh frowns. "In what way?" "In the way it's all in my mind," Tyler clarifies. Josh cocks his head. "Well, of course it's all in your mind," he says, and Tyler blinks. "What?" "This is all in your mind," Josh says, gesturing. "But that doesn't mean it's not real." Tyler sighs. "Yes, but what if all this-" he gestures around, "is only in my mind?" Josh shrugs. "Then it would still be real, wouldn't it? If you can see it, if you can feel it, why wouldn't it be real?" "I- I don't know," Tyler says, frowning. "Maybe because it isn't real for anyone else." "So?" "So, maybe you're not real." Josh freezes, looking at Tyler. "What?" "Maybe you're not real," Tyler repeats. Josh is shaking his head. "No, don't say that." "Everyone tells me you aren't," Tyler says. "My therapists, my psychologist, my parents-" "Don't listen to them," Josh says firmly, staring into Tyler's eyes. "Don't listen. You can see me, right? Hear me?" He squeezes Tyler's hand. "Feel me?" "Hallucination?" Tyler offers. "One that kisses you?" Josh retorts. Tyler shakes Josh's hand off in favor of burying his head in his hands. "Tyler, I'm real," Josh snaps. "Do you hear me?" "Let me think!" Tyler yells back. "I told you to remember me!" Josh growls. "Did you think that up yourself? Am I really just your imagination?" "Shut up!" Tyler screams, hands over his ears. "Shut up shut up shut up!" "Listen to me!" "You're not real!" "Yes I am!" "You're not real!" "I am! Tyler, listen-" "Not real, not real, not real-" And then Josh backhands him across the face. They both freeze. "Did- did you just-" "Tyler," Josh gasps out. "Tyler, I'm so sorry, I didn't-" "Get away from me." "Oh, Tyler, I'm so-" "Leave me alone!" Tyler screams. "Get away from me!" "Tyler, please, I'm sorry!" "Stay away!" he shrieks, running towards his home. "Tyler!" Tyler screams, tears running down his cheeks. He runs into the light of his house, bangs on the door, and his brother opens it. "Tyler! Mom's been so-" Tyler runs past him, sobbing as he dashes into his room. He collapses on his bed, not even bothering to lock the door. He burrows under the blankets, curls up, and falls asleep. Tyler wakes up to his mother lying on his bed next to him, rubbing his back. "Hey," she says softly as he sits up, rubbing his eyes. "Hi," he says, feeling hollow. "Want to talk about it?" his mom asks gently. Tyler starts to shake his head, but says, "Josh hit me." His mom's eyes widen. "He what?" "It was my fault," Tyler says, running his fingers through his hair. "I kept screaming that he's not real, he's not real, and he was crying but I didn't stop and finally he just hit me." His mom stares at him, looking horrified. "He hit you," she says slowly. Tyler rubs his eyes, nodding. He's suddenly wrapped into a fierce hug. "Mom?" he says uncertainly as he feels her shake as though she's crying. "Tyler," she says softly. "Oh, Tyler. I'm so sorry." "Why... why are you...?" Tyler begins but doesn't finish, hesitantly patting his mother's back. "My baby boy," she whispers, hugging him to the point that it's hard for him to breathe. "Mom?" Tyler looks up to see his youngest brother peeking into the room. "Um, I don't mean to bother you, but Dad's on the phone," the brother says, holding out the phone. Reluctantly, Tyler's mom releases Tyler and grabs the phone. Looking much relieved, his brother leaves immediately. "Chris?" his mom says, holding the phone to her ear. She listens for a moment. "No, he just woke up." She pauses again. "Yes, I did- no, I'll tell you later." Another pause. "Yeah, he is. See you soon." She hangs up, setting the phone on Tyler's dresser. Tyler's mom sits back down next to him on the bed. "Are you hungry?" she asks. Tyler shakes his head. "What time is it?" His mom checks her watch. "3:50," she says. "In the afternoon, or-" "In the morning," she says. Tyler frowns. "What's Dad doing out? What's my brother doing up?" "Your dad went out to go pick up a few things," his mom says. "And all of your siblings haven't been able to sleep." "That's my fault, I'm sure," Tyler says, sounding perfectly apathetic. His mom squeezes his hand. "It's my fault, if anything," she admits. "I've been a bit of a mess." "Oh," Tyler says, unsure of what else to say. "We're going to see Dr. Paulson later, okay?" she says. "Why?" "We all need to talk together," she tells him. "About what?' She shrugs. "Everything that's been happening." Tyler sighs. "The sex," he says, and his mom flinches. "Yes, Tyler," she says. "That's part of it." Tyler nods slowly, lying back down. He buries his head in his pillow and pretends Josh never hit him. "I don't get why we're making such a big deal out of this," Tyler says. "Why do you think we shouldn't be?" Dr. Paulson says. Tyler shrugs. "It's just sex," he says. "Plenty of kids do it." "Most kids do it because they like it," Tyler's mom says gently. "But I liked it, Mom," Tyler says, frowning. "I like it." His mom stares. "You- you liked it?" "Yes," he says. "Why? Should I not have?" "Well, no, I- I mean..." "What?" Tyler demands. "We didn't think you would ever be able to enjoy sex," Dr. Paulson interjects. "Not after what happened with Dr. Craig." Tyler freezes. "But Dr. Craig," he pauses, swallowing, "he just- he just hit me. Right?" "Oh, god," his mom says, burying her head in her hands. "Oh, Tyler." "Momma?" Tyler says softly, suddenly so so scared. His mom just shakes her head, burying her face in Tyler's father's shoulder. "Dad?" Tyler asks softly, and his father swallows hard, intertwining his fingers with his wife's. "Tyler, Dr. Craig-" he pauses, taking a deep breath, "Dr. Craig..." He shakes his head, looking to Dr. Paulson. "Tyler," Dr. Paulson says, his normally calm expression looking troubled, "Dr. Craig would hit you, yes. But, ah..." He runs a hand through his thinning hair. "He would, well, hurt you. Sexually." Tyler sits back. "He'd- he'd rape me," he says dully. "Molest you, yes," Dr. Paulson says softly, eyes full of rooster-crow sadness. "And I didn't remember?" Tyler asks. "That was a severe amount of trauma for a child that young, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says. "It's not surprising that you repressed those memories." "But no one ever told me?" Tyler questions. "We saw no need to upset you," Dr. Paulson explains. "It would've only hurt you." "We're so sorry, Tyler," his mom interject tearfully. "So sorry." "Sorry, sorry," Tyler mumbles to himself. "Everybody's fucking sorry." "And this is where Josh comes in," Dr. Paulson says. "You started talking about him not too long after Dr. Craig became your therapist." "So?" Tyler asks. "Tyler," Dr. Paulson says softly, "Josh is a coping mechanism. He's not real." "No," Tyler tries to say, but things are starting to click into place. "Oh. Oh, no." "I'm sorry," Dr. Paulson says, looking genuinely apologetic. "But... but we..." Kissed. Touched. Made love. It was real. Was it? Tyler buries his head in his hands. No one else has ever seen Josh. No one else can prove he exists. Hell, Tyler doesn't even know Josh's last name. Oh, god. "Tyler," his mom says, "do you want anything? Do you need anything?" Tyler's shaking his head slowly, digging ragged nails into his knees. "No, no," he says, squeezing his eyes shut. "No." "Tyler," somebody says. He doesn't know who, because everything is starting to blur in his ears. "The food is poisoned," he whispers before everything goes dark. Tyler wakes up in his bedroom, his mom asleep on the chair next to his bed and holding his hand in an nearly painful grasp. He looks out the window, at the sinking sun, and squints his eyes. "Remember me," he whispers. His mom stirs next to him, her eyes fluttering open. "Hey, baby," she murmurs. "Hi," he says, still looking out the window. "How do you feel?" his mom asks. "Tired," he says. "Could I, ah, maybe get some water?" "Of course," she says. "I'll be right back. Don't move, okay?" "Okay," he says, still looking out at the sun. "Hey. Look at me." Tyler reluctantly looks away, looks at his mom. "Don't go anywhere," she orders. "Okay," he repeats, and she gives him a hug before leaving. As soon as she closes the door, Tyler's throwing open his window and clambering out the way Josh used to all the time. He races out into the woods, skin suddenly too tight for his body. Dirty. Dirty dirty dirty. The kind of dirty that Tyler can feel in his soul, the one place where he can't scrub viciously with soap. His feet are wet with blue-black water, and he looks up to see everything turning blue-black now. He wants to shout for Josh, to tell him that he gets it now, he understands, but Josh is gone and he's never coming back and Tyler thinks his lungs are going to burst. "I'm sorry!" he screams. "I get it now! I promise!" But everything's becoming bluer and everything's becoming blacker and Tyler can feel the cold in his bones. It's seeping in through his eyes, and he closes them as tightly as he can but it still leaks through. He's shivering, he's shaking, and he's so, so dirty. Tyler slowly becomes aware that he's pleading for Josh to come back, come back to him, but Josh is never coming back because he isn't real, and Tyler is a crazy fucking idiot left with only his crazy fucking mind and he's so so so dirty, he's filthy, and he's never going to be loved. "Please!" he shrieks, harsh and guttural, like the word's being torn away from his throat. "Oh, please!" The word echoes around the forest, bouncing from tree to tree, and Tyler can feel the word sink through him, coating his bones, making them vibrate "pleasepleaseplease." "Where are you?!" he screams. "I need you! I fucking need you, oh please!" His hands are on his head, pulling his hair, clawing his skin. His nails are tearing though the soft skin of his cheeks, ripping, and he thinks that the pain is the most real thing he's ever felt. He claws desperately at his face, his neck, his arms. It hurts, it fucking hurts, and he's sobbing but he's laughing because isn't this just the best thing ever? "I'm real!" Tyler screams. He points towards the sky accusingly. "I'm fucking real! Why aren't you?!" He collapses onto the cold, cold ground. "Why aren't you real?!" he shrieks. "Why- aren't- you- real?!" he demands, slamming his head against the ground with every word. Tyler goes quiet suddenly when he realizes that he's sprawled out in front of the treehouse. Their treehouse. He closes his eyes and lets the memories play before them. Kissing, touching, whispering lullabies that were never real. It was never real. With a strangled cry of agony, Tyler pushes himself up off the ground. He clambers up the tree into the treehouse. It's dark, quiet. The air is heavy, and Tyler doesn't speak. He sits and watches tears drip onto the T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D that's carved into the wooden floor. Josh's lighter is lying by Tyler's shoe, and he slowly picks it up, flicks it on. The flame glows in the darkness, and Tyler watches himself press the flame to the wall. He holds it there, watching the wood grow darker as it chars. For a while nothing else happens, but Tyler suddenly sees the wood catch fire. He flicks the lighter off and watches, transfixed, as the flame grows larger and larger, climbing up to the ceiling. Tyler lies on his back and watches as fire slowly engulfs the roof. The treehouse is starting to fill with smoke. Something inside him is pulling, insisting that he has to get out, get out before he suffocates or burns. He ignores it. He doesn't care anymore. Tyler falls asleep as everything around him burns. He doesn't care. "How do you feel?" T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D The funeral is a small, quiet ceremony. The mother is crying softly, the father is purposefully silent, and the siblings are warily grieving the brother they never really knew. The doctor is there too, rubbing the tan line on his left ring finger and breathing in, breathing out. The priest conducting the ceremony asks if anyone would like to say a few words. A boy with bright blue hair and mocha eyes (and C major lips and blue-sky hands and tiger-growl teeth) stands up.

