#Black Mountain Rehab

[sillyteecup]

That Dam attitude

Jey Uso × black!reader

Warnings:

18+

Strong language

Suggestive content

Violence, I guess? (don't thump your partners with ores)

Translation: Thixo=God

~A.N: This is me, entering the Bloodline community with a little love for Jey (I need Triple H to stop playing with him and give him a title opportunity) while working on that little Roman AU. Hope you like it. Enjoy. ❤️

30 minutes. That's how long Josh had been sitting on the other side of their shared kayak pouting like a 5 year old. Arms folded, lips pressed, eyebrows furrowed-the whole package. All because he much rather would've stayed back at their booked villa fucking instead of actually adding some adventure to their vacation.

And Siya, was frankly tired of it. "Not you still sitting over there pouting and shit," she commented with an annoyed look on her face.

Looking equally vexed, he replied, "Not you got us in the middle of the fucking ocean at 8 am on vacation," to which Siya rolled her eyes.

"First of all, dumbass it's a dam. Second of all, I did not come all the way out here to fuck, sleep, eat and repeat, I came out here to have fun and relax," she said. The fact that they were in Cape Town where there was so much to see and do (for Josh anyway since Siya had been there plenty of times as a child) and all he wanted to do was move like a damn Neanderthal amazed her. Fucking men.

"Oh, and praytell Siya, which part of any of this is fun or relaxing?" he asked incredulously, gesturing at the kayak. "And I want you to think very carefully about your answer because if you tell me some bullshit about connecting with nature, I will flip this bitch over and we gon' swim back to the dock," he warned.

At this, Siya's eyes narrowed. There was no way this man was serious. "So you, Joshua Fatu, mean to tell me that you would trade in all of this natural beauty and peace for sex? Is that what you're saying to me right now?" They were on a kayak on the Waterfront dam with a perfect view of the Table mountain and the overall serene vibe of one of the most beautiful cities in Africa. And this man wanted to trade that in for some pussy? Bomb pussy, that is but semantics.

He smirked. "Ey ma, let's just say I'd prefer to be knee-deep different type of natural beauty, know what I'm sayin'?" he said, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Usually she'd find this funny and fold like a pretzel, but this time around her pussy was sore from all the work he'd been putting in since they landed 2 days prior, she was already running out of thongs since he kept tearing them off her (with the promise to buy her ne ones of course) and frankly, she was starting to miss being able to walk without holding onto something for support. As a matter of fact, part of her had actually considered having him admitted into a rehab because his addiction to her cooch was on its way to paralyzing her from the waist down.

"You need help. Professional help," she snarked, pointing her acrylic decorated nail at him, making him chuckle.

"Girl you better stop acting like you don't like creaming on this shit," he laughed, right as an older white couple rowed by. They looked aghast, as though they'd heard his comment, which mortified Siya.

"Joshua!" she scolded before apologizing profusely to the other couple, who continued clutching their pearls while they did their best to get as far away as possible from the younger pair. She shot Josh a deadpan look, one he responded to with an innocent shrug.

"Look babygirl, ain't my fault white folk can't mind their business," he said defensively.

Siya lifted her ore and gently thumped him on the head with it, making him hiss. "No, but your big ass mouth yelling our business for the whole fucking continent to hear is your fault. No home training, I swear," she complained as she continued to row.

Still rubbing his head and trying to row with one hand, he frowned. "Oh but when you're the one hollering at the top of your lungs for me to fuck you like a little slut while doin' tricks on the dick, might I add, it's all good?" Josh retorted, to the horror of another older couple rowing by.

"Thixo," Siya heard the older woman gasp. She sent the lady an apologetic smile and let out a string of "sorries" in Xhosa, before turning to glare at Josh again.

"The fuck all these old people doing out here so early anyway?" he exclaimed, albeit, quietly. "This is a sign if you ask me."

Siya was seething. "Fuck, you," she hissed with a deadly glare to match.

"Tuh, I wish you would," Josh replied, earning another, this time less gentle, thump to the side of his head. He raised his eyebrows, challenging his girlfriend to do it again. "Girl, you better stop playing with me, 'else it won't be no discussion."

Another thump.

"Siya," he warned, mildly irritated.

Usually she would stop but this time she was annoyed by his prior antics. "Joshua," she mocked him, moving to deal another thumped, only for him to grab her ore.

His face was set in stone. He definitely wasn't playing anymore. "Stop it," he commanded.

Siya however, was not moved in the slightest. "Or what?" she challenged.

He leaned closer to her, careful not to tip the kayak over as no one was rowing at the moment. "Keep fucking around and you gon' find out real soon," he growled.

Siya kissed her teeth defiantly. "You ain't gon' do shit."

Josh chuckled darkly as he sat back up straight. This girl was clearly dead set on testing his patience and she was gonna reap what she sowed. She didn't know it yet, (or maybe she did) but as soon as they got back to that villa he was gonna put her back in her place and fix that damn attitude.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 17B: It's Tough To Be Somebody, And It's Hard Not To Fall Apart

New York City || September 1988

It's tough to be somebody And it's hard not to fall apart Here on Rehab Mountain We gonna learn these things by heart

 - “Detox Mansion”, Warren Zevon (1987) [click here to listen]

Raymond crossed the threshold, and Claire closed the door. “We just had breakfast delivered, if you’d like something to eat or drink.”

“Tea or coffee, perhaps, if you have it?”

Claire slid her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket, bare feet soundless on the marble floor of the suite’s hallway. “Of course. You must excuse us, we didn’t get back until very late last night, and it’s so hard to go out for breakfast so we tend to just order room service for everything.”

“No need to apologize. I’m grateful for whatever you may have.”

The hallway turned into a sitting room, complete with a stunning view of Central Park.

“Hello, Dr. Germain.” A tall man stood at a long white couch, wearing black jeans and a black tank top, the tattoos on his arms vivid against the sky through the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I’m Jamie Fraser.”

“Raymond. And it’s a pleasure, Mr. Fraser. Dougal speaks very highly of you.”

Raymond shook Jamie’s hand, and watched Claire busy herself at a large rolling table covered in food.

“Jamie, please. Just Jamie. Make yourself at home.” Jamie gestured to another couch, and Raymond settled against the cushions.

“It’s quite something, isn’t it? This room, I mean.” Jamie grabbed a coffee mug, wedding ring clinking softly against the china. “I grew up on a farm in upstate New York. So this is the kind of thing you can’t get used to. Or should never get used to, anyway.”

