#like i want to finish grieving but i'm in such a bad headspace about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrfandomgage · 2 years

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I want to explain something I like doing in my writing. I like painting the destruction of innocence and the grieving of never having had innocence. How do I do this? Well, when I think of innocence being destroyed, I usually think of a little girl, I think of how friendly they are, how much they love others, then I make them evil or tortured. Why evil? Usually I make them some form of vindictive undead. Night Terror was a little girl, she was punished by her world to a point where she died, her soul was filled with nightmares and she came back, finally capable of bringing forth her revenge, but when she kills everyone she can, and tries having a final fight with someone she once considered a friend who took the blow, she starts crying realizing what she's been doing. She drops even lower than her dismal headspace after being tortured by her world, vowing to kill versions of herself that were happier, and refusing to accept her old name because she views that old name belonging to someone else, who was herself.

Jessica is a character I made to be a bully, but then I decided they're friends to the person they tried picking on. Jessica was sold off by her mother for a stranger to kill her, and Jessica can't remember her own death. She was initially a joke character to @tkiesai 's (sorry for the tag) own original character Luka (also, go look at their art, it's great).

I have a pattern with Undead girls that kill people, and one that doesn't follow this pattern but still has a heavy loss of innocence is a character named May. May is still a young girl, but she was for a more traumatic writing with gore, she is one of my only characters with this style I decided to get a happy ending. May is a curious and smart character, judging distance only using a laser pointer, and discovering her own dead bodies in a secret room. I'm prolly not going to finish writing May's story, but I definitely made it to include obscene gore, to make intensely painful scenes for May to experience, and never recover from... except, she can. I wanted to write her so she lives with her older brother so he can act as a father for May.

Now, why are they all girls, why do I brutalize them? Well, I view my own innocence as a little girl, one that's been horribly beaten and punished for just existing. I view it as a little girl because of how I wanted to be like one of my siblings, I was a very shy kid and had a hard time approaching others, but they were my best friend, and we even remarked how they were friends with everyone. I wanted to be like them. Those times are gone, but I will always remember it this way...

They're not dead, don't think that, my innocence is though. I was beaten down, and pushed around, and my innocence was killed, brutalized. I became vindictive and spiteful.

So, I covered how I convey the loss of innocence, but the feeling of never having innocence, I usually give that to male characters. I view that men typically aren't allowed to have feelings, that they aren't allowed to be cared about, they're beaten, bruised and sore. Men aren't allowed to show pain, that makes them weak.

I was told all these things at a young age. I was beaten, abused physically and mentally, neglected, I was told to run and hit by a car. I needed to fight and throw others weight around at home and once that became a useless skill, all I knew til that point was broken and all I could do is scream in anguish because they weren't hurting me, because at least if I was feeling physical pain, I could ignore how bad it felt to be so angry. I can go further, but I think you get it. I didn't even want to label the soul crushing nothingness I felt for existing depression for years because I told myself "I'm not allowed to be depressed". I have much less in characters that follow this pattern. Alex was a character I designed to be a violent individual because of experimentation, cruel experimentation to a child warping their mind, not allowing them to have a say in their life, making them into a man made monster.

I actually designed Chara and Frisk this way as well in my Dialogue posts early on. Frisk lost innocence to Flowey's torment, and committed to a genocide run. Chara has scars over his body he hides because of severe abuse he faced in his first life being made from the essence of his soul to his new body, still highly damaged, and affected by those scars.

Looking at the tropes you have in your own writing is interesting, and I uh... I need therapy

#writing #i need therapy

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mikauzoran · 3 years

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So I might've read every single MLB fic you have on AO3 that wasn't Adrien/Luka, and some that were... there are a few that seem abandoned (or maybe hiatus?) so I was just curious if you intend to continue any of them. Particularly The Rejects Club, it stole my heart, but I'm aware you're working on other fics and projects and probably work full time as well! Your writing style is fantastic and I hope you continue to have fun with it all! <3 <3

Thank you! I'm really glad you enjoy my work. ^.^

So, every few months I do a status update here on Tumblr with all of my current WIPs and where I'm at with them and what new projects are coming out in coming months. I tag it "status update" and "Mikau's WIP", so you can check out those tags if you're ever wondering what I'm working on.

