#I think the NyQuil bout to take me out

[sapphirewolf100]

Guess who ✨lost their voice ✨

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

I have covid (for the first time ever wtf) and I’m feeling sick and pathetic. Just thinkin’ bout how I have to take care of myself and I hate it. How do you think sugar daddy Joel would take care of our sugar baby reader without spending any money if she got Covid or the flu??

I need some fluff to get me thru. PS I love u and your writing so flipping much.

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: mentions of illness, reader can eat chicken noodle soup, reader has hair that can be brushed away from her face

Timeline: this does not fit into the current TCOY story line and is just a separate drabble in the same universe!

[a/n: first of all, OH NO. I know how bad COVID sucks. (fun fact I've had it on five separate occasions, I basically collect a new round of it every time a new strain runs through our hospital). Please please please make sure you stay hydrated above all else! Obviously I don't know your medical history, but the best general advice is to not get dehydrated. Your body needs fluids to fight the good battle. second, I love YOU and I know this isn't much and it's not that great b/c I threw it together in fifteen minutes but I hope it makes you feel a little better, my love💜]

TCOY DRABBLE:

HOMEMADE IS BETTER THAN STORE BOUGHT

"happiness is homemade."

“Baby girl, I need you to sit up for me.” Joel hummed.

You were buried in the thick comforter of his bed feeling absolutely miserable. The cold had come on suddenly. A small cough, more irritating than anything else, spiraled into full body aches, a splitting migraine, and congestion so bad that it felt like your head was filled with concrete. Joel’s heavy hand brushed aside the hair matted to your forehead with dried sweat. Your fever was lingering last Joel checked, but the Nyquil he forced you to take with a bottle of water earlier was helping some.

Joel murmured your name once more and you just moaned in response. You felt the bed dip with his weight and his hand dragged up and down your back. The motion brought with it a comfort on par with medication itself. 

“You think you can eat somethin', sugar?” Joel asked.

“Maybe later.” You mumbled. “Sleepy.”

“That’s probably the Nyquil.” Joel replied. “I sent Riley to pick up some stuff from the store.”

You felt Joel lean over and his lips brushed against your temple. You shook your head, “You’re gonna get sick. I should quarantine alone.” You buried yourself deeper into his bed. With your nose stuffed like it was, you couldn’t smell his sheets and that bothered you more than it probably should’ve. “Don’t you have that meeting today too?”

“If you think I’m leavin' you like this, sugar, then that fever’s got you delusional.” Joel snorted. You felt the covers you had bundled yourself in begin to untangle and a whine that could only be described as pathetic slipped your lips. Before you knew it though, Joel was under the thick comforter with you and you felt yourself get pulled into his warm chest. “C’mon, baby girl. Sleep it off.”

You snuggled closer into his grip and focused on the random patterns he was rubbing on your shoulder with his hand. As a human, this was obviously not the first time you had gotten sick, but something about this time felt different. With Joel’s thick arms wrapped around you it dawned on you that it was him. The last time you were sick you were forced to take care of yourself and work through it. Having your sugar daddy around made you needy as all hell it seemed, but the comfort Joel immediately showed you had you melting against his chest.

“When I wake up, can I have soup?” You blurted the words out, half asleep.

Before sleep took you completely, you heard Joel’s deep chuckle, felt it rumble against you, “Sugar, you can have anythin' you want.”

When you woke up, you did feel marginally better. Joel was no longer in bed with you and you slowly sat up to rub at your face. You craved a hot shower to wash off the sweat and open your sinuses a bit more. A groan left your lips, still feeling crummy, and you began to climb out of bed.

“Whoa, whoa, pump the brakes.” Joel called out. He came into the room holding a tray and you chuckled at the sight of him. He set the tray down on the nightstand to usher you back into bed. “Where do you think you’re goin'?”

You gave him a tired smile, “Shower. I feel icky.”

“Icky?” Joel asked and you nodded. He chuckled and leaned forward to press his lips on your forehead again. He sat back and rubbed a hand against your leg. “Think you can stomach somethin' first?” You nodded again and Joel grabbed the tray. It looked like a bowl of chicken noodle soup, but not the kind that came out of a can of Campbell’s. “Here we go.”

You tilted your head, “Where’d you buy the soup?”

“Didn’t.” Joel grinned. “Made it.”

“You made it??”

“Uh huh.” It was honestly adorable how proud he looked of it. “Homemade is better than store bought, right? Gets you better quicker.”

You laughed, “I’m not so sure about the science behind that.”

“No, no. When I googled the recipe it definitely said this would get you better faster.” Joel teased.

You picked up the spoon and carefully blew the heat away before bringing it to your lips. The first thing you tasted was salt. A lot of salt. Too much salt. You coughed in response and tried not to twist your face to reveal the reaction. You cleared your throat and smiled, “Yum.”

Joel furrowed his brow, “What’s wrong? No good?”

“No. It’s⏤ It’s good.” You said quickly. “It’s… I like the, uh, the…” 

Joel grabbed the spoon from your fingers to take a sip himself and he immediately spluttered with a cough and groan, “What the fuck is that?” Your lips twitched up into another smile. “That tastes awful. Jesus Christ. Gimme that.”

He took the tray from you and set it on the nightstand again away from you. You set a hand on the side of your face while watching his face crumple into a grumpy look of annoyance. You shook your head, “What did it taste like as you were making it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. While you were making it did it taste okay?” You clarified. Joel narrowed his eyes at you in thought and you tilted your head. “…Did you taste it while making it?”

“You’re supposed to eat it while you make it??”

You laughed, “Not eat. Just taste.”

“Shit.” Joel scoffed. “I ate some of the chicken and it was good.” You reached out and cupped his face. He looked annoyed with himself, but at your touch the grumpy demeanor morphed into a soft look of concern and disappointment. Joel sighed and turned his head to press a kiss to your palm before leaning into your touch again. “I’m so sorry, sugar. Just wanted to do somethin' nice for you myself rather than just buy…”

You shook your head, “This was nice. I loved it.”

“There is no way you loved that soup. It was just salt, damn it.”

“No, but I love that you tried.” You replied. “It’s the effort that counts.”

“That’s just what people say when they fuck up.” He grumbled.

You leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, “You said the homemade version would make me feel better, and this has definitely made me feel better, daddy.”

Joel wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and stared softly for a moment before his smile returned. “You missed my lips, sugar.”

“I already told you. I’m icky.”

“Don’t care. Still want you.”

“You are already pushing your luck.” You scoffed in amusement. “You are gonna end up sick.”

Joel pulled you closer, and even at full strength you’d never be capable of refusing this man. He paused with his lips just barely touching yours. “I’ll risk it.” Joel’s lips sealed against yours tenderly. A soft kiss of comfort rather than of passion. A wordless act of reassurance that he was there. Joel’s tongue just barely brushed against yours before he leaned back and left you wanting more. He hummed, “You taste like salt.”

“Yeah, gee, I wonder whose fault that is.”

[modern-inheritance]

Day 2 of dealing with man flu, 1:30 pm log.

I’ve only had a major fever once in my life that I know of. 103.7°F. Felt like all my muscles had cramps/Charley horses, and the chills and heatwaves were definitely there. I kinda wish I had been more conscious the time I had what we think was Swine Flu during that outbreak alway back when, but alas…I puked for 18 hours, then passed out for three days with only brief moments of lucidity that were only enough to make me miss food before passing out again.

But last few years my brief bouts of illness have come with very low grade fevers. 99.4-100.6°F. And despite not coming with chills or flashes or really sapping my energy, the fucking muscle cramps are the same level.

Lexi and I have spent most of the day in bed. No, I’ve not been reading the Wet Cat Man book. I’ve transitioned from just sore throat to sneezing and lots of just…gross things coming out of my nose at all times. I’m a bit scared I’ll sneeze on the book. Already sneezed on my laptop, it was not fun.

I’m up to 100.4 and going to try to avoid fever reducers till I take my NyQuil tonight. Unless there’s another medical issue or it’s wildly high, I prefer to let fevers burn as they are a natural thing for the body to do, chasing infection off with an added buff in a way.

Going to go to my doc tomorrow, as for a strep, Covid and flu test. Starting to think it might be a sinus infection, but I need to be sure I won’t infect anyone with anything contagious before I go back to work. Our embroidery room is so small and has such little airflow. Plus I’m sure the dust would kill me if I went in there the way I am now.

Cheers mates. I know I keep putting off the links and ao3 updates but for now let me fight this little microbe.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Taming of the Flu

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @underthejoon for this LOVELY banner TT & for coming up with the title LOL ur the best

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Rating: PG

Genre: Sick Reader!AU, New Boyfriend!AU, Fluff

Synopsis: When you are sick, the last thing you want to do is call your boyfriend for help. But somehow, he finds out anyways. (pls feel better @bendthekneetobangtan I’m sorry I got u sick LOL)

Word Count: 2,426

“Call him.”

“No,” you mumble, curling further into the sheets.

“Call. Him.”

“No,” you repeat – determined, as only a sick person can be. The room around you spins; the light from your window is much too bright on one side.

Emily tsks under her breath, making a disappointed sound. “He’s your boyfriend, Y/N. This is what boyfriends are for – getting things off the top shelf and taking care of you when you are sick.”

“I thought boyfriends were for extra income in case social security is gone when we’re older.”

“Y/N, please be serious.” A door slams on Emily’s end of the phone. “Social security is definitely going to be gone when we’re older.”

You laugh, breaking into a cough when a dizzying bout of fatigue hits.

“Y/N!”

“What?” you croak.

“Call him. Or I’ll do it myself.”

Emily hangs up, leaving you staring at the phone in your hand. You can only hold that position for so long before another wave of coughing hits. The coughing is gross – the nasty, phlegmy kind which practically chokes every breath. On top of all that, your sinuses are a mess, your body aches, and you are ninety percent sure you have a fever.

Wearily, you fall back on your pillows. Emily is right, you really should call someone because you have zero medication in the apartment and zero ability to get it yourself. Each time you try to stand, you are gripped by fatigue so severe you sit right back down again. But you need to get up. You need to use the bathroom, if nothing else and – gripping your bed, then your wardrobe – you slowly make your way, inch by inch, to the door.

When you finally reach the toilet, you collapse on its lid. “Yes!” you cheer weakly, before realizing you still need to undo your pants. “Oh… shit.”

While you ponder how best to do this, your phone rings on the counter. You stare at this for a moment. It seems to zoom in and out, varying distances away and you will it to stay still while you stand from the toilet. 

Gripping the counter, you answer the phone. “Hello?” 

“Y/N?”

Exhaling lowly, you glance at yourself in the mirror. A greasy, unattractive mess stares back at you. Jungkook has never seen you like this before. Jungkook is not allowed to see you like this – not yet, at least. You two have only been dating for three months. It is too soon for him to see you at your most vulnerable. Hell, you two still brush your teeth in the morning and crawl back into bed, that is how ‘new relationship-y’ you are.

Emily is wrong. He absolutely cannot know you are sick.

Plastering a too-bright smile on your face, you force yourself to stand straight. “Oh, hey!” You wince – your tone is way off. “Jungkook!”

He pauses, as though able to hear your disease through the phone. “Hey… Y/N. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Covering your mouth, you stifle a cough. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just… I don’t know. Didn’t answer my text. You aren’t as loud as you normally are. Ha.” Jungkook pauses, sounding a bit sheepish. “I sound crazy, huh? Of course, you’re okay.”

You crack a half-smile. “You’re not crazy, babe. What was your last text about?”

“My niece’s dance recital! It’s this Saturday and I know it’s corny, but I always go, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with?”

The bathroom begins to take on a strange tilt. “I – well, you see…”

“Listen – no pressure, I swear! But my mom hasn’t stopped talking about you since we all had dinner, and I said I would ask. Are… you sure everything’s okay, Y/N?”

“Okay.” Re-gripping the counter, your vision fades at the edges. “Jungkook, I – you…”

The bathroom tilts at a dangerous angle, Jungkook’s voice disappearing as your stomach inverts. Knees trembling, you plop down on the floor. The phone falls, hitting tile as you shove your head between your knees and will the nausea away. Grabbing hold of the toilet, you pull yourself up; you do not think you will hurl, but you never know.

Jungkook’s voice is loud from the discarded phone at your side.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

You breathe in and out, eyes closed while the cold porcelain returns you to a semblance of normal. It takes several moments before your vision is clear but, once it is, you reach for the phone. 

Weakly, you lift it to your ear. “Jungkook?” you mumble into the receiver.

“Oh, thank fucking god.” Jungkook exhales. “Are you okay? You can’t just do that to me! What happened?”

“I – no,” you finally sigh. “I’m not okay.”

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I guess I’m sick.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. From his end, you hear a door slam. “What kind of sick, baby?”

That is it. The last of your willpower crumbles and you plop to the ground. He is not allowed to call you baby when you feel this crappy.

“I don’t know,” you groan, leaning against the cabinet. “Throat hurts. Sinuses hurt. Fever. Nausea.”

“So – the flu, huh?”

“I guess.”

“Okay, hang tight. I’ll be right there.”

The panic which follows is enough for your eyes to pop open. “Wait, Jungkook, no –!”

He has already hung up. You stare at your dead phone for a moment before scrambling up to your feet. Well, scramble is a loose term. You try several times before standing in the most undignified of fashions. Hands first on the floor, then your feet as you slowly roll yourself up.

By the time you are upright, nearly five minutes have passed. Heading into the living room, you glance around and are appropriately horrified. Your work clothes are still on the floor, flung every which way and left wherever they fell. There are dishes in the sink, coffee mugs on the table and a glass of orange juice on top of the fridge.

It looks like that one scene in every post-apocalypse movie ever made, where the Director shows what happened after humanity disappeared. Jungkook cannot see your place like this. Feebly, you make your way to the fridge and dump the orange juice down the sink. As soon as you do, a knock sounds at your door.

Damn, that fucker is fast.

“It’s me!”

Your head whips to the side. “No, it’s not!”

“Baby?” Jungkook rattles the handle. “Baby, you have to let me in.”

“Why?” Head spinning, you massage your temples. “It’s a disaster in here, Jungkook! You can’t come in!”

His muffled laughter reaches your ears. “You have to let me. I have ice cream and it’s melting.”

Despite yourself, you somewhat perk up. Ice cream is one of the few foods which sound appetizing right now. Slowly shuffling towards the front door, you tug on its handle until it finally opens.

Jungkook stands there, looking the epitome of boyfriend in a grey crewneck sweatshirt. He grins, shaking long dark hair from his eyes. “Hey.”

Eyes narrowed, you glance at the bags in his hands. “I don’t see ice cream.”

When you try and shut the door, Jungkook’s foot stops you. “Nuh-uh,” he teases, swinging the bags as he enters. “Not so fast! I come with better things than ice cream.”

“Better than ice cream?” 

Haphazardly, you try and scoop hair from your neck. Everything about you is sweaty and gross – you hope Jungkook does not notice. Maybe he will be too distracted by the disaster zone you call an apartment.

He walks past, humming as he places bags on your counter. “Much better than ice cream. I got this lemon honey green tea, plus Sudafed and DayQuil, NyQuil and cough drops and… hey – Y/N!” Jungkook looks up, alarmed when you sway on the spot.