“It is incredible,” Raymond agreed. “Definitely a lot better than the view from my apartment. I’d find it hard to leave here.”

“I do,” Jamie sighed. “But playing shows at the Garden…well. That’s pretty awesome, too.”

“Here you go.” Both men looked up to see Claire, holding out a steaming mug and plate of cut fruit. “Black coffee, but there’s cream and sugar if you like.”

Raymond gratefully took the plate and mug. “Thank you, Claire. You don’t need to be so generous.”

She smiled kindly, and settled on the couch next to Jamie with a bowl of cereal. Raymond sipped his coffee, watching Jamie rest a gentle hand on her thigh.

“Tell me about yourself,” Jamie said softly. “How do you know Dougal?”

Raymond spoke at length, in between bites of banana. “We met at a conference about ten years ago. I’ve been in private practice for many years, and I’m always eager to learn new techniques, to keep on top of the latest research and thinking. Conferences are good for that kind of thing. It was one of those three day affairs in a big hotel ballroom, and there was a rather boring dinner the first night. I ended up sitting next to Dougal and Gillian. We got to talking, and that was it.”

“If you’ve known each other for so long, I’m surprised you’ve never worked at The Ridge.” Claire crunched the last of her cereal, and Jamie smiled slightly.

Raymond shrugged. “You know this better than anyone – there is one requirement to work at The Ridge, and that is that you must be an addict in recovery. I’m not that.”

Jamie’s brows rose in surprise. “And yet, you’re one of the top therapists in the country for addicts in recovery. Or so Dougal led us to understand.”

Raymond set down his plate. “I started my career focusing on patients who had experienced extreme trauma. I’m a bit older than the two of you – this would have been in the ‘50s. I had volunteered at a VA hospital during medical school, and I got to know a lot of veterans who…well, let’s just say that they had seen and done things in Germany and the Pacific that no man ever should. I resolved then and there to dedicate my life to help people like that.”

He paused, and closed his eyes.

“Many of the men I worked with turned to drink and drugs to numb their pain. To escape their reality. I learned a lot about addiction that way. Why it starts, why it persists, how much damage it inflicts on the addict and the people who love them. I’ve never had a drink or taken a drug in my life, and I hope to stay that way until the day I die.” He took a breath. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t understand why someone would reach that point.”

It wasn’t often that Raymond opened up – even in this muted way – about his own life. But with Jamie and Claire – who would be some of the most unique clients he’d ever work with – he knew they would give him space, and respect. And more importantly, that they would understand.

He finished his coffee, gently setting the mug on the table. Eyes open but focused downward on his hands.

“Put simply, I did not have the happiest of childhoods. I have no memory of my parents, and was in an orphanage run by nuns from the age of two. Things were not easy in Montreal during the Depression.”

“So that’s where your accent comes from,” Claire smiled.

Raymond glanced up at her, and smiled back. Tightly. “Indeed. Well, as a child I was bullied quite relentlessly. I’ve always been quite small, and you know how boys can be. So my friends were my books. Had it not been for my high school English teacher, I never would have found the courage to apply to university, or to come to New York. To fulfil my dream of helping people, and giving them the kindness and support that I never had. And somehow, by the grace of God, here I am, sitting with you today in this beautiful room. I will never be ungrateful for my improbable life.”

He glanced up at Jamie and Claire. Saw their hands entwined, gripping tightly, Claire’s face buried in Jamie’s shoulder.

Raymond flushed. “Oh my. I do apologize. I didn’t – ”

Jamie smiled sadly. “It’s fine. Claire’s fine, she’s just…did Dougal tell you anything about us?”

“Only the broad strokes.” Raymond uncomfortably scratched the back of his neck. “How you met, that you were both at The Ridge for treatment. He had to tell me about your career, regretfully I had never heard of you or your music. But I did buy your most recent CD earlier this week to prepare.”

Jamie nodded. “Interesting. I’m asking because we all seem to have something quite important in common. Claire was five when she lost her parents in a car crash. And I was eight when I lost my mother, though thankfully I had my father until just a few years ago.”

Now it was Raymond’s turn to smile sadly. “It colors your life, does it not?”

Claire straightened, and Jamie wiped away her tears with his free hand. Raymond noticed the flash of a tattoo at the base of Jamie’s thumb.

“It does.” She smiled sadly at Raymond. “It’s a hole that is never filled. Jamie and I have talked about it many times – whether we would have ended up as addicts, had we not lost our parents.” She sighed. “Thankfully I was raised by my mother’s brother – and I’m so grateful he is still in our lives. He married us. But it’s not the same.”

Raymond’s smile brightened considerably. “My heartiest congratulations on your recent wedding. It’s quite evident how deeply you love each other.”

Claire flushed happily, and Jamie kissed her cheek. “Thank you. We still can’t believe it ourselves. It’s been quite the year.”

“I can imagine. This tour must be something, if you’re selling out the Garden.”

“Well – the tour of course has been big,” Jamie remarked. “But it’s been a lot more than that, for us. A year ago now, we were at The Ridge, in treatment. I ended up being there for 17 weeks. Claire was there for, eight weeks?”

“Nine.”

“And when did the two of you get together?”

Claire glanced at her husband. “Officially, right before Jamie left. Then after that, we had some time together in January and February, but soon after that the decision was made to go on tour. Jamie had written a lot of new material at The Ridge, and he – we – thought that touring would be a good way to get back into real life. Buy us some time as I figured out what was happening with my medical license. And then…we decided to get married.”

“A three week tour,” Jamie snorted. “That was the original plan. We’re now on our fourth month, and we’ve sold out Madison Square fucking Garden for three nights.”

“How much longer will you be on the road?”

Jamie glanced briefly at Claire. “Just a few more shows and then we’ll wrap up. But then we’ll be back at it next year – the label has booked over one hundred dates, all across North America and then legs in Europe and Australia as well.”

“It’s going to be intense,” Claire added quietly. “I’ll be there with him, of course. My medical license has been reinstated, but I’m taking an informal break.” She darted a quick glance at her husband, squeezing his hand. “You should know this, Raymond – we quite desperately want to start a family. We’ve given ourselves this year to just…be. But that means there’s a good chance that while we’re touring next year I’ll be pregnant.”

Raymond folded his arms across his chest. “Which would be yet another source of stress in the situation. And another strain on your sobriety. Not to mention, your relationship. For both of you.”