2 notes · View notes

blxrry-txler-and-jxsh-blog · 5 years

Text

The Forest Fic

Chapter 1

“The rain,” Tyler says.

Josh nods, slowly.

“It’s like…” Tyler paused, searching for the word.

“Crisper,” Josh says.

“Exactly,” Tyler says, nodding.

“Almost like…” Josh frowns, “red? Maybe?”

“Mostly,” Tyler says. “With a hint of orange.

“Orange, right.” Josh points at Tyler. “That’s right. I keep forgetting that one.”

“A lot of things are orange, though,” Tyler says, frowning.

“Not where I’m from,” Josh says darkly. “Everything’s just blue-black there.”

Tyler winces. “I can’t even imagine.”

“Don’t,” Josh says firmly. He shakes his head. “Don’t even try.”

Tyler shudders a little. “Believe me, I don’t want to.”

Josh nods. “Good.” He sits up straighter suddenly, cocking his head.

“My mom coming?” Tyler asks. Josh nods, standing up.

“Keep it short, yeah?” Josh asks as he closes the closest door.

“Okay,” Tyler replies to the now-empty room.

There’s a soft tpao n the door before his mom pokes her head in.

“What are you doing, Tyler?” Tyler’s mom asks, looking in.

“Talking to Josh,” Tyler tells her. He immediately regrets saying anything.

“Tyler,” his mom says, sighing. “Josh isn’t real, remember? We’ve been over this before.”

“Right, Mom,” Tyler says, nodding. “I’m sorry.”

“Tyler, I…” His mom pauses, looking unsure. “Don’t apologize, okay? It’s just that Josh doesn’t exist.”

“Okay,” Tyler tells her, waiting for her to leave so Josh can come back.

His mom looks at him, something yellow-blue-red in her eyes. He forgets what other call it. Josh would know.

“Tyler, you have an appointment tomorrow, remember?” Tyler’s mom says. “With Dr. Paulson.”

Dr. Paulson has lots of markers, a checkerboard, and a liberal use of a drawer full of candy so Tyler won’t tell anyone about the one time everything tasted like metal and soap and magenta dipped in candle wax.

“Okay,” Tyler says, nodding.

His mom bites her lip. “All right, Tyler,” she says. “Remember to eat, okay?”

“Okay,” Tyler echoes, and she closes the door.

Josh immediately opens the closet door.

“Dr. Paulson,” he says with a tone of distaste.

“Why don’t you like him?” Tyler asks as he watches Josh settle himself on Tyler’s bookshelf.

“He sound so…” Josh bites his lip, searching for the word “I would say purple-green, but I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

“Pink,” Tyler says immediately.

“Right, right,” Josh says. He makes a face. “I don’t like it when you go there.”

“Would you rather I go back to Dr. Craig?” Tyler offers.

Josh recoils the best he can whole perched precariously on a bookshelf.

“No!” Josh exclaims. “No, no, never!”

“I was kidding,” Tyler says as he sprawls back onto his bed.

“Some joke,” Josh mutters, sounding irritated. “Don’t kid about that, okay?”

“Okay,” Tyler says, suddenly reminded by his conversation with his mother. The sounds of butter being spread on toast, bland, and purple-red acceptance.

“No, really,” Josh says, hopping off the bookshelf so he can grab Tyler’s hand. “Don’t joke about that. That was… bad.”

“It was,” Tyler allows, and Josh presses his lips to Tyler’s hand.

“Please don’t joke about that, Tyler,” Josh murmurs.

Tyler is so charmed by the way Josh’s mouth forms his name that he agrees automatically.

Chapter Two

Tyler can tell Dr. Paulson has had a long day.

“Everything alright with you wife, Doctor?” Tyler asks politely.

“Peachy,” Dr. Paulson huffs, flopping down onto his chair. “Chocolate or lollipop?

“Lollipop,” Tyler answers. He likes to suck them as obscenely as possible once in a

while, just to check Dr. Paulson’s priorities.

“Last session we discussed books,” Dr. Paulson says, not paying attention to Tyler’s treatment of his lollipop. “And headaches.”

“Those two may as well be synonymous,” Tyler says.

“Yes, you mentioned that many times,” Dr. Paulson says, sounding tired.

“And the bible-”

“-has such small print you may as well be looking at a rainbow,” the doctor finishes.

“Although the first part-”

“-of Genesis is almost entirely green, so you can read it,” Dr. Paulson says. “I take very good notes, remember?”

“I remember,” Tyler says in the same tone he uses with his mother.

“Tyler, I’m sorry I’m not at the top of my game today,” he says. He leans forward, and Tyler jerks back so quickly that the lollipop almost goes down his throat. “Sorry, sorry,” Dr. Paulson apologizes. He takes off his glasses so he can scrub his face with his hand. “I’m so sorry, Tyler.”

Tyler doesn’t say anything. He thinks that if he opens his mouth, nothing but the ‘gibberish’ only Josh seems to understand would fall out. His heart’s pounding in his chest, and he places his hand over it. Dr. Paulson follows his movements and winces.

“I’m so sorry, Tyler,” he repeats. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m okay,” Tyler says, pleased when he hears them come out as ‘normal’ words.

“You’re not, Tyler,” Dr. Paulson says with a sigh. “You’re not okay.” He shakes his head slowly, as if to clear it. “What do you want to talk about today?”

Tyler shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Have you been writing?” Dr. Paulson asks.

“A little,” Tyler murmurs, picking a loose thread on his jeans.

“Have you written about anything particularly interesting?”

“The treehouse,” Tyler says, before wishing he didn’t say anything because Dr. Paulson’s eyes go blue-orange-green, all interested and almost hungry-looking.

“What treehouse?” Dr. Paulson asks, jotting something down in his notebook.

“We- I found a treehouse in the woods,” Tyler murmurs, scowling down at the carpet. He feels oddly exposed now.

“What was the treehouse like?” the doctor asks, not looking up from his notebook.

“I dunno. Woody.” Yellow-purple. The way wet chalk feels. The lowest B on his piano.

“Do your parents know about the treehouse?” Dr. Paulson asks.

“Does it matter?” Tyler says, a little more defensively than he intended.

Dr. Paulson blinks. “I suppose it doesn’t,” he says slowly. “I just wanted to know if you’ve been talking to them.”

“You could’ve just asked them,” Tyler points out. “You could’ve just asked me that.”

“You’re right, Tyler. I’m sorry,” Dr. Paulson says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Have you been talking to your parents?” Tyler snorts. “I thought so.” The doctor leans forward, slowly, so Tyler has time to prepare for his presence. “I think you should talk to them, Tyler. They really care about you.”

“They don’t.” Tyler knows he sounds like a child, like the smell of orange peels, but he doesn’t care.

“They do, Tyler. And they were so upset when they found out what had happened to you.”

“They never believed me.”

“Tyler, you weren’t very easy to understand then,” Dr. Paulson says gently. “You still aren’t, honestly.”

“You seem to manage.”

“I’ve known you for a long time now, Tyler.”

“So have my parents.”

“Have they really?”

Tyler is silent for a moment. “No.” He pauses. “They don’t know me at all.”

“Tyler, have you ever thought about making peace with your parents?” Dr. Paulson asks.

Tyler scowls. “They should be the ones making peace with me.”

“They’re trying, Tyler, really,” the doctor says. “I guess you haven’t noticed, but they’re trying to make amends.

“Well, they’re doing a hell of a job,” Tyler mutters.

Dr. Paulson ignores the comment. “They said they’ve been trying to take you out more and participate in family activities.

“I hate crowds,” Tyler tells his doctor. “I hate board games. I hate TV.”

“They don’t know what you like, Tyler,” Dr. Paulson says. “But I’m sure they’ll be happy to do whatever you do like with you.

“I…” Tyler pauses. “There’s nothing that I like to do.”

Dr. Paulson goes quiet for a moment. “You like Josh.”

Tyler blinks. “What?” Dr. Paulson has never willingly brought up the topic of Josh before.

“I’m not saying that Josh is real, Tyler,” the doctor says quickly. “But maybe you could try telling someone in your family about him.”

“And what purpose would that serve, other then to cater my delusions?”

“It’ll help you open up,” Dr. Paulson says, ignoring his sarcasm. “You’re much easier to understand when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about.”

Tyler thinks about this. “You’ll have to tell my parents that it’s okay for me to talk about Josh.”

Dr. Paulson sighs. “I didn’t mean for that to happen when I told them about Josh, Tyler. I’m sorry.”

Tyler shrugs, “Whatever.”

Dr. Paulson nods slowly to himself, jotting something down in his notebook. “I’ll talk to them.”

Chapter 3

“What are you going to tell them about me?” Josh asks as he picks at a piece of splintering wood in their treehouse.

Tyler shrugs. “I dunno. There’s a lot to say.”

“You could tell them how pink-red-orange I am,” Josh says, flashing Tyler one of those smiles that make Tyler melt. “How sexy I am, how I sound like melted marshmallows, how my lips are the key C major, how I can-”

“Oh, shut up,” Tyler says, pushing him playfully.

Josh laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grins. Tyler looks away before Josh can see him staring.

“My parents think I’m crazy,” Tyler says suddenly.

Josh sobers immediately, frowning. “You’re not crazy.”

“I know,” Tyler says. “But telling them about you isn’t going to convince them of that.”

Josh is silent for a moment. “What are you going to do?”

“Talk to them about you anyways,” Tyler says. “Fuck what they think.”

Josh grins “You’re really pink-red-orange when you swear.”

Tyler blushes. “No, I’m not.”

Josh looks at him thoughtfully. “You’re pretty pretty Tyler.”

“Pretty pretty?” Tyler repeats.

Josh laughs, “Not my best word choice.”

“Why do we talk like this, anyways?” Tyler asks. “If we just used our words, nothing like that would happen.”

“You asked me to talk ‘normally,’” Josh says. “For practice.”

Tyler frowns. “Why did I do that?”

Josh shrugs. “Something about better communication.”

Tyler nods slowly. “Sounds like something I’d do. Back, y’know.”

“Well, yeah,” Josh says. “You were all-” he makes a few indiscernible hand motions. “Blue-purple. Jumbled.”

“Mixed up,” Tyler says, nodding.”

“Not exactly,” Josh says. “Sort off… I can’t remember the word for it. Orange-green-purple.”

“Confused,” Tyler translates. Josh nods.

“That’s it. I keep forgetting that one,” he says. “Confused. You were confused. And like the letter M. The way August smells.”

“Confused, maybe,”Tyler allows. “I don’t know about lost, though.”

“You were lost,” Josh says, sounding certain.

“Maybe,” Tyler says again. He watches Josh flick the lighter he always has on and off. “Why do you even have that? You don’t smoke.”

Josh shrugs. “You never know when you’ll have to set everything on fire.”

Tyler furrows his eyebrows. “What? What are you talking about?”