Darting forward, he grabs both your elbows to stop you from falling. His strong grip on your waist, he gently leads you towards the bedroom.

“I can show you the rest later,” he murmurs, pushing open the door. “Right now, let’s get you into bed. Okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, too tired to fight back.

Jungkook pulls back your covers, making space before he looks at you critically. “When was the last time you changed?”

Shrugging, you place one knee on the mattress. “Dunno.”

He nods, turning around and opening your dresser. Jungkook rummages around for a moment before turning back. 

“Here, put this on.”

You squint at the garment he holds. “That’s your t-shirt, Jeon.”

“I know.” His grin broadens. “Put it on.”

“I’m not changing with you right there.”

He stares as though you are the first government-confirmed UFO sighting in history. “I’ve seen you naked before, Y/N. Many times. In fact, there was one weekend where we were naked for an entire forty-eight hours, and –”

“Not like this,” you groan, grabbing the t-shirt. Turning away, you strip off your sweatshirt and slide on his t-shirt. It smells like him and, inhaling softly, you feel a tiny bit better. “Not when I’m gross and sick.”

When you turn back around, Jungkook holds out a tissue. “Blow.”

“Oh my god.” Grabbing this from his hand, you collapse on your bed. “You’re so,” you cough, “annoying,” another cough, “did you know that?”

“Yep.” Jungkook lowers both palms to the mattress. “Now, you’re burning up. Can I take off these sweats, baby?”

You feebly nod, giving in. “Okay.”

He gently works the material down your thighs, crumpling them in a ball with your sweatshirt. Entering your closet, Jungkook deposits them in your hamper before he returns to your bedside.

When he sees you trying to roll out of bed, his eyes widen. “Oh, no,” Jungkook chuckles, gently pushing you down. “Whatever you need, I can get. Tell me.”

“I... need to go to the bathroom, Jungkook.”

“Oh. Yeah, alright. Let me help.”

He does. The entire way there, Jungkook walks beside you in case you get dizzy. He lets you do your thing but once finished, is immediately there to help you into bed. After forcing you to drink water, take Motrin and another decongestant, Jungkook gently tucks you in. His hand smooths hair back from your forehead, feeling your temperature.

“You’re burning up,” he murmurs. “You sure you don’t want to go to the doctor?”

Slowly, you shake your head on the pillow. “I always run high fevers,” you mumble. “Promise. Have since I was little. If I’m still this sick tomorrow… maybe.”

He nods, serious. “Okay.”

Your hand closes under the pillow as you slowly shut your eyes. You hear, rather than see when he closes your blinds. The room is instantly dimmed and you start to drift off. Jungkook’s footsteps disappear and you want to ask where he is going but the bed is so comfortable. Your body feels so heavy and before long, you hear nothing at all.

When you come to, it is night.

The visual is somewhat disorienting. The last thing you remember is Jungkook, who – shit. Jungkook. Abruptly, you sit up and wince. Patiently, you wait until the room has stopped spinning. Moonlight stripes the sheets of your bed, illuminating your room but in the hall, you see the warm glow of TV. Canned, audience laughter meets your ears and you realize Jungkook must be there.

Slowly, you crawl out of bed and wrap your comforter around you. It is chilly – or maybe that is only the fever medication wearing off. Shivering, you shuffle out of your bedroom. In confusion, you stop and stare at your apartment.

It is spotless. Jungkook must have cleaned while you slept. The dishes in your sink are all washed and put away – the clothing on the ground is gone and your laundry basket rests beside your washer. The machine hums away, cleaning your clothes and slowly, you turn towards the TV.

Jungkook is seated spread-legged on the couch, a chocolate milk in one hand. He stares at the screen, mouthing along with the lines – some old Seinfeld episode – and when he notices your presence, he starts.

“Y/N!” he blurts, jumping up from the sofa. “You’re up!”

Carefully setting his chocolate milk aside, Jungkook’s hair flops jogging towards you. Lips parted, you stare at him. The hand holding your comforter clutches it tighter under your chin.

“You… you cleaned,” you say blankly.

Jungkook glances around. “Probably not very well. I just, well, you were asleep. And I thought I would –”

Cutting him off, you step forward and throw both arms around his waist.

Jungkook hesitates only a moment before wrapping himself around you. The comforter still blankets your body, forming an effective flu barrier. You feel a bit like a burrito, enveloped by your much larger boyfriend – tilting your head back, you peer from the cloth.

“Thanks,” you say softly.

“What for?” Jungkook’s arms tighten.

It sucks to feel so weak and vulnerable, but you suppose that cannot be helped. Every inch of your body hurts, including your brain – but not as much as it did. Thanks to him.

“You came,” you say simply.

His smile broadens. “You thought that I wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t know we were there yet.” 

Jungkook’s dark gaze softens. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

Inhaling, you nod as your eyes flutter shut. “Okay.”

He chuckles, adjusting his arms to lead you from the room. Jungkook pushes things aside on your bed, arranging a Kleenex box to well within reach. He fluffs the comforter, squishing it around your body and arranging the corners. You realize sometime while you slept, Jungkook must have dragged in your trash can to place by your side of the bed.

“You’re not repulsed by me now?” you mumble, turning into the pillow.

Jungkook grins. His hand drops to your forehead, smoothing back hair. Bending lower, he brushes his lips to your damp, clammy skin.

“Never,” he whispers, pulling away.

He walks out of the room, gently closing the door and in your delirious, half-lucid state you realize maybe, just maybe you have fallen in love with your boyfriend.

© kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[smolangerydamagedbisexual]

How it should have ended

“So Jack, where will you go?” 

Jack gives the boys that have become his family a knowing smile. “I’ll be everywhere. Don’t worry about me. [insert speech here]” 

Dean swallows, glances at the ground and asks “What about Cas? Can-can you bring him back?” 

“Go home Dean,” Jack tells the older Winchester and walks away, slowly disappearing. 

Sam and Dean climb into Baby, and go home. 

The door to the Bunker creaks open and the two hunters who reside there step through. 

“Dean? Sam?” 

“Cas?” Dean feels hope build up in his chest. 

“Dean!” The trenchcoated angel steps into the map room and grins up at Dean. He races down the stairs and straight to the angel. Sam follows a few steps behind and mutters something about needing a shower. 

The hunter pulls the angel in for a hug. “Cas, you’re ok.” 

Cas smiles and pulls Dean closer. “Yeah, I’m ok.” 

After Dean is sure this is real, and not Chuck’s cruel final trick, he breaks away. “I missed you.” 

Cas grips Dean’s shoulder, “I missed you too.” 

Dean takes a half step back, needing a little space for what he was about to say. “Cas, I-I, I” he gulps, about a million thought running through his head. “I love you.” 

Cas smiles that big toothy smile that Dean so rarely gets to see. “I love you too.” 

“Oh thank god.” Dean lets out the breath he feels he has been holding in for the past ten years and steps towards Cas. He grabs the other man by his trenchcoat and kisses him. Their first kiss isn’t sweet and chaste and full of nerves like Dean always thought it would be, but instead heated and full of passion, like they are already trying to make up for lost time. 

“I love you, so damn much Cas,” Dean says breathlessly, putting his forehead against his angels. 

“I love you too Dean Winchester,” Cas tilts his head and closes the last inch separating their lips. 

Sam comes out of his room an hour later after talking to Elieen on the phone and making sure she’s ok. Out of all the things he expected to find, Dean and Cas sitting in the library, Cas’s head on Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s arm around him was not one of them. 

“Hiya Sammy!” Dean greets. 

Sam snorts. “I did not expect to see you two fully clothed.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “We wanted to celebrate finally getting rid of that dick bag with the whole team.” 

Sam sits across from the couple and Dean slides him a beer. “What do we do now?” 

Dean tilts his head back and thinks. “How ‘bout a drive?” 

Team Free Will climbs into the Impala, Dean in the driver's seat, Sam riding shotgun, and Cas in the back. Dean turns the key and the radio comes to life, playing Carry On My Wayward Son. Dean grins; “Love this song.” 

The engine roars to life as Dean pulls away from the Bunker that has been their home for the past eight years and the three boys set off to an unnamed destination. 

This is my first stab at this, I will be writing a better one that was not written late at night just before the NyQuill kicked in 

[butchniqabi]

What is a Dream?

Warnings: Blood/gore (not gratuitous but still intense), mentions of police brutality, possibly unreality. Black folks proceed with caution, even though there’s nothing explicit take care of yourselves.

Summary: I’ve been having bad dreams lately and decided to write about it.

  I woke up this morning afraid of swallowing glass. I dreamt last night that broken glass had been forced into my mouth and down my throat. In my dream, I tried desperately to pull the glass shards out one by one, trying not to swallow and choking on my blood. When I woke up, I was convinced that there was glass in my throat, that if I swallowed then the shards would pierce my esophagus and stomach. It didn’t help that I was parched and the discomfort from lack of water fueled my fear. I struggled to convince myself to drink and eat all morning. Logically, I knew that there could be no glass in my throat and that avoiding water would only make me feel worse. But nightmares rarely reflect the logic of reality, they only tap into the fear, the disgust, and the sadness. They replace the tangible fears of life with an equally terrifying improbability. 

    I have always had nightmares and have always remembered my dreams. I don’t take sleep aids. I avoid meds that make me drowsy. When I’m desperate, and only when I am desperate, I take NyQuil and Benadryl and prepare myself for the inevitable bad dreams. Sometimes I have nightmares for days or weeks on end; I’ve lost more than one night’s rest out of fear. 

I used to obsessively keep track of my dreams (in a futile attempt to control them) and spent long hours dissecting the themes and motifs. Some of the common themes are as follows:

Choking/suffocating

Running away/being captured

Drowning

Assault

Seeing dead bodies

Car crashes

People around me ignoring or belittling me

Failing to protect a person or people

This list of course ignores many other common factors like setting, tone, and viewpoint. But when it comes to dreams, it is best to break it down. Looking at this list you may think that these are all rational fears to have, and I am inclined to agree to a point. When I strip the contents of my dreams down I find the logic buried within an irrational fear. Hiding from and fearing killer clowns is silly to me (due to the very small percentage of killer clowns in existence), but fearing a person who will laugh at your pain and misery is very, very rational. 

  My first very intense bout of nightmares was 2014. Prior to that I had a few ones here and there, but this dragged on for months. There came a point where if I didn’t have a panic attack or wake up gasping, then it was a good day. I had seen the video of Tamir Rice’s death, but I didn’t digest it until a few days later. I don’t remember the contents of that dream, but I remember it caused me to throw up on my new rug. As the year went on and brutality was being broadcast more and more, my sleep became restless. In my waking life, I struggled to talk to strangers or give speeches. I lacked confidence in my life, I was the physical manifestation of fear and anxiety. 

  Around 2016, I hypothesized that “[my dreams] must be the result of me absorbing videos and posts about police brutality and racism.” I believed, at the time, that my dreams were a one to one recreation of the death I saw. Consuming content about black death day after day after day marked my growing brain and warped my fears. While this is likely, it does not reflect the whole truth. When I did dream interpretation for others I couldn’t just look at one source for my whole analysis. It was not just the videos which influenced my nightmares and it was not just my subconscious playing out random, stressful scenarios. 

  I believe that dreams are as meaningful as the dreamer makes them. To me, my dreams are both full of insight and are random collections of data playing out in my unconscious brain. I cannot in good conscience attribute my nightmares solely to the shock of seeing black pain, because it denies the many other feelings seeing evokes. The fear, helplessness, desperation, anger, and the bone deep sadness. Like being in a glass-bottom boat, I can see all the depths below me and perhaps it won’t touch me. Maybe the glass is thick enough and I merely witness the horrors of the ocean, but maybe it isn’t. 

  Witnessing such plain violence did not create my fears, but it did expand them. I have always had dreams in which I was hurt or treated as less-than. Even if I was too young to understand fully, my dreams still concocted and distilled the truth into my nights. Some people say kids don’t understand racism and I suppose that’s true, but they can certainly be haunted by it. 

  When I dream, I take the faces and institutions I fear the most and change them into something else. It could be an attempt to conquer my fears by making them ridiculous enough for me to shrug off after enough medication and therapy. Why yes, it is quite silly to fear drowning in rivers of Nickelodeon slime! But the fear of drowning comes from something deep and unknown to me. My subconscious must have realized that I can’t tackle a fear when I don’t know the origins and instead gives me scenarios that are impossible. When a situation is so unlikely to happen it’s essentially impossible, it becomes easy to overcome. When my tormentors are aliens, shadow figures, or people I have never met it is easy to convince myself that I am safe. 

But sometimes my dreams are literal. And those are the worst of all.

  When it comes to swallowing glass I still question what fear manifested itself. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon, the throat is where our voice originates and also the most important to our survival by carrying air and food. I was afraid to do the most basic function, swallowing, because my fear was so intense. I was afraid to nourish myself because if I did I thought I would die. The symbolism is not lost on me, but the origins of this fear still elude me. 

  But why does that matter? Why does it matter that I have nightmares? Why does it matter that I sat up for hours this morning convinced there was glass in my throat? Why does it matter that even now I still feel a weight in my throat? Why does it matter that I’ve vomited from disgust and fear? Why does the psyche of one person among billions matter? 

  Surely there is some lesson at the end here which changes perspectives and lives. Surely there will be a life changing quote that can be highlighted and retweeted and retweeted and retweeted. 

But there is not, and this is where I leave you.

[jokin-around]

1am trek to Rite-aide in a Batman kigurumi for a bottle of cold syrup and some ice cream

Fic under the cut🎉🎉 ⬇⬇⬇

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19826074 

from beneath a pile of blankets a color drained clown groaned miserably, the sound somewhat muffled by the assortment pretty plastic bobbles filling up the half deflated kitty pool they laid in haphazardly.

The clown in question was Gotham's very own mage of mischief. and much as pain played into his game he absolutely HATED being sick.

Funny thing was, Jay didn’t ever get sick. Period.

With the slew of mystery chemicals constantly floating around in his blood he’d always thought he’d be immune to something as innocuous as a cold. yet here he was stewing in misery, surrounded by a sea of used tissues.To say this was the first time he'd spent the wee hours of the night feeling like garbage would be a lie, but it was definitely the first time he’d felt so unprepared for an ailment.

All that considered, He wouldn’t mind the discomfort if he wasn't so hopelessly bored and… not to mention… alone.

Harley, who was probably busy gardening at the moment, hadn’t answered his calls and none of the other rogues would bother coming to his aid if he asked… they didn't like him very much. He didn’t know why and hardly cared but right now he honestly wished he was better at making friends. Of course, Bud, his lovely hyena who was snoring audibly in the other corner of the room, kept him company on long lonely days, but a dog’s unconditional love could only go so far.

He’d been in his room for hours at this point but as the bat shaped clock on his wall struck 1:00 Jay finally decided he’d had enough.

Throwing the blankets aside, sending foam balls bouncing around the room in the process, Jay sat up, hair a mess, rings around his tired eyes, and stood. Trying his best to ignore the how the world spun like a fun top.

He didn’t need Harley or ANY of those other stupid bozo’s. He could fend for himself just fine and he wasn't about to let some stupid head cold keep him down. Without any further thought Jay grabbed his coat, put on shoes, and headed out the door with a pop-gun in his pocket, looking an absolute mess. Grateful for Gotham's shady midnight darkness --------------------------------

It didn’t take long for the clown to reach his destination, Nite-aid pharmaceuticals was right down the street, just close enough to glide the whole way on a pair of unsteady heelys.