Jamie gripped Claire’s hand. “And that’s where you come in, Raymond. I’ve been stone cold sober since I arrived at The Ridge. Claire, too. We’ve had each other this tour to keep each other honest, and I know I can say categorically that I wouldn’t be sober without her.”

He kissed her temple.

“But it’s not been without tremendous difficulty and so much strain,” Claire said softly. “He’s been having panic attacks.”

Raymond nodded. “Dougal did tell me that. And naturally, you’re worried that they will continue as the touring continues.”

Claire glanced at Jamie. “He – we – have learned enough about them now for him to recognize when one is coming. We can’t stop it from happening, but we can step away and ride through it together. Every time that happens, I’m grateful for the psych rotation I did in medical school.” She sighed. “But I’m not an expert, Raymond. I can’t help him the way he needs.”

“Said differently,” Jamie interjected, “it’s not fair for me to expect her to provide that kind of support. I don’t want to add to her stress. And I don’t want something to happen that could threaten her own sobriety.”

“Is that a realistic fear for Jamie to have, Claire?”

to be continued…

[candiedspit]

Gorilla Mask

As Nina does my makeup–swivels the contour and punches the blush onto my cheeks, a star, she says, I’m gonna make you a star, don’t you worry baby you’ll knock ‘em dead, you see–I smoke a cigarette and check the time. I’ve got half an hour before the curtains split apart like the legs of a wonderful, beautiful slut. I imagine the audience packed into velvet seats, dressed in cocktail dresses and the suit he plans to be buried in. A Tuesday evening. While my manager insisted on Friday night, I insisted on the opposite. When is the best time to be transported? When you least expect it. After an eight-hour shift at some metal box downtown, moving papers and pushing phone calls. I know my people. I know what they need. 

Nervous? Nina asks, meeting my gaze in the vanity. You’re quiet. 

I shake my head. 

I fuck up, I go home, I say. And that’s the end of it. 

This is my first show in twenty three years. Last time I was on a stage, I was a young golden cat that people rubbed for luck. I could sing God to sleep. I feared nothing and wanted everything. Once, I kissed a girl for the first time twice. 

But that’s the hard part, right? Nina asks. Going home?

I laugh a dry laugh. 

That is true. That is always true. 

At the height of what you could call my career–that never ending totem pole, that white flash of light in which I saw nothing but mercury and moon shrapnel, I wrapped my limo around a city block. And that began the descent into capsules and deadbeat girlfriends. I broke my neck in the accident. Then, the pain pills began to taste like dust. And I needed something stronger to tether myself to the earth. 

It was always a good day when I was high. I could spend seven hours staring at the ceiling and it would feel as though I’d gone on Space Mountain a billion times. I had a sitting heart rate of one hundred and twenty three. I still did shows though they were more like human zoo exhibits. The public came to watch me die. I slurred through old gospels. I fainted during an encore. Once, I gave up. I sat on the stage unmoving and someone had to come remove me. After I went to rehab for the first time, I stopped doing shows. It was only supposed to be a year off. But I couldn’t stop going back. I got into all sorts of things. I huffed paint to watch the wall turn blue. I did coke off of someone’s wedding ring during the wedding recital. I chased some kids down the block for ten dollars. 

Elaine left. And I moved to Memphis. I sat on the back porch smoking heroin, noticing the light ooze through the leaves and feeling every breath in my chest. And I tried again. And tried three more times. I went to a rehab in California where they served lobster rolls and where you had to soak in a hot tub for forty five minutes each evening. I went to a rehab in New York where you could see the skyline pressed against the dark coils of night and the nurses wore short skirts. I went to a rehab in Paris where I beat a lawyer at connect four three times in a row and couldn’t figure out the shower head. Then, I overdosed in South Dakota while visiting some cousins; thin, bare chested men who shoot pistols with one eye closed and drink moonshine for lunch. I died for an hour; saw nothing but a few abstract, pink lines. The rehab I was sent to there was the one that did it. Nothing glamorous. A cold turkey sandwich at noon. Librium in the mornings. After detox, you’re on your own. Gotta change the sheets. Gotta clean the bathrooms. Gotta set the tables. No television after nine. No phone calls in the morning. I was already old by then. And nobody knew my name anymore. What the hell is following the rules for a while? I called my mother halfway through my stay there, after a lunch of fried chicken with plenty of nerve and gallons of black tea. I told her where I was, and what happened. How I couldn’t apologize. 

Are you sorry? She asked. 

I could see her standing in the kitchen, backed into a slant of light, arms crossed. 

If you’re sorry, you won’t do it again. When you get out, you’ll know. So, we’ll see. 

Mama, I can’t do it again.

We’ll see, she said.

And hung up. I knew she was right. I had to be good. It wasn’t enough to want to be good. I had to be out there, doing good in the daylight. When I got out, I didn’t go back to the cousins. I went to Memphis and started going to meetings and church. I didn’t know what to believe but it needed to be huge, crucial. A giant cock to rub. A pleasure to be had. I read scripture on nights I couldn’t sleep. After months of this safety walk, the songs came. I was with my sister Diana; a spoiled eggnog of a girl, ten years younger than I am but we’re wired in the same ways. I can read her mind. I’d know her heart from look alone. It was summertime and we were at the fair together. It was the first time since getting out that I felt safe to be among the others, the extraterrestrials made of crazy glue and fireworks. 

And we were on the Ferris wheel, a thousand feet above the ground, everybody like throngs of specks of dirt below us, the stars as close as they’d ever been. I got a melody in my head like a buzzing gnat. And started singing. Diana stared as I sang, the words mush but the melody there. And we celebrated when I quieted down. I didn’t think I’d ever write another song again. 

But there it was–the massive, throbbing thing to believe in.

[clickerflight]

Esial: Part 9 - Glass Shatters

Masterlist

Part 8

I accidentally put this on the wrong account at first. I am so mad. Something something glass houses Me standing at the whump counter: Yeah I'd like uhhhhh extra crispy Esial?

Content: Vampire whumpee, descriptions of burns, blood lust and blood lust guilt, accidental self injury to the lips

.................................

Anastasia let Esial eat in silence as she drank her own cup of blood. Esial had been a bit worried that the blood wouldn't satisfy him. He felt like something changed in him when he nearly drained Joanna. 

He'd never had human blood before, but it was so much richer and it filled up parts of him he didn't even know he had. He'd felt stronger, almost. Warm and thrilling. 

As he lifted the cup to his mouth, he realized the blood was a mixture of animal blood and human blood. He drank it down quickly, licking at the blood that dripped down until he felt satisfied enough to leave the small remainder be. 

