#if the insomnia keeps me awake tonight ill watch:

[everymanpdf]

i still haven't seen the lighthouse i went SO long without watching horror before my most recent resumption and now im playing catchup :|

[nightwishesworld]

hello! do you think you could do a chapter with fem!reader whose afraid of thunderstorms and wakes up in the middle of the night because of it but doesn’t wanna wake alcina so she just stays awake but the storm goes on for like a week and this keeps happening until she notices and comforts you through it by like cuddles or talking you to sleep to distract you from it :)

Oh my god I hate the way this came out. My brain just could not process this for some reason. I also couldn't make it as long as a week, my apologies.

**************

One dark evening at Castle Dimitrescu a storm rolled in. Relatively speaking, it was quite harmless and most of the inhabitants of the castle were unbothered by the storm.

Except you.

Late into the evening, whilst most were asleep, the storm was at its strongest - the crackle of thunder rolling through the halls as flashes of lightning illuminated the darkest corners of the room. You were trying to sleep, honest, but just as you felt the drowsiness of rest come to take you - a loud crack of thunder would jolt you awake and paralyze you with fear.

You sat with your back against the headboard, your breathing rapid.

You pulled the covers up to your chest and hugged your pillow close to your chest. Resisting the urge to run and hide in the closet like you used to do as a kid was becoming more and more difficult.

Another flash, another boom.

You knew it wasn’t logical, but you couldn’t stop yourself from flinching or jumping as the sounds of the storm roared outside. It was just so loud and you could swear the castle was shaking with it.

You squeezed your eyes shut, white-knuckling the pillow held tight against your chest and humming a song to yourself in order to distract your brain.

The sound of constant rain was suddenly accompanied by heavy hail falling, and that’s when the thoughts started charging at you full force.

What if the lightning strikes the castle? What if the castle collapsed? Did it have the right infrastructure? What if-

“Stop it, God. Stop it!” You begged your brain but to no avail. Your mind kept generously providing you with possibilities and images you did not ask for.

Another loud boom and this time you couldn’t help the cry let out before clapping a hand over your mouth and diving under the blankets.

When you didn’t hear anything for a few minutes you felt it safe enough to come out of hiding. Thankfully the vampire slumbering next to you wasn’t disturbed by your pathetic cries and whimpers. She had a rough day dealing with a very pissed off Mother Miranda and needed rest and relaxation as much as she could possibly get.

You forced yourself to lay still on your back and focus all your energy on controlling your breathing. That was the key to saving yourself a panic attack. You don’t know how long you were staring up at the ceiling, but dawn eventually came and your partner stirred from her sleep.

She would have been happy to see you if not for the redness in your eyes and puffiness surrounding them, obvious signs of lack of sleep.

“Are you alright, draga mea?” She wrapped her arms around your midsection and rested her head on your shoulder, kissing your cheek.

You didn’t answer, even though you knew Alcina wouldn’t just drop the question. She was sweet and caring like that, which is probably why you never had the heart to tell her how much of a coward you actually are.

“You didn’t sleep very well, did you?”

“Nightmares,” you rasped, trying to focus on Alcina more than the low rumbling outside. “I’ll be fine after a cup of coffee.”

She looked as though she didn’t accept that answer but quickly hid any doubts behind a warm smile. “If you’re sure.”

It felt wrong lying to her. You had never felt the need to hide anything from Alcina before, but this was just embarrassing. She’d probably laugh at you told her you were still afraid of thunderstorms.

The day progressed with relative normalcy despite the occasional sounds of rumbling. Alcina busied herself dealing with the mountain of paperwork on her desk for Mother Miranda and the girls were running amuck in the basement. Depending on which room you were in you could hear their laughter below you. Their mischief down there has always been a mystery to you, even now after living in the castle a couple of years. You knew what they were doing, but couldn't fathom the idea of enjoying it so much. You did find it rather disturbing that their torturing frightened you less than a stupid thunderstorm.

You huddled in the back section of the library behind the bookshelves so you couldn’t see the lightning out the windows. The loud rumbling still had you on edge, but a good book is always a welcome distraction. It worked so well, that you didn't hear Daniela approaching. You practically jumped three feet in the air when she was stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong with you?” Daniela asked, her voice was stern, but it also had a concerning tone to it. She had dropped her bag, keeping the knife at her side. Your breathing was heavier than usual as you tried to think of what to say. It was more than embarrassing to tell Daniela the truth. You knew for a fact she out of everyone in the castle would laugh at you. "You scared me,"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Dummy, I mean what's really wrong?"

You shrug and turn the page of your book. “Nothing.”

Another boom. You couldn’t fight off flinched.

“Oh, I think I get it. You’re afraid of-”

“Don’t tell anyone.” You clenched your fists, shutting your eyes tightly. Daniela wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. You watched as she cautiously sat back down. The redhead sat in front of you, the rain somehow sounding even louder than it had before. You looked over at Daniela, feeling the embarrassment creep upon you.

Daniela started at you with a rather confused expression, resting her arms on her knees. “Out of everything we’ve been through,” she began, “everything you’ve seen us do. Everything that goes on in this castle just below your feet,” she paused. “And you’re scared of thunder?”

You sat silently and twiddled your thumbs.

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you whisper. “It’s not important. You’re only going to run off and tell everyone.”

Daniela rolled her eyes and picked up her bag, headed once again for the basement. “Whatever, y/n, have it your way.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening shuffling around the library hiding from the white flashes. It was only when Daniela came to fetch you for dinner that you left. Luckily you were eating in the kitchen instead of the larger Dining Hall. The kitchen is much more manageable; marginally fewer windows to see the lightning. The meal carried on as it normally would; the girls boasted about their successes in the basement, Alcina discusses all the work she got done today and complains about the work she put off for tomorrow. It was almost enough to take your mind off the chaos happening just outside the windows. Almost.

The storm carried on just as confidently throughout the evening and into the night. It showed no signs of relenting, which in turn meant another sleepless night.

You wasted no time stripping your clothes and crawling into bed, back to the open windows. Alcina didn’t think much of it, simply chalking it up to being exhausted from the previous night’s lack of sleep. She wasn’t completely wrong, you did feel like you were ready to sleep for the next 24 hours. But you knew the storm wouldn’t allow you that luxury.

Pressure against your back and an arm wrapping around your midsection snapped you out of your thoughts.

“I hope you sleep tonight, my love.”