I just did an update today which you can find here.

(The rest is a brutally honest, TMI status update on Rejects and Springtime and me that got too long, so I'm putting it under the cut. ^.^;)

Honestly, I'm in really bad shape mentally. I work full time at a law firm where the stress level is toxic. A lot of days I dread getting out of bed. Writing is kind of an escape from that.

At this point, Rejects and the Springtime in Wonderland universe stories put me in really bad headspace. They cause me stress and anxiety, and I don't feel well when working on them at the moment.

2019 was a bad mental health year for me, and I was able to use writing to sort through some of that. Back then, Rejects and Springtime were kind of cathartic, but then they turned into a sort of unhealthy rumination on my negative feelings, so I put them aside until I felt better mentally and felt like I could work on them again without causing damage to myself.

2020 was hell. I think it was hell for everyone in unique and horrible ways. I personally lost eight family members and a close family friend during that time, so I'm still grieving and processing and trying to get back to "normal". Right now, my main goal is trying to feel safe leaving my house and being around people again.

So that's where we are. I'm not in good shape, but I'm working on it, and it's getting better. I'm working really hard to manage work and my health, and in my free time I'm writing things that help me process my feelings and make sense of my world.

I know you didn't mean me harm, so I'm not angry at you at all or anything, so no worries. You're very sweet, and I'm so happy that you enjoy my work and are eager to read more. I can see that you tried very hard to ask politely and respectfully while acknowledging that I have a full life outside of sharing my work online. I really appreciate that, so thank you. You treating me like a human being means a lot to me.

What you couldn't have known is that you're unwittingly pressuring me to do something that's harmful for me at this point in my life. I know you don't mean to. You just want to know if I'm planning on continuing a story. There's nothing wrong with that in theory. You have no way of knowing the rough state of my mental health and the negative impact forcing myself to work on those stories would have on me, so I just wanted to take the time to sit down and explain it to you and other readers like you who love my work and are eager for a continuation.

I'm sorry. I can't right now. I hope to continue in the future, but I have to take care of myself first and foremost because if there is no Mikau, there are no stories.

Hopefully things will continue to get better and I'll feel stronger and capable of working on epic-novel-length works again in the coming years, but that's not where I am right now.

So please don't ask about updates to my four works on hiatus. At the moment, I have sixty-six completed works for you to enjoy, and there will be others in the coming months. Since I started writing for the Ladybug fandom in January 2019, I've updated something or other almost every week. Some weeks I missed, but there's been an update at least every other week. Sometimes I've updated daily for long stretches at a time. I devote the majority of my free time to writing and posting. There's always something new, so when people ask about my works on hiatus, I always wonder, "Am I not already doing enough? Why isn't what I'm doing enough? I already give them everything I have. What more do they want from me?" I'm updating daily right now, and I don't know what more readers could want from me. Getting messages like yours makes me feel a deep despair and inadequacy. It also makes me feel like people don't appreciate the work I'm already doing. It makes me want to stop sharing my work.

I know a lot of other writers feel similar negative feelings. I know a few people who have dropped out of the fandom because their readers didn't respect that they have lives outside of fandom and badgered the writers for updates. I know people who have deleted the works they had on hiatus and decided to discontinue them so that they wouldn't be bothered by readers anymore.

This is really tragic, and I don't want things to get this bad for me. I don't want to delete Rejects or Springtime because I'd really like to finish them when I'm feeling mentally healthy enough to safely do so.

So. Please don't ask any author about updates. You never know what's really going on in their lives and in their minds. You don't ever want to be the last straw that pushes someone over the edge.

While I appreciate the respectfulness of your inquiry, at the same time, it caused me a lot of anxiety and frustration and depression. In the future, if you want to show your support for an author and their works, leave them a comment and let them know how much you loved their story, what it meant to you. Don't mention updates. Just send them love and remind them that their story means something to someone. Maybe that will get them thinking about the story again and inspire them to write more. Mentioning updating only brings dread and anger and the desire to delete works so that they can't be used by readers to hurt us anymore.