When he entered the store the place was mostly empty except for a few unfortunate stragglers. Night owls looking for late-night smokes and liquor as busted fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered above them... A few patrons turned to glance at him warily, not recognizing the clown out of makeup but suspicious nonetheless. Their failure to turn-tail at first sight would be a mistake they'd soon regret as the unkempt clown lifted his pop-gun in the air and lazily pulled it's trigger.

Now a normal play pistol would’ve gone off with an amusingly harmless pop, but Jay liked to personalize his toys. When the cork shot out the sound pierced through the nights silence like a firecracker, a waft of confetti and billowing green smoke flying up with it in an explosion of noxious, candy scented, color.

The fumes quickly spread through the small store, hot boxing it with chemicals that sent all who breathed it into a frenzied fit. The few unlucky customers present dropped anything they held and nearly toppled over each other as they ran screaming with laughter into the night.

At the back though, a store clerk, who seemed to be bared behind his counter, gagged and giggled as he writhed on the floor with his arms clenched around his sids, too disoriented by now to jump to freedom or even unlatch the door leading out.

As Joker came closer the man backed up, amused yet scared half to death of what would happen as the clown peered over the counter and examined him silently.

A few beats passed before Joker let out a small sigh and mentally made a note to tweak his smilex a tad as he wordlessly opened the gate and let the poor, gasping, employee run free, watching him trip over his own feet a few times as he did. His patented giggle concoction seemed a little too potent this time around, he’d have to fix it sometime….

Soon the joint was empty and joker was alone once more. The whole store now nuisance free and it’s contents perfectly ripe for the taking.

Humming a tune to himself Jay sashayed over to the medicinal isle and eyed over his options. All the keysmashed names and multicolored boxes seemed to meld together the longer he stared. he had no idea which one would be his miracle cure and the way his head swirled made it hard to concentrate on all the teeny-tiny words in front of his heavy feeling eyes. Instead of thinking Jay took a bag and filled it with whatever looked right. If he overdosed on Benadryl and Tylenol instead of Nyquil, so be it.

Before heading out Jay decided to take anything else he thought he might need to feel better including a pint of mint-chocolate chip ice-cream from the fridges in back, a page of funnies and a bargain bin DVD copy of Roger Rabbit .

--------------------------

As Jay walked out he heard a low rumble coming from a few blocks away, before he was able to recognize the telltale roar of the Batmobile, the powerful car had already charged its way down the street swerving to a sudden screeching halt in front of the small drug store as blinding headlights pointed directly at Jay, temporarily disorienting the already discombobulated clown and exposing his unfortunate appearance.

As Jay clumsily shielded his eyes a dark figure exited the tech loaded vehicle and slowly floated closer. Soon a tall shadow loomed over him, blocking the stunning beams of light. Jay slowly peered up to meet a pair of cold blue slits.

"Batman..…?" said Jay, sounding somewhat surprised despite knowing better

“Shoulda known you’d be here…. you're not gonna arrest me are you?" He asked pitifully

The Bat seemed to examine him for a moment, blue lenses eyeing him up and down. Jay was suddenly very aware of how he must have looked, he hadn't combed his hair, or shaved, or bathed, he was 99% percent sure he'd grabbed a mix-matched pair of heelys on the way out and he was currently wearing a jacket over a onesie despite the fact he was cooking like a hotdog in a microwave, evident by the beads of cold sweat trailing down his face….

His bare, scar riddled, face….

He began to turn red with embarrassment as he averted his weary gaze from the other man's calculated scrutiny, shoulders tensing

"Look are you gonna do your thing or can I take my stolen goods and go?" He asked impatiently, exhaustion in his voice

"My Bat-monitor says you have a 104 degree fever" the Bat states. No inflection.

"right, Which is why I need to get home like, now- " a large hand placed itself on his shoulder as he crouched to collect his stuff from the ground

"What you NEED is medical attention" Batman insisted, gently firming his grip. Jay, stood up, shaking his head in protest despite feeling more and more lightheaded with every passing second

"n-no I-I'm fine, i'll be fine! I just need t- "

Before he could protest further, handcuffs were promptly clasped around his limp wrists with a snug click, Jay looked at his shiny new bracelets and gave Bruce a sharp glare.

"bastard." he grumbled

"You'll thank me later." Bats stated cooly as he took the clown by the scruff of his hood and escorted him to the Batmobile. Jay struggled slightly at first, ragdolling as the Bat pulled him along, the fight in him quickly dissipated though as his energy slowly faded and he realized how shortsighted he'd been to not expect a situation like this. Of course the Bat would be here. you could hardly J-walk in this city without his big dumb ears hearing about it somehow.

But despite the inconvenience he wasn't mad… just… unprepared

he and the Bat had a special little relationship and after the day he'd had, that flowing black cape could be considered a sight for sore eyes. But this particular situation was a little different from their usual routine. Up there on the rooftops they were perfectly matched equals. Jay fast and unpredictable, Bats strong and disciplined. right now, as Jay was silently chauffeured to an impressive looking street demon, the scales were tipped, and instead of being fast he was weak and slow and practically nodding off by the time Bats gently placed his body in it’s passenger seat.

The rumble of the monsters powerful engine shook Jay from his daze and his unfocused eyes were greeted by a colorful array of buttons and knobs that decorated the car's interior.

"Ooohh" he awed quietly

"Don't. Touch. ANYTHING." The Bat warned sternly.

"Fuuuh-INE" he complained. "You don't mind if i eat in here tho right?" He asked as he fished into his bag and took out his pint of ice cream.

Batman shot him a look of disapproval.

"Ah, Don't worry- " Jay assured as he struggled to get the tub open "I won't get any on your p-precious lea-ther interio- " a bout of violent coughs interrupted his snarky remark…

The Bat sighed

"here, let me" he took the tub and quickly ripped it open, before placing it back in Jays lap

"OH HO HO thanks, Armstrong." He teased

"Whatever… Just pipe down and take this." Bruce reached into his glorified fanny pack and pulled out a small green pill.

Jay eyed it curiously.

"S' not some funky sedative is it?" He asks cautiously

Bruce shook his head….

"It's a… chemical agent I made special for you… I uh… mix it with my sedatives to counteract your resistance to them… it won't put you to sleep but It should have the same effect on those meds i’m paying for" he explained, nodding at the cherry flavored syrup Jay swiped.

With a bit of hesitation Jay picked up the small capsule and eyed it further. It was rather large and filled with a bright green gel.

"....well that's pretty... thoughtful of you I guess. "

Bruce looked away briefly, he'd created the compound last time Jay was out cold on his operating table using a sample of his blood. He'd put it to other uses since, but it had ultimately saved the clown's life last time around… that said he should've known Jay might find his over-preparedness odd

After a few beats of silence, Jay bit the bullet, washing it down with a scoop of ice cream. Help from the Bat, no matter how uncalled for, was usually help he could trust, besides he thought it was funny how often the Bat modded his tech just for his sake. Was it obsessive? Romantic? he couldn’t tell, but he was definitely flattered…

With a small contented smile on his face, Bruce turned back to the wheel and revved his engine "Alright clown... buckle up"

-------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn't take long for the two to arrive at the Batcave. The ride there quick and uneventful. Bruce didn’t have to bother with a blindfold or knockout gas to cover his tracks, Jay had passed out about halfway there and even then, it wouldn't have mattered much. He was sure Jay already knew it’s location despite being in the dark about...other things.

Exiting the car and stalking to the other side with his cape flowing behind him. Bruce opened the door to the passenger seat and watched as the winged doors lifted to reveal a sleeping figure cradling a half melted pint of ice cream.

“Is this the 'guest' you mentioned earlier sir?” Alfred inquired as he came to greet his kevlar clad son.

“It is.” He answered softly as he slowly lifted the pint from the clowns arms and handed It to the older man

"You somehow failed to mention the guest in question was your colorful new nemesis” the servant jested, raising a brow

"Uh… Forgot to I guess" Bruce shrugged, knowing full well he’d swept a detail or two under the rug to avoid another scolding from his free-spoken butler.

There was a pause of silence as they both watched the peaceful perriot rest

“...If only he was this quiet all the time, Gotham would be a much less hectic place… “ said Alfred after a moment.

“Perhaps” said Bruce. eye’s never breaking away as his chest rose and fell

Alfred, of course, had more to say but decided to keep it to himself as not to sour the moment he was having.

“Well this is going in the fridge... a pot of hot soup should be ready shortly. Just enough for the both of you”

“Thanks al”

Alfred nodded then went on his way as Bruce turned his attention back to Jay.

Although he was used to seeing the jolly jester in a more upkept state, he had to admit he was… striking... even like this…

When that perpetually cheery smile of his finally relaxed, it was replaced by soft supple lips and butter knife sharp cheekbones that framed his face in a way rarely seen outside of hollywood.

Gingerly, Bruce reached beneath his guest and lifted him from his seat.

It always surprised him how light he was, not that Jay was very big to begin with but… the way he threw a punch, took hits like they were nothing… it made it easy to forget he was only about 5'4"... perhaps even smaller minus the mane of hair that currently draped over his tired face

With the rest of the man’s features veiled, Bruce’s eyes were drawn to the two deep scars which curled from the corners of his mouth like a jagged grin. They were long healed but Bruce had a feeling the wounds cut deeper than eyes could see...

As Bruce thumbed away a few stray locks of green to get a better look, Jay began to stir. Hurriedly Bruce stepped over to the med bay section of the cave and laid his guest down before his eyes began to flutter open

"W-where?" He asked groggily as his vision focused

"Batcave."

“Again?” He muttered while sitting up “This gonna be a regular thing?”

“Were you expecting a hospital?” Bruce asked.

Jay rubbed his face

“guess not….” Hospitals we’re never really an option for people like them he supposed. Too many nosy doctors and prodding hands… bad memories...

“Here” a small cup of cherry liquid appeared in front of him, held by a black glove. He took it slowly.

“Can't have the whole bottle??”

“Why would you want to?”

Jay shrugged and took the shot

“I dunno…”

Bruce let that comment slide and stepped closer to check his temperature again.

"How are you feeling?"

" terrible" Jay replied miserably. Bruce looked at his monitor, the clown was stable at about 105°. It wasn't common for a cold to come with a fever but Jay was... an uncommon person.

" think a cool shower might help?"

The clown smiled "...mm… maybe…. You aren't offering to join me are you?"

Bruce scoffed "Not with you like this I'm not…"

Jay rose an eyebrow.

"er… not that I would if you…. Weren't…" Bruce's cheeks went pink for a moment. Though he'd looked away he could tell Jay was smiling even wider. Probably holding in a laugh too.

"Uhm...alright uh… washroom's that way, use what you want, shampoo, conditioner, whatever, I can always buy more"

Jay hopped down from the table and stretched with a moan

"I'm sure you can, rich boy."

"Huh?" Bruce tensed, taken aback by the term usually used to describe his alter ego.

"being best buds with Bruce Wayne must have some pretty sweet perks"

Bruce sighed, allowing himself to breath again as Jay made his way to the shower "right.."

_____________

It didn't take long for Jay to return, He made quick work of cleaning up and was soaped, rinsed and dried within a few minutes. His greasy mop now a fluffy, blow dried, up-do And his mind fog free.

The bouncy mane of curls caught Bruce's attention as the clown re-entered the main room, freshly scrubbed, lemon scented and humming a tune.

"You look a little better…. " Bruce complimented

"Just a little?" Said Jay, faking disappointment.

"Uh… w...well" Bruce stammered.

"Just teasing u dummy." He said with a smile as he took a seat on the bannister next to the Bat-computer.

"Right… well.... I see you're back to your normal self" said Bruce, returning to his work

"Mostly." Jay smiled

"Good… that's good." There was some silence taken up by Bruce's fingers tapping the Bat-computer's interface

"Hey." Jay interrupted

"Yeah?" Said Bruce

"Aren't you scared of catching my cold-cooties or something?" The clown inquired

"No." Bruce answered bluntly.

"Why not?"

"bats don't get colds"

Jay rose an eyebrow.

"Oh really?"

"It's true."

"Mhm…"

Suddenly the sound of a throat clearing interrupted their banter.

"are you two quite done, or will supper have to wait?"

The odd couple turned to face Alfred who was holding a silver platter somewhat impatiently.

"er...Now is fine Alfred"

The butler nodded and gracefully waltzed between them to set the plate down. Removing it's dome to reveal a piping hot stew, stuffed with chicken and veggies, with fresh baked biscuits on the side. It’s aroma was even more enticing than it’s appearance

"Wow this is nothing like that Campbell's stuff" said Jay, eyes wide.

"I should hope not.” Alfred huffed. “ I didn't go to culinary school to cook from a can"

“Thank’s Al, it looks great”

"Of course sir… Oh, and, sir?"

"Yeah, Al?"

"You invited this man into your home… least you could do is give him a proper seat"

Jay was still sitting on the banister, swinging his legs happily.

“oh…. Right” he pressed a button and a second chair raised from the floor “i’m… usually the only person down here, sorry.”

“What about that kid?”

“Robin? Never sits still, likes the banister “

“Huh, Go figure….” Jay plopped down in his seat and spun around a few times before grabbing his bowl and testing the soup… to put it lightly, the taste was beyond heavenly.

“Oh my god….”

“Glad to see it suits your taste mr.Jay, young Bruce would fuss about having to eat it every time he was under the weather….”

Bruce a blushed a tint

Jay smiled

“I guess bat’s DO get the sniffles”

“Wasn't a bat back then, doesn’t count”

“Yes it does.”

“No it doesn't”

“Yes it- “

“Children!”

They froze… Alfred gave them a stern look. Free of malice but intimidating nonetheless.

“Do try to behave yourselves, I have enough trouble with robin as is and he’s much better mattered than the both of you”

“Yes, Alfred”

“Sorry, Alfred…” they apologized

The butler one last look,turned on his heels and left the room in silence.

“Man you’re butler’s mean…” Jay whispered

“Don't worry, it’s just an act…. I think…” As they both returned to their gourmet supper Jay suddenly recalled the DVD he'd brought with him.

"Oh HEY! Can we watch a movie???"

"Movie?"

"Yeah!" Jay scrambled over his bag and ran back with the box in his hand.

"Roger Rabbit! It's a classic!"

"Never seen it."

"Really? well we'll have to fix that… it's a detective story! you'll like it!…"

Bruce slowly took the case, studying its colorful cover…

"Suppose… I'll... take your word for it."

Reluctantly, Bruce popped a hatch on the Bat-computer and let the movie play on one of it's many monitors. Jay sitting back with a satisfied smile as Bruce sunk deeper into his work...

Or at least, tried to.

Jay's amused chuckles here and there made it hard to concentrate but the sound wasn't… unpleasant. Every now and then the clown would tap his shoulder and tell him to pay attention to a favorite scene or line if his… eyes flitting between him and the screen, searching for a reaction, however small or unreadable … smiling whenever Bruce's lips curled even a millimeter or two.

As the night continued, Bruce recalled the large home theater he had upstairs in the mansion

50 seats and rarely more than one taken at a time...

