#and you know it’ll be bad but it’s ok

[quintessenceofdust88]

perfect (it's not all it's cracked up to be)

Hello everyone! I promised you guys that the sequel for this prompt would be up by the weekend, right? Turns out I only sorta lied cause it's still Monday hehe. I hope you enjoy it!

You can read it on AO3 if you'd prefer! ❤️

When Tommy wakes up, it’s like his body is on fire and freezing at the same time; half of his body feels numb, and the other half is hurting like never before. Huh, maybe his father had a point and all queer freaks end up in hell. Then again, considering one of his last deeds on Earth was walking out on sunshine itself, maybe it’s not about his queerness after all; it’s about Tommy himself. 

He hears a heart monitor at his side, and that gives him pause; he doesn’t think the afterlife bothers with medical devices, so… So maybe he’s alive? If only opening his eyes didn’t feel like it would hurt so much, Tommy could try and find out (not that he knows what hell looks like; it could be like a hospital room, for all he knows). He tries it anyway, letting out a grunt as it, indeed, hurts like a bitch. 

“Oh my God, you’re awake!” A voice says to his right side, and yeah, now Tommy’s pretty sure he’s not in hell. Evan Buckley doesn’t belong in hell, not even as part of Tommy’s eternal torture. 

As his vision clears, Tommy sees Evan is on a chair by his side, and he looks… Rough. There’s stubble covering his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s looking at Tommy with despair clearly written in his permanently wet eyes, as if he’s afraid Tommy will disappear if he looks away. And to Tommy, it’s still instinct to comfort Evan, to try and find something to say that’ll make him feel better.

“You found your present” He says dumbly, his eyes not leaving the burgundy hoodie that’s so beautifully wrapped around Evan’s frame, making him look as cozy and adorable as Tommy expected. And, well. It might not have been the smartest thing to say, but he supposes there’s a lot of morphine going through his body right now. 

“Well, yeah, after you told my sister where it was as your helicopter crashed? After you wished me Merry Christmas and Happy New Year as your parting words?! It wasn’t so difficult” He answers with a somewhat hysterical chuckle. “What the hell, Tommy?! You’re too much of a coward to actually let yourself be loved and see a future with me, but not to send a farewell message to me through dispatch?! You’re unbelievable!”

“Buck…” He starts, but it’s clear he won’t get to say anything this time. For one, his brain is still working a little too slow to translate thoughts into words. Evan seems to notice it, and lets out a defeated sigh. 

“We… We’ll talk later, ok? Let’s get a doctor to check on you first. Sorry, that should have been the first thing I did” He says grumpily, and presses the button by Tommy’s bed. 

From them on, it’s a flutter of doctors and nurses, and Tommy learns the extent of the damage: a broken femur, at least five crushed ribs and a small concussion, not to mention the thousand bruises that turned his whole left side black and blue; he hasn’t looked at a mirror yet, but it can’t be pretty. 

“Yeah, well, you should’ve seen the other guy, doc” He attempts to joke, and Evan’s scoff and the doctor’s exasperated look make it clear it wasn’t his best attempt. “So, let’s talk business, doc. Will I fly again?” Tommy asks, because that’s the question that matters the most. 

He realizes with a treacherous skip to his heart that Evan looks as interested in the answer as Tommy himself. During the whole time the doctor is talking to him about treatments and physical therapy and his perspective to get back to work, he stays by his side, nodding attentively at everything the doctor says (as if he’ll be involved in your treatment, a hopeful part of his brain that should have quieted down weeks ago supplies, and Tommy does his best not to listen to it, because it’ll hurt so bad when it’s not the case). 

When the doctor makes it clear that Tommy will not go back to the air for at least six months, Evan squeezes his hand and gives him a look of solidarity that goes a long way to make it not feel like the end of the world. And when the nurse comes to up Tommy’s dosage of morphine and redress his wounds, he doesn’t let go of his hand. Tommy wants to say something, anything, but he’s received a lot of information and the morphine running through his veins makes it difficult to put his thoughts into words. But he doesn’t want to fall asleep; he doesn’t want to let Evan go. 

