#also my hip(s) STILL hurt and my toe is still bruised (probably not broken) and my wrists and knees and ankles aren’t happy either

[shatterthefragments]

My coworker: have you considered staying at a hostel instead?

Me: knowing full well that hostels don’t take locals bc they’re selling themselves as a place to travel distances for cheap: I mean it’s cheaper than rent if I got the max bed dorm :P (*I’ve checked. Still over 60% of my pay though)

Bc the friends I would be willing to rent with aren’t local at all. And I don’t trust strangers tbh. So. Yeah. I feel fucking trapped. It’s definitely not good for me. But. I don’t pay market rent for a room (plus another basically) in a house. With in house laundry. And I. I’m just tired of it.

[repulsivepangolin]

SEAL Team Whumptober 20/31 -All

No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

_________________

Jason rubbed hard at Clay’s sternum, hoping to wake the youngest member of their team.

Hazed blue eyes blinked up at him and a pained grunt escaped the blond guy.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore…”

“How is he?” Trent asked from where he was tending to one of the other guys.

“Think he hit his head.” Jason frowned, “Unfocused eyes, and thinks he’s Dorothy from the wizard of Oz…”

Trent nodded, “I’ll take a look at him later. -Ready to roll?”

“Yes.” Brock nodded as he tilted the litter at an angle so they wouldn’t have to physically lift Metal to get him on it. He also held a rolled up shirt in place so it would land behind the small of Metal’s back and give some support there, if it was needed.

Sonny and Ray had their hands wrapped in the fabric of Metal’s uniform, Sonny’s left hand at his shoulder, Ray’s left hand at his waist, Sonny’s right hand on his hip, Ray’s right hand near his knees.

“Ready.” Both Bravo 2 and 3 nodded.

“Roll up!” Trent ordered as he held Metal’s head in line with the rest of his spine.

They moved as one. Trent, Sonny and Ray rolling Metal onto his side and Brock lifting the litter in right behind Alpha-1’s back.

“Ready to roll back?” Trent asked.

The guys let him know they were.

“Roll back.”

Trent held Metal’s head until Sonny had placed something under the man’s head and neck so his head wouldn’t fall back from the current position, and something on each side to make sure they could secure his head completely.

“How are you doing?” Trent asked looking down at Metal.

“The neck brace and all of that is overkill…” Metal frowned as he pointed towards his head. “Told you it’s my lower back which is hurting.”

“Better safe than sorry…” Trent shrugged, “And I don’t like that you’re moving your arms either. Just in case…”

Metal rolled his eyes and let his right hand fall back to his side.

“Can you still feel your legs?”

“Yeah…” Metal paused, “Think I still can wiggle my toes as well”

“Let’s see it then…” Trent nodded towards Metal’s feet, and waited for the man to attempt, “Congrats, you’re right.”

“You should look to Clay…” Metal paused, “Pretty sure one of the others can secure me to this litter without you.”

*    *    *

“How is he?” Sonny asked as he stepped over to where Trent was checking on Clay.

“He called me Tinman…” Trent frowned, “Asked if I wanted to come with him to Oz to get a heart…”

Sonny chuckled a bit, “What does that make me?”

“Definitely the scarecrow…” Trent chuckled, “-Or the cowardly lion… You could be that as well…”

“Okay, not gonna take that personally…” Sonny frowned, “So he got his bell rung, anything else?”

“He yelped when I bumped into his leg…” Jason shot in, “Looked swollen above his ankle, but wasn’t able to get him to tell us if he was hurt anywhere else…”

“See if you find another neck brace in the chopper.” Trent ordered, “Just in case he injured his neck as well as his head.”

Sonny nodded and limped over to the downed helicopter they had crash landed with.

*    *    *

“So…” Metal sighed, looking over at Brock by only moving his eyes, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not the one on a stretcher…” Brock tilted his head a little.

“No, but you also took a hard landing with a helicopter. And Sonny had to pop your shoulder back in place…”

Brock nodded.

“So, how are you?”

“Shoulder’s gonna be sore for a while…” Brock shrugged the shoulder which hadn’t been dislocated recently, “Glad Cerberus didn’t come on this mission.”

“Yeah, that’s luck…”

Brock nodded, “And you?”

“All this is probably blown way out of proportion…” Metal sighed, “Pretty sure my back is fine. Just a bit beaten up…”

“Well, Trent’s got a point with that ‘better safe than sorry’ way of thinking…” Brock offered up a quick smile.