He imagined himself up there now with his arm around the other man's shoulders, sharing snacks and a large blanket, huddled close…

Perhaps he could’ve come up with some elaborate lie about "Bruno" allowing visitors in his humble abode, but as much warmth as the thought gave him, it was greatly overpowered by his own paranoia…

He wasn’t quite ready to break that barrier no matter how much he wanted too...

So maybe not today…

But maybe later….

Someday.

After a few passing moments Bruce realized Jay’s little interruptions had stopped and turned to find the man fully asleep on the chair beside him. With a light sigh, Bruce carefully removed his cape and draped it over the man just as he’d done before a year or so ago, Quietly calling for Alfred to prepare the Batcave’s guest bed.

With all the cordial tenderness in the world, Bruce lifted his nemesis and carried him downstairs. for now, somewhere in between all the imaginary lines they’d drawn in the sand, just this close was close enough.

[ethereousdelirious]

HAPPY (SUPER SUPER SUPER SUPER LATE) BIRTHDAY @febrileminded !!!! I’m SO sorry it took me so long to get this out, NaNo kicked my whole entire ass and then I couldn’t decide what to write until I saw that art you did based on that band prompt

So, may I present: the Ca/stlevania band AU that at least one person asked for!

(Just as a side note, I put Tre/vor on guitar because the prompt is for the lead singer and there’s only 3 of them and someone had to play guitar, Sy/pha on bass because I’m a big lesbo and women who play bass are sexy, and Alu/card on drums by process of elimination)

Also sorry for any typos, I didn’t have time to proofread as closely as I would have liked. Hope you like!!

Outdoor concerts were always Trevor’s favorite, although tonight, the chill breeze was playing havoc on his throat.

No matter how many times he swallowed or coughed lightly (though he was always careful to lean away from the mic), the persistent soreness didn’t seem to want to go away.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be affecting his singing much. Much.

After a few songs (and some appreciative wolf whistles from the crowd when he finally got too hot and took off his well-loved leather jacket), it happened.

He swept his bangs out of his face, adjusted his guitar, and leaned in to address the crowd.

And his voice cracked on the very first word.

Trevor coughed, ignored Alucard’s snide comment from behind him, and gripped the mic. “Shit,” he said, laughing. His voice was low and throaty, a seductive growl. “Alucard just said I must be going through puberty, but I personally think I sound pretty sexy. Don’t you?” He raised his arms and struck a statuesque pose, to cheers and whistling from the audience. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Trevor cleared his throat loudly, then turned away and coughed.

Sypha was frowning at him in the brief second that he was looking at her before looking back at the crowd. He winked at her.

“Anyway, you don’t want to hear about Alucard being wrong– Oh!” He held up a hand as if to tell the audience to wait, turned to the side, and sneezed, not bothering to cover his mouth. “Jesus. Let’s just play the next song already.”

They did, and Trevor was grateful to find that his singing voice still hadn’t been noticeably affected. He could still hit all the high notes without his voice cracking, and that was what mattered.

This was one of the longer songs in the set. As his fingers danced over the strings of his electric guitar, he abruptly snapped out of the trance that performing usually put him in. He was cold, cold to the point of shivering suddenly. The bottom seemed to fall out of the stage for a moment and he swayed under a sudden bout of vertigo before the horizon straightened and he could think straight again.

He had to focus to get through the rest of the song and doubled over in a fit of coughing once it ended.

Painfully aware of all the eyes on him, Sypha’s and Alucard’s included, Trevor straightened up and flashed a smile. “Fuck me,” he rasped.

“Yes please!” someone called from the audience.

Trevor scoffed at the same time as Alucard, and then laughed to himself.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the show,” he said, and managed not to cringe at the congestion that slurred his words. He bent down to scoop up his jacket and sneezed as he was standing up, his face positioned right in front of the microphone.

“Bless you,” Sypha said reflexively. A few audience members echoed the sentiment.

“Anyway, I wanted to give another thank you to Backside Tavern for hosting us. We’ve got a few more songs for you tonight so don’t, uh–” He sneezed again and decided to just keep talking, “don’t go anywhere. And, uh, just as a reminder.” He nudged their tip jar, an old coffee can from their busking days, with his foot. “Maybe you can spare a dollar or some loose change so I can afford to buy some NyQuil after this is over.”

He zipped his jacket up as high as it would go before pointing at Alucard, signaling for him to count them in.

His head was starting to pound now and he was beginning to resent his proximity to Alucard’s drum kit. He really should have remembered his ear plugs.

The song finally ended, but Trevor didn’t have much time to breathe as they launched into the next one, barely waiting for the audience to finish applauding. Sypha kept giving him worried looks, and if he was being honest with himself, Trevor could understand why.

His head was swimming and he kept catching himself listing to the side as the sky seemed to swirl around him with every throb of his head. He kept having to pull back from the microphone to clear his throat and during one of Alucard’s rare drum solos, nearly doubled himself over with the force of his coughing.

It was taking all his effort to keep playing his guitar, keep singing, when all he wanted to do was lie down with his head in Sypha’s lap and Alucard’s hands in his hair.

Finally, they hit the last song of the night.  Trevor mumbled something and gestured at Sypha. She got the message and gave the usual spiel, thanking the venue and the audience, while Trevor adjusted the mic stand so he could sit on the edge of the stage. He was too fatigued and dizzy to keep standing, but their set was almost over and it would be stupid to leave now and risk not getting paid.

He made it through the song without coughing or passing out and started to shiver.

“Come on, Trevor.”

Trevor opened his eyes and frowned, trying to work out when he had closed them. Before him was the blurry form of Alucard.

“Hm?” was all Trevor could manage.

“I’m taking you back to the van before you collapse. Hurry up, Sypha can’t haul all the equipment back by herself.”

“Sypha can do anything she wants,” Trevor mumbled, just to be contrary. He accepted Alucard’s hand and let himself be half-carried to the van.

As they walked, Alucard placed his free hand on the back of Trevor’s neck and hissed. “You’re burning up.”

“Nah,” Trevor said. “I’m fine.”

“You can’t even stand up straight.”

They reached the van. Alucard opened the door and hauled Trevor into the passenger seat and adjusted it into a reclining position. Then he removed his jacket and draped it over Trevor’s chest. “Try to sleep. We won’t be long.”

“Mm,” Trevor said, which was as close as he could get to thank you in the moment.

He was startled awake by the feeling of the van coming to a stop.

“Where’re we?” he mumbled, half rising.

“Shh, lay back down,” Sypha said, reaching awkwardly around the seat so she could pet his shoulder. “We counted the tips. Alucard’s going to get medicine for you.”

“He wanted new sticks,” Trevor protested. He tried to twist around to look at Sypha, but his head protested at the movement, so he went still. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Sypha chided gently. She unbuckled her seatbelts and moved closer, so she could run her hands through Trevor’s hair. She did this and hummed softly to him into Alucard got back, shopping bags hanging off his wrists.

“Feeling any better?” he asked, climbing back into the drivers seat.

“You were supposed to buy new drumsticks with that money,” Trevor said petulantly.

“Shut up,” Alucard said. He dug through the bag and poured out a dose of NyQuil, which he passed over to Trevor. “Just feel better soon.”

“I will,” Trevor said. “If you keep looking after me like this.”

“We will.”

[monikafilefan]

#72 from the prompts pleaseandthankyou 😀

I finally got around to writing this and fought through a bout of writers block, but ta-da! I hope you like it @allyinthekeyofx I took some liberties with Scully’s chip regarding her being sick. 

I’m combining an angst/romance prompt with an earlier request for a pre revival sickfic. Since I’ve ready written a Mulder S-6 sickfic, I wrote a sick Scully this time. Also, this is sort of a follow up story to the angsty chapter 1 of this: 

Tagging @today-in-fic @kyouryokusenshi @fragilevixenfic @scully-eats-sushi @peacenik0

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#72 “You need sleep.”

Feb. 2016: Several months before MS1

Mulder ran a hand through his hair for at least the tenth time with his phone glued to his ear as he paced the cold creaky floor throughout the unremarkable house. The fact that he had to resort to calling her office at the hospital at all this morning would be worrisome enough. But because he hadn’t heard from her at her usual once a week phone call time yesterday, he was concerned to say the least.

Truth be told, they had only started talking on a regularly scheduled basis for about three months now and had only seen one another in person sporadically since she’d left. But on one Friday night, Scully called him to discuss whether he was okay with celebrating Thanksgiving with her. Eventually, she had confessed that every night before bed she would stare at his picture in her room and tell him what was on her mind. Her therapist had advised her to bridge the gap and tell him herself. And that’s what she has done ever since, until last night at least.

His bare feet slapped along the hardwood towards the entryway door and he leaned his forehead against it, frustrated with a familiar nervous churning roaming his gut as the ringing of her phone continued to go unanswered.

Ever since his ‘whole life’ walked out of their front door he was currently grinding his head into, he has worked his ass off both physically and emotionally to find himself again. And he knows that, with her own therapy, she has too. His depression and obsessions with the future and secretly searching for clues about William consistently for the last four years had secluded him even further away from Scully. And he hated it—hated everything about it, including himself. Yet, he just couldn’t stop himself from doing what she begged him not to do—go searching through the darkness without his light.

After a while, it finally dawned on him to really look at her—his light—and what he saw scared the hell out of him. He painfully watched Scully’s own guilt and depression that she had tried desperately to keep hidden away, coil tighter inside, dimming that light, and choking her like a noose. All of it brewed into a perfect storm, creating the catalyst of that one dark night in 2014.

“Come on, Scully, answer the phone.” He ended the call to her house phone without leaving a message and quickly switched back over to her cell number. Mulder wandered over to the mantle where most of their shared items still sat, mocking him. Memories of their past that they had created together were collecting dust.

The ringing shrilled through the earpiece again as he stared at a recent photo of them taken at Margarets house sharing a kiss on New Years Eve just over a month ago. Scully hadn’t wanted him ringing in the new year alone and Margaret’s quick photography rewarded him with a rare memento of their halted intimacy that night.

They were better in 2016. Happier together than apart. Mulder knew she wasn’t ready to come back home yet and to be honest, he wasn’t either. Even so, his resolution was to make damn sure he was ready when she was. And that’s exactly why he was currently on the verge of panic as he leaves her yet another voicemail just minutes after receiving a callback from her office stating that ‘Dr. Scully had called in sick two days ago’.

“It’s me again, Scully. Please call me back. I’m worried about you and in fact, if you don’t call back in the next five minutes, I’m coming over to check on you. You know if you’re sick, I help you—no matter what, Scully,” he rushingly said and huffed as he clicked the end button, stuffing his cell in the pocket of his sweats.

Dammit, that’s just like her too. Her calling into work and telling them she’s too sick to work and no one else. Which in the language of Scully means that she literally cannot function enough to crawl out of bed and get dressed. Scully rarely ever got sick, especially after her cancer remission. Which Mulder knew the chip most likely protected her from any serious virus infecting her immune system. But when Dana Scully did feel ‘under the weather,’ as she called it, she was usually bedridden for days and completely reliant on him for help. Whether she admitted it or not.  

She must really be ill this time and that scared the shit out of him. Not being able to see her, to touch her, to dote on her when she normally would scoff at his babying, had his anxiety riddled heart nearly pounding out of his chest.

Yes, Scully was an excellent doctor and always has been. Yet, she was also his wife, his other half, his partner in every respect of the word, and had felt that way about their dynamic from the beginning.

He worried back then and worries still. It’s silly he knows, but he worries that if he doesn’t lay eyes on her for several weeks at a time then he might miss some subtle change in her appearance. Yet, he worries when he finally sees her face to face that he just might cry and beg her to come back. He worries more that she might even cry right along with him. But what he worries about the most while laying in bed alone at night, is that she might not care enough anymore to cry at all. He figured that this was some kind of cruel karma for all the worry he’d laid on her shoulders throughout the years.

But the fact remained, he relished every moment spent with her and worrying about her through every illness. Even when she hadn’t known about half of it.

Mulder had hoped to be the one she leaned on since the beginning if she’d ever gotten sick and shockingly, she had done just that. He would wait on her hand and foot, pretend to leave her apartment when she told him to go home and sleep, but would instead lay on her couch while she stubbornly thrashed alone in her bed just feet away from him. He’d bring her water and a cool rag to wipe down her sweaty skin when her cancer invaded her nights with fevers, or curl up next to her when the chills wracked her body so hard she couldn’t sleep. Mulder would even happily sacrifice what little sleep he did end up capturing to hold her hand while he sat scrunched up on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed just listening to her raspy breaths filling the silence between them.  

On nights like those, Mulder would quietly leave just before the sun came up, but not before placing a kiss upon her cheek that she would pretend to sleep through. It was just one of their many silent agreements that lay between them throughout the years. Much of their struggles were silent, yes, but it was their silent adoration for one another that screamed the loudest.

Breaking that silence was deafening—an altogether beautiful thing, and that’s exactly what Mulder intended to do all over again.

He ran up the stairs, threw on his shirt, and grabbed a couple personal things of Scully’s that she had left behind before he hurried out the door. The realization that he was also one of those things that she had left behind, felt like a slap in the face.

Nearly slipping on the unsalted porch, it suddenly registered to him that the last time Scully stepped foot on the wooden beams beneath him, it was sprinkled with freshly fallen leaves and not snow.

Pushing aside a sudden new wave of woe, he tossed her things in the seat as the Mustang roared to life. It echoed into the cold February air as he put the pedal to the metal and raced towards the familiar D.C. city limits.  

---

“Scully?” Mulder closed the front door of the smart house he hated and punched in her security code. He’d only been here a handful of times since she moved in eighteen months ago, and it looked exactly the same way every single time. Sterile and uncomfortable. “Scully, it’s me. Where are you?” He searched the tidy living room, tossing her things and his coat on the couch, and walked through the kitchen, taking in the scene of how clean and orderly everything seemed without him.

His head spun at the thought of her choosing this life over the one they built together.

The sound of coughing had him swiftly moving down the hall and into her bedroom. And sight before him, sucked him back almost twenty years in the past. The room was a mess. Her bed was piled high with multiple comforters, clothes riddled the floor by the nightstand which was covered with pill bottles and Nyquil. He took a step and noticed a giant wad of used kleenex in the overflowing trash can the floor next to her bedside. Mulder gasped when he saw that some were clearly stained in various shades of blood.  

No! It can’t be!

“Scully…” His heart was beating so loud, it was surely enough to wake her.

Her wild haired head popped up beneath the mound of blankets with a look of shock and relief in her expression. “Mulder?” she yelled out, swiping a tissue across her nose. “Ugh! There you are!”

Swooping down upon her without thinking twice about it, he grabbed the hand she had hovering over her nose and wrapped her up in a tight embrace, smashing her face against his chest. “Jesus, Scully you scared the shit out of me.” Pulling back when he heard her grunt, he held up her hand that gripped the used tissue and examined it. “No blood.”

“Mulder!” her droopy lids, stark white face, and red tipped nose had nothing on the overly loud barking sound of her voice. “I’m so glad you came!”

“What? Scully you never called me. And why are you yelling?” Looking at her sleepy confused face, he realized that she was probably drugged up on sleep aids and decongestants.