“Sleep, Tommy” Evan tells him in a firm tone. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we’ll talk”

It sounds too good to be true; Tommy refuses to believe it. Evan would have every right to leave him to fend for himself; he wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. He closes his eyes, fully expecting to find an empty room when he wakes up.

But contrary to all expectations, when Tommy opens his eyes again, feeling slightly more like a person and less like a shapeless bruise, is to find Evan in the same chair, only with the black hoodie this time, and a cup of coffee in his hand. 

He’s impossibly handsome in black, Tommy thinks dazedly, taking advantage of the fact Evan’s looking down at his phone to take a good look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Tommy wonders if he’s been home at all. 

His heart does another one of those treacherous leaps, and Tommy is having a hard time keeping the hope from bubbling in his chest. Because if this man saw Tommy at his worst, physically and (especially) emotionally, and was willing to stay this long by his side, who’s to say he won’t stay longer? He was willing to; Tommy was the one who fled, thinking it was about the excitement of a new relationship, but staying by his side after a helicopter crash is something entirely different. Who’s to say he won’t just… stay?

Tommy has to be brave; hell, he’s been brave before, on that glorious night where he took a leap of faith and placed a kiss to the man who had maimed his best friend for Tommy’s attention. Evan had been brave, if a little misguided, when he invited Tommy to move in with him. He owes him some bravery right now. If nothing else, he owes him some honesty after everything.

“You were right” He blurts out, and Evan looks up from his phone, staring at him with widened blue eyes. 

“H-hey, you’re up! Do… Do you need anything? I can call the nurse…” He trails off when Tommy’s hand, the one which is less covered in scrapes and bruises, reaches out to lightly touch his.

“I just need you to listen to me. You… you were right, Evan. I was a coward. I am a coward. I… I don’t know how to be loved. I never was” He admits it, and hates himself for choking up as he says it. This isn’t a pity party; he’s just stating a fact: the sky is blue, alcohol is flammable, Thomas Kinard was never loved. He hates how it makes Evan’s whole demeanor soften, because Tommy doesn’t deserve it. 

“Then let me love you” Evan whispers, taking Tommy’s hand in both of his. “Let me teach you how it feels. It’s… It’s not like I’m an expert at it, ok? I… I haven’t always been loved either. But… but I love you. You broke my fucking heart, Tommy, and I still love you. Do… do you love me?”

“With all of my heart” Tommy whispers back, and he can’t keep a tear from running down his face. Hell, he almost died, he’s allowed to be emotional. “T-that’s why I had to leave, Evan. If… If you didn’t love me back… If you found out I wasn’t perfect…”

“I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But guess what? I love you anyway, you idiot” He says, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead, another to the tip of his nose, and a very tender one to his lips. “You… You always wanted me to see you as perfect. You barely let me in all the time we were together. But I saw it anyway, Tommy, and I still wanted you. I still want you”

“I… I was so afraid of being hurt that I didn’t think I’d be hurting you” Tommy admits with a sigh. “A-actually I didn’t think you’d be hurt. I… I thought you’d be okay. I’m sorry, Evan”

“Well, I wasn’t okay. Just ask all of my friends and the thousand loaves of bread in their pantries” He says with a chuckle, and then looks Tommy deeply in the eyes. “Next time, talk to me instead of doing a dramatic exit. And don’t wait till you almost die to let me know where my Christmas presents are”

Tommy chuckles, and squeezes Evan’s hand. He wishes he could sit up and kiss him within an inch of his life, but it  sounds a little out of his physical abilities right now. He’ll content himself, with a peck on the lips before Evan sits back down, still holding Tommy’s hand in his. 

“I promise Christmas will be perfect” He says, and Evan shakes his head.