“Me too.”

An hour later and you were still wide awake listening to the rain being pelted against the windows. An anxious voice whispered impossible scenarios of the rain breaking through the windows and lightning striking you down in the safety of your bed. You tried your hardest to not toss and turn as to not disturb the woman next to you. She's not asleep yet, you can tell by the lack of snoring, but her breathing is starting to even out. You were curled up on your side, back to Alcina. She wrapped you in her arms, her chest against your back and arm across your waist. "Dove..." she whispered in your ear. "Y/n... "

"I'm sleeping, Al." You murmured snuggling further into the vampire’s arms, your eyes still closed.

"No, you're not." She stroked your side absently. “Are you sure you’re ok? You aren’t falling ill are you?”

You sigh. “No, I’m not getting sick. My body is just too exhausted to relax.”

Alcina hummed, burrowing her face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll stay up with you for a while.”

“You will not. Go to sleep Al, I’ll be fine. You had a long day yourself, one of us should be able to sleep."

"Why don't we go sit in the Drawing Room or the Library? I'll hold you in my lap and read to you." God no. Way too many windows. "Goodnight, Alcina." You feel her sigh against your skin, pushing a few stray hairs around. "Can I do anything?" "Stop worrying, it's just insomnia." "I'll stay up with you then. You shouldn't be up all by yourself staring at the ceiling." "I'm not alone, Love, you're right here with me. Asleep or not I'm still in your arms, and that helps a lot." You feel her smile against your neck and pull you closer against her front. "wake me if you need anything."

You actually slept fairly well; only waking up a few times to have Alcina soothe you back to sleep. Being tucked away in her embrace did a world of help, but you still woke up hours before Alcina did. Her eyes fluttered open and focus on your groggy face. She frowns.

"Did you sleep at all?"

You smile and kiss her lips. "Yes, I actually slept a lot better last night than before."

"Good," she pulls you back to kiss you again.

*******************************************************************************************

Later in the afternoon Bela and Cassandra invited (dragged you really) into the Drawing Room to play a game of cards.

Everything was going really well. You were laughing and playing with the girls like everything was as it should be in Castle Dimitrescu.

You were made astutely aware of the situation outside again when a loud crack of thunder shook the castle. There was another flash and clap of thunder, this time loud enough to make Cassandra flinch.

You abruptly shot up from the table. “Sorry. I need a minute.” You rushed down the hall into one of the guest rooms. Cassandra and Bela shared a confused glance and watched as you hurried away. They’d never seen you so flighty and nervous before. Neither could tell what was wrong.

They laid on the carpet and silently counted to sixty before following you to down the corridor.

“Y/n?” Bela softly knocked on the door. “It’s been a minute.”

There was no response. More thunder. Bela frowned. “We’re coming in, okay?”

She opened the door a crack and poked her head inside. You were nowhere to be seen. “Y/n?” Cassandra called, stepping further inside and glancing around the room. The sisters checked under the bed, then under the covers, even under the shade of the bedside lamp. Then Bela peered out of the rain-soaked window for good measure. Where else could you be?

Just as Cassandra decided she was stumped, she heard a rustling from behind her and a muffled, “I’m in here.” She turned around in confusion because the only place they hadn’t checked in that direction was…

They crept over to the closet and carefully slid open the door. The girls smiled when they found you sitting on the ground, curled up with your head between your knees. “Playing hide and seek now, are we?” Bela said. “Next round I call being the— um, y/n?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, staying right where you were. “Sorry.”

“S-Sorry for what…?” Cassandra crouched down beside you. The closet almost had enough space for the three of you to fit.

“Y/n, please. Something’s obviously bothering you, can’t you tell us?”

All three of you startled as another flash of lightning cut into the room, followed by another growl of thunder. You tightened your grip around your legs. Bela’s jaw dropped.

“It’s the storm,” she said, half a question, half a statement. “You’re scared of thunder?”

“It’s childish.”

“Oh, y/n…”

“I’m weak. Something as dumb and simple as loud noises shouldn’t make me so—”

“Y/n. Look at me.” Cassandra’s gently stern tone convinced you to move your head so your chin rested on your knees. You side-eyed the girls, trying to imitate your usual stoicism. It was difficult with red-rimmed eyes.

“A phobia doesn’t make you childish, or weak— do you know how many people have a fear of thunder, y/n? A lot of humans.”

“A lot of Uncle Heisenberg’s lycans as well,” Bela chimed in.

“And are you going to go around insulting them? No, Y/n, because that’s not nice. So don’t insult yourself for the same thing.” Cassandra waved around her index finger as she spoke. Your eyes widened and followed the movement. Both girls laughed.

“Is that what’s been giving you nightmares?”

You shake your head. “I just haven’t been sleeping; too tense.”

Cassandra giggled. “Just ask mother for extra cuddles, not like she’ll say no.”

“Or a more intimate distraction,” Bela winked.

Both sisters giggle at the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Can we sit here with you?” Bela asked, already taking the vacant spot on your right.

You shrugged— as much as you could in this balled-up position. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s ok y/n, we don’t mind.”

They sat on either side of you, Bela holding your hand, enjoying the comfortable silence that cast over you.

*******************************************************************************************

A loud crack of thunder jolted Alcina awake. Cursing to herself she eyed the clock across the room–2:06 am. Raking a hand down her face, she jolted again when another crack of thunder echoed through the castle. It wasn’t a minute later that an insistent downpour of rain started pelting the roof and windows followed by an angry howling of the wind. You stirred next to her in the bed. You were mumbling in what sounded like a mix of Romanian and English. Alcina swallowed thickly because she knew what that meant; another night terror. She laid back down and curled herself against you, cocooning herself against your back. Alcina placed a few stray kisses on your shoulders and the nape of your neck, smoothing her hands along your hipbone in the process. You calmed after a few minutes, your mumbling returning to the steadying breaths of deep sleep. Alcina sighed in relief and closed her eyes in hopes that she could drift back to sleep.

KRAK-OOOOOM!

Alcina sat up on the bed and saw you still appeared to be sleeping, though you looked somewhat agitated. She reached over and attempted to run her fingers through your hair but all that succeeded in doing was causing you to jolt awake.