“Yup, wouldn’t be the first time he was right about something…”

Brock nodded.

*    *    *

The rescue chopper came for them. They were loaded in and some of the other guys had to strap in, not getting a place to sit down.

They were almost back to the base when he realized that he no longer felt his legs.

He reached down with one hand and squeezed his thigh. Nothing.

The feeling in his legs hadn’t disappeared in the blink of an eye. It was more like they had gradually gotten more and more numb. And now it was like his legs didn’t exist.

He knew it was a bad sign.

He wanted to tell someone. But the chopper was too loud, and he didn’t have a headset to speak to the others to.

How life could be from now on started playing across his retinas, he felt some sort of panic grip at him. He wasn’t ready for this. What the heck was he going to do if he couldn’t be an operator anymore?

His eyes were stinging. He couldn’t cry right now. He couldn’t.

He squeezed his other leg. Also nothing.

Then he caught Sonny’s concerned eyes.

“Can’t feel?” the Texan mouthed.

If it hadn’t been for the neck brace, he would’ve shook his head in return, but he had to resort to mouth ‘no’ back.

He saw the concern multiply in Sonny’s face, before the Texan schooled his expression, “Gonna be fine…”

He knew neither of them believed it.

*    *    *

“Why am I on a stretcher?” Clay asked once the helicopter engine shut off.

“We were in a heli-crash. You hit your head really bad.” Trent winked.

“Why is my neck stuck?”

“Put a neck brace on you in case you hurt your neck as well…”

“Oh…”

Trent nodded, “You feel any pain?”

“Now that you mention it, my head feels like I got in a headbutting match with an ox.” Clay frowned, “And pretty sure my ankle’s broken…”

“Good.”

“How’s that good?” Clay frowned.

“Trust me, if you feel your legs, that’s good.” Trent winked, “You really hit your head bad.”

“I had this weird dream…”

“Wizard of Oz?” Trent asked.

“How’d you know?”

“Apparently Jase is Toto, and I’m Tinman…”

“Oh no…” Clay frowned.

“Oh yes…” Trent chuckled, “Dorothy…”

*    *    *

“…Why are you here?” Clay frowned as Full Metal was rolled into the same room he was resting in.

“Was in the same crash as you…” Metal sighed, not looking away from the ceiling.

“Did you get hurt as well?”

“I think everyone did.”

“But you’re the only other one here. The rest is resting up on their own.”

Metal sighed.

“Come on…”

Metal tilted his head a little, to look over at the younger team member. He saw Clay had his right leg in cast, rested high on a mountain of pillows, and bruising on large areas of the left side of his face.

“You look like shit.” He almost chuckled.

“Feel like it too, if you wondered…” Clay admitted, “What are you here for?”

Metal sighed, “I broke something… Had surgery to fix it.”

“That’s vague…”

Metal nodded a little, “Broke something in my back.”

“Oh…”

Metal offered up a tired smile, “I can’t feel my legs. But the professionals said they couldn’t see any injury to the spinal cord. They think it might be because it’s swollen right now, and that it might go back to normal… Or it might not…”

Clay swallowed, “Sorry…”

Metal nodded a little.

“You broke your back, but it didn’t cut the spinal cord?”

“I broke one of those spikes…” Metal shrugged a little, “The canal the spinal cord is in was unaffected by the break. But of course everything near it swelled up. Hopefully it’ll return to normal in a few weeks or months.”

Clay nodded, “Fingers crossed.”

“Yeah, fingers crossed.”

[you-lady-skwisgaar]

Skwistok, 51!

My fave couple with one of my fave Coheed songs :’)

Also, confession time: this is my first time writing fanfic since, like, 2015, so if anybody’s got any tips or criticisms, I’m all ears

51. “When I fall asleep, your face is all I see.”

Skwisgaar doesn’t even realize he’s dreaming the first night.

The band’s back in Mordhaus, celebrating their reconciliation. Sure, they had laid Cornickelson to rest just a few hours before, but then Murderface had said something about finding happiness during dark times, and then Pickles had whipped out some bottles from Odin-knows-where.

Now,he’s on Toki’s bed, drunk off his ass and smiling goofily at the frowningNorwegian. 

“Why’sdat face, ah? Turns dat frowns… uh… huegh, I forgots how dats goes.”