“I don’t need perfect, Tommy. I just need you”

–

And Christmas is not perfect. Tommy’s still mostly on bed rest and his leg’s still in a cast. Buck’s staying at his place for now to help him around, but they decided to leave any serious conversations about moving in to after New Year’s. They haven’t really decorated (Tommy was too depressed to bother, and Buck didn’t really have the time between his shifts and taking care of Tommy) and their plans for the day mostly consist in staying in bed and alternating between cheesy rom-coms and documentaries. 

It’s not perfect. They are not perfect. But they’re together, and Tommy finds himself thanking any deity out there for his accident. That it brought Evan back to him, and more importantly, him back to Evan. 

Buck’s wearing his new burgundy hoodie, and he gives Tommy the airplane model that he stubbornly kept in the hood of the Jeep all this time. They assemble it together, and it’s not the best, because Tommy’s hands are still a little sore and Buck’s not very good at the whole arts and crafts thing, but Tommy puts in his nightstand with adoration anyway. 

And if there’s no tree, no Christmas dinner, no cheesy sweaters, well. They can always make up for it next Christmas.

--

Tag list: (let me know if you’d like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if you'd rather only be tagged on Little Blobs' verse, also let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter  @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie  

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 5

Harlow

I DON’T HEAR anything else he says. I abruptly rise from my chair, practically tipping it over, and get the fuck out of that cafe as fast as I possibly can.

By the time I reach the patio, my chest is so tight, that I can hardly pull in a lungful of air. I feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m going to pass out, and my heart is beating so fast, I can feel it pulsing in my throat.

Fuck.

I know exactly what this is. It’s a panic attack–one of several dozen I’ve had in the last few months. But regardless of how often it happens, each time is just as scary as the last. It never gets easier or less terrifying.

I feel a hand on my arm. “Harlow , are you okay?” Noah. Of course.

I shake my head and struggle to take in big gulps of air. It’s not working. “Breathe, Little Rabbit. In slowly, then out.”

His voice is oddly soothing, but the fact that he thinks he can talk me out of the panic attack that he created is infuriating. I swallow and jerk my

arm out of his grip. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

It takes everything in me to get those two sentences out, but I manage it. “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re obviously having a panic

attack,” he says.

Everyone is still staring at us–even more so now–and that just adds to my anxiety. I need to get out of here. Somewhere safe, quiet. I have a class in a few minutes, but I’m not sure I’ll make it. I have no choice, though. I’m here on a scholarship, which means I can’t afford to be bumped from any of my classes—and the first week is crucial. Each class is only allowed a certain number of students, and if I’m not there to claim my seat, it’ll be taken by someone else.

I force my spine to straighten, and I suck in a deep, strengthening breath. My heart still feels like a jackrabbit thumping against my ribs, but I do my best to ignore it.

“My next class starts in a few minutes. I have to go.” And with that, I turn toward the social science building without waiting for Noah to respond.

Damn. Day two and I’ve already been nearly assaulted, claimed by the campus king, and had a panic attack. I’m starting to think this school has too much drama for me.

But it’s the only school that offered me a full ride, so I guess I’m stuck here.

I book it to the social sciences building and find a seat in my next class. Once I’m settled in the corner, away from everyone else, my heart rate starts going back to normal. Thank God.

I pull my phone out to text Talia .

Just had a full-on panic attack in front of everyone at the cafe.

She texts me back immediately.

You ok?

I type out my response.

Yeah, better now. We were invited to a sorority party tonight. Come with me?

Considering my anxiety level, I probably shouldn’t be going to a party tonight, but I know it’ll cheer Talia up. Besides, with a couple of drinks in my system, I’ll be fine.

My phone pings. It’s Talia .

Sure. Sounds good. I have to meet someone after class, but I’ll text you later.

I shove my phone into my backpack and try to focus on the professor, who is introducing himself, and for the rest of class, I’m just kind of there. Present, but not really paying attention. All I can think about is Noah. Why am I so transfixed by him? He’s such an asshole, and not only that, he’s surrounded by other assholes. I don’t need that in my life.