You woke up with a strangled yell and starting crawling out from underneath the sheets. You sat with your back against the headboard, your breathing and heart rate rapid. Alcina crawled over and realized you were having a panic attack. “Y/n, can you hear me?” You nodded, your eyes squeezed shut as tears started leaking from the corners. You clamped a hand over your mouth, and Alcina realized you were trying to silence your breathing. “Honey no, don’t do that, just focus on me,” she pulled your hand away from your mouth slowly. You shook your head and tried to take your hand back. “No no no... I can’t- I-I-I can’t wake Al-Alcina,” you gasped. “It’s alright, Dove, just follow my breathing.” Alcina took exaggerated breaths to demonstrate. You started calming down slightly. “That’s it, everything is alright, just keep breathing.” You seemed to calm down more with the breathing exercises. “I’m going to get you a glass of water“ Alcina started to say, but was cut off by you grabbing her arm. “No! Don’t-don’t lea- don’t leave, please, don’t- don’t” you closed her eyes, her breath quickening again. “Sweetheart, breathe with me. In, out. In, out.” Alcina took your hand and put it on her chest. “Breathe with me. In, out. In, out.” Your breathing returned to normal. After sitting in silence for a bit, Alcina turned to her.

“Another night terror?” She asked. You looked away for a minute, ashamed of yourself.

“No.”

God, you probably woke her up, good job.

Alcina couldn’t keep an amused smile from forming. “Can my little dove not sleep because of the thunderstorm?”

As if on cue, a blinding bolt of lightning crackled down from the sky. The following rumble of thunder seemed to shake the castle. You let out a whimper and shielded yourself from the sky. “How could I possibly sleep when it sounds like the sky is falling?!”

Alcina hums and pulls you close against her. “There’s nothing wrong with a healthy fear, Dove. It brings out the human in you.”

“UGH! Just-!”

KRAK-OOOOOM!

Another shriek, barely muffled by Alcina’s shoulder, had you violently trembling. You were barely holding yourself together.

Wracked with terror, eyes shut tightly, you found yourself unable to prevent the reflexive compulsion to cling to something nearby.

Which, in this case, was Alcina, who was left staring in shocked silence at the violently trembling form with arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. She immediately wrapped her arms around you again and began rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Calm down. You’re fine,” She spoke softly, ignoring the buzz under her skin as she soaked in the unwitting embrace like a dry sponge in water. Soothingly, she rubbed up to your shoulder blades. “There we are, my love,” Alcina chuckled. “I’ve got you. Listen to my voice,” She rumbled, speaking soft but firm as the thunder forced smaller tremors through the floor. “You’re going to relax. I’m going to help you. Just lay here with me and close your eyes. I’ll hold you all night if you want me to.”

Gradually, the sound faded and petered off back into the loud patter of rain against the windows but Alcina held you tightly still. She could feel the flutter of your heartbeat against her own, almost impressed that you hadn’t passed out from fear alone.

“Why didn’t you say anything? The storm’s been going on for days now you must have been petrified.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” you mumbled into her neck. “It’s a pathetic fear I’ve had since I was a kid. I don’t want you to think less of me.”

“You think something as trivial as a phobia would make me think less of you?” She pulled you even tighter against her. You melted into her embrace. “Clearly I haven’t been a very good partner to you.”

“No Al, it’s not like that. Gods, you’re an amazing partner. It’s just my stupid insecurities. You’re all so fearless and brave. You’re not afraid of anything, and then there’s me; tiny, inferior, afraid of a little thunderstorm.”

She sighed and continued rubbing circles on your back. “I’m not fearless.”

“Yeah right,” you scoff. “What could the great and powerful Alcina Dimitrescu possibly be afraid of?”

“Death.”

You wriggled out of her arms just enough to turn and face her. “What? But, you’re immortal. Death isn’t really something you have to worry about.”

She gave a small smile and brought a hand to cup your face. “I never said my death, sweet one.”

Oh...OH

“The girls are clever, they can get themselves out of most situations unscathed, but still, we can be slain. And there have been some pretty close calls in the past. And you,” she rubbed gentle circles on your cheek. “Your death is inevitable. It gnaws at the back of my mind every time I look at you. Every time morning I have to untangle myself from your embrace I remember that one day I’ll wake up alone and wish I cuddled with you for just a bit longer."

"Al, I didn't-"

"I can't always be there to protect you, including the girls. If I could take the brunt of all conflict for you I would gladly do so, but that's unfortunately not how life works. I'm just left worrying until I know for sure you're all safe."

She hummed into your neck and kissed your pulse point. "How selfish of me, I'm supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around. If I paid more attention I would have known, I’m sorry, my love.”

“Don’t apologize, just hold me.”

Alcina kissed the top of your head. “With pleasure.”

Soon enough you did fall asleep again, your arms still clinging tight around the vampire’s upper midsection. Alcina found a comfortable enough position and allowed herself to drift away as well.

[mithrilwren]

Dedicated to my own persistent insomnia over the last number of months, and the fact that I’ve never written a Fjord-centric oneshot, which is frankly criminal. This is Fjord/Caduceus, but leaning more towards the queerplatonic side of of the die than explicitly romantic (smooches are nice but have you heard of unfaltering emotional support?) [also on ao3]

the morning calls your name (fjorclay, ~5000 words)

It’s not so much that Fjord stops sleeping. It’s more that it’s begun to taper down: the number of hours he spends with his eyes closed. 

There was a time that he got a full seven hours a night, sometimes even more than that, though it seems a far off memory now. Ship life is lousy with routine, the kind that can ruin the wrong sort of man - drive him mad with boredom, or make him rabid for the first sight of land, or trouble - but for Fjord, the routine was all part of the draw. You always knew the time your shift began, and when the bell rang and your berth beckoned, you went. His body got used to that predictability. It knew how to lull itself off to sleep without his help. All he had to do was lie there, let himself be drowned in the creak of the bulkheads and the briny surfside air, and then he’d be out, just like that. There wasn’t a trick to it. It just happened. 

A month ago, he would have settled for six. Now he tells himself that five is still enough to go on. Five hours is all that Vandren took - and after all, why should Fjord need more than him?

It’s when the number gets to four that it starts getting harder to convince himself that everything is the way it should be. That everything is fine, just as it is.

But, of course, he does.

—- 

One night over dinner in some backwoods tavern, Caduceus catches Fjord by the wrist. “Are you running a fever?” he demands, already reaching for Fjord’s forehead with the hand that isn’t occupied keeping Fjord’s still. The spoon between his fingers steadies, and the last of its soupy contents are saved from sloshing back into the bowl, or onto the table.