“Oh, I can’t hear very well!” He watched her eyes narrow as she tried focusing on reading his lips. “I’m talking too loud?”

He had to laugh even though he was still concerned over seeing her blood soaked into anything again. “Yes, but that okay,” he spoke louder than before. She tossed the mucous laden tissue over his shoulder and flung the blankets off her legs. “That would explain you not answering your phone I suppose.”

“My phone?” she questioned him quieter now with a crinkle in her brow.

“I called you over and over. I was worried.”

Reading his lips, she nodded and said, “sorry I haven’t gotten out of bed much yesterday or today. I’ve got an upper respiratory infection and a double ear infection and can barely hear with all this congestion. I’ve resorted to knocking myself out every chance I get,” she grinned.

Oh loopy Scully was always fun, but that didn’t explain the crimson streaks on the kleenex.

“What’s with the blood?” Her mouth opened and before she could utter a word, he jumped in and told her not to lie to him with the tone of his voice he hoped she could hear well enough. “Scully…”

“It’s not what you think, Mulder. I’m fine.” Mulder winced and she quickly amended her usual brush off line. “It’s not what you think. There are broken blood vessels in my nose and my lips were cracked and they bled on and off this morning.” She must have seen the relief wash over him as his eyes fluttered shut because she brought his hand up to her face and held it to her cheek. “I’m okay, Mulder. And… I’m really happy to see you.”

Mulder wasn’t shocked at her choice of words. She had told him several times when he saw him that she was happy to see him but the way she said them with such reverence, took him by surprise.

She removed his hand from her face and rolled out of bed onto wobbly legs. He grabbed onto her arm with one hand and clutched her slender hip with the other as she stumbled over a water bottle, making sure she didn’t face plant on the uncharacteristically messy floor.

She relaxed and sighed under his touch. “Thanks. My equilibrium is off a bit,” she chuckled with the volume of her voice wavering.

Mulder sat there staring at her as she closed the bathroom door, stunned at how easily she accepted his presence. Then again, she’d been confused and thought she had called him at some point in the last two days to come over. Glancing over at the medications lined up like soldiers awaiting orders, he understood why. All of these had the side effect labeled, ‘May cause drowsiness and/or confusion. Do not operate heavy machinery’.

Fucking great!

Now he had no idea if she really meant anything she has said so far to him tonight, let alone the possibility that she might not remember him being here at all tomorrow.

Swinging the door open, Scully gave him her now very rare and honest smile that’s done things to him since day one. She looked so small standing there in her bare feet and underwear wearing an oversized t-shirt that looked suspiciously like one of his missing workout shirts. She had no makeup on which highlighted the freckles scattered disobediently on her face. Without a second thought, he stood up, bent his head forward, and planted a kiss on her nose.

She gasped and cleared her throat. “Sorry,” he mumbled, not really wanting to apologize for kissing his wife as he locked his eyes onto hers. “I should probably take off then since I know you’re alright,” he pointed to the bedroom door over his shoulder with furrowed brows. “You need sleep.”

“What?” Scully looked up at him, her big blue eyes shining under the dim lighting. “You’re leaving? A-choo!” Scully sneezed then rubbed her ears, yawning. “Oh, that helped my ears. I can hear a little better now.”

Laughing, he repeated “you need sleep,” louder this time and rubbed her shoulder for his own comfort just as much as hers.

Scully cocked a brow and still too loudly blurted out, “not as much as I need you.”

Mulder’s smile faded slightly and felt his knees bob as the weight of her words smacked into him. “You seem high as a kite with all of those meds your on. Not to mention you probably have no idea what day it is and will very likely think this whole conversation was all a dream in the morning,” he reminded her, offering her an opportunity to take back her words.  

“Mulder?”

“Yes?” She stepped closer and his hand moved from rubbing her shoulder to rub the expanse of her back.

“I love you.”

“Oh brother,” he threw back, replaying their conversation from the past while clearly understanding now just how foggy her head is at the moment. Yet, no matter the context in which she spoke those three words to him, he always took them to heart.

He swallowed hard and looked away from her stare. It was safer this way. He could listen to her words or look into her eyes, but not both at once. He might not survive the honesty of her regret if she rescinded them.

“I miss you, Mulder,” she mumbled, and he could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears from his peripheral. “I do. So much. It's just… Just not time for me to come home yet.”

He risked looking into her bright blue eyes again, his stomach churned, and his throat tightened so much that he thought he’d choke right there. “Oh I know, Scully. Me too—and you’re right.”

Even in her increasing lethargic state, she managed to toss him a perfectly arched brow and a mock look of surprise.

“Yes,” he said louder, ensuring his words wouldn’t be blamed on pain meds, muffled congestion, and swollen eardrums. “You’re right, Scully. It’s not the right time. For either of us; not yet.”

He watched a lone tear leak out of the corner of her red rimmed eyelid and slide down the swell of her pale skin that she didn’t even attempt to hide. He fought the urge to swipe it clean—to wash away evidence of her sorrow. It was exactly that; evidence that her internal pain equaled his own.

“Soon,” she nodded and limply held out her hand to him. He took it gratefully and she laced her fingers within his. “Stay with me tonight.”

“Are you sure?""I want you here and you sleeping all the way out on the couch isn't going to help right now. It's running away and that's what I do, not you."Mulder balked at the sharp self-deprecating words she’d just used. That was the sort of thing he has hear himself say many a time. Not Scully. If she felt that way, she had never expressed that to him before. The concoction of medication had loosened her lips—breaking through the silence.

Forcing himself to brush off her words, he pushed back the comforter and sheet and as she slid in, gingerly laying her ear atop the propped up pillows.

“Oh, I brought over a couple things from the house for you. It’s probably unnecessary now that I’m thinking about it, but I know how much you love wool socks and your eucalyptus body cream.”

Her heavy eyes lit up and she smiled. “You brought me my blue wooly socks, Mulder?” To him, she sounded too excited over a pair of socks she had likely replaced long ago. But looking at her face, he saw that she really was. “You know me so well.”

“That I cannot deny. I’ll get them for you.” He went to the couch and grabbed her slippers and lotion, feeling pretty excited himself at the thought of being useful to her once again.

Mulder sat the container of green body cream onto the only open spot next to the near empty Nyquil bottle and knelt at the edge of her bed. Scully outstretched her bare legs into his waiting hands so he could slide her navy blue wool socks onto each small foot. If it were close to two years ago and she had done this to him, Mulder would have massaged the minty smelling lotion into her feet from heel to toe and sensually worked his way up her soft slender body until she begged for more. Right now, he would just have to be grateful she was letting him comfort her at all.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Scully, you know I love your little feet,” he smirked and reluctantly removed his hands from her ankles. She didn’t move to cover herself back up so he stood to adjust the balled up comforter around her, but her hand wrapping around his bicep halted his progress.

“Lay here next to me.” It wasn’t a question and Mulder opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. “Come on, Mulder. No reverting back to sitting on the floor uncomfortable while you stay awake and hold my hand all night long. Please just… hold me tonight?”

Blinking away rapidly rising tears, he nodded and responded the only way he could. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, whispering along her skin, “I can do that.”

Mulder carefully climbed over her and pulled the blankets up, tucking it around them. Her bed seemed huge, the space between them cavernous. It felt good to be this close to her like this again, too damn good and his arousal blooming beneath his sweatpants agreed immensely.

He slowly wrapped his arm around her waist and she laced her fingers between his as a silent thank you. The back of her chest rose and fell in tandem along the front of his own and he knew if he closed his eyes, he could picture every single night spent embracing is wife in their shared bed. But he didn’t close his eyes, didn't dare. Because he knew that the next time he and Scully lay in bed, It wouldn’t be in their shared one together.  

“Sleep, Scully. I’m here.” Mulder pressed his lips to her ear and rested his head along the crown of hers.

Breathing deeply now, he felt her slight nod and her backside snuggled in closer, no doubt noticing his ill-timed erection.

“Mulder...”

“Yeah.”

Scully tucked their entwined hands under her chin and he felt the heat from her lips warming his fingers. Waiting with bated breath for her next words, Mulder moved down and nuzzled his nose through her mussed hair, inhaling her scent within the crook of her neck. It was something so familiar and comforting to them both, showing her affection like this as they laid alongside one another. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.  

“I meant what I said,” she murmured.

“Said about what?”

“That I’m still in love with you,” she turned her head towards her shoulder when his breath hitched. “I may be medicated and half asleep, but I can never forget that. I never want you to either.”

He kissed her neck, her cheek, her ear, and told her, “and you forget, Scully, that I could never forget anything about you.” He heard her sigh and felt her whole body melt into the mattress. “You need sleep,” he said again. Mulder moved his mouth away from her face before he gave into the powerful urge to kiss her once more. This time on the lips, crossing over their convoluted line of separation.

When her breathing slowly evened out minutes later and sleep reclaimed her, Mulder carefully untangled their fingers while he gently moved out of her embrace. He stood at the end of her bed, taking in every detail of her peaceful face before he needed to force himself to leave.

He missed seeing her smile, the caress of her touch, the comfort of her warm body next to his lulling him to sleep every night. He missed his Scully. And tonight, Mulder was lucky enough to witness the fact that his Scully had missed her Mulder just as much.

---

[iliterallyhavenolife]

Midnight snack...at 4 AM

You lay in bed staring off into the darkness. The bright red numbers on your alarm clock staring back at you, casting a glow that taunts your already burning retinas. It reads three fifty-nine in the morning, how is it so late already? No matter how many times you close your eyes, you cannot rest; the ever-passing hours feel branded on your heavy lids.

The sounds of cars racing passed your window, the dull whirring of your fan, and the rustling of your sheets as you toss and turn, all meld into a low hum of white noise that you can feel buzzing around your brain. You can hear everything going on, but can't seem to focus on anything in particular. The outside world seems so slow, so quiet compared to the cacophony of thoughts buzzing around your tired mind, keeping you awake.

The clock ticks forward to four am and you sigh loudly, kicking off your blanket in frustration. You get up and stumble bleary-eyed into the kitchen, thanking whatever deity there might be that the city lights shinning through your kitchen window illuminate the room enough that you don't need to turn on any more—you don't know if your eyes could handle that.

Maybe some food will help you sleep? You rummage through one of your cupboards and find a can of ravioli. You sigh and pull the can out, opening it and dumping the gloopy contents into a bowl. You try to be quiet about shoving it into the microwave but microwaves are loud as fuck in the middle of the night. As you stand there, you start tapping your foot, humming impatiently. You feel a pair of boney hands grip your waist and a hard head rest itself on top of your own. "raviolis again? this' tha third time this week, darlin."

"I couldn't sleep...I didn't know what else to do." You jump, heart speeding up and face flushing at being caught.

"ya could drink some nyquil or take some melatonin?"

"Rus...no...you know I slept through work the last time I did that." You nibble on your lip and look down at the floor.

He gently thumbs your lip from between your teeth and turns you around to face him. "promise i'll wake ya this time."

You think about it, Rus always takes such good care of you. The microwave screams and you shake your head, you can't risk it. "Maybe next time."

Rus quiets the timer on the microwave and pulls you in close. "suit yaself darlin. don grump at me when ya get sent home fer fallin asleep at work again." He starts swaying with you in his arms, humming a song you don't recognize against your hair. The gentle swaying somehow turns into twirling, and soon the two of you are dancing around your kitchen with only the music of your souls to keep rhythm. You love him. He can make your most miserable moments into something soft, something worth remembering.

Eventually Rus releases you and you slide your back down some cabinets to rest on the floor. Rus retrieves your bowl from the microwave, rummaging through the silverware drawer for your favorite fork; the light weight one with the fancy engraved bottom. He doesn't have much luck and tries the dishwasher. You giggle and lean over to trace a heart against the back of his sweatpants. "lucky i love ya darlin," he sighs, finally finding your fork. He rinses it off for you and presents you with your bowl. You take the bowl and give Rus a tired smile. "Thank you love." He rolls his eye lights at you. "don worry bout it."

You scooch forward just a bit so Rus can slide down behind you, trapping you between his knees. You press a kiss against his knee cap and dig in to your now luke warm raviolis. He pets your hair softly as you eat, gently scratching his distals against your scalp. You sigh around your bite and lean back against his chest. Every other couple of bites you offer Rus your fork. He chuckles and lets you feed him.

Your eyes start to droop and you nearly miss his mouth with the next bite you offer. Had the sound of Rus's soul always matched the frequency of the fridge's humming? When did your body get so heavy? Why weren't the black spots swimming in your vision going away as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Rus chuckles and it rocks your body. He takes the bowl from your hands and wraps his arms around you, nuzzling against your neck. You can't move. He stands up, cradling you in his arms and carries you back to your bedroom. "forgive me darlin. you'll thank me in tha mornin." He lays you down like a precious treasure and snugs your blanket around you. Everything feels so fuzzy. Why is he apologizing? What did he do? He leans down to press the softest of toothy kisses to your forehead. "love ya darlin, get some sleep finally." You're out before he can even pull away.

Rus sighs as he closes the door on his way out, fingering the bottle of pills in his pocket. Hopefully you won't hate him in the morning. He really will wake you up before you have to be at work. He promises.

Give this a read on my ao3 if you're interested!

[fluffyllamas-23]

Hi, yes, so it’s a few hours early, but it’s one of my favorite people in the world’s birthday.  Thank you for being such a wonderful friend, @robbiefischer, I love you a lot and I hope you have a wonderful day, because you deserve it omg.  I hope you like this Aaron and Finn fic <3 <3 <3 

Finn wakes before Aaron, which is odd in and of itself. He’s accustomed to waking up to Aaron’s side of the bed empty, but this morning, Aaron is still fast asleep and looks like he’s most likely not going to be up for a few more hours at least.

Aaron lets out a sigh and rolls over, still fast asleep. He coughs a couple of times, just barely opens his eyes and looks around for a split second before falling back asleep. He sounds stuffy, Finn thinks, and then frowns. He takes in how the red splotches high on his cheeks and the dark bruises beneath his eyes are a stark contrast to just how pale Aaron is, and then comes to a sinking realization that he’s sick, which honestly shouldn’t be surprising, given just how tired and out of it he’s seemed these past few days..

Finn slides out of bed, opting to let Aaron sleep as long as he possibly can, and pads downstairs to the kitchen. He’s definitely going to wake up feeling awful, and he’s definitely going to need to be comforted when he finally makes his way down here.

Finn grabs Aaron’s weighted blanket from the closet and drops it onto the couch before making his way into the kitchen to start getting everything ready. He makes Aaron some avocado toast before rustling through the medicine cabinet for the good meds, making a face when he realizes they’re nearly out. He mentally kicks himself for not thinking to stock up from the last time one of them was sick. After a little while, he hears the bedroom door open and close, and he looks up just in time to see Aaron collapse onto the couch.

Finn grabs the plate of food, the meds and water and walks out to where Aaron is laying.

“Morning, sunshine,” Finn says gently, setting everything down on the coffee table. He ruffles Aaron’s hair and then drops down next to him.

Aaron whines something unintelligible and nuzzles his face into the crook of Finn’s neck. “I dond’t feel so good, Finnd.”

“I know, I know” Finn soothes, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “I made you some avocado toast and got you some meds and water. I know you’re not hungry, but i want you to eat a little bit and drink at least half of your water, and then we can watch I Love Lucy all day.”