The queen of bad decisions. That’s me. I should have told Noah to fuck-off last night. Well, I guess I did, but I didn’t follow it up with the vitriol he deserves—and that’s on me.

At some point, Skye texts me with the information for the party, and I forward it to Talia . One of my classes runs kinda late, so rather than have her wait on me, I suggest meeting her at the party.

It’s dark when my last class lets out. About thirty of us pour out of the social sciences building, dispersing in multiple directions.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

A familiar baritone cuts through the crisp evening air, and I shudder. Not from cold, but from awareness spiking in my veins. Noah Sabastian was waiting for me outside the building. This is the third time being accosted by him today.

I keep walking. “Oh, look. It’s you. How do you have so much time to follow me around? Don’t you have your own classes?”

“My building is next to yours,” he replies, keeping step with me.

The physics building. Hm. Maybe the guy is more intelligent than I give him credit for. Or maybe he’s buying his grades, which somehow seems more likely.

“Didn’t we kinda say everything we needed to say this afternoon?” I huff. “Why are you here?”

“It’s dark. We don’t want a repeat of last night, do we?”

I stop and turn toward him abruptly. “Didn’t you say you took care of that? I mean, the guy is in the hospital, right? Sounds like he’s going to be laid up for a while. ”

“You’re dating one of the Sacred Sons, Harlow . He’s not the only one who’ll come after you.”

“First, and foremost, we’re not dating. So let’s get that clear. Second, why would anyone come after me? Why? I’ve been here less than a week. The only questionable thing I’ve done was attend your stupid ceremony.”

And, seriously, I’m looking for less drama in my life, not more

Noah shoves his hands into his pockets and narrows his eyes at me. “Listen, Harlow , I know this campus. I know the people here. Anyone connected with the Sacred Sons will draw attention.”

I start walking again, and he follows. I’m walking toward my residence hall, which thankfully isn’t very far. “If you run this place–like you claim you do—then can’t you just tell people to leave me alone?”

“It’s not that simple.” His voice is tight. “The only way people will leave you alone is if they see us together. If they know you’re under my protection.”

Jezus. “This is beginning to feel like some weird mafia situation.”

We reach my building, and I open the side door. When he amoves to follow me, I turn on my heel and put my hand out, stopping him, “I’m good, thanks. I don’t think anyone is going to accost me in the time it takes to get to my room.”

Just as I turn back to walk through the door, he grabs my wrist. “Are you going to the party tonight?”

If I say yes, I know he’s going to insist on coming, too. Or at the very least, walk me there.

“It’s been a crazy couple of days, and I’m exhausted. I think I might just go to bed early,” I lie

He nods once and releases me. “Text me if you go out.”

Not a chance .

“Sure, whatever.”

When I get upstairs, I stop by Talia 's room and knock. No answer. Her roommate isn’t even around. Not that I expected Talia to be there. She

probably headed over to the party a while ago. She’d never responded to my last text, but she can be a little scattered, and sometimes she forgets to reply.

Emily is on her bed when I enter. Her side of the room is so much cuter than mine. A couple of days ago, both her parents came to help her move in. Her mom, especially, had fussed over her—helping her set up her desk, and arrange the pictures on her wall. Her dad had set her computer up and made sure she was connected to the wifi, and all that.

I’d watched it all with envy.

No one had ever taken care of me like that. Never. Everything I do, I do alone. I’m an only child, and I’ve lived with my grandmother since I was eleven. And my grandmother loves me, but she’s tired and has a lot of health issues. My dad is nearly nonexistent, and my mom doesn’t give a shit about anyone but herself. So yeah, she’s not coming here to take me shopping and make my side of the room cute. I doubt she even knows I’m here.

“Hey,” I say as I walk in, tossing my backpack onto my bed. “I’m headed over to a sorority party. You wanna join?”