He put the cup down, licking his lips. The animal blood didn't taste familiar, but it had certainly been good. 

"How many days have you been here, Esial?" Anastasia asked, finishing her own cup. 

Esial frowned. "One, I think."

"Mm, I will give you tour."

Esial nodded and she stood up. He followed, putting his cup on the counter where she put hers. She picked up his cup and slotted it inside of her own cup. "The cooks like them stacked."

Esial nodded, mouthing the word 'stacked' to himself. 

Anastasia turned, waiting. Esial realized she was waiting for him to catch up so they could walk side by side, rather than following her, and he did so, a little distracted in doing so, especially when they got into the halls where there were other people.

Walking alongside someone when you hadn't done so since you were a child was more of a task than one would expect. It was difficult matching her pace and keeping from bumping into others.  

Anastasia seemed to notice and reached out, hooking his arm with hers to make it easier. Esial relaxed a little. 

"Who was the Anastasia that you are not?" he asked, tucking his crocodile farther up his side. 

"Mm, she was a princess born in the same year as me," she said, waving her hand dismissively. 

"Princess?"

"Yes. Like daughter of Pharaoh, though we called them Tsars, in my country."

"This is not your country?"

She gave him a faintly amused look. "It is now, droog, though it has not always been."

Esial nodded as they entered one of the glass hallways. He jumped when he felt warmth on his skin, but he was not burned by the sun. He relaxed and looked out at the people walking along pathways. 

"What is this place?"

"Dalton Rehab Center," Anastasia replied. "Before stasis, I never thought there should be such place. Or that vampires would not have to hide. Time washes away mountains eventually, it seems."

And that was a lot to unpack. Esial didn't even know which question to ask next, but Anastasia was already speaking again. 

"From the story I was told, there was vampire who had been in stasis for good long while. When he was found he was sold through the black market until he escaped, only to find there was nowhere for him to go. Apparently, he went mad and killed a bunch of people and they built this place to house vampires just out of stasis to get them on their feet again and keep them from murderous rampages."

Esial nodded along, though there were a lot of words he didn’t understand. Still, he got the gist of them and he was content with that. 

Silence fell between them again as they passed into a new building, this one full of doors marked with strange symbols like the ones on the door of the room he had slept in, though this wasn’t the same building. 

A phrase Anastasia had used came back to him. ‘Time washes away mountains.’ Did it? She’d said it with such certainty, like it was common knowledge. Was 5000 years really enough time to wash away a mountain? But where would the bits of mountain go? Would it just flatten, the land around it rising to meet it until it was a plain? 

And if time could do that to mountains, what would it do to forests? To rivers and lakes and buildings? Well, he already knew that just a decade was enough to bury a village.

He was so deep in thought, he didn’t notice the rambunctious vampires and humans playing together just outside the glass hallway he and Anastasia were passing through. He didn’t notice as they threw a ball back and forth between them, the humans using bats while the vampire used their bare hands. He didn’t notice the ball go flying, though he very much did notice when the glass above shattered, raining down on him, and making him look up before he was burning. 

He screamed, dropping his crocodile as his flesh burned and melted. He could feel the phantom sensation of chains digging into his flesh, creatures with sharp teeth biting into his legs. He screamed, searching his person for the amulet that his father had made him. The one his father enchanted to protect him from the sun when he was bitten and fed and turned, but it wasn’t there. All there was to find was burning, and melting, and pain so violent it tore at his soul and gouged at his eyes and his sanity. 

Then he wasn’t burning. Esial gasped, laying on the floor, shuddering and trying to flinch from the sun he could feel on his burned arms, though it wasn’t burning him anymore. Someone was on top of him, yelling in another language, rage clear in her voice. 

Esial twisted on badly burned and bubbled flesh, trying to see through the haze that had taken his vision. Anastasia wasn’t as badly burned as he was, but her skin was red and blistered. She was shouting at the people through the glass, who all looked horrified. 

Someone in the same clothing as Callum and Laura, one of the scrubs, came running, kneeling beside Esial. They were human and, through the lingering pain in his burns, Esial could feel the hunger just as powerfully when he smelled her blood, the itching in his mouth to sink his fangs into her arm and heal himself through her blood. 

He tried to open his mouth to bite as she put a hand on his shoulder, but they had been sealed together, melted and burned. He whimpered at the pain that lanced through his lips, down to his chin and up through his cheeks.“It’s okay. Try not to move,” she said, bending to look at his eyes. 

“It’s going to be alright,” she said seriously. “Anastasia. Could you help me carry him?”

Anasasia looked like she very much would rather go out and murder the people who broke the glass, but she nodded anyway. “Bring the crocodile. It is his.”

The woman nodded and went to pick Keta up from the patch of unfiltered sunlight as Anastasia picked Esial up. 

“You burned very badly, droog,” she said. “You really are old vampire.”

Esial closed his eyes against the haze, tears picking ways down his face as his burns were jostled. He wailed through closed lips as he was put down a little too roughly on a plush table.

“Prostite, Esial. I did not mean to hurt you,” Anastasia said quickly, cupping the top of his head gently with her hand. 

The human woman was back and she had something small and shiny in her hand. She quickly sank it into his arm and he flinched, though he couldn’t feel it through the pain of his burns. Anastasia put the crocodile toy against his side and he tried to grab at it with fingers that had sealed together when he put his arms up to protect his eyes. 

The pain started to fade, the effect radiating from where the woman had stabbed him with the small tool. 

“He’s just going to need to heal,” she said. “When did he last eat?”

“We were coming from the cafeteria,” Anastasia replied. 

“Okay. When his mouth is formed back up a bit, there’s some blood in the cupboard over there. Can you sit with him? I’m not technically supposed to be in the same room as an injured vampire for safety reasons.”

Anastasia nodded and stroked a hand through Esial’s hair as the human left. Esial twitched, unsure if he liked the sensation or not. 

There was a dark look in Anastasia’s eyes as she got a chair to sit down next to him, like she was still planning out the ways she was going to murder those people who broke the glass. 

Esial was honestly touched. She didn’t seem mad at all about her burns and they were mostly healed already, but her anger seemed to burn brighter in her eyes when she looked at him. 

Esial closed his eyes again, feeling relaxed and a little sleepy as the pain faded to a dull ache. 