“Is andy of that ndegotiable?”

“Nope. You’ve gotta do all that before we can cuddle.”

“That’s so anndoyi’gg.”

“I know,” Finn grins. “But I’m not even asking you to eat a lot, just a few bites.”

“...Okay.”

“And it’s avocado toast. You like avocado toast,” Finn says, stroking his hair.

“I guess.”

“Please?” Finn asks, pecking his cheek, forehead and the tip of his nose. “For me?”

“Finde,” Aaron gripe. “You’re mbeand. That was mbeand, I thought you loved mbe. ”

Finn bursts out laughing and reaches forward to pick the plate up to hand to him.

“I know, I’m just the worst. Truly awful, I don’t know why you’re even married to me.”

“Because you’re cute,” Aaron mumbles, a tired little smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He grins. “You just want me for my body.”

Aaron chuckles lightly, choking on a cough. “Uh-huh. Damn straight.”

*

Aaron drifts off about ten minutes after taking the medicine, head in Finn’s lap as Finn plays with his hair. He wakes every so often, uncomfortable and upset, and all it takes is Finn shushing him and stroking his face to get him to fall back asleep.

He finally wakes for good around three, and looks up at Finn with such misery that Finn’s heart drops.

“Oh..feeling worse?” He asks softly, furrowing his brows. Aaron nods and presses his face into Finn’s thigh with a groan. “I need specifics, my love. What’s exactly bothering you?”

“Ugh,” he groans, a cough tearing through his throat. “I thi’gk I’mb actually dyi’gg. Death is combi’gg.”

“That’s not very specific. And you’re not dying. I won’t allow it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, sorry. I would just miss you way too much. Now what’s wrong? Specifically.”

“Mby throat,” he sniffles. “And mby head...I cand’t breathe.”

“We’re almost out of meds. I need to run to the store but i didn’t want to leave while you were sleeping,” Finn says, frowning at the memory of coming home to Aaron in tears because Finn had gone to the store while he was sleeping and Aaron had woken up with no idea of where Finn went.

“I wandt to combe.”

“Ronnie, no, you have a fever.”

“I wandt to combe.”

“You feel awful.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to pass out if I take you with me.”

“I dond’t wandt to be alonde,” he rasps, tears filling his eyes.

“Okay, how about this,” Finn starts. “You come with, but you stay in the car and we FaceTime the whole time I’m in the store.”

“Oh...that’s a good idea.”

“It’s cold out, I’m going to go get you something warmer than gym shorts.”

“Dond’t leave,” he whispers, voice hoarse, cutting out on the last word.

Finn leans over and cups both cheeks in his hands, “look at me, hey. I know you feel awful and you don’t like to be alone when you feel this bad, but if you want to come with me, you have to let me go get you something warmer to wear.  I’ll only be gone a couple of minutes, max.  You can handle a couple of minutes, I promise.” And with that, Finn presses his lips to Aaron’s forehead before disappearing upstairs to grab him a thermal, sweats and his hoodie he likes to wear when he feels this awful.

He goes back down to find Aaron all teary on the couch, biting his lip as he tries so hard not to burst into tears.  

“Sweetheart, I’m back.  Please don’t cry,” Finn says quickly, putting the clothes in his lap before sitting on the edge of the coffee table.  

“S-sorry,” Aaron whimpers, rubbing at his eye with a fist. “This is so dumb.”

“No it isn’t.  You don’t feel good, and you always get upset when you’re feverish. You’re alright, you’ll feel better in a little while.”

*

Even though he’s very obviously feeling like garbage, Finn has to restrain himself from cooing at Aaron about just how cute he looks.  He looks so soft and rumpled and sleepy, and Finn wants nothing more than to just cuddle him until he’s feeling better.  He sniffles, rubbing at his nose with a sleeve covered fist.

His smile falters, and Finn desperately wants to get him home, because even if he’s just sitting in the car, he’s starting to get that miserable, far away look that always accompanies dizziness.  

“Okay, I’m in the pharmacy aisle.  Do you want me to grab you anything specific, or do you trust me?”

“Umb,” Aaron mumbles, rubbing his forehead.  “I dond’t kndow...those cough drops with hondey, hondey?”

Finn grins at him for a second before his eyes flick away from the screen and then to the shelves.  He grabs a few bags of the cough drops, and then picks up a couple of boxes of Dayquil, NyQuil, and some of that theraflu tea that he liked so much last time. He grabs more boxes of the more generic cold and flu meds, and just about anything else that looks like they should ease his symptoms.  

“I’m going to go grab some Pedialyte,”

“That’s for babies. Just get Gatorade.”

Finn rolls his eyes, walking into the baby food aisle.  “You don’t like Gatorade.  You like Pedialyte.”

“I...oh,” he trails off, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head once.

“Ronnie?” Finn frowns, grabbing a few bottles of the flavors he knows Aaron will like.  “Sunshine? What’s the matter? Talk to me.”

“I really dond’t feel good,” he rasps, looking at him as sadly as Finn has ever seen him.  

Finn frowns, whining at him lightly, “oh, honey, I’m so sorry.  I promise I’m almost done here.  I just need to go grab you some tissues and then pay, and I’ll be right out.”

“Okay,” he sniffles. “I really want to lie down.”

“Recline your seat and try to sleep, your blanket should be right at your feet.”

“Okay,” he coughs, “you’re almbost donde?”

“I’m almost done.  I just got the tissues, I’m just about to go get in line.  Just hang tight.”

“Tha’gk you,” he croaks out, inhaling sharply phone dropping into his lap as he lets out a series of fittish, ticklish sneezes.

“Bless you, sweetheart.”

“Tha’gks,” he mumbles, sniffling a couple of times, which sets off a bout of rough, chesty coughs.

Finn pays for everything as quickly as possible before he hurries out to the car.  Aaron is curled up in the chair, half asleep.  Finn pulls the blanket higher over him, and then rummages through one of the bags for the box of tissues.

“Here.”  

“You’re the best,” Aaron mumbles, shooting him a sleepy grin.  

“I love you too,” Finn says, smiling softly at him. “Ready to go?”

Aaron just nods his head, too tired to even bother coming up with a verbal answer, and then, he’s asleep.  

[afabdisasterq]

Bar Room Awkward

Who: Quinn Fabray & Rachel Berry

When: 7/21 ; Evening

Where: A Bar In Bushwick 

What: Rachel wants to see Quinn, makes the mistake of going to the bar she works at

Warnings: Alcohol Abuse

Rachel hasn’t really left her bed. She’d send a text here and there to check on Quinn but she silenced the group chat and only answered texts from Blaine.

She’d just dropped Josie off with him and wandered New York with no exact destination in mind. She’s beyond worried about Quinn. Afraid all of this coming to the surface is her fault. Like if anything else goes wrong Quinn would leave again, or worse.

It’s no surprise she finds herself at Quinn’s bar- they’d be forced to interact and she could see for herself the state Quinn is in. “A tequila shot and a corona, please.”

Quinn isn't sober but she's not drunk either. It's a weird limbo but she's functional and numb and work makes it easier. She accepts more shots from patrons now, especially the women she listened to talk of pain she was all too familiar with. But mostly she goes through the motions. Flirts with patrons, let them flirt with her, ignoring the bile in her throat at every man. It's a straight bar, she knows that, but it still makes her feel sick when guys flirt with her.

She's just finished a shot of Rumchata with a patron when Rachel walked in and made her way to the bar. "You starting a tab?" She asks as she pours the shot, setting it down in front of Rachel before going to grab the beer. She didn't want to think about things. She just wanted to work.

“Please.” Rachel nods her head, handing her card over. She sits back in the stool and pulls her phone out and opening her email. Before she starts opening any unread she drinks the shot back and grabs for the beer when set in front of her. “Thank you Quinn.”

She takes the card and starts the tab. She hands over the beer, just nodding before leaning against the bar. It's Sunday and a lazy one at that. There's the usual and  a few others, and she can see Duke in the far corner, chatting up a couple guys. Quinn doesn't know what to do with herself on nights like this. Usually she'll play on her phone or make conversation with the older woman at the end of the bar. Today is different. The last week or so has been different. She's not stable and downtime is hard to deal with.

“So, did you sleep today or are you running on no sleep?” Rachel takes a sip of her beer, not looking up as she types on her phone. “Do you enjoy the slow nights?”

"What is sleep?" She sighs, knowing she'll probably start dosing NyQuil or something soon, just to get her some kind of sleep. It's so bad, the nightmares and the insomnia. "No."

“I shouldn’t have asked.” She knew better. She knew better to be chatty. To act like this isn’t all messed up and wrong and she just wanted to give Quinn the world- but sees no hope in ever being able to do so. “I can keep you company.”

Quinn looks at her, raising the famous Fabray eyebrow at her. Quinn doesn't blame Rachel for the instability she feels, even though she so easily could. It wasn't her fault though and she could never place that blame. "Okay? I mean, your dime."

“Or I can leave. I’m not here to make you uncomfortable. I was hoping maybe you’d be happy to see me.” She finishes her beer quickly. “I’ll take another shot and you close my tab. I’ll go elsewhere.”

"Don't tell a bartender that, it's shitty." She growls out, pouring the shot but not even remotely moving to add it to the tab, much less close the thing out. "I'm at work, Rachel. Whether I'm happy to see you or not is trumped entirely by the fact I am working." She pushes off the counter and goes to tend to some other customers, one even going so far as to buy her a beer, which she accepted, drank half of in one swig and tossed in the bin. It was a beer she didn't like but she didn't want to seem ungrateful.

“You look a lot less enthused to see me than anyone else.” Rachel mutters, again downing the shot in one gulp. “Just let me know when you’re one. You know, if you want to.” She stands from her seat.

"Why are you really here, Rachel?" Quinn spits, almost regretting throwing the half of the beer away. "Why did you really come in here tonight? Huh? Want to see how fucked up I am since everything has started coming back to the surface?"

“You’re being defensive. I wanted to see you. I just didn’t think that this is just forcing you to see me instead of giving you a choice.” Rachel shakes head

Quinn huffs, running a hand through her hair. "So trapping me at work was your bright fucking idea?! At least if you'd asked I could be someplace I where I'm able to be comfortable."

“You’re never comfortable, who are we kidding?” Rachel clenches her fists. “I admitted it was a bad idea, it’s why I’m going to leave. Try and get comfortable.”

Quinn is fuming, or she's supposed to be. She's supposed to be raging, and part of her is, but not enough. "Don't. Please." She doesn't know why the idea of Rachel leaving hurts. It's not the fact it'd be lost business, that much she knows, but she doesn't have a reason why.

Rachel doesn’t want to leave her, but she also finds herself so angry at everything. She really didn’t think she was causing harm until it dawned on her how awkward this was. “Another beer please.” But instead of sitting at the bar she finds a seat instead.

Quinn slumped against the bar for a few moments before grabbing the beer Rachel had asked for, as well as one for herself. The bouncer who was sat by the door nodded as Quinn stepped out from behind the bar and he came over to get behind the bar. She set Rachel's beer down on the table and took a seat. "So, you going to tell me what else possessed you to see me at work?" She asks as she pours her beer into a glass.

Rachel is shocked by Quinn coming over. She accepts the beer and just looks at her. “I needed to see you were okay and I missed you. I thought this would be a way for me to do it without putting pressure on you but it did the exact opposite and I wish I realized that before.”

Quinn shook her head, taking a long drink of her beer. "Honestly, Rachel, had you asked to meet up I wouldn't have said no." It always had been hard saying no to Rachel. Rachel always seemed to come to her in her mess. In the chaos and made it okay. Made taking it at her speed okay.

“I didn’t think that would be the case. I’m sorry I assumed differently. I just feel like things are really upside down right now for me and for you and it would make sense you push me out. I really really don’t want that. I couldn’t bear it.”

Quinn sighs, closing her eyes for a moment. "You're not wrong about things being upside down, they certainly are. And I can't say I blame you for thinking I'd push you out. But I like having you back in my life. Even if you being back has brought so much so much negative to the surface, I can't blame it on you."

“That’s all I can real ask for. I know you can’t give me more.” She liked having her back. Maybe not the same way Rachel felt about it but it meant something. “I really missed you.”

Quinn's eyebrow raises, not sure what Rachel means by that. Not that she'd ask. She knows all too well that she's not stable, nor able to do a lot in terms of other people. Hell, she was a shitty friend to Duke most days. Not that she didn't try to be a better friend. She was just difficult as a human being. "You've always been one of those people who sticks around even when you maybe shouldn't."

“I just really want you in my life.” Rachel says after a long moment of silence.  “I don’t care if you feel like you have no place because I make the decisions on who I want and.” She doesn’t understand what had happened. How this happened. That she’s pretty sure she loves her. But it had to be projection, right? “And I want you to be in my life for as long as you’ll have me in yours.”

Quinn sips her beer as Rachel speaks, not entirely sure how she's supposed to be feeling. She doesn't know how to feel about much these days. "Okay." She doesn't know what else she's supposed to say.

“I need you to help me when I mess something up. I’m trying to respect boundaries but it’s really hard for me.”

Quinn sighs. "Well, no more surprising me at work, yeah? Feel free to come by and all, won't deny customers, but let me know first? And seriously, if you ever want to hang out while I'm off just let me know. Duke has been trying to get me to be more social as it is. Even though I do tend to be productive when I'm not hanging out at his work on my days off."

“I don’t do anything anymore. So I’m free when you tell me you are.” Rachel nods, finally sipping on her beer. “What would you want to do?”

Quinn just nods a bit. " I don't know. I haven't properly hung out with someone in over a year." She shrugged, finishing her beer. "I need to get back to work but we can keep chatting if you come back to the bar?" Quinn isn't going to force her to do so, but the offer was there. Standing, she grabbed the empty bottle from her own beer and headed back to the bar, tossing the bottle in the bin and giving the glass a quick wash before attending to the few patrons the bouncer hadn't gotten to.

“Oh. I just feel like I shouldn’t interrupt you at work. I mean, it isn’t like we can really do anything but make small talk and end up with a drunk Rachel because I drink when I’m nervous.” Rachel follows Quinn to the bar. “I’ll finish my drink and head out.”

"Nervous?" Quinn raises her eyebrow at Rachel. "What have you got to he nervous bout now?" While she can understand not wanting to drink too much, it was curious to her that Rachel was nervous.

“I don’t want to mess this up. I’ve never been good at this.” She’s talking with her hands. “At talking. At things with you.”

Quinn shakes her head a bit, chuckling. "C'mon, you're still the only person who looked at me the last time I had pink hair and saw who I was, how I was. Who treated me with an ounce of decency and respect. Sure, you fucked up just showing up here tonight, but it's fine. You're fine. WE are fine."

“Things become unfine before your eyes.” She whispers before nodding her head. “I’ll try and believe you. But I want to know you more than anyone. You deserve nothing but decency and respect.”

Quinn finished fixing a beer for a patron before going over to Rachel, a hand reaching out to cup her cheek gently. It wasn't unfamiliar for Quinn to get a little hands on with patrons she knew, Duke and a few regulars were entirely too used to it and it made her oddly popular. "You always have."

“But do you believe me? That-that I just want to care for you. I’m not going to leave or give up.” She looks down at the bar. “That you can trust me?”