Emily glances up from her laptop. “Um, I mean, I need to get some reading done for class…”

I open my dresser drawer and pull out a pair of jeans and a tank top. We have a shared bathroom down the hall that I could use to change, but going all the way down there is so annoying, so I decide to just dress here. As soon as I shuck the pants I’m wearing, Emily averts her gaze. I tug my jeans on and replace my baby-T with a plain white tank top.

I’m refreshing my makeup when I make my last-ditch effort to convince Emily to join me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? It might be fun.”

Honestly, I don’t even really want to go myself, but Talia is probably already there, and I really don’t want to walk over alone. Not after what happened last night.

“We could always leave a little early, so you can get your reading done,” I add.

She hesitates for a second, then closes her laptop and sets it aside. “Okay. Maybe just for a little while.”

We’re both ready in about five minutes, and we start heading over to the sorority. It’s only a block away, so it takes us about three minutes to get over there.

The place is a fucking mad house.

The house is beautiful, two stories, and right on the beach. Inside is chaos, though, and as soon as we get there, I text Talia .

I’m here. Where are you?

She doesn’t text back right away, so I leave Emily out on the back patio with a couple of her friends and go in search of Talia .

This place is packed to the gills with hot guys, though, I’ll say that. These guys definitely weren’t at the Burning Crown ceremony last night— which is a point in their favor. The guys here have that chill, beach boy look, which is right up my alley.

Inside, bodies are crushed together, undulating to the rhythm of the music, which is blaring over the din of laughter. As I look for Talia , I grab a drink—a solo cup half filled with cinnamon-flavored whiskey. It tastes like a Red Hots candy and goes down really easy.

I’m three sips in, and already feeling relaxed as I hunt for Talia . But she’s not here. In the span of ten minutes, I’ve looked in every closet and dark corner. I glance at my phone for the millionth time, and there’s still no response from her. Where is she?

I try not to panic, though. She’ll be here. Maybe she met a new friend and she’s just running late, caught up in some random drama. Who fucking knows with her. She’s always been the life of the party, and pretty impulsive. I wouldn’t put it past her to tag along with a group of girls she’d just met.

I don’t see my new friend, Skye, either, so I’m standing alone, just finishing my first drink, when someone sidles up beside me. At first, I don’t even notice. But after a few seconds, I hear a male baritone address me.

“Hey,” he says. “Didn’t I see you at Rush House last night?”

I glance over to see a cute guy with wavy brown hair, dark eyes, and a sweet, wholesome smile. He’s wearing a blue polo and looks like he just stepped off a golf course. I nearly do a double-take, because he looks so out of place here.

“Hi,” I say with a smile, raising my voice so I can be heard over the music. “Yeah, my friend, Talia and I were invited. Are you a member?”

“I’m not supposed to say,” he says with a smile. “I’m Nathan Hearst.”

I nod awkwardly. “Harlow .”

He looks confused and leans in closer to me. His clean, eucalyptus scent envelops me. “I’m sorry, say that again?”

I inch closer to him. “It’s unusual, I know. My mom is weird.” I laugh a little to cut the awkwardness. “It’s Harlow . L-U-X.”

“Oh, Harlow .” His head bobs. “That’s a really cool name.”

“Thanks,” I answer, draining the last of my cinnamon-flavored whiskey. He notices my empty solo cup. “Can I grab you another drink?”

“Oh, thanks. I was drinking the whiskey.” I hand him my cup, and he leaves to refill it. He’s back in under a minute, handing me a fresh cup. I nod, and thank him again, taking a sip.

“You look like you’re searching for someone,” he says, watching the girls in the middle of the room as they twerk against each other.

“Uh, yeah, I’m supposed to meet my friend here. She’s probably on her way,” I say, glancing at my phone. Still no message from her.

“So what are you studying?” he asks.

I tell him what my major is, and we make small talk for a bit—all the while, I’m watching the front door, waiting for Talia to walk through it.

It’s so nice to have a normal conversation with a cute guy, though. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like. All the guys I’ve been involved with over the last couple of years have been both hot as fuck and crazy like a devil—Noah Sabastian included.