Fjord hadn’t realized he was trembling quite that badly, if he’s honest.

The meat of Caduceus’s palm is cool against his skin, a soothing pressure that might have been easier to bear in a less public venue. Embarrassed, he pulls away before the others can see. Maybe he is catching ill. It could explain why his face seems determined to flash between flushed and clammy with giving him a moment’s rest, and why the shivers running down his spine are more electric than your typical chills.  

Fjord puts the spoon down and places his hands in his lap. If he presses down on them, his fingers quiet a little. Better.

Caduceus lets him go without a fuss, which he’s grateful for, but… gods, he misses the hand once it’s gone. It was nice to have something to lean against, if only for a few seconds. It’s too early to go to bed, but his head already feels impossibly heavy.

“Don’t think so,” Fjord answers finally. “Must just be hungry. Low blood sugar, maybe.” He can’t pretend like Caduceus didn’t see what he saw, though he’s still hoping Caduceus might. And after all, if it isn’t sickness, maybe it is hunger. It would make sense. Food’s been turning his stomach lately, the type or quality not seeming to matter. He hasn’t really examined it too closely. He was raised a kid in an orphanage that never had enough to go around, then a sailor on a long haul vessel, where the hardtack was all that was left by the end of the voyage. A lack of appetite has never been anything but a blessing.

“Mmm,” muses Caduceus. “Then you should make sure to finish that.” He nudges Fjord’s meal towards him. The sodden vegetables that sank to the bottom of the bowl swirl in a lazy arc as it inches closer, leaving streaks of oil all through the thin broth. Fjord’s stomach does a flip.

Caduceus is one to talk, he thinks. If there’s anyone who needs a lecture on feeding himself enough, it’s their resident vegetarian. But Fjord doesn’t say that. Caduceus will (rightly) read his words as deflection, and redouble his efforts to get Fjord to finish the bowl. Which would be simpler to do, if his hands would just stop shaking for two damn seconds. 

It’s a bit of a conundrum - a circular problem, really. Eat, then feel better, then it makes eating less of a trial. He just has to pick a point and start. 

He reaches for the spoon. And that’s as far as he gets.

Nott and Beau are arguing about something across the table. Somebody stole someone else’s mug, there’s not enough pork belly to go around, some circumstance has off and upset Caleb; who knows what it is tonight. There’s always something to bicker about, but at least tonight it’s keeping the rest of the group’s attention occupied. 

“I could help, if that would make things easier,” Caduceus offers, a hint of a smile playing over his lips, and this time Fjord’s face flushes with a definite heat. Shame slinks down low in his belly, enough to overpower the nausea in his gut, enough to spur him to pick up the bowl, spoon be damned, and swallow the rest of the broth in three mighty gulps. When he looks at Caduceus over the rim of the bowl, already regretting the decision, his expression hasn’t changed. He’s still smiling, like he’s pleased either way, so long as the soup made it into Fjord. 

He definitely doesn’t feel better.

“I can feed myself,” Fjord insists, wiping the corners of his mouth with his hand. He means to be scornful; it comes out defensive. The shame coils a little tighter, curdling the soup to bile in his belly. He isn’t a child, but he’s doing a fine imitation of one. 

“I know you can,” Caduceus says, unmoved. “Did it help at all?”

“Yes,” Fjord lies. Then, because he’s starting to feel like an asshole, “thanks.”

He shouldn’t have snapped. Like always, Caduceus is just trying to help. He’s not searching for ammunition, or picking him apart for things to whisper to the others:  proof that Fjord is unable to shoulder his own load, yet again. 

He wouldn’t do that. Others might, others have, but Caduceus won’t.

At least, Fjord hopes. 

They really haven’t known each other that long.

—

It must have started with the dreams. Or… well, then again, maybe it was the shipwreck that did it. The two experiences are indelibly linked; you don’t get one without the other. Could have been either. Might have been both.

Probably both.

Either way, the months drag on, and Fjord finds his eyes opening a little earlier each night. At first, that seems like a good thing. There are things that need doing, and not enough capable hands to do them. Nobody else can mend a spoke like he can (that’s a lie - Jester’s magic does in an instant what his hands can in an hour), or keep a fire going on a damp night (that too - and Caleb doesn’t even need wood to do it), or-

There really isn’t much, is there? Things he can do, that the others can’t. 

More nights than most, he ends up just lying awake as the moon glides slowly overhead, curled with his blanket below his chin and his eyes squeezed tightly shut, like a little more pressure might help him nod off for good. Occasionally, he gives up and wanders a bit off from camp. Finds a log, leans his back against it, counts the leaves in the trees above. He does his best to ignore the scratch of rough cotton against his chest, and the salty particulate that dries hard and irritating within the weave of coarse fabric, that doesn’t come out no matter how hard he scrubs. The discomfort is as good an excuse as any for why he doesn’t want to lay back down. But in general, the group doesn’t ask. Everybody has their own shit to deal with.

He does find, alone in the cool night air, his eyelids fluttering, listening to the birds greet the new dawn, that he rests a little easier. He still can’t usually sleep, but a light doze is manageable.

When there’s a tavern, he shares a room with Molly. Molly, who drinks and carouses and comes back at all hours of the night - sometimes alone, sometimes in company, always loud . And if Fjord wakes up once, that’s it for him - the end of whatever meager rest he’s managed to eke out, though truthfully, if it’s a night involving company, a hallway sit or chatting with the bartender till sunrise is preferable to being present for what follows, asleep or no. 

It’s annoying at times, sure, and he begins most mornings bleary-eyed one way or the other, but it’s not that bad, all in all. The nights when Molly is present and it’s just the two of them, Fjord sleeps well, and deeply, and the dreams tend to come less often than they otherwise might. 

Those are the good nights.

Then comes Shadycreek Run. Then comes Lorenzo, and darkness, and endless nightmares that spill into the waking hours, and when they all emerge into the light of day once more, Fjord can no longer bring himself to wander too far from camp at night, not without someone else watching his back.

And Molly is gone.

And Caduceus takes his place. And they all move on.

And Fjord still sleeps, on most nights. Just a little less.

—-

“Hey, there. That’s alright. That’s fine now. You want to take a few steps back towards me?”

Fjord blinks, the shattered shards of glass crystalizing in his vision into something a little less metaphorical, a little less abstract.

The cup. He dropped it. 