He had wanted to bite the woman who had come to help him. If his lips hadn’t been melted shut he would have bitten her and he would have tried to drink her dry. He knew what it was like to bite a human now, to drink their blood, and it was a powerful urge now. The exhilaration of feeling someone’s life force ebb out onto his teeth was forefront in his mind, remembering how Joanna had struggled, how she screamed, how she shook and grew pale and collapsed. 

But on top of it was a feeling of revulsion. He would have bitten that woman and she was there to help him. It made him sick to his stomach. He’d never felt like that before. Before he’d had human blood. Was he cursed now? How was he supposed to control himself in the future?

Anastasia’s hand ran through his hair again and he leaned into it this time, letting it comfort him. Esial would figure this out. This was his body and he would learn to control himself. He had to. 

Esial startled as the door slammed open, lifting his head to see a shaggy haired man standing in the doorway. He was tall, and his shoulders were probably twice the width of Esial’s. 

“Anastasia!” the man said in an accent of his own, though it wasn’t as thick as Anastasia’s and it wasn’t the same. He was wearing a shirt, but instead of pants he was wearing something that looked like the child of a pair of pants and a robe with intricate lined patterns crossing each other. “There yeh are, lass! I heard yeh were burned.”

Anastasia shrugged him off. “I am fine, Ciaran. Esial took it much worse.”

Ciaran looked Esial over, wincing. “Ach, that’s not good. You alright there, lad?”

Esial shrugged and Anastasia chuckled. “Not lad. He is older than both of us combined.”

“Is he now?”

“Da. He was around for the first Pharohs.”

Ciaran whistled, impressed as Esial worked his lips loose, the corners pulling free first as he got his elbows under him to slide up. 

“It’s good to meet yeh,” Ciaran said, giving Esial a firm nod. 

Esial felt skin tear as he pulled his lips free, though it didn’t hurt. “And you,” he replied as Ciaran winced at the sight. 

Anastasia reached out and caught the drips of blood dribbling off his chin in her hand before they could land in his clothes. “Careful!”

Ciaran turned and pulled a white sheet of something off of a roll and handed it over to Esial. It felt like a mixture of forms and fabric, but didn’t seem to be either of them. He pressed it to his face, wiping up the blood. 

“What is this?” he asked, muffled a little as he pressed it to his lips. 

“Paper towel,” Anastasia replied. 

“I thought towels were made of cloth?”

“Hence the modifier ‘paper.’” Ciaran said, amused. 

Esial was getting annoyed with how people just used more new words to describe things he didn’t know. 

“What is modifier? And Paper?”

“Ah, modifier is somethin’ that changes the meanin’ or state of somethin’ else. In this case changin’ the meanin’ of ‘towel,’” Ciaran said rather slowly, as though making sure he was explaining it right. “And this is paper.”

He picked up a form from the counter and Esial frowned.

“No. That is a form.”

“Well, forms can be on paper, but this material is paper.”

Esial groaned, leaning his head back into the wall behind him. 

“It is okay, droog,” Anastasia said, standing up and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Learning new language is hard.”

She stepped over to a counter where she turned a knob and water gushed out to clean his blood from her hand. There were a lot of water summoners around. He wondered where all the water was coming from. 

“So, I suppose we’re keepin’ him then?” Ciaran asked. 

Anastasia nodded. “Da. He is friend now.”

“Right… what’s up with the alligator?”

“Alligator?” Esial asked.

“Your Crocodile.”

“Oh. I used to have crocodiles I looked after. I told Joseph and he got me this one and Jesep as a gift.”

“Yeh looked after crocodiles? In Pharoh times? What else did yeh do?” Ciaran asked, intrigued.

“Killed hippos.”

Ciaran looked over at Anastasia, excited and she nodded. “Impressive.”

Esial just shrugged. 

Anastasia finished with the water and opened the blood cabinet, pulling out a bag and poking some sort of long hollow thing in. It looked a bit like the hollow reeds Esial sometimes cut down around his edge of the river to help make crocodile nests. 

“There. Suck the blood through that.”

Esial frowned and wrapped his lips around it, but figured it out and drank the whole bag very quickly when he tasted it was human blood, even if it was a bit stale. 

“I plan to stay here till he is ready to leave,” Anastasia told Ciaran. 

Ciaran nodded. “Alright. I have te get back te class. I left in the middle when I heard somethin’ happened.”

“Then don’t waste time. Go!”

Ciaran laughed and turned, leaving just as quickly as he came to appease Anastasia.

Part 10

Esial: @whumpsday @honeycollectswhump @writereleaserepeat @tragedyinblue @hyrules-sleepiest-knight @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

From Dust to Ashes: @whumpsday @writereleaserepeat @currentlyinthespiral @pigeonwhumps

[dr4g0nun4zx]

I had written about this and it's a really sad idea. Set somewhere in post-war Au, where Touya (he's not dead because his family is too stubborn to let him die after having him) and is in a villain rehab program. Enji and Rei are having a talk with the program specialist to try to understand how Touya's accident reached such a large scale.

[Heart]

“Did they classify it as a peculiar accident? That's really weird…” Okami muttered to herself.

Okami was the quirk specialist that the rehab program offered. She was an older woman good at her job, nice and warm, but with a sharp smile. Enji couldn't help but find similarities with his eldest son every time he had meetings with her.

The sharp eyes and snakelike smile were very much alike.

Enji often wondered if Touya liked the woman.

The two parents looked at each other, confused by Okami's words.

"What are you talking about? Peculiar accidents are not uncommon, especially in children." Rei was confused

“Well that's true. Children are emotional and most quirks are tied to our emotions. It's not uncommon for them to lose control of their emotions when they're much younger." Okami said, nodding to herself. “But usually accidents are nothing more than a couple of minor injuries. If the quirk is more powerful, it's possible that it could be a bit bigger. But it would still not be too serious.” The black-haired woman turned to Rei and Enji with a curious expression.“You Said Dabi-“

"Touya". Enji interrupted.

Okami was silent, staring at Enji. The hero shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the woman's gaze making Enji feel like he was under a microscope. Okami was silent for a few more minutes before straightening up in his chair and continuing. "Touya. You said that Touya burned down a forest, right?"

“Did. He also burned himself.”

The older woman winced. As if the mere prospect of imagining the massive fire hurt him.

Okami turned to Enji and Rei with a serious expression." I need you to understand that there are only two occasions in which peculiar accidents happen with great magnitude. The first is if there is a lot of stress, and the second is if there is a lot of pain, but even then, a peculiar accident should not reach such a scale. The peculiarities like yours, Endeavor-san, are a reflection of people's hearts. In order for Touya to have a peculiar accident of this type, he must have been feeling so much pain, that it simply broke and his emotions were disconnected. Then all that was left was ash."