This guy is just…normal. And the longer we talk about nothing, the more comfortable I feel. Maybe my luck in guys is actually changing.

Nathan and I are just chatting about nothing when everyone in the house

—and I mean, the entire house—erupts into a roar of excitement. Everyone stomps their feet in a rhythm they all seem to know by heart .

What the…?

Nathan glances at me, and I get the sense he’s trying to gauge my reaction–which, honestly, is just confusion. “Now the party has officially started,” he explains. “The Sons have just arrived.”

[vashti-lives]

*squints at the fact that there’s no announced casting for Overse*

If they’ve adapted out the (quite minor!!) lesbian relationship I’m gonna riot.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

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[fumifooms]

shut up, straight

I dared to say "hey let’s not shit on m/f couples it alienates queer people in the community too" on my blog and didn’t even put it in any tags and here we are ✌️ You are a tar pit.

[exasperatedoctopus]

Do you ever just look at a drawing or a painting or whatever and reality telescopes outward and you realize that whoever made it just like, put lines and splotches on paper? They drew three shapes and like a half-squiggle and that is Irrevocably Spock, or they smeared a few colors around and it’s the prettiest underwater tableau I ever saw. It’s WITCHCRAFT.

How. How do they do it? They look at a complex 3D thing, and their brain provides them with the exact squiggles necessary to get other people to know What They Meant.

Visual distillation, I could never.

[ssreeder]

Hi again! I loved the new chapter!! It made me stare at my ceiling existentially for an hour (every chapter does) and we finally get Ara oh god. Im kinda an Ara hater. I’ve always kinda hated her but she was slightly redeemable? Until in itf where we get her POV and she purposefully made Zuko’s life a living hell. That’s when i became a full fledged Ara hater club member. But it still so hard for me to fully hate her cause yk she’s a victim too.

Anyways, she’s a super compelling character and I change my mind every chapter if i hate her or not. So I got bored again and made this . Have a good day!!!

Haha her POV was very much like *hair flip* “yeah I tried to destroy him but it proved to be a lot more difficult than I thought, but I did try.”

She’s really an interesting gal right there with a moral compass that is just constantly spinning in circles. Hopefully she can find some solid ground to stand on and eventually build herself a new life… we’ll see haha.

Thanks for this I adore it!!

[strawberryfaced]

i actually think the big question is. will you still hold me when the melted ice cream on the floor is cleaned up because the death of summer is like the rebirth of the monster in my organs and on the last day of the good sun I will be too busy catching up with my breath to go catch the sunset and I will be hungry like a guilty dog his muzzle smothered with his owner’s stolen food. my canine teeth will be sharp and bloody with slivers of my own skin stuck to the edges and like a god I will just weep as if my fucking mother has died as if I cry not tears but gold as if when the sun stops bleeding through the clouds the blood will drip onto me and god, you only know it’s poison once it’s on your skin.

[diffenbachiae]

the worst part of anxiety is that it feels bad before you do the thing, while you’re doing the thing, AND after you’re doing the thing, but if you ever stop doing the things it gets WAY WORSE!!!!

[floral-hex]

Okay okay, I usually hate posting selfies, but then again, I also love a little mild attention. So, to strike a balance, here are 4 recent ones, but I’m posting them at 2am so I don’t have to worry about bothering too many people. Yeah? Ok thanks I love you

[passthroughtime]

i’m starting to suspect that i just fucking suck 🤔 unsure yet though, but there are lots of signs already pointing to this... gotta mean something 🧐

[peapod20001]

I am the nail growth self saboteur!!

[sshaw0l]

hey uhh people need to stop commenting on Jinki’s weight loss regardless of wether you mean well or not; receiving hundreds of comments like like on something that cannot instantly ‘fixed’ is distressing to see

[dreamertrilogys]

i’m so fucking tired (physically but also emotionally/mentally) like i don’t even feel like a person rn

[strohller27]

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[sochilll]

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