Oh.

It’s well past midnight, though in the absent light of Rosohna, there’s no good way to tell. There’s also no good reason for Caduceus to be awake, down here, watching Fjord make a mess of things as he fumbles for a glass of water in the dark.

He’s not really sure why his eyes are burning. It’s just a glass; they have twenty, of all shapes and sizes, and none of them expensive. What a stupid thing to be upset over.

He’s just tired.

He’s just tired .

“Fjord?”

Oh, right. Caduceus is still standing there, waiting for Fjord to back away from the hazardous region now strewn across their kitchen floor, like a normal person would. 

The first step is easy enough to keep steady. The second is harder. Caduceus grabs a hold of his shoulders by the third, guides him into a chair that definitely wasn’t there a moment before. “There you go,” Caduceus encourages him. “Let me just get that cleaned up, ok? Just a couple minutes. Don’t go anywhere on me.”

Fjord opens his mouth - to offer to help, or to apologize, he’s not sure which - but his tongue is lead-weighted, his throat too closed off to form sound. Caduceus grabs a broom, and Fjord takes deep breaths, and watches someone else clean up his mess. 

“Thank you,” he says as Caduceus pads back over his direction after depositing the broken glass into a basket by the door. His feet are bare, but he doesn’t seem worried about any shards that might remain. “You didn’t have to do that.” Vandren’s accent cloys in his mouth, too difficult to maintain properly at this time of night. His ‘r’s are beginning to morph into something smooth and clipped, rather than long and drawling, and his words come slower as he tries to choose simpler ones, the kind that don’t require an effort. “You should… bed. Sleep. We’ll have a long day tomorrow.” Shit, he almost made it, but that last one nearly ended in a flipped tongue. Fjord shuts his mouth before it can betray him any further.

“I’d offer you a metaphor about glass and houses, but it seems a little too on the nose,” Caduceus teases. He goes to the wall and lights a little lantern, summoning a dim glow that neither of them technically need to see, before kneeling in front of Fjord’s chair. Caduceus’s height being what it is, that brings the two of them just about to eye-level. “May I?”

Fjord nods, not quite knowing what he’s agreed to, but feeling it’s owed, regardless. Caduceus places a few fingers beneath Fjord’s chin, turning it this way and that, tipping his jaw back to expose Fjord’s throat in a way that sends his blood singing from root to fingertip. When he swallows, his gorge rises against the soft fur that carpets Cadcueus’s knuckles. He shivers - not quite afraid, not quite not.

“Can you look down at me? There. That’s perfect.” Apparently, Caduceus finds what he’s looking for with little effort, because he barely meets Fjord’s eyes longer than a moment before his gaze shifts away. Or maybe Fjord’s does; it’s hard to tell. He’s been having trouble keeping his eyes focused, recently.

“What- what was that for?” Fjord stumbles, trying and failing to land in the realm of ‘curious’ rather than ‘irrationally frightened’. 

“I was just wondering… hmm. Did you know, you can tell a lot about most animals, just by looking at their eyes?”

“I... did not.” 

“Oh yes. If an animal is fatigued, or in distress, their pupils tend to dilate and contract rather rapidly. Haven’t you noticed?” If this is an allegory that ends in his health being measured against Jester’s weasel, he’s laying full claim to the right to quit the team for good.

“Can’t say that I spend a lot of time looking into animals’ eyes.”

“I highly recommend it.” Caduceus cocks his head to the side, pausing to mull over whatever his next words will be. His shock of pink hair tickles the edge of Fjord’s collarbone. Fjord swallows again. “Your eyes are telling me quite a bit, Fjord.”

Maybe there’s a bit of animal in him after all, because Fjord’s first instinct is to bolt like a cornered one. “Like what?” he asks, a question he doesn’t want the answer to.

“That this isn’t the first night you’ve been up wandering at all hours. That you could use a little more sleep than you’re getting.”

Fjord huffs a laugh, then forces himself to shuffle the chair back out of Caduceus’s reach and stand. Caduceus follows suit, quick enough to block Fjord’s path before he slips out of the kitchen. He’s lithe, but tall and long-limbed, and Fjord would have to shoulder-check his way out to get past him. He doesn’t think Caduceus would put up a fight. He wouldn’t force him to stay. 

There’s no reason to feel as trapped as he does.

“I should probably get to bed, like you said,” Fjord offers weakly.

Caduceus doesn’t move aside. “Will you sleep, when you’re there?” A whine is building up in Fjord’s throat, desperation and frustration mingling into something easier to call anger than dread. 

“As much as I ever do,” he forces through gritted teeth, not quite there enough to lie. “Let me past, will you?”

Caduceus’s willowy arm branches towards the doorframe - at first a barrier, and then an acquiescence. A beckoning, guiding Fjord through. “...Go ahead.”

Would you come with me?  

The question is so unexpected, even in his own mind, that it startles him back into some measure of wakefulness. Once he has it, it rests on his tongue like a buzzing insect, begging to be set free. He hasn’t gotten a good night’s rest since Molly died, and Caduceus wouldn’t read the same implication into the question as others might- But it’s too late to ask for that now. It’s all too late.

When they first got this house, Beau and Jester claimed a room together, like there was no question that one would stay without the other, and he really had wanted his own space back then, he had wanted it, had been desperate for it, because it was safer to be on his own - less time he had to spend hiding the salt-water stains, and the accent slips. He wanted it, and he can’t complain now about loneliness when Caduceus is already gone and settled into his own private sanctuary on the roof, when it’s all been decided and laid down in stone. The sheer neediness of the request chokes him. He can’t always be the one asking for help. He can’t be-

Fjord-

He can’t-

Fjord…

He can’t-

“Fjord.” 

They’re at the top of the stairs. 

How did they get there? 

Caduceus is still at his arm, still talking. “Will you be alright?”

“Always am,” he says mechanically, because it’s true. He’s kept going this long.

There are blankets being handed to him, hands guiding him into bed, hands smoothing back the hair from his forehead. His mind leaps about, springing from one thought to the next with alarming speed, and the one incredulous thought at the center of it all: that he used to want something like this, in the years before he taught himself not to want anything from parents that were never coming back.  

“I could stay, if you’d like.” Did Fjord say it after all, then? He doesn’t think so. He would have remembered - but the trip from kitchen to bedroom is still rather hazy. “Do you want me to stay, Fjord?” Caduceus asks again, uncertain, like he doesn’t already know the answer to his own question. That’s a first.