Quinn uses the hand still on Rachel's face to slide under her chin and raise her back up to face her. "Tell me, who has run every time? It has never been you, Rachel. It has always been me. You've always cared about me. Whether it was sophomore year when I was pregnant or senior when I'd all but lost my own mind. Or now, when I definitely have. And you're far too stubborn and determined to give up."

Rachel slowly meets her eyes, biting down on her lip. “I’ll never give up on you Quinn. Never.” She whispers quietly.

Quinn grins. "I know you won't." She winked before pulling back. "So, you gonna stay for another drink or should I close out your tab?"

“Well now I want to wait for you to be done work so we can hang out.” She laughs. “But I should probably go home.”

Quinn chuckles. "Text me when you wake up in the morning and we'll figure something out then. I've still got a long, slow work night ahead of me." She smiles at Rachel. "So, close out your tab?"

“Close out my tab, yes.” Rachel smiles, intending on taking Quinn up on her word. “I look forward to seeing you again, with notice this time.” Rachel gives her a good tip before leaving the bar. She felt so much better getting to talk to her.

[wanderers-minuet]

I haven’t been active on here in a while but i still browse, and i saw this, and it really hit home. it’s entirely accurate, and exactly how I’m feeling right now.

Rest under read more, tw: animal/pet death, grief.

I just went through a major loss - I had to put down my dog Bandit of 16 years, my best friend, yesterday on Tuesday Nov. 12th. He’s been part of my life for literally half of it. (I turned 32 oct 26th.) I got sent home twice from work the last few days because I couldn’t keep my cool, and was crying and generally being a hot mess. Monday I was sent home after 20 minutes, and spent the next 6 hours or so at the vet with my family and Bandit crying and basically losing my mind, gave myself a headache and nearly threw up. We decided at the end to bring him home for the night so my sister and her boyfriend could cuddle him all night. I was off the next day, thank god, but I couldn’t stand to spend the day watching him be miserable and suffering like I had for nearly 6 hours the night before, so i spent most of the day trying to distract myself in my apartment with laundry and games or just busywork, and a few bouts of crying, with only a few hours of sleep during the night. So I went over in the evening to get a little time with him at the house before we brought him to the vet around 7:30pm. We spent some more time with him in a special Comfort Room, and I kept my cool for the most part, just the quiet sobbing kinda thing, for a few hours until we pressed the button for the doctor to come in. Me and my sister held him between us, face to face, in our laps, while the doctor did their thing, and I went absolutely batshit insane crying. We didn’t get home until around 11pm, and we buried him in our backyard. At this point I’ve pretty much been crying for 48 hours. I’m very not okay. I didnt get back to my apartment until around 12:30, my boyfriend helped me wash my back and hair in the bath (I was craving the human contact and being cared for), and I didn’t get to bed until close to 2am. I tried to go into work today at 11am (wednesday) and I lasted about 10 minutes before I started crying (one of my coworkers asked why I was crying when I was sort of sniffling at my register - i was really trying to keep my shit together, i really was, but the question and my subsequent answering of it just broke the dam and I lost it, and was sent home) so that didn’t go well. I spent the day at home thinking about Bandit, playing games to give my brain a break, crying a lot, took a nap cuddling one of his favorite toys and his collar that i took home with me.

I saw this and I thought: the ball in my box is bursting the box at the seams right now, there is no release of the button unless I forcibly distract my thoughts (games are easy, as is sleeping with the aid of benedryl and NyQuil.). Working is not as engaging as I would like/need, which is why i had problems working the day before and after, bc my mind could easily wander.

I’m really hoping my ball is smaller tomorrow, because I can’t afford to keep missing work, and keep putting them at a disadvantage bc i’m not there. I need to get my shit together and move on, like my mom says (even though I don’t really agree, I think I should be able to take more time for myself to work through my grief but such is the way of life, I guess. Especially for “just a pet” as a lot of people like to thing of it. Fortunately my workplace is really understanding though so there’s that I guess)

anyway i don’t know where im going with this I guess I needed to write this out? Thanks for reading if you got this far.

i should go to bed now because I work at noon and I really dont want to be sleep deprived again on top of grieving.

I love you Bandit. I miss you a whole lot and I feel like I’m dying and there’s a giant hole in my chest, and I keep thinking you’re gonna just pop up and be there when I visit the house, that this isn’t real.... but I know you’re in a better place, and making lots of friends in doggy heaven - i’m sure Bentley was there to greet you, and you’re teaching all your new friends all the tricks I taught you! Such a smart boy! The best boy, my handsome little man! My little buddy.

You be good. I love you forever.

(gonna go cry myself to sleep now.)

This is the most accurate description I’ve ever found, thought it was worth spreading ❀

[thefirstkbgames]

Déjà Vu-Eminem

[Intro] DMC, we have a mid-thirties male found down, unresponsive Possible overdose, substance unknown Pulse is 60 and thready, respiration's eight He's intubated and we're bagging him now Uh, BP 90 over palp, patient is cool, pale, and diaphoretic Has aspirated, uh, GSC is 3 Will update en route, ETA ten minutes [Verse 1] As I fall deeper into a manic state I'm a prime candidate for the gene to receive the drug addict trait Blood pressure climbs at a dramatic rate I seem to gravitate to the bottle of NyQuil then I salivate Start off with the NyQuil, like, I think I'll just have a taste Couple of sips of that then I gradually graduate To a harder prescription drug called Valium, like, yeah that's great I go to just take one and I end up like having eight Now I need something in my stomach 'cause I haven't ate Maybe I'll grab a plate of nachos and I'll have a steak And you'd think that with all I have at stake Look at my daughter's face "Mommy, something is wrong with Dad I think He's acting weird again, he's really beginning to scare me Won't shave his beard again and he pretends he doesn't hear me And all he does is eat Doritos and Cheetos And he just fell asleep in his car eating 3 Musketeers in the rear seat"

[Chorus] Sometimes I feel so alone, I just don't know Feels like I been down this road before So lonely and cold, it's like something takes over me As soon as I go home and close the door Kinda feels like déjà vu I wanna get away from this place, I do But I can't and I won't, say I try, but I know that's a lie 'Cause I don't and why, I just don't know [Verse 2] "Maybe just a nice cold brew, what's a beer?" That's the devil in my ear, I've been sober a fuckin' year And that fucker still talks to me, he's all I can fucking hear "Marshall, come on, we'll watch the game It's the Cowboys and Buccaneers" And maybe if I just drink half, I'll be half-buzzed For half of the time; Who's the mastermind behind that little line? With that kind of rationale, man, I got half a mind To have another half a glass of wine, sounds asinine Yeah, I know, but I never had no problem with alcohol Ouch, look out for the wall, aim for the couch, I'm 'bout to fall I miss the couch and down I go, lookin' like a bouncy ball Shit must've knocked me out 'cause I ain't feel the ground at all Wow, what the fuck happened last night? Where am I? Man, fuck, am I hungover, and goddamn, I Got a headache, shit, half a Vicodin, why can't I? All systems ready for take off, please stand by

[Chorus] Sometimes I feel so alone, I just don't know Feels like I been down this road before So lonely and cold, it's like something takes over me As soon as I go home and close the door Kinda feels like déjà vu I wanna get away from this place, I do But I can't and I won't, say I try, but I know that's a lie 'Cause I don't and why, I just don't know [Verse 3] So I take a Vicodin, splash, it hits my stomach, then "Ahhh" Couple of weeks go by it ain't even like I'm gettin' high Now I need it just not to feel sick, yeah, I'm gettin' by Wouldn't even be taking this shit if DeShaun didn't die Oh yeah, there's an excuse; you lose Proof so you use There's new rules, it's cool if it's helpin' you to get through It's twelve noon, ain't no harm in self-inducin' a snooze What else is new? Fuck it, what would Elvis do in your shoes? Now here I am three months later, full-blown relapse "Just get high until the kids get home from school, homes, relax" And since I'm convinced that I'm an insomniac I need these pills to be able to sleep, so I take three naps Just to be able to function throughout the day, let's see That's an Ambien each nap, how many Valium? Three And that will average out to about one good hour's sleep Okay, so now ya see the reason how come he Has taken four years to just put out an album, B See, me and you, we almost had the same outcome, Heath 'Cause that Christmas, you know the whole pneumonia thing? It was bologna, was it the methadone, ya think? Or the hydrocodone you hide inside your pornos? Your VCR tape cases, with your Ambien CR Great places to hide 'em, ain't it? So you can lie to Hailie I'm going beddy-bye, Whitney, baby; good night, Alaina! Go in the room and shut the bedroom door And wake up in an ambulance They said they found me on the bathroom floor, damn

[Chorus] Sometimes I feel so alone, I just don't know Feels like I been down this road before So lonely and cold, it's like something takes over me As soon as I go home and close the door Kinda feels like déjà vu I wanna get away from this place, I do But I can't and I won't, say I try, but I know that's a lie 'Cause I don't and why, I just don't know

[sasukesdinosaur]

TRIGGER WARNING (anxiety and suicide prevention services)

My heart started pounding, tears filled my eyes and I was hit with a bout of extreme sadness. It was one of those nights where I felt my anxiety getting out of hand and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep if I didn’t calm down.

I did something I usually don’t do - I looked to seek comfort in the suicide prevention lifeline. I wasn’t in a safe place where I could chat to anyone. I also felt I wasn’t going to harm myself so I decided to try the chat function for the first time.

When accessing the online chat - you are asked to fill out a short questionnaire - I don’t know how or if this questionnaire affects your place in line or the counselor that you will speak to. Once submitting the questionnaire you are placed in “line” and sort of left with your thoughts before you are connected with a counselor - reminders slide across the screen to call the suicide prevention hotline if you need to speak with anyone, to go to a safe space, a counselor will be with me shortly, and where you can find more information.

I’m currently in “line” as I type this and I read the FAQ: “who should use the lifeline chat program: anyone who is depressed, going through a hard time, or is thinking about suicide...”

I start to wonder if this chat was really meant for someone like me. I feel immense guilt for feeling like I needed to use this service. I’m living in stressful circumstances right now, but there are people worse off then me - I’m in a privileged position compared to the rest of the world and I wonder if it’s selfish of me to be taking the time for a free service when someone else behind me in line might neee it more.

It’s been 20 minutes. I’m still in line. My heart is still beating harder than I want it to, Emotions on the brink of a meltdown if I let them go, and I know sleep will be unobtainable tonight. Still I wonder if I should just leave. Get over it. Take some NyQuil - I’ve had a few bad days, so what, there are direct people in my life who have had the worst years of their lives and they still manage to come out the other side of it with a smile. My guilt at my feeling grows.

It’s been 30 minutes. It’s getting late at night. I might as well leave and do what I usually do on nights like these - try like hell to distract and exhaust myself with fan fiction.

I still have work I need to do, my anxiety hasn’t abated, the guilt I feel in my bones remains. I should have said in the questionnaire that I was feeling worse than ok. I don’t think I’m doing ok.

I decide to leave.

This was my first experience with the lifeline chat. I don’t have any regrets and I don’t want this to discourage anyone from reaching out to these resources. I understand that for the counselors this must be a thankless job and that they must have been swamped to not reach me. I didn’t alert them that I was of any danger to m.....

I’m in the chat. I’m scared. The conversation is a little slow - there might be a lag - I feel guilty about taking this counselors time. I think I sound ridiculous- I let them know that.

I feel better as the conversation goes on. Not about my situation. But that I feel validated about my feelings. I didn’t know how much I needed that.

They also sent me a list of grounding excercises. I’m going to try to use them the next time I feel like shit... so probably tomorrow at noon.

That was my first experience with the lifeline chat. Please use these resources available to you if you need to. It’s ok, and I genuinely feel better.

I’m incredibly grateful and I hope my counselor knows that and is doing well.

[hopeishappinessff]

Chapter 45

The final bell of the day rang and students, teachers, janitors, and every single body in the school flooded in masses out of the building. It was officially spring break and it was almost as if no one wanted to waste a single minute of it on the school premises. I knew I needed to get home and pack as quickly as possible, since I was supposed to be heading out of town the following morning… the only problem was, I had no clue where I was supposed to be going. Chris had informed me only the previous evening that I needed to pack a big suitcase with strictly spring attire. He wouldn't give me any hints as to where we’d be going that required such specific clothing, but my guess was that it had to be somewhere tropical… and I prayed that I was right.  As I was packing, my aunt surprised me by coming into my room and assisting me with loading up my suitcase with a variety of outfits, as though she actually knew exactly what I needed. Much to my disbelief, she did indeed know what I’d need. She explained that Chris had gathered her along with his mother and the parents of everyone else in our group of friends to discuss the details of a trip he’d apparently planned for us all on his own. With their approval, he handled everything from our plane tickets to our accommodations and even transportation upon our arrival. I was beyond ecstatic for the quality time we would finally be able to get together and I knew I would struggle with sleep that night because my excitement was just that overwhelming. I’d just gotten off the phone with Destani, after spending nearly an hour discussing what she should pack, and within an hour after hanging up with her, I finally managed to finish packing one of the two bags I’d ended up with. The moment I started on a smaller bag designated for toiletries, my phone vibrated on the hard surface of my nightstand.  I picked it up and answered it, then put it on speaker so I could continue organizing my bag "Hello." "Hey babe." Chris's greeted gruffly. I smiled at the sound of pure delight in his tone as I neatly folded one of my favorite sundresses.  "Hey Charlie." "You packing now?" He asked. "I am. Are you?"  "I'm tryin to, but I didn’t realize how hard it is just to put some damn clothes in a suitcase... this shit is fucking difficult." I giggled as I listened to the sound of him shuffling around his room.  "It's not hard to put the clothes in the bag Chris. I think you're just having trouble picking out what you want to take." I said. "Yeah, that’s what I meant," He chuckled, "Look, whenever you get done packing, you wanna come over here and help me?" "Yeah, I need a break from packing any way so I'll just stop now. I’ll be over in a little while." I agreed and abruptly shut my smaller suitcase with no desire to continue on loading it.  "Good, cause I'm bout ready to say fuck it and leave here with just the clothes on my back." I laughed at his expense and we bid our adieus before hanging up. Making my way to my closet to retrieve my shoes and a hoodie, I crossed back into my room and plucked my keys and wristlet from the dresser then headed out the room and eventually out the front door.  -- "Just fold this shirt up and put it in there. You don't even have to wear it, but you might get there and decide you want to." I said, opening a shirt and displaying it for Chris to see. I stood across from him in only the tank I wore under my hoodie and a pair of joggers. I went back and forth from his closet so many times; I started to work up a sweat and quickly came out of a few layers of clothes all in an effort to help him pack. "I wouldn't wanna wear that shit right now, so I know I'm for damn sure not gone wanna wear it when we get there." He fussed as he raised his gaze from the shirt to me. That’d been the entire process for him since I’d gotten to the apartment… whatever I pulled out, he just had to turn it down with what he thought was a legit reason every time.

