Yeeaaaahhhh one of my favorite assholes~~~~ LOL. BUT NO. I love him.
Anyways. Jacques is five when his mom, Brigitte, remarries. His stepfather (name TBA) considers him to be the black sheep of the family. Jacques’ new stepbrother, Corin, doesn’t seem to object to this idea. Corin ends up bullying Jacques even at the private school they both attend.
It was quiet at first, save for the scribbling of the therapist’s pen and the soft tapping of Joel’s heel. He was still on a bit of an adrenaline rush from practice; sitting in a chair silently was a poor way to work off the extra energy. But he waited until the therapist finished writing - whatever they were writing, and addressed him finally.
The formalities were edged out of the way the last meeting, his school, his friends, his hobbies, and this was the meeting where they got down to business. He really, really didn’t think this was going to go anywhere.
"So, Mr. Thrustworth," she paused only briefly, a faint but fond smile at the name managing to break her otherwise professional gaze. Joel didn’t notice, and continued to focus on the hard wood of the coffee table. "What brings you here?"
"I’d like for it to go on record, again, that I don’t actually want to be here."
The therapist repeated her question calmly, through another phrasing. Joel decided it was easier to actually answer the question than avoid it after a while.
"My mom, she thought it’d be good for me." He cleared his throat, his foot still tapping. "And, until I’m of age… I can’t really say no to her, at least not about this."
"Why would this be good for you, do you think?"
"I-" He stopped, pursing his lips. The hard questions shouldn’t be happening this soon. "I don’t… know. You know my school history and social life already from last week. I’m not a /delinquent/, like most high schoolers in therapy." He finished, a harsh tone on the term delinquent and an immediate look of guilt as soon as he finished. The pen returned to the paper.
The therapist hummed, tugging at her scarf gently as she wrote, before looking back up. “Of course you’re not. But I’m sure we can figure out why together…” She tapped her pen. “Do you usually agree to what your mother tells you?”
Joel nodded. “Well.. yeah. Of course. If I didn’t, no one else in the house would. It’s like living with toddlers, constantly.” The therapist raised an eyebrow in question. “Like… My sister, Milly. She’s really curious. She’s really smart but dad babies her all the time, so she always tags along with him. And my older brother Charlie- he moved out a while ago, but he visits a lot, with his family. ..And then there’s my cousin, Elliot. He visits a lot. But there’s a lot of energy. Too much energy. Mostly from my dad.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “I wish mom didn’t have to deal with all of it by herself, so I try to help out.”
The therapist tilted her head curiously, leaning back in her chair. “What’s your dad like?” She asked, and Joel again did not notice her all too familiar tone. She observed how he immediately stiffened, going into a defensive state, before immediately lashing out.
"The most energetic and… and.." Joel pressed his lips together. How do you describe Vic with two words? You don’t, he decided. You can’t, rather. "…He’s an engineer. He went to college, got a five year for both mechanical and electrical engineering majors. Minored in Chemistry, Physics, and Natural Sciences. In five years. All of that. A dual major and a triple minor. While helping Mom raise Charlie. He’s brilliant. He publishes research on just about anything, and he’s given college lectures. Except he dropped out of highschool, got a GED, I’m pretty sure he’s a convicted criminal, he’s banned from the local university now for most of his lectures - though he will actually sneak in and give a lecture if someone gives him an opportunity to. Seriously - he will trespass to teach. To TEACH."
Joel waved his hands, having gotten up from his chair to pace now because of his resurgence in energy. “Who DOES that?! And- AND- Might I add, he blows up a different part of the house every weekend. Mom said when this all first started, the police thought he had a meth lab going, but dad was just testing the chemical properties of baby formula or something like that. We send christmas cards to everyone in the fire department and police departments. Who DOES that?”
His rant ended in a frustrated sigh and his hand in his bangs again. The therapist hummed again.
"It seems like you have a very tense relationship with your father. Would you say that?"
Joel sighed again, and then shook his head. “No..I’d call it frustrating.”
"….I can’t eat or look at unskinned potatoes anymore without having a breakdown."