Josh just shrugs again. “You’ll get it someday.”

Chapter 4

“He dyed his hair the other day,” Tyler tells his mom.

They’re sitting on the steps outside, watching the wind blow through the trees in their backyard. It sounds like a cool pillow on Tyler’s skin, and he smiles.

“What colour?” His mom asks.

“Blue. Bright blue,” Tyler says, grinning a little to himself. “It was red for awhile before, actually.”

“That’s neat, Tyler,” his mom says, looking rather uncomfortable.

“He has these really dark brown eyes,” Tyler says, choosing to ignore his mother’s discomfort. “Coffee eyes. That kind with coffee and hot chocolate. What’s that called again?”

“Mocha,” his mom supplies.

“Mocha eyes,” Tyler says, nodding.

“Tyler,” his mom says, biting her bottom lip, “Who is Josh to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he your friend?” his mom asks. “Boyfriend?”

Tyler sputters a little. “What? No!”

“It’s… y’know, okay if you want a boyfriend,” Tyler’s mom says. “Just so you know.” “Great,” Tyler says, still wide-eyed. “What brought that on?”

“You always have this goofy look on when you talk about him, Tyler,” his mom tells him.

“Yeah, but that automatically made you think I’m gay?”

“Well,” his mom shrugs, “you’ve never seemed very straight, Tyler.”

Tyler blinks, “Thanks, Mom.”

“It wasn’t an insult!” his mom begins to protest, but pauses when she sees Tyler laughing.

“I’m gay,” Tyler assures her once he’s done giggling. “I just never expected you to notice.”

“I do occasionally notice something about you, Tyler,” his mom tells him.

Tyler immediately sobers. He frowns, and his mom sighs, carefully taking his hand.

“I’m sorry, Tyler,” she tells him. “I know that an apology won’t fix anything, that it won’t change anything, but I am still so sorry.”

“Why-” Tyler swallows hard, “why didn’t you believe me?”

“I-” His mom sighs. “Dr. Craig seemed very professional, Tyler. He was supposed to be top of the line. And he was very smooth, very reassuring that there was absolutely no misconduct.” She sighs again, squeezing Tyler’s hand gently. “I regret not listening to you more than anything, Tyler.”

“Don’t we all,” Tyler mutters. “Don’t we all.”

Chapter 5

“How do you feel?” Josh asks one day.

“Who are you, Dr. Paulson?”

Josh rolls his eyes. “Come on, Ty,” he says, passing him his pocket knife. “Show me. In ‘normal’ words.”

Tyler stares at the knife, warm and heavy in his palm, like silk on dewy grass.

“Show me,” Josh repeats.

Tyler flips out the blade, pressing it into the wooden floor of their treehouse.

“‘Normal’ words,” he whispers to himself, trying to recall one for how he feels.

T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D.

“Terrified,” Josh reads. “Why?”

Tyler shrugs, wiping the wood shavings off the knife before flicking it closed and handing it back to Josh.

“I don’t know. Always am,” he says.

“Why?” Josh repeats. “Of what?”

Tyler shrugs again. “Of what’s next, I guess,” he says.

Josh frowns. “That’s nothing to be scared of,” he says.

“Why am I scared, then?”

Josh smiles in that small, gentle way of his “Orange-green-purple,” he says.

Tyler sighs, tracing his thumb over the carving in the wooden board.

“I’m not,” he murmurs. “Not really.”

“You are,” Josh says. “Like stretched orange cotton. Not knowing what’s around the corner is one of the best things ever.”

“Terrifying,” Tyler says, shaking his head.

“Maybe a little,” Josh allows. “But maybe what’s around the corner is the best thing you could possibly imagine.”

“What if it’s not, though?”

“What if it is?”

“What if it isn’t?”

Josh leans forward, taking Tyler’s fingers away from the carving in the wood.

“But what if it is?” he whispers.

Chapter 6

“How are things with you and your mother?” Dr. Paulson asks as Tyler slides a peanut butter cup into his pocket.

“Fine,” Tyler says.

“Fine?” Dr. Paulson repeats, eyebrow raised.

“Better,” Tyler amends

Dr. Paulson nods slowly. “You talked to her about Josh, then?”

Tyler nods. “She didn’t look too happy.”

“As expected, Tyler,” Dr. Paulson sayings, still looking down at his notes. “It can’t be comfortable for a woman to hear her seventeen-year-old son talk about his imaginary friend.”

“Who she thinks is imaginary,” Tyler corrects before he can stop himself.

Dr. Paulson pauses, finally looking up from his notes.

“Tyler,” he says, softly. “Josh is-”

“Yes, okay, whatever,” Tyler says quickly.

The doctor sighs, running his hand through his thinning hair absentmindedly.

“He’s not real, Tyler,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, but he just doesn’t exist.”

“Yes, fine, whatever you say.”

Dr. Paulson rubs his face with his hands. “Tyler…”

“Look,” Tyler says, suddenly feeling ready to fight, “I know you think I’m crazy because of this, but Josh is real, okay? You’re not going to convince me otherwise.”

Dr. Paulson chuckles dryly. “I’m seeing that, yes.”

Chapter 7

“It’s all blue-black,” Josh says. “My home, I mean. That’s why I like it here better.”

“You’ve told me that,” Tyler says. “Lots.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true,” Josh points out.

“I know,” Tyler says. “I’m just saying that I hear you whenever you tell me.”

“But I don’t want you to hear me,” Josh says insistently. “I want you to listen.”

Tyler frowns. “What’s the difference?”

Josh makes a frustrated noise. “Some people- philosophers, mainly- say other people never hear each other,” he says. “But I don’t think that’s true. I think everyone hears, but I don’t think most people listen.”

Tyler’s frown deepens. “I still don’t get it.”

“It’s like…” Josh shifts, taking Tyler’s hand. “Okay, when I say ‘take my hand,’ you think of holding hands, right? Not of taking my hand someplace with you. Unless we go somewhere hand-in-hand, but that’s a different story.” He shakes his head to clear it. “What I mean is, you hear ‘take my hand’ but listen to ‘hold my hand.’”

“Oh.” Tyler pauses, thinking. “I get it.” He frowns again. “I think.”

Josh cracks a smile. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

Chapter 8

“Tyler, your psychiatrist and I want to start you on a new kind of drug,” Dr. Paulson says as Tyler sits down.

“What?” Tyler asks as he picks out a purple lollipop. “Don’t you remember how it went last time?”

“Not anti-psychotics,” Dr. Paulson says. “That was a mistake, I know.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That was a mistake.”

“What kind of drug, then?” Tyler asks, unwrapping the lollipop and popping it in his mouth.

“Lorazepam,” Dr. Paulson says. He pauses. “Ativan.”

Tyler frowns. “Doesn’t that treat anxiety?” Am I anxious? he wonders to himself.

“It’s also treats insomnia,” Dr. Paulson says. “Frankly, Tyler, you’re starting to look like a skeleton. One in need of a good night’s sleep.”

Tyler shrugs. “I think I’m okay.”

Dr. Paulson sighs. “Your mother told me she can hear you talking to yourself at three in the morning. Every single night.

Tyler opens his mouth to say that it’s not himself he’s talking to, but decides against it.

“I’m okay,” he says instead.

“Tyler, I really don’t think you’re getting enough sleep,” Dr. Paulson says softly. “You look exhausted all the time.”

“I’m fine.”

“Tyler, this is honestly what I think is best for you,” Dr. Paulson says gently.

Tyler glares at him. “And why do you care what’s best for me?” He leans forward, undaunted. “I don’t think you do,” he says, placing his hand over his cheek deliberately.

Dr. Paulson’s expression drops. “Tyler,” he begins, stopping. “Tyler, I’m so, so sorry about that.”

Tyler rolls his eyes, leaning back. “Whatever.”

The doctor sighs, rubbing his eyes. “There’s no excuse for that,” he says. “But Tyler, this really is for your own good.” He pulls out another piece of paper and jots something down on it. “I’m going to talk to your parents, and once I have their approval, we’re going to start you on Ativan. Okay, Tyler?”

“Whatever,” Tyler says again.

Dr. Paulson sighs again, rubbing the ring on his left finger. “Okay. Now, Tyler, I thought-”

“Stop that,” Tyler says, irritated.

Dr. Paulson pauses. “Stop what?

“Stop putting my name in every other sentence you direct to me,” Tyler says. “I know my name now, okay?”

“Force of habit, T- force of habit,” Doctor Paulson says.

Tyler chuckles dryly. “I hate my name,” he tells his doctor.

“And why’s that?” Dr. Paulson asks, scratching something down on his notepad.

“It’s just a reminder.”

Dr. Paulson pauses. “A reminder of what?”

“It’s just a reminder that no one’s actually unique,” Tyler says. “No one’s actually special.”

Dr. Paulson sets his notepad onto the desk, looking intrigued. “Elaborate?” he requests.

“Certainly,” Tyler says. “You know, there’s someone out there named Tyler Joseph. Maybe not now, but there will be. Maybe even both, depending on how long I live.” He pauses, tapping his chin. “And if there are infinite universes, there are an infinite number of Tyler Joseph’s, saying the exact same thing I’m saying, thinking the exact same thing that I’m saying. Yes, there are an infinite number of worlds where Tyler Joseph is a plumber who cross dresses in his free time and has never once considered other universes, but that would mean there are also an infinite number of worlds that are an exact replica of this one. And if that’s true, there’s no reason for anyone to feel special.” Tyler hums thoughtfully. “You could always argue, of course, that there may be no such thing as parallel universes, but even so, there’s still going to be someone with your name in the past, present, or future. And I read that everyone has a doppelgänger on this earth, although the two doppelgängers may not live at the same time.” Tyler sighs. “What’s the point in being unique?”

Dr. Paulson stares at him. “...and that’s why you don’t like your name?”

Tyler laughs a little. “A rather wordy version of why, yes.”

“It’s definitely interesting,” Dr. Paulson tells him. “I’m definitely going to think long and hard about it later.

“Good,” Tyler tells him honestly. “I think everyone should think about it at least once in awhile. Food for thought, you know?”

Chapter 9

“Mom?” Tyler asks, walking into the kitchen.

“Tyler?” his mom responds, turning to him with an expression of mild surprise.

“I have something to tell you,” he says, cautiously taking her hand and leading her to sit at the kitchen table.

“What is it?” she asks.

“I…” am in love with the boy you think is imaginary, what do I do? “...uh.” Tyler scratches the back of his neck. “Uhm…”

“Yes?” his mom says.

“What’s for dinner?” comes tumbling out.

His mother blinks in surprise. “Spaghetti and meatballs,” she says. “Why? Do you want to eat with us?”

And for some unknown reason, Tyler nods.

Chapter 10

“So, let me get this straight…” Josh begins, “you tried to eat spaghetti with a spoon, called your brother a periwinkle dust mop when he tried to give you a fork, listened to your sister talk about her basketball tournament, fell off your chair when your other brother kicked you under the table, watched your dad drink a non alcoholic beer, listened to your mom talk about your sister’s basketball tournament, and burst into tears when your brother who kicked you asked why you don’t go to school?”

“That just about sums it up,” Tyler says, nodding.

Josh raises an eyebrow at him. “And why did you even go to dinner?”