I sighed out of pure frustration and dropped my hands with the shirt still in my grasp "I don't even know why you called me over here if you’re just going to sit there and be difficult." "I told you before you got here this shit was hard, I guess you thought I was lying." He was sprawled out across his bed on his back like an obnoxious little boy, tossing a small yellow smiley face stress ball up in the air.  With yet another sigh and a roll of my eyes, I marched back into the closet in the bathroom for about the millionth time tonight. Rather than grabbing yet another shirt to be denied by him, I exited the bathroom empty handed and snatched up my hoodie, shoes, wristlet, and phone then walked swiftly toward his bedroom door.  "Where you going love?" "Home." I stated, plain and simple.  "Wait, why?" He abruptly jumped down from his bed and chased me down the hall, because I had indeed already made my way halfway to the front door.  "Because Chris..." I slowed in the middle of the hall and tussled my fingers through my hair then with a sigh, I rolled my eyes up toward the ceiling to display my aggravation, “I'm trying to help you pack your clothes like you asked me to, but you're not cooperating with me." "Yeah I am..." "No you're not," I said, dropping my gaze down to his face with a weary expression "Every time I try to show you something you should pack, you always have something smart to say about why you don’t wanna wear it. There isn't a single article of clothing that I picked up in your closet that you told me you wanted to pack." I hadn't realized it while in the middle of my rant, but he was standing there with his hands tucked away in his pockets, staring at me with a smirk on his face. It wasn't until I stopped talking that I took note of the lack of seriousness in his demeanor and that sent me flying over the edge…  "UGH!" I huffed, throwing my hands up in the air and twirling around to continue my irate trek to the door.  "Wait, babe wait!" It didn’t take much for him to catch up with my scurrying feet and he slipped his hands around my waist before I could get even five feet away. "Chris, can you please move your hands?" I asked in a monotone manner.  "Nah ‘cause then you gone leave." "Yes… you’re absolutely right.” I agreed calmly as I pried at his fingers.  "Can’t you just stay for the night... please?" He lowered his head and nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck, where he pressed his lips against that spot just beneath my ear.  "I have to go home. I still have to finish packing." I mumbled, though I stood leaning against his frame with my head tilted back against his shoulder as I made way for his lips to devour the side of my neck.  "Mmm, but I know it can't be that much more shit you gotta pack... you wouldn't have come over here if that was the case." I was beginning to fall for that sensation swelling in my core, but I suddenly thought back to the half empty bag I’d left behind on my bed and lifted my head as I continued to pry at his fingers "No Charlie. I'm tired and I don't wanna get to the point that I can't even drive myself home." A wide grin tugged at his lips as he pushed my hands away and pulled me back against him "See, you tired… probably more tired than you think. And I think you should just go ahead and stay." I shook my head, knowing that there would be no way to get him to agree to letting me leave. With a scoff, I pushed against him and finally snatched myself out of his grasp and strutted off down the hall in the complete opposite direction I’d intended to go.  By the time midnight rolled around, I found myself dozing off as I cuddled in one of his t-shirts. I was trying to help him finish packing and I’d actually managed to get a pile of shirts into his suitcase, but before I knew it I started to feel like I’d downed an entire bottle of Nyquil and I could barely keep my eyes open. To my surprise, Chris continued to shift about the room to continue packing after he’d tucked me in and dimmed the lights in the room. Within only about twenty minutes, he was completely done loading up his bag and after zipping it up and moving it down to the floor, he climbed into the bed behind me and wrapped his arms securely around my waist then eventually dozed off right along with me.  -- My eyes fluttered open and I was immediately smacked in the face by the bright light from the bedroom window. I blinked rapidly to adjust my eyes then yawned and stretched my limbs, pushing my butt back as I did so. I’d completely forgotten that Chris was lying behind me, let alone that I was even in his bed, and I was startled by the sound of him groaning as my backside collided with his front. I pushed myself into an upright position and turned to watch him for a moment as he slept. I couldn't help but smile at the sight of his plump lips parted just enough to leave him snoring lightly.  Leaning down, I pressed my lips gently against his forehead and watched as he stirred slightly, but continued to sleep. I wasn’t quite ready for him to wake up yet, so I quickly climbed out the bed before he had a chance to feel my movement. I wanted to make sure we had a nice fulfilling breakfast before we set out for our trip. After brushing my teeth, washing my face, and pulling my hair up into a bun, I made my way out the bathroom and down the hall to the kitchen. I’d already decided on a quick batch of pancakes, scrambled cheesy eggs, grits, and sausage links and I didn’t waste any time pulling out the necessary pans and getting to work.  I got started with the batter for the pancakes and stirred the wet and dry ingredients together, whisking steadily until the mixture was smooth. Moving over to the stove with the bowl of batter in my hands, I carefully drizzled just enough to make two large circles into a sizzling hot pan already coated with a thin layer of oil. I placed the bowl on the counter beside the stove and stood back to watch the batter bubble and cook.  "Smells good." That familiar gruff baritone spoke directly behind me and I flinched at Chris’s unexpected presence.  "You scared me." I mumbled, holding a hand to my chest and turning to glare at his smirking face.  His smirk quickly grew into a grin and he stepped forward to place his hands around my waist "I'm sorry baby, daddy didn’t mean to." Rolling my eyes at him, I swiftly turned to face forward again to flip my cooking pancakes. He chuckled and slid his hands around to my midsection, resting them against my lower stomach and dropping his chin onto my right shoulder.  "What you cooking?" He asked curiously. "Pancakes, scrambled eggs, grits, and sausages." I listed off the entire meal for the morning as I rested my head back against his left shoulder.  He tightened his grip on me and turned his head so that his face was nuzzled in the crook of my neck "Damn, lil mama gone make sure her nigga is fed… you sooooooo good to me girl!" I giggled as he pressed his lips against my neck and rubbed his hands up and down my belly "Did Ms. Joyce pick all this stuff out for you?" "What stuff?" "All this breakfast food... did she help you pick it all out?" He chuckled softly as he lifted his face from the crook of my neck "Nah, I'm sorry to tell you, but baby I am not clueless with food… if I don’t know nothing else, I know what to put in my mouth.”  I laughed aloud and shook my head as I picked up the spatula on the counter, using it to scoop the two pancakes out of the pan. I shifted them over onto the plate I’d situated next to my cook station and barely had a chance to pour anymore batter into the hot pan… Chris had nuzzled his face back into the crook of my neck and he was now busy puckering his lips all over my skin. I bit down into my bottom lip and stared down at the pancakes as they cooked, hoping that if I focused on them I could ignore the moan itching to flow from my mouth. He slipped his hands down from my stomach to the front of my thighs in the smoothest manner and I would have stopped him, but with the way he latched his lips perfectly onto my skin, I had a difficult time concentrating on anything but that.  “Chris,” I moaned softly, no longer able to contain it, “We can’t… we don’t have ti… time.” “Unh-unh, it won’t take long baby I promise. Just let me in it one time before we leave.” He spoke low and seductively before running his tongue and the piercing in it along the edge of my ear lobe. I clinched tightly onto the handle of the stove and gasped at the sudden pressure of two of his fingers against my covered clit. He slid his fingers down the length of my womanhood and by the time he pulled his hand away, my knuckles had turned white from how tightly I clutched onto that handle.  He moved his hands up to lift his shirt that I wore and the moment it was up over my head he wasted no time dropping it down to the kitchen floor and moving on to my underwear. His hands eased down over my waist, catching the elastic material on each side and he quickly slid them down so I could step out of them.  “Shit.” He muttered, prompting me to glance back over my shoulder to watch him as he stood back and watched me in all my naked glory. With my bottom lip tucked away in my mouth, I smirked at the sight of him openly staring at my bare butt and winced when he suddenly slapped a hand against my left cheek.  With the conflicting that the heat from the stove hit my chest and the cool air in the kitchen whipped against my backside giving me goose bumps, I couldn’t help but squeeze my eyes shut and moan on my own accord without any assistance from his hands… the moment was so erotic and I could feel my nipples hardening as chills shot through my body. I’d nearly forgotten he was even behind me until I heard him shifting and I turned my head back to see him stripping out of his white tank and shorts.  I braced myself against the stove and bent over the moment I felt his presence right against my backside. Within about a blink of an eye he��d gripped his erection in one hand and my waist in the other, holding me steady as he slid the head of it over my soaking entrance.  “You gone let me in there baby?” He mumbled, leaning forward to press his lips directly against the skin of my right ear. I gasped from the initial contact of his throbbing penis and quickly nodded my head, anticipating the intoxicating feeling of him deep within me. He rubbed that perfectly smooth head against me quicker and harder, using his other hand to pull me closer to him. “No ma’am... let’s try that shit again. Are you gonna let me in this pussy?” He repeated, nearly offended by my lack of a response.  “Yeah.” I moaned, tossing my head back against his shoulder.  “Tell me where you want this dick girl.” He demanded.  “Mmmmm” I moaned out as he teasingly poked only the head in.  “Where?” “I want you in me, now!” I shouted, arching my back and pushing my butt back against him. He chuckled as he slowly pushed forward and I cried out for him as he held me down in yet another position I’d never experienced before. My body seemed to have a mind of its own and before I knew it, I was suddenly leaning forward… directly over the hot pan on the stove. I could feel the scorching heat getting closer to my breasts and face, but before I had an opportunity to endure second degree burns, Chris hooked a hand around the front of my throat and pulled me back against his chest then swiftly reached forward to turn off the eye completely.  He held his hand there around my neck while he thrust slowly and tactfully, which left me hollering and reaching a hand back to grab at him in an effort to get him to release me… I was quickly becoming breathless with my neck bent back. That beautiful organ between his legs had begun to tap into areas I’d never felt before and I rolled onto the tips of my toes and scrunched my face as I focused on not falling right apart in his hold.  “Chris you gotta go… slow… I ca… I can’t...” I hated the fact that I could barely form a sentence when he had me like this… I knew I sounded like a complete fool whenever I attempted to speak to him.  “What’s that baby, you want me to stop? Hmm… you can’t take the dick” He’d increased his speed significantly, as if mocking me in my stupor. Releasing his hold on my neck, he quickly slipped his hands around the cusps of my elbows, holding on tight as he thrusted into me almost like he was angry. I screamed, cried, panted, and fought the urge to simply pass out as I squeezed my eyes shut and squirted right there in the middle of the kitchen floor. He slowed his thrusts at that exact moment and I was sure he’d climaxed right along with me… until he pulled out of me and firmly gripped onto my hips…  “Turn around.” He muttered. I did as he said and as my nostrils flared in an attempt to catch my breath, he bent in front of me and gripped onto the back of my thighs, hiking me up and making sure that my legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. For the first time, I realized that though I’d already orgasmed, and nearly passed out from doing so… he was actually going to keep going. I wasn’t prepared for that. I wasn’t even sure if my body would be able to handle the exhausting process again. I had no time to stop him though… he’d already guided me back down onto his rock hard erection and bounced me up and down a few times to get adjusted to the new position.  I hadn’t noticed until I opened my eyes and rolled my head around to one side, but he was moving out of the kitchen and heading down the hall, all while still bouncing me up and down on his shaft. Unconsciously, I tightened my walls around him and watched as he immediately shut his eyes and inhaled sharply. He brought me back down on him then lifted me and as I came back down, I constricted my walls around his girth once more and this time he came to a halt in the middle of the hall.  I didn’t know what came over me in that moment, but I hooked my arms tightly around the back of his neck and using the strength in my thighs, I grinded against him while he stood completely still. His brows lifted, and he appeared to be utterly shocked as he backed up against the nearest wall, allowing me to take the reins. He groaned as I picked up the pace and grinded on him as hard as I could. The bun on the top of my head bounced at the same rhythm as my breasts and I lowered my head until our foreheads were meshed together.  He instantly locked eyes with me and we stared at one another intensely as I continued to ride him while he held me up in the air. I moaned and groaned and clenched my teeth together and if I wasn’t mistaken, I just knew I could hear a small nearly inaudible whimper leave his lips. I couldn’t help but smirk as I imagined the sensations coursing through his body as I maintained my slow grind.  “What you smiling at?” He asked as he slid his hands up my back until they were resting at the top of my shoulder blades. I shook my head and continued to smile as I puckered my lips and gently pressed them against his. He pulled away and glared at my lips for a while then leaned forward once more and this time, I parted them to give his tongue clear access. I became so enthralled in that kiss that I failed to notice that I’d stopped grinding against him… that is until he held tightly onto my shoulders and started to pummel in and out of me.  I screamed into his mouth as my legs nearly slipped from his waist, but I clung desperately to him with every bit of energy my body possessed.  “Chriiiiiiiissssssss I feel it… stop… stop… I feel iiiiiiiittttttt…” I hollered after snatching away from him. My words were slurred and I could only pray that he understood what I was trying to say.  “Hold on baby, don’t cum yet. Hold it for me.” He thrust into me one hard and final time and held it there before turning and completing our postponed journey to his bedroom. The moment we neared his bed, he lay me on the top of the unkempt sheets and spread my legs as far as they could go. And with his sweaty body now hovering over me, he began to thrust in and out with an evident desire to get us both where we needed to be.  It didn’t take long for him to get me there and I swore this orgasm was stronger than any I’d ever had. I could feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes and I tried to clinch my legs together after squirting all over his midsection and much to my surprise… he let me, but not without compromise. He sat back and pushed my thighs completely together, then raised my closed legs over his right shoulder and continued to pump in and out of me, lost in a world of his own. I screamed his name at the top of my lungs, completely drowning out the sound of one of our phones vibrating against his nightstand. And together, we rode that wave of ecstasy until we could both barely move…  “Baby?” He was completely winded after the work he’d just put in and he slumped forward on his hands, allowing his perspiration to drip down onto me, “You good?” I nodded and bat my lids slowly as I held a hand against my chest, like it would somehow help me catch my breath. After leaning down to press his lips against the space between my breasts, he slipped out of the bed and returned a few minutes later in a fresh pair of boxers with both of our phones in hand, mine lit as it was evident that it’d been ringing and he’d answered.  “Who is it?” I mouthed, peering up at him with furrowed brows.  “Dez… she called about fifty times.” He said with a smirk. With a roll of my eyes, I rolled over onto my side and clutched one of his pillows over my naked body then plucked my phone from his extended hand. Though I was entirely still out of breath and my voice was weaker than ever, I pressed the phone against my ear and prepared for her incessant nagging.  “Hello.” I greeted, cringing at the sound of my own weak voice.  “Bitch, where are you? Don’t we have to be at the got damn airport in like an hour?” She shouted directly into my ear. I cringed and pulled the phone away from my ear then turned my head to one side to glance at the time on Chris’s alarm clock. It was a little after eleven o’clock and we had to be at the airport no later than twelve to get all of our luggage checked in and catch our one-thirty flight.  “Oh crap.” I muttered. “You damn right, oh crap. Where the hell have you been, I been calling your ass all morning! And what the hell is going on with your voice… it sounds like you just swallowed a bag of sand.” She fussed. “Destani, we’ll meet you at my house in a little while, okay.” I said as I ran a hand over the top of my head.  “We’ll… what you mean we’ll? You’re not home? Hold the fuck up… I know you are not over there with Chris and I knoooooooow ya’ll nasty niggas ain’t holding us up ‘cause ya’ll over there fucking…” “Destani,” I exclaimed with an already sore throat, “I’ll see you in a little while.” I didn’t even give her a chance to continue on with her nagging. I quickly pressed a finger against the red button to end the call and laid my head back against the plush blankets with my eyes shut as I contemplated the grueling day ahead of us.