Thanks for reading. It really does make me so happy to hear that my work is still being cherished by people. ^.^

#Mikau #Ask Mikau #Ask #Mikau's Writing Process #Mikau's WIP #Status Update #The Rejects Club #Springtime in Wonderland #Mental Health #TMI Sorry

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

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Gateway Drug | Part Forty-One

Table of Content or Part Forty

Read here on wattpad.

Words: 3.2k

Warning(s): Explicit language, minor sexual situations, drug abuse, drug over dose

A/N: Had to cut this chapter in half because tumblr was being sketchy w the length of it for some reason. Anyway, second half will be up asap but I'm about to pass tf out. Also, this chapter was gonna have some smut but I put it in with the second half instead because the vibe didn't mesh well with it included in this one. Have a good night, update coming tomorrow/late tonight (Jan. 3). Goodnight!!

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I can't help but laugh a little as Nikki presses kisses up and down my neck, bottle of Jack in one hand, part of my ass in the other as our car takes the both of us through London.

Valentine's Day, 1986, started out as one of the best Valentine's Days we'd spent together.

Nikki's mood wasn't too good or too bad, it was a tolerant neutral, I suppose it's because we hadn't done much talking at all.

He'd woken me up with his tongue between my legs and it stayed that way until I had soaked the sheets and was practically begging him to give me a break because I couldn't take it anymore.

Then we proceeded to screw around, then got ready to leave to meet everyone at the Hammersmith Odeon where they were due to play that night.

"How much longer?" I ask him, pulling away from a tongue filled, lust fueled kiss, referring to the time left before we get where we're going.

"Like, ten minutes, maybe." He tells me.

My hand reaches between us, rubbing over the obvious bulge in his pants, before he reads my mind.

After our quicky, I'm pulling my panties back on while he's pulling his gear from his boot.

I just let out a breath.

"Nikki--"

"--I'm fucked on blow right now, Viv. I gotta get myself leveled out." He tells me.

I just nod a little, not bothering to argue.

Once we arrive, Fred's meeting us in the back to escort us inside as fans are already crowding around the front entrance.

Nikki's grabbing at my hand once we get out, as he and Fred start talking.

"And there's a surprise for you." Fred tells me as we walk in.

I furrow my brows before he's nodding to our left.

I see the massive, teased, blonde hair and flashy clothing and I'm leaving Nikki's side before I can help myself.

Mike's just as happy to see me and I am to see him, the both of us hugging each other tightly before pulling away to examine each other with wide smiles.

He looks incredible.

He's glowing.

He's gained back the weight he lost dramatically after Razzle died, and it's so obvious that he hasn't touched a drink or Drug in months.

He looks at peace.

"You look great." I tell him, looking him up and down.

"I feel great." He replies. "You look..." He starts, examining me similarly.

I look like I've been dragged through hell.

"Like shit." I finish for him and he rolls his eyes.

"Beautiful, Vivian. You've always been beautiful." He argues.

The shining of a silver band around his left ring finger catches my eye, despite multiple rings decorating his hands.

"Now, I've heard about this." I take his hand and look at the wedding band and he gets giddy. "But I have yet to even see her."

He's pulling his wallet out of his pocket and pulling a picture out, showing me a photo of a woman with dark hair, arched brows, who's no-bullshit demeanor is practically jumping out of the picture.

Jude Wilder had been working at CBS when she'd met Michael while working on Hanoi Rocks' project called "Two Steps From The Move."

She was nine years older than him, but that didn't surprise me. Michael's always been nine years ahead of everyone else in maturity, and they were perfect for each other.

They got married in 1985, and were inseparable.

When she died in 2001, after suffering an intracranial hemorrhage, Michael sunk into the excruciatingly low place he sunk to when Razzle died. But in true Mike Monroe fashion, he didn't allow himself to be down very long, threw the drugs out, and was remarried to a gorgeous, sweet, ball of light named Johanna by mid-2003.

"She's gorgeous, Michael." I tell him in admiration, although I know he's never necessarily been into looks as much as he's after a good personality and clear head.

"Thank you. She'll love to hear that." He chuckles, tucking the picture back into his wallet. "Have you seen the other guys here?" He asks me and I raise my brows.

He motions behind me and I see Andy, Sami, and Nasty, talking to Tommy and Nikki.