Tyler blushes. “It was sort of an accident.”

Josh raises the other eyebrow. “How do you accidentally wind up eating dinner with your family.

“I- ah…” Tyler runs a hand through his hair. “Well, I was going to ask my mom something, but, uhm, I ended up asking her what's for dinner.”

Josh’s raised eyebrows lift even higher. “What were you going to ask her?”

Tyler feels his face flush even darker. “Nothing,” he says a little too quickly.

Josh’s eyebrows rise so high they could almost disappear into his mop of bright blue hair. Before Tyler can stop himself, he’s reaching out and pushing Josh’s eyebrows down himself.

They stare at each other for a moment before they both burst into laughter.

They end up with their foreheads pressed together and fingers intertwined, and they’re both still giggling as Tyler looks down at Josh’s soft, C major lips. It would be so easy just to…

“Tyler?”

Tyler snaps out of it, looking back up into Josh’s mocha eyes. Their foreheads still pressed together.

“Can I, uhm…” Before Tyler can think about it, he’s shifting himself oh-so-slightly for their lips to touch. It’s brief, but Tyler can still feel those perfect, C major lips unresponsive on his when he pulls back.

“Oh,” Josh says, looking startled.

“Oh,” Tyler echoes, standing up. “Oh, oh man, I’m so sorry, I-I’ll…” He practically slides down the ladder.

“No wait, Tyler-” Josh calls, but Tyler doesn’t look back.

Chapter 11

“You seem gloomy today,” Tyler’s mom comments as Tyler pours milk into a bowl of cereal.

Tyler shrugs. “I’m alright.”

She frowns. “You haven’t gone outside at all today.”

Tyler shrugs again. “Not in the mood.”

“Do you mind if I join you?” His mom gestures to the seat across from Tyler. He shakes his head. “Thank you.”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“I didn’t know you liked that kind of cereal,” Tyler’s mom comments.

“Hmm?” Tyler says, looking up. “Oh yeah, it’s Josh’s…” he cuts himself off when he looks down at the floating brown and tan corn puffs. “...favourite.”

Before he knows it, Tyler’s suddenly bawling into his bowl of Reese’s Puffs.

“Tyler,” his mom says, sounding alarmed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tyler says through a small sob. “I-I don’t know, I-” another sob cuts him off.

“Shh,” his mom says, suddenly kneeling next to his chair, hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Tyler wraps his arms around her, burying his head in her shoulder. He’s suddenly bombarded by memories of when he used to cling to her after his unending nightmares when he was little. He stopped asking for his mom when Josh came into the picture, though. He’d cling to Josh instead.

Tyler chuckles through a sob, wondering if he’ll have to go back to hugging his mom after nightmares.

“It’s okay,” Tyler’s mom says softly, patting his back. “Sweetheart, it’s all okay.”

“Mom?” he whispers into her neck.

“Yes, Tyler?” she replies.

“I’m in love with Josh,” he says, voice cracking on “love.”

“Oh.” Tyler’s mom holds him even tighter. “Oh, Tyler.”

“And I know-” Tyler pauses to take a deep breath, “I know that you think he’s not real, and everyone’s so vehement about it that sometimes I think he might not be too. And where would that leave me?” He’s starting to shake now. “Stuck in love with a ghost, that’s what.”

“Oh, baby,” his mom says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

The position they’re in isn’t very comfortable, and Tyler’s mom slowly helps them both stand before guiding their way to the sofa. Tyler immediately curls up, burying his head back into his mother’s shoulder.

“I messed up,” Tyler says, shuddering. “I kissed him and he didn’t kiss back, and I wanted to die, Momma, he means so much and I messed it all up.”

“Oh, honey,” Tyler’s mom says softly, running her hand through his hair.

“I messed up,” Tyler says again. “I messed up so bad.”

“Tyler,” his mom says carefully, “have you considered this might be a good thing?”

“What?” Tyler says, confused.

“It’s not healthy to rely on- on someone like you do,” his mom says gently. “Maybe take a break from Josh?”

“A break?” Tyler says, so appalled that he’s stopped crying.

“A break, Tyler,” she echoes. “Just for a little while. Take up a new hobby or something.”

“Josh isn’t a hobby, Mom,” Tyler says, indignant by her implications. “He’s a person. A person that I need to make amends with,” he says, springing up.

“Tyler, wait-”

But Tyler’s already dashing out the back door and running into the forest to find Josh.

Chapter 12

Tyler can hear Josh humming mindlessly when he approaches the treehouse. He cautiously climbs up the ladder, poking his head in.

Josh is sitting there, flicking the lighter on and off as if in a trance.

“Hey,” Tyler says, and Josh nearly drops the lighter in surprise.

“Hi,” he says, pocketing the lighter. “Come in.”

Tyler hesitantly clambers in. “So, I wanted to apol-”

He’s cut off when Josh surges forward and presses C major lips to his.

The kiss lasted longer than the last one, and this time both of them are contributing. Josh’s mouth is warm and sweet, and Tyler can feel his own heart thumping madly.

Josh’s soft, blue-sky hands reach up. One cradles the back of his neck, and the other cups his jaw. Tyler’s hands hesitantly reach up as well, grasping Josh’s shoulders.

They finally pull back, and Tyler slowly opened his eyes to see Josh’s still closed, looking utterly content.

They just sit there for a moment, catching their breath.

“Why’d you run?” Josh asks, breaking the silence.

“Why didn’t you kiss back?” Tyler answers.

There’s another moment of silence.

“I like you,” Josh says suddenly. His voice sounds a little different. Like rain falling up. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you a lot too,” Tyler says, and Josh beams at him, tiger-growl teeth peeking through C major lips.

“Good,” he whispers, odic, and kisses him again.

“Oh,” Tyler gasps into Josh’s mouth. “Josh.”

“Good?” Josh mumbles as he twists his fingers. Tyler yelps.

“Like- like-” Tyler throws his hands back, hitting the wooden floor of the treehouse. “I can taste- ahh…”

Josh swallows his groan, pressing perfect C major lips to his. Tyler whimpers again, bucking his hips up.

“Josh,” he gasps.

“Tyler,” Josh says, warm and low in his throat, honey and birdsong and dark, sweet orange.

Tyler’s a mess of gasps and moans as Josh gently moves his fingers inside him. He can taste something, like metal but not quite, and he’s so, so desperate for something, but he doesn’t know what.

“Please,” Tyler whispers, not even sure of what he’s pleading for. Josh’s fingers press up, and the not-metal taste becomes so overwhelming that a sob is startled out of him.

“Hey,” Josh says, pausing. He cups Tyler’s cheek with soft, blue-sky hands. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says shakily. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Josh presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Tell me if it becomes too much, okay?”

“Okay,” Tyler murmurs. He presses himself against Josh’s fingers, and Josh smiles, C major-sweet. “Come on,” Tyler says, throat suddenly try, “you can- ah.”

Josh goes back to slowly moving his fingers. Tyler isn’t exactly sure of what he’s doing, but it’s good.

He can feel something else in his veins, hot and desperate and red-black velvet. He groans, squeezing on Josh’s fingers.

“So good,” Tyler grunts. “So, so… like- ah, not metal but almost, and velvet, and- ahh…”

“Shh,” Josh says softly. “I know.”

Josh slowly pulls his fingers out. Tyler frowns at the loss.

“What?” he starts to ask, but Josh is suddenly shifting Tyler’s hips and pressing something warm and hard against him. “Oh.”

“Okay?” Josh murmurs, looking down at him with wide, mocha eyes.

“Yes,” Tyler says, absolutely certain. “Yes.”

Josh gently pushes in, lower C major lip tucked under tiger-growly top teeth.

Tyler’s eyes roll back as he’s slowly filled up. It burns, but it’s like creamer for coffee, like red robin feathers, and it’s okay.

“Okay?” Josh whispers.

“Yeah,” Tyler confirms, closing his eyes. The not-metal in his mouth is building up again, and he gasps as Josh shifts his hips oh-so slightly. “Oh! Oh, ahh…”

Josh kisses him again, and Tyler kisses back as hard as he can.

“So, so, ahh,” Josh moans into Tyler’s mouth. “You’re so, oh, oh…” Tyler kisses him, swallowing his groans.

Josh is starting to move his hips in a slow, steady motions, and Tyler finds himself moving his own hips to meet his motions. Josh is hitting something inside Tyler every single time, and Tyler can’t help but whimper in a low, constant sound.

“Tell me,” Josh grunts, “tell me if it’s too much.”

“It is,” Tyler murmurs back. “Keep going.”

Josh laughs softly, startled, but obilges.

Tyler runs his hands through Josh’s soft, blue hair, tugging gently. Josh groans, fingers digging into Tyler’s shoulders, and Tyler wraps his legs around Josh’s waist. His hips shift up slightly, an whimpers when Josh starts to hit that place inside him even harder.

“Come on,” Josh grunts into Tyler’s ear. “Can I…”

Tyler doesn’t even know what Josh is asking for, but he presses his hips even closer to Josh’s, squeezing, and with a yelp, Josh’s movements stutter and still.

“...are you all right?” Tyler asks.

Josh is panting hard as he reaches down and wraps his hand around Tyler’s- whoa.

“I’m great,” he says as he starts to move his hand.

“Ack,” is Tyler’s reply.

He reaches up, wrapping his arms around Josh’s back, clinging desperately. The not-metal taste is more intense than ever, and he sinks his teeth into Josh’s collarbone with a groan.

“Oh gosh,” he gasps out. “Oh gosh.”

Tyler feels the velvet in his veins, tastes the not-metal in his mouth, and he can start to hear a low humming, a perfect G sharp.

He groans, high in his throat, and Josh’s mouth along his jawbone down to his neck.

“Come on,” Josh murmurs. “Almost there.”

Tyler doesn’t know what Josh is even talking about, where he’s close to being, but he’s too jumbled up and overwhelmed to ask.

Josh twists his hand, rubbing his thumb over the top, and the not-metal in Tyler’s mouth suddenly becomes so much, too much, and he sobs hard into Josh’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Josh whispers. “Just let go. Let go.”

Tyler let’s go.

He’s falling, sinking, and he can feel himself shaking. The not-metal in his mouth finally comes spilling out as a moan higher than he ever thought he could make. He splays his arms out, one hitting the wooden wall, and he feels all of his muscles clench and unclench.

The G sharp grows louder and louder until he finally screams, groaning and whimpering. Josh is murmuring soft, cloud-sweet words as Tyler finally quiets down.

“Oh,” Tyler says once he can finally speak.

“Hi,” Josh says against Tyler’s neck.

“Hi,” Tyler echoes, ears buzzing. “That was- that was…” For the first time ever, there’s something Tyler can’t describe.

“Yeah,” Josh says, kissing him chastely. “I know.”

“I know,” Tyler says, and immediately wishes he could shove those words back in his mouth because Josh’s mocha eyes go dark.

“What,” Josh says softly, C major lips pulling back to bare tiger-growl teeth, “did you say?”

“I’m sorry, Josh,” Tyler says immediately.

Josh exhales in a way that Tyler can only describe as red-green-orange, like a stream over a bed of jagged crystal. Perfectly dangerous.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler repeats.