The therapist raised her eyebrows in a silent question, and Joel took his seat again. He hadn’t expected to actually respond in a positive note to her questions, or even this situation. But as he started to tell her the story of FrankenPotato he realised that he was actually enjoying the experience - not having fun per say but it was soothing to have someone to talk to about this kind of thing that wasn’t Gamel or his mother or siblings.
The advice she provided was non objective, and more for his health and wellbeing than for fixing his father, because, as she reminded him, he was participating in these appointments, not Victor. It seemed though that having a verbal way to cope with the stress and anxiety that his father’s spontaneous actions caused was just as beneficial as his physical ways of coping, and much better than the brief acting out he did before in his earlier high school years.
When his mother came to pick him up he was tired, and she fretted over him in her own way - brushing his hair to the side to feel his forehead briefly and then reminding him dinner was in the oven, he should get an early rest today, the meeting was okay right? And he responded in the affirmative, feeling tired but not dead. It was a good tired, a restoring kind of tiredness, like a good practice or a relaxing day of fun activities.
His mom was right - if therapy could help even his father, it might be good to just sit down himself for a while and talk with someone.
Andy and Michael. ; > ;
Okay. So, I really wanted to write about the night Draven’s mom is killed, but I don’t think I fully know what happens that night. *distant stare* I’ll just talk about why and how Draven is so Draven instead for the time being.
First of all, I think it’s pretty obvious that Draven has his own anxiety, but his isn’t like Caspin’s. He has different feelings and triggers than Caspin does obviously.
let it be known, the tears were flowing as i typed this
anyway, ellie develops leukemia, specifically chronic myelogenous leukemia, which is more common in adults and about 30% live past five years of the symptoms starting. STARES OFF INTO THE HEAVENS. SORRY ELLIE
i realise i said
[1:30:31 AM] it me, maddie: ( that’s my fault i admit it ’ v ’ *raises hand* *did i ever mention that caspin’s like my feelings vent because actually he is* )
and didn’t elaborate but i meant some things by that and here i am to ‘splain the things. this is all about anxiety so um. if anxiety’s a no then don’t, but it’s not very graphic. it’s just a list of stuff
The last person he expected to see walking into his Environmental journalism class was Elijah. Elliot sat forward slightly, leaning over enough to look down at the entrance of the lecture hall. There were about eighty students in the liberal arts class, and although he didn’t know them by name, he knew their faces, and Elijah’s was definitely an outlier.
He hadn’t been noticed by the other yet, though. Elliot debated on trying to get his attention. It was still the first few weeks of the second semester, so it was reasonable enough to flag a friend down and switch up the seats a bit without his classmates holding a grudge against him. But his name stuck in his throat and his hand froze on top of his notebook and he was fourteen and seeing a hot high school girl for the first time again.
Elijah sat near the front.
Elliot spent the rest of that class period staring at the back of Elijah’s head, at his note book, at his hands as he wrote notes, and reminded himself constantly that staring was creepy.
Elijah glanced back behind him at one point, but not far enough up that he’d notice Elliot sitting in the back. (Elliot also may or may not have subconsciously dodged his gaze. He didn’t want to be caught staring.)
It wasn’t like feeling this way about Elijah was new for Elliot. When they were friends in high school, Elliot discovered he /really liked/ looking at Elijah’s neck when he tilted it back, Elijah’s shoulders when he wore lower cut shirts and tank tops in warmer weather, Elijah’s jawline in general. He wanted to kiss them and nip them and map each mole on his stupid neck and shoulders and face with his tongue.
He also discovered he liked listening to him tell stories, he liked it when he was actually excited about something, when he was confident in his opinion. He liked it when Elijah read aloud or muttered long division under his breath or sucked lightly at the end of his pen while he stared intently at his notes. Elliot wanted to replace that pen with his mouth.
All in all, Elliot wasn’t shocked by his not-so-sudden (and probably not so subtle) interest in Elijah because, and if he was being really honest, Elijah was exactly his type. He was shocked that he was here, sitting less than twenty feet away, chewing his damn pen like his life fucking depended on it. What a tease.
Elliot groaned quietly and put his head in his arms.