Nikki beckons for me and I go to them, trying not to be overly motherly upon seeing them, the three of us sharing the same exchange Michael and I did.

Tight hugs, and an invisible thankfulness that they're in a more positive headspace than the last time I saw them.

Well, except one.

Andy's still on heroin. It doesn't take me two seconds to pick up on it and I can tell it's gonna be a priority to keep him and Nikki separated after the show.

I don't need them fueling the fire under each other's spoons.

Sami and Nasty look better than the last time I saw them, which is amazing.

I'm surprised any of the guys want anything to do with us after the thick of their grieving.

"Are you staying for the show?" I ask Andy.

"Absolutely." Andy states, pointing at Nikki. "And I'm showing him around when it's all over."

A protective chord is struck in me, and I'm finding myself having to pull back on the reins before I offend Andy.

Nikki seems to agree, before I shit all over it.

"It's Valentine's Day." I cut in. "I was hoping we could hang out." I look to Nikki.

"You can come with us, babe." He suggests and I try to hide my true emotions about it, but Michael sees through it.

"Oh, c'mon, Nikki. It's Valentines Day." He interjects, picking up on my concern of Andy and Nikki out on the town, binging.

Nikki's pulling a handful of bills out of his pocket before handing it to Michael.

"You take her out, then." He tells him casually, and Michael looks at me, caught off guard, able tell this isn't the first time Nikki's acted like this towards me and it's as if he's saying, "he's like this now?"

"Guys, c'mon, you gotta get dressed." Doc pulls at Nikki and Tommy.

The show goes smoothly, despite a few hiccups and—as predicted—Andy and Nikki are thick as thieves.

I help Nikki get his white and black polka dotted suit off, before he's pulling on his tshirt and jeans, pulling his boots on.

Before I head for the door when he's dressed, he's grasping at my hand and stopping me.

"What is it?" I ask, raising my brows.

"C'mere." He tugs me to him and I chuckle a little.

"What is it?" I repeat, grinning, and he leans down and presses his lips to mine, sweetly.

"I really wish you would come with me tonight." He tucks some of my hair behind my ear and I shake my head a little.

"Nah, I'll just hangout with Mike."

"No, I wanna hangout with you." He argues lightly.

"You and Andy are gonna be doing things I'm not into." I point out.

"Like what?" He asks.

"You know what." I reply.

"Alright, how about you and Mike come with us so you aren't by yourself?"

"How about you just don't touch heroin?" I suggest and his smile falters, his jaw rolling. I don't even let him say anything else.

I kiss him one last time before trying to sweep whatever argument is brewing, under the rug.

"I'll see you when you get back tonight, Nikki, okay?" I ask and he sighs out.

"Whatever, Viv." He mumbles as I step out.

I find Mike and Tommy telling Nasty and Sami "goodbye", and I step to them, glancing around for Vince, who isn't anywhere to be seen.

It's obvious he's keeping his distance.

"Leaving already?" I ask the two dark haired boys.

"Got to get back home for a bit. We'll see you around, eventually." Nasty tells me, grinning as he squeezes my hand assuringly.

"I'll be meeting Mike back in the states in about a month." Sami adds. "We'll he sure to stop by."

"Okay." I nod, smiling at the both of them. "Be careful, I'll see you later." I them.

"See you, man." Mike tells the two of them, hugging the both of them.

"Big plans tonight, Viv?" Tommy nudges me and I point my thumb in Mike's direction. "What about Nikki?"

"He's married to Andy's dealer tonight." I reply and Mike raises his brows, not saying a word, and Tommy seems like he doesn't quite know how to respond.

"We're outta here!" Andy exclaims, he and Nikki stepping to the exit with Fred escorting them out to their car.

"He's really not spending tonight with you?" Tommy asks me, disappointed, and I raise my brows.

"Are you surprised?"

"..." He says everything with a single look and I nod.

"Exactly." I scoff, going to the dressing room to grab my purse.

Once I get back, Fred is waiting for Mike and I.

"Press talks." Fred warns us right before we step outside.

The paps aren't horrid here like in America, but there's enough here to spin a narrative if they choose.

"So does bullshit." I reply as he opens the car door and I slide in with Mike following me.