“M’ fine,” he mumbles into his pillow. Now that it comes down to it, the prospect of having someone else there when he wakes goes back to being terrifying, though the reason why eludes him, lost somewhere in the sparking cavalcade of exhausted thoughts. Maybe there isn’t a reason. Maybe he’s just scared of everything. That tracks.

“... alright.” Caduceus isn’t pleased with his answer. That tracks too. He’s not usually good at giving them. He’s not usually good... 

“Sleep well, Fjord.”

And he does, for the hour or so before another dream comes, and when he wakes it’s to the visage of a yellow eye burnt into his eyelids. But somewhere beyond that, in the periphery, there’s another sight too: the memory of two pink irises, and a soft hand against his throat, so different from Avantika’s sharpened nails or Uk’otoa’s slithering grip. 

It’s been a while, since someone has touched him there, and not meant for him to choke.

—-

It’s fitting, he’ll think many years later, that the end of it all came in a dream too. That he should have woken again in the ocean’s embrace, but safe on dry land as well. The kelp that embalms his limbs protects rather than pulls: warding against an icy death, rather than dragging him to it. There is no struggle to reach the surface - no call to fight, to destroy, to dominate, to consume. There are only gentle words, gentler warmth, and an ever-greening light - not a promise of salvation, but a path towards it. 

He dreams, for as long as it takes for his friends to pull him from his cocoon. Once he’s finally found his feet again, his legs are stronger beneath him than they’ve ever been. When he reaches out to summon the sword, his fingers are steady. No hint of a tremor in his wrist.

It feels like being awake, for the first time in a long time. 

—-

They take a long, long rest in Halas’s armory, or what’s left of it. Honestly, Fjord would have rather kept going. He’s all too cognizant of the time that’s passing in the outside world. The last time the group went on an indefinite sojourn into the unknown, they came back to find Felderwin in ruins, destroyed in their absence. He hasn’t forgotten how Nott could have lost her husband and child for the sake of his stupidity, his hubris. How they all could have brought about the end of the world if he’d just pushed it a little farther. How even now that he’s left that life behind, even now that the Wildmother has - somehow, impossibly - deigned to make him her paladin, he still has a lot to make up for.

The rest of the party is already asleep, all pressed to the edges of the dome like fish in a barrel, circling Caleb’s huddled form beneath the apex. Even in the faint light from the glowing runes of the two magical ballistae, Fjord can make out the beginnings of an angry bruise at the base of his throat, where the golem’s collar snapped shut and bit into the flesh. Caleb’s hand twitches every so often towards the injured spot, worrying the absent collar even in sleep. He understands; Fjord doubts he’d be able to forget something like that any quicker than Caleb.

From his perch in the gunner’s nest, there isn’t much to see - just a closed door to the tower, and the still-smoking remains of the golem at its foot. 

Off.

Who knew it could be that simple? One word from Caduceus, and the lights go out. If he’d known, he thinks with more humor than bitterness, he might have asked Caduceus to try it on him months ago, just to see if it stuck.

Fjord told the others that he didn’t need to rest with them, that he felt fine. And it was true, truer than it’s been in a long time. He’ll be tired when the party wakes, but not deliriously so. That’s the thing - when you get enough sleep on the regular, missing a night or two here or there isn’t unbearable.

And funnily enough, he has been. Sleeping, that is.

At first, he thought the shift was Melora’s doing - a depth of dreaming she invoked to keep Uk’otoa’s eyes off him. He was alright with it being nothing more than her failsafe against his being taken back - anything for an extra few hours of shut-eye. But the change wasn’t all at once, a one and done thing. There are still plenty of nights that he tosses and turns, wakes sweat-soaked and exhausted, paces the length of his room while he waits for a socially appropriate hour to start on breakfast. Still, he’s found that not dreading the mornings to come is helping at lot with staying asleep. There are still problems and worries to face when he gets up, but far fewer that he has to handle on his own.

He didn’t really realize, until now, how much the facade was taking out of him. 

Though he wishes he could, Fjord doesn’t meditate the way Caduceus does, at least not when he’s alone. He’s tried before, but he never seems to know the right words, the right rituals, the right state of mind. But he’s learning. He’s getting there. In the meantime, Fjord does what he can: he thinks the night away. He ponders lakes and dustlands and marshy swamps; all the places they’ve been, all the ones they haven’t visited yet. He hears her voice in the remembrance of crashing waves, and calls that close enough to worship. 

He thinks, for him, it is.

When the rest of the party finally comes to, Fjord hasn’t slept a wink. Still, he doesn’t feel exhausted. He’s fine, actually.

And you know what? This time, he really might be.

—-

The girls have their tattoos finished by the time the three of them return to the ship, bellies heavy with greasy food and hearts a little lighter. Caleb goes to check on Nott, already asleep in their room, and a wincing Jester drags Beau around the middle and pulls her off to bed, both trying not to jostle the other’s fresh ink. Which just leaves Fjord and Caduceus on deck, and Orly, who’s in the process of wrapping up his tools into bundles and tying them off with leather twine.

“Your cabin’s waiting, Cap’tn,” Orly says, catching Fjord’s eye. “Finally got the last of Avantika’s things cleared out, if you’ll be wanting a bigger space.”

He’ll never quite be comfortable with that title, nor the privileges it seems to afford. “No,” he hedges, “that’s- my old room’s fine. Plenty of space for me.” Caduceus clears his throat and Fjord flinches, all at once reminded that he’s not the only one impacted by his refusal. “Unless you’d rather have the room to yourself, Caduceus? I could- or you-”

“Whatever you prefer is fine with me,” Caduceus says, pleasant but noncommittal, then heads for the hatch to the lower level. Fjord stares after him, not really sure what to do with that. 

“Well, I’m off to bed,” Orly says, finally breaking the awkward silence. “Night, Cap’tn.”

“Night,” he echoes back. Orly disappears below deck, and then it’s only him, left with nothing but his indecision to ward off the night chill.

It’s not like he has to make the choice right away - Avantika’s former quarters are on the way to the rest of the crew berths. He’s somewhat surprised to find that no one else has taken up residence there. Like Orly said, they’re far more generous than the typical room. But the way he had said it… it’s almost like they were keeping the space open. For the Captain, whenever she- whenever Fjord returned. 