Before Elijah moved away for college, their last conversation was awkward. It wasn’t nice, it wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t friendly, even. Elijah had come to him and told him that he decided to move, to a different college that the one he originally planned on much further away. And of course, in his quest to make everything worse for himself, Elliot responded negatively. Negatively enough to make Elijah storm out of his barn in a rage and Elliot catcalling after him in his own anger, guilt and embarrassment.
He still had his (hopefully still accurate) phone number saved in his phone, emails and social media still unblocked, friended or otherwise accessible. Theoretically, in the eight months they’d been apart, Elliot could have contacted Elijah. Could have. He thought about it a lot. But then again, sometimes he thought that Elijah could have too.
Elliot peeked over his arm at the back of his crush’s head, and wondered if asking to borrow today’s lecture’s notes over coffee would be a good enough icebreaker to mend their friendship.
sorry i just thIS MIGHT BE HELPFUL (MAINLY FOR ME) LATER HAHA
I guess I’ll be writing the Hell part instead since Maddie did Heaven. FINE BY ME. I’M THE ONLY TWOS DEMONS FROM HELL THUS FAR.
ALRIGHT, FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS. WE’RE ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL.
world building and establishing logics for HEAVEN AND HELL! YEAH! i did heaven and then was like. that was so much writing. so u can add hell to this and then yeah
Now, hear me out on this one, Maddie! In my head, there’s an alternate universe where Michael and Andy are switched in terms of careers. And, Michael’s a total bad boy who rides a motorcycle.
*distant giggle is heard from the crazy Marysa locked in a closet*HAH. Yeah. It’s a really sexy AU. Andy as a painter and sort of shy/socially anxious. Michael a calm and collected bad boy who steals a kiss no matter where they are and Andy gets really flustered because of it. I need to draw this AND WRITE A FANFICTION ABOUT IT. OMF. THIS NEEDS TO HAPPEN *SOB*
AND MICHAEL WOULD TOTALLY ROCK THE BOOTY OF A BASEBALL PLAYER. HURHUR. *eyes sparkle*
So, I’m really freaking happy that Vlad is back and so is Celeste AND NOW PETUNIA. SHE FINALLY HAS A NAME.
However, it tugs at my heartstrings because Vlad never really improved until it was too late and so I fear I won’t rp him as well as I could because I don’t FULLY remember what he was like… I bet he has seen Konrad in heaven a few times and just leaves. Like, “Well. Thank you for the coffee. I’m gonna go put myself on filing cabinet duty for a month.” He punishes himself for the things that he has done.
I feel so many feels through Vlad… He literally represents the side of me that acts out violently toward people and then he gets the ultimate punishment for his behavior. Vlad doesn’t get to raise his son. Or be on Earth with his wife. He only gets to visit her for the weekend or something. Sure, he got to be a demon instead of rotting for all eternity. However, he’s surrounded by idiots and a jammed filing cabinet and Dave’s coffee.
Vlad really wanted to be a great dad since his was just horrible. And now that he’s on Earth again, he honestly think it’s too late since Victor’s an adult with his own children. Sure, Vic turned out alright… but Vlad still feels deep regret in the pit of his stomach.
And now I just… want to hug Vlad tightly and tell him it’s going to be alright. But sighs. He’s not even human now. Vic can never see him in his human form again. Part of me hopes he takes on a human form in heaven, but I don’t think that’d be logical. Ah well. I know it’s great that they get to be around each other. BUT I JUST. *SOB* ALL THE REGRET IN VLAD UPSETS ME.
Canning fruits. Andy really loves to can peaches and pears during the summer and of course Michael likes to help. They’re happiest when eating sweet fruit together in Michael’s studio. Andy’s always extremely careful when he has food in there though because he accidentally dumped tea of one of Michael’s drawings when it first became his studio. Michael was so forgiving and then liked to use coffee and tea for painting purposes, but Andy is still so very sorry for what he did.
victor’s lucky he only remembers heat and bright lights and a pain in his right side, though his therapist always suspected he did remember more, and he was either consciously or subconsciously repressing the thoughts. either way, all he really remembers is a blur
He woke with a start, hands clutching his chest as he all but flew up out of bed. Isaac shifted next to him, making like he was about to wake up himself, and Eric snapped out of his panicked haze long enough to whisper ‘shh Isaac - no, it’s fine’ and lie back down in the bed. But he didn’t stay there for long.