”Skwisgaar,” Tokisays sternly, taking the older man’s shoes off, “ain’tsyou always the one yellings at me to not gets sloppies?”

“Ehhh… ja?” He wiggles his freed toes.

”But suddenly it ams okay when you does it?”

”Ja.”

There’s a loud crashing noise from the living room, followed by Pickles’ unmistakable “EEEEEH” and the other twos’ laughter, followed by another crash.

“Well,I hopes you’s happy. De other guys ams havings fun out theres, and I’ms stuckstakings care of yous drunk ass!”

Thebrunette starts to unbutton Skwisgaar’s jacket, but the blond grabs his hand.

“Butyou ams does de, uhh.. de goodest jobs takingks cares of me. Ams like apretties nurse whats ams for drunk peoples.” Toki, still frowning, blushes, andSkwisgaar can’t help but giggle. “Awww,looks at yous, all cutes when you’s blushingks. Looks like dem littles babiestomatoes.” He lifts his other hand to pinch the younger guitarist’s cheek.The Norwegian’s face becomes even redder, but he stays silent as he frees his hand to help the older man out of the jacket and under the covers.

“Oooh, cozies…”

Toki tucks the Swede in and leans down to kiss his forehead. the frown’s gone and replaced with a soft smile. he presents Deady bear to Skwisgaar, who is quick to accept it, and moves towards the door.

it’s the blond’s turn to frown. “Amen’ts yous gonna gets in bed wit’ me?” he asks, patting the space next to him.

“In a bits. Just goes to slepps, I’ll gets you waters or somethings.”

“Mmm, okays...”

Skwisgaar closes his eyes and drifts away.

When he opens them again, the room is dark and unusually cold, and his head is pounding. Deady Bear’s still pressed against his cheek, and the bottle of booze he had been working his way through last night is on Toki’s nightstand.

And yet, something’s off. No, a lot of things aren’t right. Not only is he not tucked in under the blankets, but the bed’s still neatly made. His tuxedo jacket’s the only thing keeping him warm, and his shoes feel so constricting. the voices outside the room aren’t the cheery hollers brought on by a night of celebration. They’re hushed, and Skwisgaar strains to make the words out.

Herecognizes Nathan’s gravelly voice. “…why you’re not letting us do shit.”

It’sCharles who responds.“Wecan’t afford to put any of you at risk, but rest assured, Nathan, we’re doing everything we can to find Toki before it’s too…”

Their footsteps recede, leaving the guitarist to fill in the pieces.

But it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Skwisgaar slowly brings a hand up to his forehead and touches the spot Toki had supposedly kissed. He swears he can still feel the warms lips on his skin. he curls up in a ball, draws Deady Bear against his chest, and cries.

It’s only the beginning of a relentless onslaught of dreams that plagueSkwisgaar’s mind throughout the year.

Some of his dreams are nice. Sometimes, he and Toki are lounging on the couch on a sunnysummer evening.Skwisgaar’s trying to practice hisguitar-playing, but his lover keeps brushing his brown locks on the blond’s nose like a paintbrush. Skwisgaar’sdemanding that he stop, and the younger guitarist’s giggling and promising that he will, for the price of one kiss.

Other times, they’re on his bed, and the Swede’s pleasantly surprised to discover that they’re both naked. Toki’s mustache tickles his face when their lips are pressed together. Then they’re both moaning, and panting, and whispering sweet nothings in the other’s ear. Skwisgaar grabs the younger man’s hips and brings him in, closer, closer, as close as possible,because he feels so good and he loves him so much, and this is the best way he can express it.

Toki’s audition, their first gig as the enw and improved Dethklok, their first “I love you”s after the ill-fated Guitarganza, they all provide Skwisgaar with temporary happiness, but just like the first night, he wakes up to an empty bed and an ache in his heart.

But he dreams of bad things, too.

Sometimes, he’s experiencing the That Night from Toki’s point of view, and feels his panic and confusion when Magnus yanks him back roughly. Dethklok’s just beyond the rift, so close yet so far. Why doesn’t Magnus let him go? Why don’t they see him? There’s a flash of reliefe when Nathan finally spots him and yells his name, but then the knife plunges into his side and he wakes up in a cold sweat.