Fjord staunchly swallows past the lump in his throat, then turns the doorknob to Avantika’s quarters.

There it all is, just as they left it, if a bit more barren - a desk, a bed, a poorly sealed hole in the floor, an empty alcove where a shrine once sat. It’s a fine room, and well insulated from the outside world. With the doors to the balcony closed, he can barely hear the ocean’s rock against the hull.

Fjord sits on the double bed, presses a hand to the sheets. Still the same mattress as when- as the last time. He can tell. It’s not hard like a typical berth; Avantika had a taste for the richer things in life. She was particular. She was…

His throat closes up a little more, not from emotion this time, but a memory. He looks down at the pillow, and sees red hair spilling like silk from a careless hand, sees his own grip come up to match hers. Sees how easily a slender throat can snap, with enough pressure. If the mood is right. If it’s what has to be done.

Avantika never once asked him to stay. 

He doesn’t know what it’s like, to wake up in this bed. He doesn’t want to.

...He doesn’t have to.

Caduceus is still awake by the time Fjord finds his way back to their old room. There’s a little kettle going on the dresser, which has to be against some sort of shipside regulation, but without an open flame he can’t find any reason to complain. Caduceus doesn’t comment on his tardiness, but he does offer Fjord a cup. 

Fjord can’t help but notice that there were already two set out.

“So, how’s it feel?” Caduceus asks as Fjord takes a seat on the opposite bed. 

“How’s what feel?”

“Being back here, on this ship?”

Fjord sips his tea - herbal, loamy, not bad - and takes the time to consider his answer. He wants to give an honest one. He’s been working at that. “Good,” he decides. “I missed this.” What this is is somewhat nebulous, even in his own mind, but it feels right when he says it.

“Good,” says Caduceus. “Glad to hear it.”

They sit a while in silence after that, drinking their tea, exchanging the occasional friendly glance over their respective cups. This feels… safe, in a way that Avantika’s chamber didn’t. 

“Hey, Caduceus? Can I ask a question?”

“Mm?” Caduceus hums, setting down his tea and giving Fjord his full attention. “Sure.”

“It’s just… something that I’ve been wondering about.” He laughs, the old self-deprecation still creeping into his voice, though not as heavily as it once did. “It’s stupid... you probably don’t even remember this. But there was a night, back in Xhorhas, when you helped me clean up a broken glass in the kitchen.”

“...I remember,” Caduceus says after a moment, expression unreadable. 

Fjord’s heart is pounding harder than it has any right to.

“Did I… did I ask you, to stay with me?” Fjord ducks his head, knowing that his embarrassment, as always, shows too clearly on his face. “I mean- just because you said, you know- I wasn’t sure.” He cuts himself off before he can stumble back into the neverminds and forget its. They can only protect him so far, and he really does want to know, as much as he fears the answer.

Caduceus breaks into a soft smile. “Well, not in those words, no. But it seemed to me that you were asking for something, for a very long time. We just weren’t very good at hearing you.”

Fjord laughs again, rubbing at his neck. “You have to actually speak for people to hear what you’re saying.”

Caduceus watches him, rolling over Fjord’s self-effacing tone with painfully solemn honesty. “I don’t think that’s always true.”

Fjord stares at the walls, not really able to keep on meeting eyes that always seem to see right through him. “I wanted you to stay,” he admits - not quite a whisper, but not quite there either. “ I was afraid to.”

“Why’s that?” The question betrays nothing more than curiosity, but Fjord treats it with the seriousness it deserves.

“Vandren always taught me that there’s nothing weaker than saddling other people with your problems. I didn’t want... to need that kind of help. To be weak, like that.”

“Even if I wanted to give it?”

It’s Fjord’s turn to look at Caduceus, to really look at him. Insight has never been his strong suit, but Caduceus seems genuine, in the way that Fjord wants to be, has been trying to be. 

“Why?” That’s the crux of his confusion, the one thing Fjord can’t wrap his head around. “Why would you want that?” What am I to you, that you keep on giving, when all I do is take?

“Because I care for you.” He says it like it’s true, like it’s what he really feels. I care for you . What does that mean? “You don’t believe me,” Caduceus states, impossibly understanding, but still disappointed.

“No,” Fjord is quick to correct him, not wanting to throw his words back in his face, “No, it’s just…” Why bother with me, of all people? “It just seems like it shouldn’t have to be your responsibility.”

“You make it sound like kindness is a burden.” Fjord shrugs. Caduceus leans forward, knees a breath away from brushing his own. “You are not a burden to me, Fjord.” 

His eyes are burning again. Fjord grips the edges of the mattress, tries so hard not to hear those words for what they are, and what they mean, because the moment he does he knows something will break.

“You don’t have to believe me. But can I… may I show you?” The other mattress creaks, and then his own dips as Caduceus sits down by his side, waiting for an affirmation. When Fjord nods, he takes both hands and places them on either side of his chin. He turns Fjord until they’re nose to nose - breathing the same air, filling the same space. The pads of his thumbs soothe along the rabbiting pulse that courses beneath Fjord’s skin. 

Fjord closes his eyes, overwhelmed, as Caduceus lifts one hand and traces it along the edge of his cheek.

“I wondered, for a very long time, if I was on the right path. Whether what I was doing was really what the Wildmother intended.” His fingers move to the line of Fjord’s nose, pausing over the scar that cuts a jagged crease over his eye. “You were the first sign, that I had found my destiny. I knew, from the moment we met, that there was something broken in you.” Fjord flinches, but Caduceus’s other hand squeezes his neck gently, keeping him from turning away but not forcing, never forcing. “But you found your way out from the darkness. I may have lit the way, but you pulled yourself out. And I am so proud of you.” 

Fjord’s mouth parts involuntarily as the words seep into his chest, caught between a gasp and a whimper. The burning behind his eyes finally spills over. “You- every part of you, even the ones you hate- deserved to be saved. So if anything, it’s me who was selfish in all of this. Because I wanted to be the one to do it.”

He doesn’t remember the last time he cried in front of another person. He’s not sure he ever has. He should be mortified. But as Caduceus’s thumbs smooth away the wetness from his cheeks, he can’t bring himself to feel any shame. The tears seep like poison from an old wound - too long held inside his chest, too long carried beneath his skin, and hidden away. 

He lets his head drop to Caduceus’s shoulder. Lets himself be held. Lets himself hold on in return. And doesn’t feel guilty, for any of it.