"Be careful, guys. I'll see you later, Viv." Fred tells me and I nod before he shuts the door.

Michael looks at me with a smile.

"What now?" He asks me and I shake my head a little.

"Food." I tell him. "And a lot of it."

Although I would have loved to spend the day of love with my husband, spending it with Michael Monroe while stuffing my face with London's very best take-out, was nice.

But there was someone who upstaged Nikki, aside from Mike.

I step into the hotel after dinner with Michael and his wife, carrying my heels in my hands because my feet are killing me, ready to go to sleep.

"Mrs. Sixx, there was a delivery made to your room by your management earlier." The woman at the front desk tells me as I walk by to the elevator.

"Alright, thank you." I reply.

When I get to my room, I unlock the door and I'm met with a large bouquet of classic red roses.

I furrow my brows, knowing they can't be from Nikki, but already know who they can be from when I see two little plastic water guns tucked into the flowers, a bottle of Pepsi and a bag of gummy worms beside them.

I pick up the card and nearly start crying.

"We miss you! Happy V-Day, V!

Love, more than Jack and Marlboro (or Pepsi and gummy worms), Tansy, Steven, Axl, Izzy, Slash, and Duff."

It's etched in Doc's handwriting, and I chuckle at the thought of Doc on the phone with Tansy while she dictates what he writes on a card for flowers she probably begged him to get me before the show ended tonight.

I keep myself from crying, a strong sense of homesickness washing over me.

I pick up the phone, trying to calculate the time difference.

It's 2:00am here, which means it's only 6:00pm in L.A.

I'm dialing their apartment—damning the overseas charge that I know will be billed to us—knowing they're probably getting ready to go out or head to a club for a gig.

"Yo." I hear Steven's voice on the other line.

"Hey, Steven, it's Viv."

"Viv?" He asks excitedly. "Aye, Viv's on the phone!" I hear him say, hearing indistinguishable sentences in the back ground.

"Yeah, I just called to let you guys know I just got back to my room and saw the flowers." I explain, fumbling with the phone chord, sitting down on the bed.

"Do you like 'em?" He asks me and I nod to myself.

"Yes, they're beautiful." I reply.

"Well, Tansy mentioned getting you something for Valentine's Day and she and Duff called the guys' manager and told him some stuff you'd like." He informs me.

"I-Is Duff there?" I ask.

"Uhh, yeah, gimme a second." He tells me. "Duff! Man, it's Viv!" He calls into the apartment. "He's comin', baby." He assures me. "Alright, here he is."

"Bye, I love you." I tell him.

"I love you, too." He replies as I hear the phone being handed off.

"Hello?" Duff answers and I rub my lips together.

"Hey, I know you're probably busy so I wasn't gonna keep you long, I just wanted to say 'thank you' for the flowers and the junkfood I really shouldn't be eating but I'm going to eat anyway." I state and he chuckles.

"I'm just waiting on the guys, and I thought about Coke and potatoe chips but I knew that would be kinda mean so I played it safe." He informs me.

"You don't have a mean bone in your body, Duff." I point out. "Oh, guess who I ate dinner with tonight?"

"Nikki?" He asks and I scoff.

"That's an entire conversation on it's own." I reply. "Michael Monroe and his lovely wife, Jude, took me out to dinner."

"You can't just say it that casually, Viv." He tells me. "You gotta cry tears of joy or something, holy shit."

"Well, I suggest you learn how to keep your cool because him and Sami Yaffa will be visiting L.A. soon and I will be introducing you and the guys, if you're interested."

"Shut up." He says it in disbelief and I smile.

"Guns N' Roses came up during dinner and I may or may not have bragged about one W.Axl Rose, Steven Adler, Izzy Stradlin, Slash Hudson, and Duff McKagan and piqued his interest."

"Shut up!" He says it louder. "Viv, I know it's not a big deal to you because he's one of your friends but...holy shit, Sixx, you didn't have to do that."

"I did, Duff. You guys deserve it." I argue. "You deserve it."

"I fucking love you." He tells me, genuinely. "And I'm not just saying that because you did something nice, like, I can't say 'thank you' enough or tell you how much I love you for being just as enthusiastic as we are and believing in us as much as you have for the past year."