“You don’t-” Josh takes a deep breath, “you can’t understand, okay?”

“I-”

“You have no idea what it’s like,” Josh growls, “to be terrified of going home. No idea what it’s like to be frightened of your own parents.” He stands up, pacing the best he can in the cramped space of the treehouse. “You have no idea what it’s like to have to hide whenever your dad gets too drunk and destroys whatever he comes across, and your mother is too high to care. You have no idea what it’s like to use your body to protect your sisters, your little brother. You don’t know the fear that runs through you when your father pulls out his belt because he’s feeling pissed off and needs something to take it all out on. You have no idea what’s it like to be whipped as hard as a grown man drunk of cheap liquor and anger can manage. And let me tell you something, Tyler.” He stops pacing and turns to look Tyler in the eye. “It. Hurts.”

Tyler swallows hard. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Sorry, sorry,” Josh sneers. “Everybody’s fucking sorry.”

He resumes pacing. “Everything is blue-black,” he repeats. He pauses, frowning. “For me,” he adds.

Chapter 13

“What’s wrong, Tyler?” Tyler’s mom asks.

“Huh?” Tyler says, looking up.

“You’ve just been sitting there all day,” she says, sitting down next to him on the sofa. “Is there something wrong?”

“Well,” Tyler says. He tries to stop himself, but the words suddenly come pouring out. “Josh and I had sex, okay? And ever since then he’s been extra moody and I don’t know what to do. And yesterday we had a fight because I agreed with him when he said that everything was blue-black and he got mad because I don’t know what it’s like for everything to be blue-black. But he kept on yelling and yelling and Mom, he’s hurt so bad at home and I want to help him but I can’t and that hurts.”

“You- you had sex with Josh?”

Tyler looks up to see his mother’s face completely white.

“Yes,” he says slowly. “That’s what I said, right?”

“Tyler,” his mom says urgently, squeezing his hand so hard it’s to the point of painful, “did it hurt?”

“When you had sex with Josh, did it hurt?” his mom says. “Did he hurt you?”

Tyler frowns. “Well, a little. But I didn’t really notice then.” He considers this thoughtfully. “It hurt to sit down the next day,” he says truthfully.

His mom looked absolutely horrified. “Oh, Tyler,” she whispers, wrapping him into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Tyler says, confused. Why is she sorry? Wasn’t the sex a good thing? It felt good.

“It’s okay,” Tyler’s mom says, rocking him gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

Tyler sits there, utterly bewildered. Was he not supposed to enjoy it?

His mom runs a hand through his hair. “You’re alright. No one’s going to hurt you. Not anymore.”

Chapter 14

Tyler’s mom hasn’t let him out of her sight since he told her he had sex with Josh. He hopes Josh will understand why he hasn’t been out to make amends yet. His mom has only left his side to call a few people and to talk to his dad.

“I’m just going to go say hi to your siblings, okay?” his mom says, when they hear the garage door open. “I’ll be right back.”

Tyler nods slowly.

He can hear his mom greeting his brother and sister when there’s a tap on the living room window. He looks out to see Josh standing there, waving cautiously.

Tyler runs to the window, opening it.

“Hi,” he says cautiously.

“Come on,” Josh says, gesturing out to the woods behind them.

Tyler bites his lip. “My mom’ll freak out if she comes back and I’m not here,” he says.

Josh sighs. “Please?” he says. “I’m sorry, Tyler. I didn’t mean to yell. Please. I’m sorry.”

Tyler sighs, looking out. “Fine,” he murmurs, climbing out the window.

“Hi,” Josh says softly, cautiously taking his hand. “Can we talk?”

“Okay,” Tyler says, and they walk, hand-in-hand, into the forest.

“I’m sorry that I blew up at you like that,” Josh apologizes once they’re safely hidden in the trees.

“I’m sorry I said I understood,” Tyler says. “I don’t understand. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Josh smiles, C major lips a little sad. “Everybody’s fucking sorry,” he whispers, and Tyler leans in and kisses him.

Josh’s eyes are closed when he pulls back, and he looks peaceful.

“Sing,” he says, eyes still closed.

“What?” Tyler asks, taken aback.

“Sing,” Josh repeats.

“What do you want me to sing?” Tyler says, bewildered.

Josh shrugs. “Something everyone would know.”

“Uhm…” Tyler pauses. For some reason, all he can think of is Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

Josh finally opens his eyes when Tyler finishes. “Thank you,” he says.

“Sure,” Tyler says.

They walk deeper into the forest, hands still clasped together.

“Have you ever noticed,” Josh begins, squinting up at the darkening sky, “that when you squeeze your eyes together, everything changes?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “Not dramatically, though. Just enough to be unnerving.”

“Yeah.” Josh snaps his fingers. “Like that- that guy. With the covered faces. Red-August-L name.”

“Uhm,” Tyler says, thinking. “Uh, René Magritte?”

“Yel- yes, him,” Josh says. “Everything’s not quite what it should be.”

Tyler nods slowly, squinting around the forest. Everything has a slightly eerie gloom to it, slightly off. He shivers, looking back at Josh, who isn’t who he’s supposed to look like.

“You’re not quite what you should be,” Tyler says without thinking.

Josh stiffens, and Tyler think he’s going to yell again, but Josh just squeezes Tyler’s hand.

“That’s okay,” he whispers, “as long as you remember me.”

Tyler squeezes back.

They walk in thick silence, all green-orange. Tyler can sort of taste it.

“What if this isn’t real?” Tyler says suddenly.

Josh frowns. “In what way?”

“In the way it’s all in my mind,” Tyler clarifies. Josh cocks his head.

“Well, of course it’s all in your mind,” he says, and Tyler blinks.

“What?”

“This is all in your mind,” Josh says, gesturing. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

Tyler sighs. “Yes, but what if all this-” he gestures around, “is only in my mind?”

Josh shrugs. “Then it would still be real, wouldn’t it? If you can see it, if you can feel it, why wouldn’t it be real?”

“I- I don’t know,” Tyler says, frowning. “Maybe because it isn’t real for anyone else.”

“So?”

“So, maybe you’re not real.”

Josh freezes, looking at Tyler. “What?”

“Maybe you’re not real,” Tyler repeats.

Josh is shaking his head. “No, don’t say that.”

“Everyone tells me you aren’t,” Tyler says. “My therapists, my psychologists, my parents-”

“Don’t listen to them,” Josh says firmly, staring into Tyler’s eyes. “Don’t listen. You can see me, right? Hear me?” He squeezes Tyler’s hand. “Feel me?”

“Hallucination?” Tyler offers.

“One that kisses you?” Josh retorts.

Tyler shakes Josh’s hand off in favor of burying his head in his hands.

“Tyler, I’m real,” Josh snaps. “Do you hear me?”

“Let me think!” Tyler yells back.

“I told you to remember me!” Josh growls. “Did you think that up yourself? Am I really just your imagination?”

“Shut up!” Tyler screams, hands over his ears. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“Listen to me!”

“You’re not real!”

“Yes I am!”

“You’re not real!”

“I am! Tyler, listen-”

“Not real, not real, not real-”

And then Josh backhands him across the face.

They both freeze.

“Did- did you just-”

“Tyler,” Josh gasps out. “Tyler, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Get away from me.”

“Oh, Tyler, I’m so-”

“Leave me alone!” Tyler screams. “Get away from me!”

“Tyler, please, I’m sorry!”

“Stay away!” he shrieks, running towards his home.

“Tyler!”

Tyler screams, tears running down his cheeks. He runs into the light of his house, bangs on the door, and his brother opens it.

“Tyler! Mom’s been so-”

Tyler runs past him, sobbing as he dashes into his room. He collapses on his bed, not even bothering to lock the door.

He burrows under the blanket, curls up, and falls asleep.

Chapter 15

Tyler wakes up to his mother lying on his bed next to him, rubbing his back.

“Hey,” she says softly as he sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“Hi,” he says, feeling hollow.

“Want to talk about it?” his mom asks gently.

Tyler starts to shake his head, but says, “Josh hit me.”

His mom’s eyes widen. “He what?”

“It was my fault,” Tyler says, running his fingers through his hair. “I kept screaming that he’s not real, he’s not real, and he was crying, but I didn’t stop, and finally he just hit me.”

His mom stares at him, looking horrified.

“He hit you,” she said slowly.

Tyler rubs his eyes, nodding. He’s suddenly wrapped into a fierce hig.

“Mom?” he says uncertainly as he feels her shake as though she’s crying.

“Tyler,” she says softly. “Oh, Tyler, I’m so sorry.”

“Why… why are you…?” Tyler begins but doesn’t finish, hesitantly patting his mother’s back.

“My baby boy,” she whispers, hugging him to the point that it’s hard for him to breathe.

“Mom?”

Tyler looks up to see his youngest brother peeking into the room.

“Uhm, I didn’t mean to bother you, but Dad’s on the phone,” the brother says, holding out the phone.

Reluctantly, Tyler’s mom releases Tyler and grabs the phone. Looking much relieved, his brother leaves immediately.

“Chris?” his mom says, holding the phone to her ear. She listens for a moment. “No, he just woke up.” She pauses again. “Yes, I did- no, I’ll tell you later.” Another pause. “Yeah, he is. See you soon.” She hangs up, setting the phone on Tyler’s dresser.

Tyler’s mom sits back down next to him on the bed.

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

Tyler shakes his head. “What time is it?”

His mom checks her watch. “3:50,” she says.

“In the afternoon, or-”

“In the morning,” she says.

Tyler frowns. “What’s Dad doing out? What’s my brother doing up?”

“Your dad went out to go pick up a few things,” his mom says. “And all of your siblings haven’t been able to sleep.

“That’s my fault, I’m sure,” Tyler says, sounding perfectly apathetic.

His mom squeezes his hand. “It’s my fault, if anything,” she admits. “I’ve been a bit of a mess.”

“Oh,” Tyler says, unsure of what else to say.

“We’re going to see Dr. Paulson later, okay?” she says.

“Why?”

“We all need to talk together,” she tells him.

“About what?”

She shrugs. “Everything that’s been happening.”

Tyler sighs. “The sex,” he says, and his mom flinches.

“Yes, Tyler,” she says. “That’s part of it.”

Tyler nods slowly, lying back down. He buries his head in his pillow and pretends Josh never hit him.

Chapter 16

“I don’t get why we’re making such a big deal out of this,” Tyler says.

“Why do you think we shouldn’t be?” Dr. Paulson says.

Tyler shrugs. “It’s just sex,” he says. “Plenty of kids do it.”

“Most kids do it because they like it,” Tyler’s mom says gently.

“But I liked it, Mom,” Tyler says, frowning. “I like it.”

His mom stares. “You- you liked it?”

“Yes,” he says. “Why? Should I not have?”

“Well, no, I- I mean…”

“What?” Tyler demands.

“We didn’t think you would ever be able to enjoy sex,” Dr. Paulson interjects. “Not after what happened with Dr. Craig.”

Tyler freezes.

“But Dr. Craig,” he pauses, swallowing, “he just- he just hit me. Right?”

“Oh, god,” his mom says, burying her head in her hands. “Oh, Tyler.”

“Momma?” Tyler says softly, suddenly so scared.