The world around Enji was silenced, paralyzed in the chair without being able to do anything but feel the beating of his heart in his ears as he tried to understand the magnitude of the words.

"His heart broke." Rei said, understanding what the words of the older woman meant. Rei's voice broke and his body curled trembling. Hugging herself tightly.

It broke his heart. Enji broke her baby's heart.

How could he even forgive himself? How could he demand that Touya heal and move on, that he leave his pain behind, if Enji couldn't even understand the extent of all his mistakes? didn't have any rights. His baby, His beautiful boy. Enji had broken his heart on that mountain.

'I don't deserve Touya's forgiveness.' He thought, as he felt that his chest was split in two with such great pain that he had to grab his shirt to try to stop it.' I don't deserve anyone's forgiveness.'

[rowanisawriter]

ceasefire

a post-trespasser, post-break up fic about finding closure.

Two years after the sudden departure of Cullen Rutherford from the Inquisition, the Inquisitor reappears in his life, on the threshold of his newly minted ex-Templar rehab.

.

Her gaze feels too hot on his face. He looks into his glass, the stray bits of dust that have settled on the surface of the wine. The way the particles shift on the still surface of his drink unlocks a vivid memory, of Skyhold and the Inquisitor’s quarters, of wine and laughter, of soft skin and soft bedsheets and soft black hair. He rubs his eyes to shake himself back into reality. Skyhold is long behind them now, and the distance between them, separated only by the kitchen table, feels like so much more than all the mountains and forests and years from then to now.

.

read the rest here.

[ezra-ezbezzlement]

I love you

omg eek! i love you too!! we should get married, we'll have two kids, a boy and a girl!! your parents will die of cancer, but ill help you through the trauma! BUT NO! i have to go fight in the trenches of Peru cos its WWIII now and ive come back with only one of my remaining four limbs left (but dont worry its my lucky right arm)! WHATS THIS! i become famous because of my story and we form a band!! spouse and spouse, hand in hand (you have to stay on my right cos i dont have any other limbs for you to hold on to)! NOO HOW COULD YOU!! you cheated on me with my bestfriend from the war! dont worry cos it happens all three of us are poly and we become a polycule but we're still in the band!!

OH NO!! u got cancer! our partner and i crouch at your beathbed! you flatline and we weep. we write songs for you and remember the happy times we had together... our partner starts getting into drugs and alcohol so i make him leave for the bands sake...

AND NOW IM THE STAR OF THE SHOW!! THE SOLO ACT! WAIT, WHAT?! NOOOOO?!!?!!! THEY HATE ME!! I WAS NEVER THE TALENTED ONE!!!

UNNAMED PARTNER!! YOU WENT TO REHAB AND YOUR FINALLY STABLE! WE CAN BE TOGETHER AGAIN!! but that only reminds us of you so we break up again.

that night "insert_name_here" partner and i have the same dream!!... we dream of a book in a dingy old library not far from where you used to live! it has elaborate, intricate, detailed drawings and instructions for... YOUR RESURRECTION! our partner and i quickly meet and find our way to the library. we spend hours there, searching among the ancient shelves and finally we see it.

after reading it we know what must be done! we search everywhere, across the globe.

in the mountains of new south whales we fetch the blood pearl, a sacred ingredient which symbolizes love and sacrifice, in the pastures of anywhere in victoria we come across a newborn lamb! who we kill with knifes made from the very stone of your grave, we drain its blood and use its fleece for warmth! in the frozen wastes of tasmania where we find the skull of the extinct human species, in the deserts of western australia we dig up the first six vertebra of a random snake, we dont go to south australia cos its boring, anyway, in the rainforests of queensland we gather a cane toad, and from deep beneath the surface of uluru we prize upon the a a jar of vegemite!

with the ingredients assembled we go to the roof of the house of parliament and we set the ingredients in a circle. we find a bucket. we then pour our blood in with the lambs', then we ground the vertebra of the random snake in, as we juice the cane toad the mixture turns purple, we then plop the blood pearl in and it turns green, we then light the lambs fleese alight and sprinkle the ashes into the soup, it turns black. then, after taking turns wearing it, we place the skull in too and mixture becomes transparent with rolling crimson smoke billowing from its glassy surface. last but not least we lather your drum set with the vegemite and drop it in. it then suddenly flashes with a golden light and unnamed partner and i are temporarily blinded!! but when our eyes adjust we see you climb out of the bucket and then we celebrate or something!!

we make one final album for the band before we die together in WWIV cos obvi

[computerpeople]

so from what i know and my experience in the psychiatric institute i'm pretty sure that's just a common name for a lot of generic consoling centers, especially for minors (like he was at the time) which he was likely sent to after whatever the initial inciting incident was to get him in psychiatric care to begin with. i think he likely had some sort of self injurious behavior, but i don't think it was suicide at such a young age. kids who end up developing schizophrenia later in life often recount bouts of self injurious behaviors due to misunderstanding situations. and a lot of medical centers in GENERAL but especially ones that deal with any sort of mental health affairs (including rehab centers) are EXTREMELY catholic (or christian) as a means of converting people to more devout forms of catholicism/christianity, almost every psychiatric center i've been in has had some sort of catholic spin on it on how i could cope by turning to god.

THAT BEING SAID. THIS GIVES ME AN EXCUSE TO TALK MORE ABOUT SOMETHING ID LOVE TO INCORPERATE INTO MY REWRITE

until dawn has a constant theme of "belief" that, once again, goes unrealized. i swear it's as if the writers weren't thinking while they were writing. joshs fixation on making people believe in a fake world, the plot with the mountain settlement, josh being unclear about reality, the idea of facades and how all the characters are wearing a mask of sort, how religion is brought up continously (through i believe on accident) or the supernatural elements. i feel like if there were more details in the characters it'd be really interesting to do something with both josh and ashleys likely weird relationship with religion due to instutitions like that hammering in belief in god as being salvation from mental health issues and addiction, considering both struggle with the same issues (josh also clearly has addiction issues, i think he probably isn't as bad as ashley biut i think he has binging problems, ie: black out drinking on impulse, pill overdoses, upping his meds a ton) and the kind of bad things it ingrains in the heads of vulnerable people who need guidance.

i also think i need to go back and rewatch rush of blood before i confidently talk about that though, since a lot of rush of blood is clearly joshs experience while hospitalized and experiencing ECT (though i'm not sure if this is true, consideroing it's said that Josh DENIED ECT, which is completely reasonable on his part. either its less real than i assume and more of his idea of ECT while delusional, or they forced it on him, unsure)

[dancing-to-architecture]

24 - Amy Winehouse - Back to Black (2006)

Well, the only song i know going in is Rehab. Never was that big an Amy Winehouse fan...not for any real reason, i just never really was super into what I'd heard on the radio at the time, but in my defense, it was 2006.