But inothers, he’s Magnus. He’s the one whobetrayed his friend, he’s the onehurting Toki, and he’sdisgusted to realize that he’s enjoying it. He grips Toki’s hair in his fistand pulls it roughly, and the look of terror on the younger man’s face makes his heart hurt and sing atthe same time.Hishand is wrapped around the dagger’s handle, and there’s nothing he can do to stop himself frompushing the blade into the Norwegian’s flesh.

Hesees a younger Toki being beaten by his piece-of-shit father, and sometimes,the metal-faced man is back. And no matter how hard Skwisgaar tries, he can never move, he can never help Toki, and he’s left feeling as worthless and useless as he did That Night.

He’s not sure which dreams he hates more.

But Skwisgaar finds out soon enough, because one night, he finds himself back in the rehearsal space.

He’s completely frozen, staring down at the figure on the ground. He can hear Abigail sobbing, and Nathan’s roaring as his fists pummel into the floor.

Skwisgaar’s mind finally registers what he’s looking at, and a dry sob escapes his throat.

There lies Toki Wartooth, bloody and broken.

Dead.

“No.”The guitarist falls on his knees, barely registering the pain when he makes contact with the concrete.

“Toki?” HIs voice breaksashe crawls towards the body of his lover. He takes the youngerman’sface in his hands. “Toki?” But no matter how many times he says his name, nomatterhowmany times he kisses his bruised face, Toki doesn’t wake up.

He’shugging his lover tightly, wailing and wishing and willing for him to open hiseyes. Eyes thatfluttered whenever Skwisgaar leaned in to kiss him, the same eyes that staredat Skwisgaar adoringly when he played his guitar. The same eyes that watered and crinkledat the corners when Skwisgaar confessed that he loved him.

AndSkwisgaar knows it’s a dream, but if it’s a dream, then why does it feel so real?

Why can he feel Toki’s blood seeping through his shirt? Why is Toki so heavy in his arms?

Why is Toki’s skin so cold?

He shootsup in his bed, gasping and sobbing and shaking. The Swede wastesno time in standing up, and with just the white pelt around his shoulders tocover his body, makes his way to the medical wing. He’ssilently cursing Pickles for pointing out the bags under his eyes, he’s cursingCharles forsuggestingthat he sleep a bit, he’s cursing Nathan for carrying him out of Toki’s room,and he’s cursing Murderface for not interfering.

There’sa few medical Klokateers working the night shift, and they’re all completelyunfazed by a sniffling Skwisgaar Skwigelf determinedly making his way towards Toki’s room wrapped in nothing but a fur blanket.

Thedoor swings open silently, and the only sounds he hears are coming from thewhir and beeps of the medical equipment.Aquick glance at the whatchamacallit shows Toki’s stable heart rate, andSkwisgaar relaxes a little. The brunette’s brow furrows whenthe older man brushes somestrands of hair from his face and pulls the blanket up to his chin, but hedoesn’t wake up.Skwisgaar pulls up a chair, reaches for the brunette’s hand, and doesn’t sleep the rest of the night.

There finally comes a night when Skwisgaar doesn’t dream at all.

Ashift on his mattress wakes him from his peaceful slumber, and he looks down tosee a mass of brown hair on his chest. Thefigure turns towards Skwisgaar, and bleary, ice-blue eyes meet his electricones. 

“Did I wakes you up?”

“Nej,you ams fine,” he lies. He’s actually feeling kind of thankful, because asleepy-eyed, messy-haired, rosy-cheekedToki Wartooth is probably the cutest thing Skwisgaar’s ever seen.Thewarm light emanating from a recently purchased nightlight reflects off Toki’s skinin an orangish-yellow glow. He looks so soft and warm, and the older guitarist can’t suppress the urge to reach up and stroke his cheek.

The younger man yawns. “Bad dreams?”

“Nej,nots tonights,” answers the Swede. It’s the first time he can answer thatquestion honestly. “Yous?”

“Nots tonights.” Hefigures as much. Toki’s bad nights usually involved screaming and crying,sometimes punching. All things Skwisgaar’s learned how to handle, and vice-versa.

Skwisgaarwraps his arms around the younger man and buries his face in the soft brownhair. “Then what ams you doingks up, you dildoes? Goes backs to sleeps.”“Ams a good ideas.” Tokisnuggles up against him and plants a little kiss on his collarbone. “Loves you, Skwisgaar.”The blond tightens his hold on his lover.

“I loves you too, Toki.”