His mom just shakes her head, burying her face in Tyler’s father’s shoulder.

“Dad?” Tyler asks softly, and his father swallows hard, intertwining his fingers with his wife’s.

“Tyler, Dr. Craig-” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “Dr. Craig…” He shakes his head, looking to Dr. Paulson.

“Tyler,” Dr. Paulson says, his normally calm expression looking troubled, “Dr. Craigh would hit you, yes. But, ah…” He runs a hand through his thinning hair. “He would, well, hurt you. Sexually.”

Tyler sits back.

“He’d- he’d rape me,” he says dully.

“Molest you, yes,” Dr. Paulson says softly, eyes full of rooster-crow sadness.

“And I didn’t remember?” Tyler asks.

“That was a severe amount of a trauma for a child that young, Tyler,” Dr. Paulson says. “It’s not surprising that you repressed those memories.”

“But no one ever told me?” Tyler questions.

“We saw no need to upset you,” Dr. Pualson explains. “It would’ve only hurt you.”

“We’re so sorry, Tyler,” his mom interjects tearfully. “So sorry.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tyler mumbled to himself. “Everybody’s fucking sorry.”

“And this is where Josh comes in,” Dr. Paulson says. “You started talking about him not too long after Dr. Craig became your therapist.

. “So?” Tyler akss.

“Tyler,” Dr. Paulson say softly, “Josh is a coping mechanism. He’s not real.”

“No,” Tyler tries to say, but things are starting to click into place. “Oh. Oh, no.”

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Paulson says, looking genuinely apologetic.

“But… but we…’ Kissed. Touched. Made love. It was real.

Was it?

Tyler buries his head in his hands. No one else has ever seen Josh. No one else can prove he exists. Hell, Tyler doesn’t even know Josh’s last name.

Oh, god.

“Tyler,” his mom says, “do you want anything? Do you need anything?”

Tyler’s shaking his head slowly, digging ragged nails into his knees.

“No, no,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “No.”

“Tyler,” somebody says. He doesn’t know who, because everything is starting to blur in his ears.

“The food is poisoned,” he whispered before everything goes dark.

Tyler wakes up in his bedroom, his mom asleep on a chair next to his bed and holding his hand in a nearly painful grasp.

He looks out the window, at the sinking sun, and squinted his eyes.

“Remember me,” he whispers.

His mom stirs next to him, her eyes fluttering open.

“Hey, baby,” she murmurs.

“Hi,” he says, still looking out the window.

“How do you feel?” his mom asks.

“Tired,” he says. “Could I, ah, maybe get some water?”

“Of course,” she says. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, still looking out at the sun.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Tyler reluctantly looks away, looks at his mom.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she orders.

“Okay,” he repeats, and she gives him a hug before leaving.

As soon as she closes the door, Tyler’s throwing open his window and clambering out the way Josh used to all the time. He races out into the woods, skin suddenly too tight for his body.

Dirty. Dirty, dirty, dirty. The kind of dirty that Tyler can feel in his soul, the one place where he can’t scrub viciously with soap.

His feet are wet with blue-black water, and he looks up to see everything turning blue-black now. He wants to shout for Josh, to tell him that he gets it now, he understands, but Josh is gone and he’s never coming back and Tyler thinks his lungs are going to burst.

“I’m sorry!” he screams. “I get it now! I promise!”

But everything’s becoming bluer and everything is becoming blacker and Tyler can feel the cold in his bones. It’s seeping in through his eyes, and he closes them as tightly as he can but it still leaks through. He’s shivering, he’s shaking, and he’s so, so dirty.

Tyler slowly becomes aware that he’s pleading for Josh to come back, come back to him, but Josh is never coming back because he isn’t real, and Tyler is a crazy fucking idiot left with only his crazy fucking mind, and he’s so, so, so dirty, he’s filthy, and he’s never going to be loved.

“Please!” he shrieks, harsh and guttural, like the words being torn away from his throat. “Oh, please!”

The word echoes around the forest, bouncing from tree to tree, and Tyler can feel the word sink through him, coating his bones, making them vibrate “pleasepleaseplease.”

“Where are you?!” he screams. “I need you! I fucking need you, oh please!”

His hands are on his head, pulling his hair, clawing his skin. His nails are tearing through the soft skin of his cheeks, ripping, and he thinks that the pain is the most real thing he’s ever felt. He claws desperately at his face, his neck, his arms. It hurts, it fucking hurts, and he’s sobbing, but he’s laughing because isn’t this just the best thing ever?

“I’m real!” Tyler screams. He points towards the sky accusingly. “I’m fucking real! Why aren’t you?!” He collapses onto the cold, cold ground. “Why aren’t you real?” he shrieks. “Why- aren’t- you’ real?!” he demands, slamming his head against the ground with every word.

Tyler goes quiet suddenly when he realizes that he’s sprawled out in front of the treehouse. Their treehouse. He closes his eyes and lets the memories play before them. Kissing, touching, whispering lullabies that were never real.

It was never real.

With a strangled cry of agony, Tyler pushes himself up off the ground. He clambers up the tree into the treehouse.

It’s dark, quiet. The air is heavy, and Tyler doesn’t speak. He sits and watches tears drip onto the T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D that’s carved into the wooden floor.

Josh’s lighter is lying by Tyler’s shoe, and he slowly picks it up, flicks it on. The flame glows in the darkness, and Tyler watches himself press the flame to the wall.

He holds it there, watching the wood grow darker as it chars. For awhile nothing else happens, but Tyler suddenly sees the wood catch fire. He flicks the lighter off and watches, transfixed, as the flame grows larger and larger, climbing up to the ceiling.

Tyler lies on his back and watches as the fire slowly engulfs the roof. The treehouse is starting to fill with smoke.

Something inside him is pulling, insisting that he has to get out, get out before he suffocates or burns. He ignores it. He doesn’t care anymore.

Tyler falls asleep as everything around him burns.

He doesn’t care.

“How do you feel?”

T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D.

Chapter 17

The funeral is a small, quiet ceremony.

The mother is crying softly, the father is purposefully silent, and the siblings are warily grieving the brother they never really knew.

The doctor is there too, rubbing the tan line on his left fingers and breathing in, breathing out.

The priest conducting the ceremony asks if anyone would like to say a few words.

A boy with bright blue hair and mocha eyes (and C major lips and blue-sky hands and tiger-growl teeth) stands up.

#Tyler Joseph #josh dun #joshler

1 note · View note

lettersandinkstains · 5 years

Text

Writing Advice II: Depression

So, my other post on writing trauma seems to have taken off and been fairly well received!

Another misconception I see among media is things on depression. They believe it’s always a young white girl who cries a lot, wears all black and maybe hurts herself. Bonus points if she’s an artist. Extra bonus points if there’s some sort of resistance to therapy, medication, and, “You won’t be as creative on anti depressants!”

Disclaimer: Mental illness comes in all sorts of ways, so how it may appear in me might be different for someone else. These are based on experience as well as the diagnosable symptoms that are common.

Warning: There is some discussions of s.uicide, so please be cautious when going forward.

Clinical depression, major depression. We’ve all heard those words, and we quite likely know someone who has a diagnosis or we, ourselves, have it. But what does it mean exactly? Everyone assumes it’s just feeling sad, and you don’t always feel sad, heck, maybe you feel good a lot of days!

That’s because depression is a persistent feeling of sadness. It usually leads to physical and behavioral changes.

Well, what are the symptoms?

According to the DSM:

The Mood Symptoms:

Anxiety, apathy, general discontent, guilt, a sense of hopelessness, a sense of helplessness, loss of interest in things you may have found pleasurable in the past, mood swings and sadness.

The Behavioral Symptoms

Agitation, excessive crying, irritibility, restlessness or social isolation.

Sleep-wise:

Insomnia, excessive sleeping, early wakening, or restless sleep.

Whole body:

Excessive hunger, fatigue, or loss of appetite

Cognitive:

Lack of concentration, slowness in activity, or thoughts of suicide.

(Please note: this is just a simplified list--there’s quite a few more things to go with it)

How these things will appear in people vary. For me, I would cry excessively and for absolutely no reason. I opened my fridge one day to make chocolate milk, because for once, something sounded good and found it had spoiled two weeks prior. I sobbed for an hour. For me, that spoiled milk had felt like I was an absolute failure of a human being and adult.

I mean, I let the milk spoil. I felt utterly worthless. This may perhaps be dramatic to the outsider, after all, it is just milk, but often times, it’s not just milk or a dropped pen or even a bad day, it’s a series of things that mold up into a mountain and that little insignificant thing causes the avalanche. Perhaps, yes, it was an overreaction, but for me, it felt as it was a testament as to who I was as a person then.

When the sickness (because I consider it a sickness) first showed up, I was probably around nine or ten. The symptoms were subtle and could have easily been brushed off as being shy. I started to isolate myself from my peers, I preferred to be on the computer and away from everybody. I had thoughts of suicide, even if I didn’t quite have that word in my lexicon yet.

For me, at that age, death meant the end of suffering. I was raised in a religious household, and the church I attended was pure doom and gloom. If you died, you would be with god and nothing would be wrong. Religion wasn’t a factor, but it sure as hell was an enticer to try.

Do I think religion such as Christianity to be bad, now, as an adult? No, I do have my hang ups with it, but I’ve known religion to help a lot of people overcome or even deal with their mental health issues. And to them, I give them props.

The emotional pain I feel and had felt was something I could not, and still cannot describe to this day. The closest I have gotten to describing it was to a therapist, and it feels like there’s a giant ball of scribbles in my chest that’s constantly turning and growing bigger. It always feels like it hurts and it’s suffocating. I picked up cutting because if I could just get it out, it would go away.

It never really went away.

I stopped being able to sleep around age thirteen. For others, they sleep too much. For some, it’s disruptive, and it’s restless. But for me, it manifested itself as insomnia (anxiety played a major part in this too). The nights were long and restless, and I would often cry. Because wow, sleep is another thing I’m failing at! My weight dropped due a lack of appetite, food tasted like cardboard, and the smell made me want to vomit (I would later be diagnosed with EDNOS).

My grades suffered. Focusing was hard. Words felt like gibberish most days. Hobbies felt bland, awful, and stupid (it didn’t help I had brothers who made fun of my interests). The sociable little girl I had been, the one my parents sang praises for being smart, friendly, and witty all felt like it died when I became a teenager. Part of it had to do with my period at age nine. I would later learn this is likely a part of dysphoria.

Writing felt like my only outlet, as depression ate and took away a personality. I’m still discovering my interests today, at aged 27! And you know what? That’s okay! It’s okay to have overcome a shadow and relearn things, this isn’t a race.

So, how do you write things like this in a character? You may wonder. Surely, nobody with depression is always crying and locked away from society.

No, of course not! Give them a personality. Much like with anything else, depression isn’t a personality, it’s an illness.

Let your characters still experience happiness. I still felt some joy and excitement at things. When I did theater in high school, I felt a rush of pride when I was able to memorize silolquies and impressed my classmates, my heart still beat fast when my then girlfriend would kiss me. Calling my friends (because texting wasn’t much of a thing in 9th and 10th grade! I don’t think it became ubquitous until I was about to graduate?) was still exciting, and I would always look forward to weekend long sleepovers.