I was a dramatically different person back then.

•Rehab-

Yeah, girl... You really should have gone to rehab. It always sucks when someone writes a really catchy song that ironically illuminates their own death, and it sucks even worse when that song is a massive hit that ultimately springboards you directly to said ironic death.

•You Know I'm No Good-

Okay, I've heard this one somewhere, but no idea where. I really dig the loungey/speakeasy vibe, but there's a point where i just have to say damn girl, keep it in your pants. You're the architect of your own pain, here.

•Me & Mr. Jones-

Can't really tell if she loves him or hates him. Probably both.

•Just Friends-

Love that guitar/smooth sax combo and oh shit it went reggae on me. Really subtly mournful lyrics, imo.

•Back to Black-

Sounds like an extension of Just Friends, or yet another similar nebulous quasi-relationship. Noticing a running theme throughout of 'wanting things she can't have', for one reason or another. Or simply wanting things, damn the consequences.

And man, she was a great vocalist.

•Love Is A Losing Game-

Those subtle string stains in the background really elevate this one, imo. (Then again I'm a big fan of Florence, so i might be biased towards strings.)

What a sad song to use as a midpoint.

•Tears Dry On Their Own-

I really like the Ain't No Mountain High Enough remix going on. Very upbeat, especially right after the last song, but still sad within the lyrics.

This is the exact moment you switch from loneliness to solitude. Sure I'm by myself but damnit, right now, I'm fine with that.

•Wake Up Alone-

When the almost manic euphoria from Tears Dry has faded a bit, it's two months later, and you are still doing what you can to be strong.

Damn it, it's hard and you knew it was gonna be hard but you've gotta get through it regardless of how your dreams fuck with you.

•Some Unholy War-

Anthem for those Ride or Die folks. Except it feels a LOT more like "Ride *and* Die" in this particular case.

•He Can Only Hold Her-

Okay i reread the lyrics like 5 times and oi honestly can't tell if she's in another relationship or if she's in a coma.

Could be I'm just not getting this one. Love the instrumentation, though.

•Addicted-

Nothing worse than a guy coming around and smoking all your hard earned weed without even offering to throw in. 100% behind Amy on this one, bring a bag with you or fuck off out of here.

It's a damn shame that she died so young, but she seemed like a woman out of time. She seems born to be playing a smoky club room filled with nervous drinkers 70+ years ago.

That said, a banger opener, a banger closer, and the saddest damn song on the album right smack in the middle...

Favorite Track: Rehab or Addicted, honestly. Both are incredible.

Least Favorite Track: He Can Only Hold Her, only because I'm really not sure what it's even about, and the lyrics on every other song on the album felt so much stronger than this one.

[mrscorpio]

[Electronica/Beats] MrScorpio's HOUSE FIRE Podcast #289 - Most Dope For 2022 Pt 2 - 16 Dec 2022 Mixcloud: http://bit.ly/Mixcloud289 D/L: http://bit.ly/DL-HF289 Shows: http://bit.ly/ScorpioPodcasts Feat: Name/Artist/Album Washed Away/Kelela/Washed Away Darker Than You Think/Ohbliv/LewseJoints Eleven tattd/Knxwledge./HX.23 System/Sevdaliza/Raving Dahlia Blood And Marrow (Stro Elliot Remix)/Hiatus Kaiyote /Blood And Marrow The Avenues/Adrian Younge & Ali Shaheed Muhammad/Jazz Is Dead 011 Spirit/Cleo Sol/Mother Price Tags/Jazmine Sullivan/Heaux Tales/ Mo' Tales: The Deluxe Off The Wallstreet/Stro Elliot/Stro's Old Beat Farm You From London (feat. Little Simz)/SAULT/NINE Mercury/Steve Lacy/Gemini Rights Change The Beat(le)/MF DOOM & The Beatles/Sgt. Dumile's Lonely Hearts Club Band Ritz Barlton (Feat. Estee Nack) (Prod. By Don Carrera)/Westside Gunn/Peace Fly God Guilty By Association/Phro & Guilty Simpson/Guilty By Association EP Decadence feat. Kool G Rap, Revalation & DJ Jean Maron/M-Dot/Dining In Dystopia Don't Wanna Let You Go prod. by Oh No/Prozack Turner/Not Everybody Sleeps At Night (Casual, Guilty Simpson, Brother Ali, Ea- Ski, Jake One) Might Could Be Nice/Jimetta Rose/The Gift: Around The Way Queen Ninja Faire Défiler/Lord Beatjitzu/Ninja Terminator Sunshine/Homeboy Sandman/I Can't Sell These Edge Of Tomorrow (Feat. 2Mex) (Prod. By Mic Checkmate)/Wildchild/Omowale The Only Game/Bumpy Knuckles/Produced By Bumpy Knuckles Vol. 2 Mental (feat. Saul Williams/ Bridget Perez)/Denzel Curry/Melt My Eyez See Your Future Look To The Sky (Feat. Self Jupiter, Chali 2na & Gift Of Gab) (Prod. By Nottz)/Fatlip & Blu/Live From The End Of The World Vol. 1 Switch Sides /Method Man, Jadakiss, Eddie I, 5th PXWER/Meth Lab Season 3 : The Rehab Warm Thoughts/Flume featuring GrandeMarshall and Goldie Glo/Flume Essentials Sean Price (Prod. By Evidence)/Fly Anakin/Frank Kool (Feat. Fly Anakin & J Rocc)/LMD (LMNO, MED & Declaime)/Flying High F.I.E./Starvin B x DustVibes/Dad's House Runout/Knxwledge./VGM.19 Old Magic/E L U C I D/I Told Bessie The Unknown Comic/Your Old Droog/Yodney Dangerfield Black Pinot/Meyhem Lauren, Daringer, Action Bronson/Black Vladimir GHOST/SBTRKT, Leilah/GHOST Reverse Card/Domo Genesis/Intros, Outros & Interludes Hopeful feat. Jordan Rakei, Alfa Mist/Nocturne EP Come Hither/Buttering Trio /Come Hither Fazed Out/El Michels Affair/Yeti Season (Deluxe Version) Mountains/Charlotte Day Wilson/ALPHA Send me your tracks at Soundcloud: http://soundcloud.com/mr_scorpio Check out all your tracks on my show THE HOUSE FIRE/ every other Friday @6-8 PM GMT on InvaderFM: http://invader.fm Stream the podcasts at my Mixcloud: bit.ly/MrScorpiosShows Friend me up on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/mrscorpio247 Look me up on Tumblr: http://mrscorpio.tumblr.com Shoot me your videos on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/user/MrScorpio Peace, Scorp