"You guys are great people, Duff. And God's given the five of you incredible musical gifts. It's against my religion not to help expose those gifts to the rest of the world and I know you guys can do it, as much as you guys know you can."

"Thank you, Viv." He tells me again. "And where's Nikki at?" He asks me and I close my eyes for a second, not wanting to say something that will put a damper on his mood.

"He wasn't feeling well so he came back to the hotel while the three of us went to dinner. But he's feeling better now and he's in the shower so we'll spend some time together when he's out." I lie.

"Okay, good. The guys are about ready to go, now, so I'm gonna let you go." He tells me.

"Alright, have fun." I reply, trying to force back tears. "And tell the guys I said 'hey' and that I miss them." I add.

"I will, Viv. Goodnight. I love you." He states, and a tear topples over my lashline, pretending, just for a moment, I'm hearing those words from Nikki.

A sad, broken smile cracks at my lips.

"I love you, too, Duff." I reply. "Goodnight."

I hang up, stepping to the bathroom to take off my makeup and get a shower.

By the time I get out of the shower, I'm so tired my mind practically shuts down the second my head hits the pillow.

Typically I wouldn't be able to sleep due to being alone, however, I'm not technically alone.

A loud, startling bang rattles at my door, and I jerk awake, confused for a moment. I glance at the clock, seeing it's only 3:30am, and I roll my eyes, knowing it's Nikki and he probably left his key somewhere.

Without even looking in the peep-hole, I open the door to see a frantic, panicking Andy.

Before this continues, I need to clarify that I understand it isn't anyone else's fault that Nikki did drugs. He had his struggles and demons all without anyone offering him anything to shoot up, snort, swallow down, or drink. He could have easily said "no" to these things, but for some reason just couldn't.

But back then, I knew people knew he couldn't help himself. So no one who could have been considered an enabler was off limits. And Andy was an enabler.

All it takes is for him to say the words "Nikki's in bad trouble" and my face twists, tears toppling from my eyes, an entire wave of emotions rocking through my body, before I'm throwing both of my fists at him.

"Vivian!" He's screaming repeatedly as I'm yelling out nonsense at him, sobbing, weakly hitting him.

Once I've gotten calmed down in a couple minutes, Andy's grabbing at my shoulders, his cheek bleeding from my ring cutting him.

"Get your head clear." He practically has to pull me together for myself.

I'm running down the street from the hotel as fast as my bare feet can take me, Andy leading me to the run-down apartment he and Nikki were hanging out at.

I walk into to this rat holding a baseball bat of Nikki, about to hit him.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Andy barks at him as I snatch the bat from his hands.

I'm about to hit him with it instead, but Andy's grabbing at me. "Viv, keep your head clear." He tells me again, pulling the bat from my hands and I glare into the sunken in eyes of the stranger, silently promising he'll get his when I get my blue husband awake.

I'm overwhelmed and feel defeated at the sight of him.

Blue, soaking wet from being wet down in an attempt to be woken up, and the deterioration of his body from his use is even more evident in his current state.

Andy is screaming at the guy for hitting him with a bat instead of continuing to give him mouth to mouth and pumping his chest like Andy had been doing before he came and got me.

I start CPR, trying to keep my shit together, but I obviously fail.

My stomach cramps like shards of glass are scraping at me. Except it's not my stomach, it's my uterus.

"Andy." I cry out, keeping my hands on Nikki's chest, but the Finnish rockstar keeps yelling back and forth with the dealer. "Andy." I repeat, louder, but he still doesn't hear me. "Andy!" I'm pleading in a holler, catching his attention. "I-I can't do this, I'm sick, just call an ambulance!" I beg and Andy heads to the phone hanging on the wall.

"No!" The living dead-rat argues roughly, fear in his pinned eyes as he practically snatches the phone off the wall, refusing to hand it to Andy.

"My husband is dying if not already dead! He needs help!" I argue, sweat beginning to perspire thinly on my skin, my own pain intensifies, my vision starting to blur slightly as I feel hot liquid rush from between my bare legs, and I'm blacking out along with Nikki.

#nikki sixx #vince neil #tommy lee #mötley crüe #the dirt #gateway drug

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