As an adult, the things that still made me excited and got me out of bed was volunteer work. I would later foster cats and then lose that after a second suicide attempt. But there were still things that made me happy.

Because with depression, you can still experience happiness. The sadness is persistent.

Give your characters interests, but let them have their struggles with it. I still message friends with my frustrations and anger when nothing seems right and everything I do is bad. Let this be a thing with your characters where they’ll go days without experiencing the adrenaline rush from their interest.

Your hero in your fantasy adventure story doesn’t always have to be strong and courageous. Let them struggle with the trauma of having watched So and So die or get hurt. Let them feel the guilt. Have days where they can’t get out of bed because it’s just too much, it’s too hard. Their chest aches, their heart aches.

But force them anyways. And as usual, make sure it fits with your story. Don’t fret because you’re writing something and the character isn’t responding to a terrifying, traumatic event like you believe they should. People process things differently. If it fits in the story, do it, but do it well.

Your main character in your romance story has major depression. Okay, cool! When you bring in the love interest, and the romance blossoms and there’s roses, maybe they confess their love to each other. Maybe there’s that little bit of drama, a misunderstanding, or whatever your conflict is. Don’t go Hollywood. Do not let the love interest be the thing that “fixes” the depression.

Because that’s not how it works. Your character may decide to live, or get better for that love interest--PERFECT! GOOD! People do that all the time! I’m doing that for my cat! Let the love interest help them, but do not say that the character was now healed by love and they lived happily ever after. That doesn’t feel real, and feels very, very misleading. I’ve destroyed relationships because I was severely depressed.

“But what if I want to write something like that? Real life isn’t always fun.” No, it’s not. It’s okay if you want to write something like that, but we already have countless movies geared towards things like that. I can guarantee the next Lifetime movie has that sort of plot. And while you’re free to write as you please, it gives people an incredibly wrong idea. You cannot heal someone by the “power of love”, they have to want to get better, and it’s an uphill battle.

I can’t tell you the countless times I’ve heard people in support groups express frustrations with themselves or their partners because they’re not better yet. “They said they love me, but they’re mad I’m still depressed.” or, “I have this person in my life now, I’m in a relationship. Why aren’t I happy?”

So as you write this story, keep in mind, you are adding a real life element to it that people struggle with on a daily basis. And we all rely on escape fantasies, but there are still those who think those can be true. And it’s dangerous. A former friend of mine believed that if she loved this guy enough, if she stuck around, he would get better. She just not trying hard enough. He never got better. And she suffered all the more for it.

Alternatively, I watched one of my friends flourish in a relationship. She passed away this summer because she still had her demons, and those demons got the best of her. But you know what happened instead of ~love~ healing her? She worked to get better, she relied on her partner when she needed to. She used the support net she had, and strived towards healing. And she did amazing because she felt she had something to live for.

So, if you want to add in that real life element where people struggle with, and has claimed lives, write it so that love interest is someone they decide to live for. And I think that’s a more interesting romance story instead of, “Mentally ill character falls in love, suddenly cured” trope!

The people I know who struggle with depression either do seek professional help (therapy, psychotherapy, medication) or self medicate (drugs, alcohol, etc).

Family members are alcoholics, for example. One uncle would prefer to see the bottom of a bottle starting at 7 am and going until 12 am. He only got better from alcoholism for four years, until his kids graduated. Being drunk is preferable state of mind for him than whatever reality he may be having to face (and yes, some of us are trying to help him--he doesn’t need an early grave at 65).

A friend of mine used drugs to escape the world and the demons that followed. Last year, he got clean for good. This year, he started anti depressants. This month, he is soaring.

I know someone else who uses religion. They are happy in this state, and I cannot find fault in that. If someone finds peace, contentedness, happiness when believing in a higher power, let them be. Unless it is so obviously hurting them or others.

Lastly, a small note on medication is that it’s not one size fits all. Medications can be a bitch to deal with, I had to mess around for a long time before I found something that works, which is ativan. If you want your character to go on meds, keep in mind that taking that first pill doesn’t automatically mean they’re suddenly happy and cured for life.

For some, medication means it’s a lifetime thing, and others, a short while. However you decide to do this, is up to you.

Make sure to research it. Make sure to do it well. And if you have struggles and asking if you’re doing it right, reach out to someone about it and ask questions. It’s okay. Nobody should fault you for that.

And as I’ve said before, we can have our happy ending. But it’s your choice on the characters ending because there is no “wrong” way to do it, because some people lose their battle. Some people live to survive it and tell about it, others will battle tooth and nail for the rest of their lives.

So, with this very long post ending, readers, writers, everyone, if you struggle with depression or know someone who has and wish to add on to this post (about your experiences!), feel free to do so! After all, it rears its ugly head differently in everyone, and well rounded information is often given by a multiude of people!

And if anyone has questions, you are free to send me an ask or a message!

#writing advice #character development #writing advice: mental illness #writing #writeblr #silas writes about mental illness