[briamichellewrites]

26

After completing rehab, Mike was home! He was anxious and nervous about going home, which he was told was normal. When he arrived, he was mentally exhausted and going through depression. He felt lonely and lost as every step he took felt like a hundred pounds on his shoulders. Three months later, he had done a complete one-eighty and was looking forward to the future. He still had a long way to go before he could start dating again but he was hopeful.

His band welcomed him back with hugs. He had a big smile on his face and his enthusiasm was back. Chester reminded him to take it one day at a time and to take it easy. He would. Coming home was difficult because he had to return to a life without the safety net of rehab. He didn’t have therapists or a strict routine. How was his first night back home? It was wonderful but also, weird.

He had memories, especially in the kitchen where he had passed out of where he was before. Going to rehab was what he needed but he also never wanted to go back. What did he do during his downtime? He did a lot of artwork and sketches of whatever he saw or could think of. After going through his bag, he pulled out his sketchbook and flipped it open. He found one that he had done of the band, another one of Elliot as half feminine and half masculine, and one of their new album covers.

Was he going to show her that? Yeah, he was. During studio time, he discovered that Phoenix was quietly dating Elliot. Was he also living with her? No, he wasn’t living with her officially. He and his dog, Bella were staying at her place.

“That’s my daughter.”

“I know. I promise to bring her home by nine and treat her with respect, sir.”

They laughed.

What breed was Bella? She was an eight-week-old Rottweiler. Elliot had adopted two black and white kittens named Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora. Did they come with those names? Yeah. She only intended to get one but then she fell in love with the brothers. They had to be adopted together. When they brought the animals home, Bruce was so confused.

“He looked at us like, I thought you were only getting a puppy. What the hell is this?”

They laughed.

They eventually started playing together after sniffing each other out. She gave the kittens and Bruce equal amounts of attention, so he wouldn’t feel jealous. They loved climbing on the dogs whenever they were laying down. That’s adorable! It was! They laughed. Mike mentioned that he had visited with Brad after inviting him to visit. They talked about what happened and he apologized to him. Good for them!

Forgiving him was part of his treatment but it was a decision he made. What about Anna? No, he was still working on that. He had plenty of time. I know. Brad and Anna welcomed their daughter, Shiloh Hillinger Pitt. Being a new father was difficult because there were diapers that needed changing, bottles, formula, mountains of clothes, not enough sleep, and not enough time in the day to get everything done. At the same time, he couldn’t be more in love with his little girl.

Anna was a great mother! She and Shiloh adopted a routine during the day while he was gone. He gave baths, changed diapers, and gave bottles when he was home. His parents had flown in to help out and to meet their new grandchild. They talked about Elliot while Shiloh was sleeping. Was she going to visit her sister? No, she was still very angry at Anna for the affair and wanted nothing to do with them.

She was only talking to him. Because of the situation with her mother, they could see why her trust had been destroyed. He nodded. Yeah.

Elliot and Phoenix were having sex regularly. It was illegal, so they had to keep it a secret. He also knew that Mike and Brad would likely kill him if they found out. She went on birth control to prevent pregnancy, at his request. He taught her some tricks and it made the experience more enjoyable for both of them. She had a box just for them of things he had bought and brought over underneath her bed. Being together in bed was something that they looked forward to every day.

It was a relief from stress and a way for them to become closer. He loved making love to her body. They also took their dogs for a walk and made dinner together. Bon Jovi and Richie enjoyed playing with him and climbing on his lap. Sometimes they put their paws on his chest as they looked up at his face before climbing down to the floor. He was their human jungle gym. Meow. Meow.

Bruiser and Bruce had become used to the kittens and they tolerated them. Sometimes they would fall asleep while playing. They woke up suddenly after twenty minutes and started playing again. A literal cat nap. When they wanted to sleep longer, they curled up in a ball with their tails wrapped around their paws. Elliot had found a couple of old shoeboxes and they loved jumping in and out of them! Playing around and exploring were parts of being kittens.

She loved the animals equally, even Bruiser. Seeing her take care of them made him love her more. She was compassionate with a great sense of humor. Caring for them gave her a purpose. She was mentally stable and was continually going to therapy twice a week. Her therapist still considered her at risk for developing symptoms of schizophrenia and/or disassociation because of her trauma.

He started noticing symptoms of her ADHD more closely. She had moments where she was absentminded, distracted, disorganized, hyperactive, forgetful, and had trouble paying attention. He also found that she was very creative, could think on her feet, solve problems, and was spontaneous. She had other worlds and stories in her head that needed to come out. There were things she wanted to do. He asked her what those were. She wanted to do something like produce movies.

What about modeling? No, that was just a job. It wasn’t something she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She didn’t want to go back to acting. Instead, she wanted to work behind the scenes. Whether it was production or script writing. He could see her doing those things. Would she just work on movies?

Anything. Movies, tv shows, music videos. As long as it involved a set and a camera? He jokingly suggested porn. Except for porn. He laughed. She also wanted to continue traveling the world and learn about different cultures. One of her favorite places that she had ever gone to was Morocco because of how different it was from LA. She tried learning Arabic but her mind decided it wasn’t going to happen.

What languages did she speak? Spanish, French, Japanese, Mandarin Chinese, and Italian. He remembered her learning Japanese but he didn’t know she was learning other languages, too. Yeah. He was impressed.

“Mi amigo, Matt puede enseñarte español.”

“What?”

She laughed. “My friend, Matt can teach you Spanish. George can teach you Italian. Mike can teach you Japanese.”

“What about Mandarin Chinese and French?”

“Workbooks, dude. I can dig my old ones out for you.”

“No thanks.”

She laughed. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her forehead. I love you. They shared a kiss before checking on the animals in the living room.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless

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