#dabda

Shoutout to @shortstorylonger for recently introducing me to the ball and box theory of grief. I read up on it and it made a ton of sense. Something in my head clicked with this. Much better than Kübler-Ross’ DABDA, which is factual, but not necessarily helpful. It made me see how this intense pain won’t be so constant forever, even though it feels like it will be.

some of my favorite orange albums:

MMMMMM VERY. Let’s talk about that.

Denial

The first four days consist of Douxie clawing at his magic cuff and lifeless staff. He tries and he tries and he tries and he tries. Archie watches the kid tire himself out. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t know what to say. Instead he gives Douxie some space to let the reality sink in.

Anger

Douxie snaps hard. He’s shouting and kicking, breaking things in a rage that nearly rivals his anger towards Merlin. This stage is rough for Archie. And it’s understandable because yknow, last time he was with his familiar, the kid was adorable and awkward and soft voiced, not a loud sorcerer bursting with pride and ego. It takes a whole lot of catnip to keep the cat dragon from slipping up and telling Douxie that he’s no longer the magic boy he used to be. Some days he’s really tempted, but what did we say about shortcuts and taking easy ways out? Exactly, we’re having none of that.

So they agree to stay quiet for let’s say, two to three weeks?

Bargaining

The “if only”s come crashing in. Douxie can’t differentiate whether he’s thinking or speaking out loud anymore and Archie is wondering what on Earth he’s muttering about. He would pry but you know what they said, curiosity kills the cat. Meanwhile, the ex wizard is pacing throughout the house. If only he trained harder. If only he was able to poison Claire quicker. If only he didn’t spare them to see the breaking of the Genesis Seals. If only this, if only that. The things that could have been haunts him and he’s spiraling again into his intrusive thoughts. 

When Douxie starts calling out for a bargain between him and Mordrax, Archie knows he cannot stand by this time. The kid’s going to go insane. He pulls Douxie’s face in his hands.

“Stop thinking about what could have been. What’s done is done.”

Depression

That was a month ago. Nowadays, Douxie doesn’t leave his bed. He just lies there, staring at the ceiling, falling asleep, sometimes getting up to use the bathroom, going back to the bedroom, repeat. There’s no point in his life it seems now.

Jim stops by and drops off a care package from the gang; clothes, snacks, an old but working record player, some cat toys for Archie. It’s been a while since they checked in. He’s surprised to see that it was Archie who answered him, but the look on the familiar’s face said enough.

“If you need anything, you have my number,” Jim says apologetically, before heading out. Archie nods.

He tells Douxie to get himself washed and change into the new clothes; his old outfit smells horrendous and there’s no way the stench wouldn’t stick on him.

“New clothes? Where’d you scrap them up from, the trash?”

“Jim dropped them off. A gift I dare say,”

Douxie raises an eyebrow. Now why would the trollhunter even bother with him after everything he’s done? Is this some sort of prank waiting to be pulled? Or is it a reminder that he’s at the trollhunter’s mercy, to take the gift or else face his wrath? Whatever. Nothing mattered anymore anyways.

He doesn’t take the bath or change into the new clothes. Not until next week anyways. It’s too much effort. The only time he does get in the shower is when Archie starts licking him.

“Arch that is gross!”

“You absolutely taste gross, but if this is how you want to take your bath then so be it,”

“Fine, fine, I’ll take the stupid bath, just don’t lick me,” Douxie yells back. He slams the bathroom door purposefully. 

He’s never hated the stall so much. The extremities of either side of the handle felt like wrath delivered by Skrael and Bellroc personally. Foolish humans and their inventions. 

But after learning how to manage the temperature of the water, he relaxes, sitting down and letting the water hit him. Looking around curiously, his eyes hover over the little squishy vials of green fluid. Were these potions of some sort? Hm, it must be for cleansing otherwise they wouldn’t be here. The only thing familiar he finds is a soap bar and the corners of his lips turn up slightly. The first time he said fuzz buckets earned him a soap bar to the mouth from Morgana. A fond memory after a while huh?

And it turns out he really needed that bath, more than he’d like to admit. 

He sighs after coming out from the room and changes into his new clothes. It was all black like the others, but loose and comfy. He can’t say that he likes it, but he doesn’t hate it either. It’ll have to do. Archie walks in and is delighted to see the much cleaner boy.

“Ah I see you’re ready! Let’s get going then, shall we?”

“You didn’t tell me about going anywhere!”

“Douxie, you know we can’t survive on my nightly scavenges alone. It’s time you carried your weight. Come, I know two places where you can get a job.”

Douxie groans.

Acceptance

I thought I was over it.

Guess I'm not.

I want revenge. I want vindication.