17 notes · View notes

afterthelastreset · 5 years

Text

Rules of one’s soul p2

It was a miracle. It was a d*mmed miracle barely anyone saw the scrunched up, sobbing mess of the Duke of Puzzles surrounded by Heart attacks from a certain insane jester. Only the night guard wondering the halls had seen. Curious by the noise of the elevator being used. The same second he saw the duke, he was threatened to be put on 'feeding Jevil' duty if he said a word of what he saw to anyone. Terrified him enough to keep his mouth shut at least. The rest of that awful night was a blur as he couldn't remember stumbling back to his room or managing to even fall asleep with the loud storm or the lingering mixed emotions from the encounter he had less than a minute ago, but he chalked that up to being too emotionally drained from that. He woke up still groggy in the morning, and wouldn't have gotten up if it weren't for the fact that the King would've been displeased and no one wanted to displease his highness for fear of his anger. And because Lancer needed someone..... The next few days fell into a similar routine of getting up, putting up a fake smile, and just doing anything but go near that elevator or trying to remember that night. He busied himself with his noble duties of puzzle making and being what Lancer put into terms a 'Lesser Dad'. Or in his own terms, a permanent royal caretaker. Which was basically what he was being told to do anyways, so no real loss. He really didn't mind. He could use the distraction. Honestly he didn't know how much time had passed. Days, weeks, a month or two maybe? Didn't matter. As long as he didn't see that thing ever again he was totally fine. He had a hard enough time dealing with the anxiety and empty feelings that came with the memories. Made him constantly want to vomit. About maybe a year had passed since the incident and it was slowly starting to get better. He didn't improve on puzzles but he made an upgrade to the control crown that seemed useful. Until the fateful day the lightners fell down. That was a day he truly wished he didn't see the king's anger. But thing's turned out much for the better it seemed. 'King' Lancer was much more friendlier and trustworthy than his father though there was still work needed to be done. It was when he announced releasing all prisoners prior to his father's downfall, that the real melt down started. The possibility of Jevil running around?? Free?! Where that lunatic could attack him-....anyone at any given moment and spread his insanity like a plague?!?! All the feelings of unwanted belonging, sickness, and that kiss- if he could even call it that- all came rushing back at ounce and he nearly passed out from all the overwhelming thoughts alone. By god he tried as nicely as he could explain to the child that releasing the kings and many common folk were fine, but the Jester would be too mean to let out...... It didn't work. The overwhelming feeling of dread filled him the very day the other kings were released and slowly everyone were reinstated back to their positions as Kings, servents, civilians, guards, etc. While all of this was going on, the spooked duke didn't see any trace of that menace or hear any of that wicked laugh or gibberish wording. Lots had noticed the Duke's strange behaviors, and only Lancer had a mind to talk- The child came bounding up to him, tugging on his pants leg to get his attention. "Hey, Lesser Dad. You aren't looking too hot. Are you sick or something?" A flinch. The Duke brought another strained smile to his face and gave the boy the calmest look he could muster. "O-Of course, mine littlest worm. W-What ever gave thou that silly thought?" He cocked his head to the side and gave an obvious confused look. "Well, you're acting really weird. Like, when Dad used to yell. Are you sure you're ok?" "Ahahaha. No need to worry about-t mineself. Thy King should just tend towards his d-duties and thine subjects." "Ok...If you're sure-?" "I am! Don't worry non. Eh..." His eyes glazed off to the side for a moment as if uncertain about something, before looking back to the child. "B-But on a curious notion......have thee seen thine foolish inmate a-around lately?" Lancer tilted his head further with a blep, not exactly sure what he was talking about for a moment, before realization flashed across his face. "Oh, you mean Uncle Jevil??" He flinched at the name, but Lancer didn't seem to notice. "Someone unlocked his cell, but he won't come out...But he still eats stuff." "Well, we cannot simply force thee to cometh out if he doesn't wanteth too, can we? Ahe....W-Will thou excuse me?" Carefully prying the hands of the child off him, he turned and began to walk away- "Where are you going?" He looked over his shoulder for just a brief moment, "I just need to makest sureth of something. G-Go on back to doinge what thou waseth attending too." "Oh...Ok, Dad." He watched as Rouxls quickly made his exit towards the other side of the throne room and out one of the giant doors. What was going on with his Lesser Dad? A few days had passed since the incident and he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not. On one hand, the lunatic hadn't even left his cell even though it's open, which was good. On the other hand, the stupid cell door was wide open and he could get out at any given moment, which was unacceptable! His own fears escalated by one thousand when Lancer said the words 'Uncle Jevil'. How-.....WHEN did that come to be?! When did Lancer even have time to even sneak down there let alone give that menace the title of Uncle?! Where did he go wrong!? Luckily, Lancer was too busy with his new duties as King to even worry about Jevil. For the moment at least. But the sensation of knowing the innocent child could be easily influenced by him, and get hurt in the process.....He tried not to think too much about it or let his emotions cloud his trust in Lancer's new abilities as King but it all came to a head when one afternoon the child rammed headfirst into his leg when exiting the kitchen. The small child landed on his rump with a thud and a metal plate clattered against the ground, sending food all over the ounce clean floors. "Lancer! Watch'est where thou runeths off too," he said scolding the round child, "What would thine people think if they seest their king running into things with food in his hands?" "Sorry, Rouxls." He quickly got up to give the much taller man a hug around the leg before swiftly turning back around to pick up the scattered dark candies. Rouxls rose a brow at all the sweets and sighed. "Lancer, you shouldn't eat so much junk food this early into the day. Tis most unbecoming of a king." "Oh. They're not for me." "Then whom art thou-?" "Uncle Jevil likes sweet things. He really seems to like dark candy from Mr. Seam's shop, so he's gotta like these." Rouxls froze. He suddenly felt his body nagging him and the familiar rock feeling in his stomach fly back at lightning speed. He swore he would've fell over if his body wasn't frozen in utter horror at the moment. Lancer, not noticing his father's sudden silence continued- "I haven't seen anyone take him food in a while. They say they're too scared of him attacking them, which is weird if you ask me. So I'm going to make sure he's fe-" "NO!" The sudden shout startled them both as Lancer flinched back up to meet the melting man's frozen posture. Thinking quickly, Rouxls smiled that strained grin of his and gave a small chuckle, a habit he inherited to mask stress or emotions the King wouldn't be pleased with. Old habits died hard as they say. Lancer was still staring up at him in disbelief before asking- "N-No?....Why not?" "I- Um- He-......Y-You can't go down there?!" "Why not?" "I-...Because it's..." He could feel the slimy sweat start to run down his face, he had to think quickly if he wanted to keep the child from becoming suspicious. "B-Because thou cannot just s-simply leave thine's position as king now, can thee? W-What if there's an emergency that requires thou's attention? Being king means you have to take a lot more responsibility now." "Oh. That's a good point. I don't want to miss anything." Rouxls sighed in relief at the notion he wouldn't go- The sickeningly sweet smell of the star shaped candy hit him before Lancer thrusted most of the picked up candies at him with a toothy grin with his tongue sticking out. "Then you can do it instead!" .....What? "What?! L-Lancer, you can't be serious? Art thou?" The young spade held up his paws again. "Yeah! You help me with lots of things, and no one else will do it, but you're really brave Lesser Dad!" His tiny tail wagged behind him. "If you can talk to Ex-King Dad then you can feed Uncle Jevil!! He's not scary anyways, he's actually really fun!!" "B-B-But-.....Ahehe. L-Lancer, doth thou know that a king needs his royal advisor? I-I won't do it when you-" "Lesser Dad, who's king?" He sighed. "Thou art king. But I-" "Then as King Lancer, I order you to feed the Royal Fun Uncle!" "Lancer, I shouldn't-" "Follow the rules, Lesser Dad." He stared down at the blepping child for a while opening and closing his mouth like a fish. There was no loophole around this, and he must follow the kings given out by his liege.....No matter how young they were or how terrorfying it was. So sucking a deep breath and ignoring the flair up of dread in his stomach, he made a graceful bow before hissing- "Of course, Mine Majesty. I'll be sureth thine jeaster gets nourishment- OOF!!" The sounds of candies scattered against the floor as his body was tackled by the happy spade child in a hug. Rouxls fell onto his rump just as the energetic spade let go and hopped off. "Thanks, Lesser Dad!," he happily shouted over his shoulder before running off, "I have new king stuff to do before bad stuff happens!" The taller man watched the round child bound off down the hallway and around the corner before disappearing. Leaving him sitting there on the cold stone floor surrounded by scattered dark candies. The sinking feeling in his stomach got heavier. He would have to go bad down there and feed the touched starved lunatic. He just hoped that he wasn't on the menu. ====================================================================== BING!! He flinched hard at the soft ding of the doors as they slowly opened to show the stone steps leading into the dark abyss below. The Duke remained routed to the spot staring straight down into the unholy darkness, faintly making out the outline of the bars and stairway thanks to the few torches lit up on the walls. But no yellow eyes looked up at him. No insane laughter echoed off the walls. Nothing. He cautiously leaned out and took a good look around the entrance -he wasn't about to let that maniac spring out on him again- and nervously ran his eyes over the cold stone walls with what light was available to him. Nothing. His body slowly began to melt from the added pressure that the small imp could literally be anywhere in this mess, the emotions of fear and anxiety bubbled up, and the urge to just leave was very strong. But he couldn't. He couldn't ignore the rules to follow when it came to his majesty's orders. He'll just leave the food by the door and run. Yeah that'll work. His body trembled as he slowly took a step forward, and placed it on the first step. Nothing. A small bubble of relief came over him. So taking a deep breath, he slowly placed one foot after another and descended the stairs, the sounds of his footsteps echoing off the walls. A strange feeling nagged him closer to the bars as he lowered into darkness, heartbeat increasing. He ignored that heartbeats and feelings that twisted in his gut and just kept going. When he had gotten to the bottom of the stairs he stopped. He stared silently ahead. Frozen. Silence echoed throughout the cell with the only sounds being the drips from the ceiling and his heavy breathing. He could see the many plates of food that was left there, most likely by a guard in a hurry to get the task done and get out of there, they were all indeed empty which meant two things. Jevil never really left, or they had a rabbick infestation in the lower half of the dungeons. Either way, it was terrible to him, and something that needed to be done. He'd just get it over with. He slowly turned his head over to where the cell door was, to Rouxls horror it was wide open for the world to see. He took a moment just staring at the open doorway with mixed emotions....before starting towards it. He could just leave Lancer's gift right where the other's left the food, but....I don't know. Something just compelled him towards the opening. Like a moth to a flame. It was probably just his parental instincts telling him to make sure, for Lancer's sake, but.....There was something else. The nagging feeling and tugging his soul received everytime he even remotely thought of the dungeon or Jevil. He just needed to look to make them go away. And the only way to do that was too look. If Jevil wasn't in there, then he had a big problem. The cell door was a little smaller than he anticipated which caused Rouxls to bow down in order to go through, but it didn't shake his feeling of dread whatsoever. And all too soon he found himself just standing a few steps away from the entrance staring out at the surrounding darkness. It was so dark he couldn't tell where the back wall was, it was certainly dark enough to hide a person yet it seemed completely empty. There wasn't any noise at all or anything to indicate any living being was here other than the abandoned empty plates outside. Whatever, he had a bigger problem to deal with now. Keeping Lancer safe from that freed Lunatic- "Rouxls, Rouxls? Have you come back, back to play our game?" Two yellow pinpricks appeared from the darkness, making the Duke freeze. From the darkest corner of the room, the jester's face emerged along with the rest of his body. The two just stared at each other for a moment, not moving. Jevil staring almost like not believing the man before him was real, before a wide fanged smile started to spread across his face. Rouxls reacted by giving a small strained smile of his own feeling more of his body start melting. The urge to just turn and bolt grew, but this time....THIS TIME his heartrate increased in a strange way that sent heat to his face and he mentally cursed the stupid soul mate conspiracy. "Have you come back, back to me? Noone's ever returned on their captured, captured free will?" He asked in a hollow voice. But it didn't sound like the emotionless hollow voice of a madman, it sounded more devoid of any happy expressions except maybe a little hope stuck into it. From the way the yellow orbs eyed the taller male, it seemed he was searching for some concrete. They stopped at the small amount of food in his hands. His smile just became a little bigger and he looked back up to Rouxs with a hopeful feeling in his eyes. "You brought me dark candies, candies? Feeding me?" "...L-Lancer has toldeth me t-thou has a liking for....s-sweet things? *a-hem* H-Here. These art meant f-for thou," he somehow managed to stammer out while holding out the plate of food towards Jevil. "For...me, me?" He stared at the plate in Rouxls hands for a moment before he blinked and began to approach the larger man from the other side of the room. "You brought food to me?" "L-Lancer wouldn't have wished it any other way." His eyes wary looked over the smaller jester approaching. He never really noticed before, but Jevil seemed a lot smaller when he wasn't forcfully hugging him or bouncing around his cell. His clothes looked worn, not exactly old, but had a few tears here and there and missing a patch or stitch. The ruffled collar around his neck and his shoes seemed to be new though. Probably Lancer's doing? He didn't look the least bit grimy or dirty as a prisoner should be. He looked.....strangely almost normal. Or as normal for a court jester to look. The bells on his hat jingled the closer he got to the duke and for maybe the first time, didn't look that threatening. But as he learnt from before, don't underestimate anything down here. "I-I'm surest thou will like thine delicacy to thou's ta-" The plate was quickly snatched from his out stretched hands, he froze in surprise as the Duke watched a smiling Jevil open his mouth wide and just poor the candies into his open mouth before snapping it shut like a trap puzzle. The snap echoed around the room followed by the clatter of the plate when Jevil dropped it. The jester happily giggled at the shock on Rouxls face, wagging his tail and jumping up into the air to sit crosslegged in mid air. How could he even hover?? A clawed hand grabbed at his own, and when he didn't pull away, clung onto it. "I almost thought for sure, sure you'd never really, really come back since yesterday. Lancer was kind enough to open my freedom, freedom for others to come join, but sadly, sadly no one has stayed for too long. Only giving me plates and food and nothing more, more." His eyes widened just a little as he let out a series of giggles. "I was sure you'd come back, back!" "Thou...did?" Was he expecting Rouxls to just waltz down the stairs at any moment any day since ...well since who knows when? That was a bit...sweet. But also a bit weird. He gave a dry chuckled and gave a face that could've been sheepish. "I knew you'd want to finish the game, game you started.~ Just couldn't resist the urge to back, back down from a challenge to your captured rules.~" Oh, good lord. Did he think Rouxls came down there to give him food because he missed him?! "I admit I maaaaaay over down my heart's, heart's desire for you-" Rouxls internally winced at the mention of the heart attacks. The cut on his shoulder stung for days. "-but it's all in the name of your opponent's affections, affections.~" Wait. Was he saying that the heart attacks was his way of showing his affections?...He wasn't sure how to take this strange news. "But I wonder what the great Duke of Puzzles, Puzzles will make as his next move?~" Rouxls stared at him for a moment and he couldn't help the next words that stumbled out of his mouth. "Art thou forgetting what happened the last time I visited thine prison cell?" "Which part?~," he purred almost dreamingly. His hand now kneeding Rouxls's held hand, "The usual, usual retreat and gathering of wits for the game, game is to be expected-" "How about when thine attacks or didst thou forget my reaction to that...." he shuddered a bit "...kiss? What was that? A surprise sprung on thou's opponent to lower mine defences?" Jevil giggled and rose a brow to being questioned. "Maybe, maybe. But You can't deny, deny your soul's calling towards me.~" Without warning, he reached out his other hand to place on his chest, over where his soul throbbed at the touch. Rouxls flinched at the sudden reaction his own soul had towards one touch. What the-? Jevil however looked rather pleased at his soul's reaction to his own and sighed in a content way. "Opposites, opposites do really attract.~" "N-Now holdeth on one moment," he stammered out as his face flushed a lighter blue, "Thou does not see t-the rush thou's pushing?! A-And what of mine feelings?" "Your soul calls out to mine, mine. You came back, back. What more feelings do you possibly need?" He didn't say anything for a second. "Well....I say we take thou's......game slower." "Slower?" He asked tilting his head. "Y-Yes. A-As you can see-" He straightened his back up to speak professionally. "-I-I'm still Lancer's caregiver and thine majesty needs a royal adviser and whomst tis better than I?" "Understandable.~ Lancer's naivity could cause problems." "And who'll take care of other things liketh lawkeeping, mine shoppe, thy puzzles,-? Certainly not Lancer." "Of course not." "Then you understand?" "Of course." He sighed in relief, which was shattered by what he said next. "I've always wondered, wondered what the outside of freedom had turned to be. Is Everyone still, still trapped or free? Perhaps it's time to make a journey." He felt his stomach drop again."Wha....What does thou mean?" He grinned. "I think it's time to take our game, game.~" He purred and leaned closer to rouxls who gulped and leaned back slightly from Jevil's advancing face. He felt his face flush hard at the sudden closeness as the imp whispered. "To the next level. Level.~" A quick peck from the imp's cool lips got him to freeze in place as Jevil giggled and seemed to jumped around him and out the cell door behind the frozen duke. Rouxls stared blankly ahead as his brain processed what had just happened, and he could only say one thing about the situation- "Oh, fucketh me...."

#Rouxls Kaard #Lancer #Jevil #Deltarune

9 notes · View notes