—-

Crew quarters aren’t nearly as finely made as the captain’s cabin. Here, you hear everything - every groan of the hull, every buffett of wind, every shuffle of rigging from those still above deck. 

Fjord wakes to all those familiar sounds, and some that are new - gentle snores, puffs of warm breath, a heartbeat slower than his own. The seagulls are just beginning to herald the dawn, their cries sharp and biting, urging him to get up and start the day.

A little longer, Fjord thinks hazily. Just a few minutes more. 

He pulls one elbow out from where it’s fallen asleep beneath Caduceus’s side, then presses the tip of his cold nose back into the warmth of the silken shirt in from of him. Caduceus stirs, but doesn’t wake, and the arm that covers Fjord’s shoulders pulls him in a little closer. He lets himself be pulled. Lets his eyes fall closed.

Before he knows it, he’s asleep again. 

[doubledeaky]

It’s Late

Roger Taylor x Female!Reader

A/N: Hi, everyone! I’ve so much enjoyed writing imagines and hearing all of your positive feedback; you guys are too sweet! This was requested by the lovely @wandering-unknown so if you’d be so kind, check out her blog and give her some love because she’s an absolute sweetie! Hope everyone enjoys! :) Feedback and request are greatly appreciated! -m :)

Summary: You just wanted a moment of rest, that was all you wanted. Living with depressive insomnia and all the side effects that accompanied it was never an easy task. It was a constant tug-of-war between your desire to sleep and your bodies’ physical rejection of it. It seemed that even the most tried and true methods weren’t working and one night when you feel you might be at you’re breaking point, Roger rushes to your side and guides you into a much needed rest.

Word Count: 2,320 words

Warnings: mentions of depressive insomnia and mental illness (anxiety and depression)

You shifted uncomfortably in the bed you shared with your boyfriend. You huffed in frustration and sat up, running both hands through your hair. You’d been attempting to fall asleep for nearly five hours but hadn’t managed to catch a wink of sleep. Hot tea hadn’t helped and taking a dose of melatonin was like popping Tic-Tacs at this point. You looked over at the neon numbers of your alarm clock and squinted despite its dim light, four o’clock in the morning. Tears of frustration and sheer exhaustion threatened to spill, why couldn’t you just fall asleep? You switched off your alarm, deciding it was unlikely that you would fall asleep tonight. Your bodies’ resistance to sleep wasn't because you weren't tired; on the contrary, you were fucking exhausted. Depressive insomnia was something you had been dealing with for some time now. It comes and goes in waves and worsens significantly when your depression decides to remind you of its presence. The sudden shift in sleeping habits always ran you ragged and you felt constantly irritable, accompanied by aching joints and limbs. It was tasking, and it didn’t help that you forced yourself to not speak about it, especially with Roger. Your anxiety constantly reminded you that speaking about it would burden and worry the people you love most, so you chose not to bring it up. You hoped that once Roger was home things would get easier; you missed him like crazy, but he had a job and wanting him home couldn’t change that. Despite this, you were beyond proud of him and always made a point to remind him of that. When you and Roger spoke on the phone, which was often, you made sure that when Roger asked how you were doing, you’d immediately change the subject and place the focus on him. If you were to tell him how you were doing, it would have to be a lie and you hated lying to him, even over the phone. He always asked, you always changed the subject and he never pressed you further, that’s just how it was. 

You knew it wasn’t healthy to bottle everything up but no amount of hurt you felt would equate to how you would feel if you hurt Roger. He had enough to worry about and sometimes putting on a front for his sake was easier on your conscience. You just wanted him to enjoy himself while he was away; it was enough that not being with you upset him. You couldn’t allow him to bear the weight of your struggles along with his own, you wouldn’t. It was exhausting to keep up the charade, but it was something you’d grown accustomed to; it was really the only constant factor in your life that you had control over, so you coveted it. It sucked, but it was your reality. The part that upset you most was that you often had to deal with it alone, without Roger. Your tendency to isolate was doubled when he traveled. When Roger wasn’t home you felt incomplete and it was a feeling you loathed, you didn’t want to be dependent on him, but it was how you felt. You took a glance at the clock, five-thirty in the morning. Roger would be home soon, and anxiety swirled within you. You hated faking it when he was around, but it was just something you felt you needed to do. You decided your best option would be to pretend to be asleep when he arrived and just let him rest without the small talk you dreaded; you just wanted him here, no complications. You laid your head to your pillow and prayed to every god and all the saints that you would be able to keep it together when he arrived. You knew he would be exhausted when he got back and the thought of depriving him of the rest he needed was worse than your body depriving you of the same. You closed your eyes and attempted to relax until you heard your front door unlock and then open, you heart soared. Roger was finally home.

Roger entered the master bedroom quietly, mindful of your “sleeping” form. Your heart swelled, hammering against your ribcage, and you couldn’t suppress the grin on your face. You couldn’t help but turn and look over at your boyfriend, you had missed him so much. Your heart fell when your eyes finally focused on his form; even in the dim light of the moon pouring through the window, you could tell he was exhausted. His stooped posture and tired eyes made that completely obvious. He turned and noticed you were awake; watching him change into his pajamas, which for Roger meant boxers and no shirt. 

“Love, why are you awake? Please don’t tell me who were waiting up for me.” He asked quietly and in such a sweet tone that your face broke into a proper smile. 

“No, I just couldn’t sleep, was too excited.” You smiled and he returned it before turning to a lamp and switching it on. He wanted to see his girlfriend in all her glory and give her the week’s worth of love he’d been saving up. When the light flooded the room and his eyes focused on you, he almost didn’t recognize you. Your eyes were hazy and dull, surrounded by deep purple rings; your skin was pallid, and you looked weak, fragile even. You didn’t look like yourself and Roger was seriously taken aback. You looked at him with a confused expression and sat up. 

“What’s wrong, babe?” you asked in a sweet voice, reaching out for his embrace. He sat on the bed and carefully took you in his arms as if you would break if he wasn't careful. Your anxiety soared at his cautious actions and you wanted to sink into the bed and through the floor. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing, love.” He said laughing but you knew he didn’t find the situation even slightly amusing, it was a habit of his when he was scared or uncomfortable, or both. You swallowed hard, your mouth going dry. You pulled away from his embrace slightly to look him in the face in an attempt to make your response more believable. It was certainly easier to lie over the phone. 

“Yeah, just a little tired. That’s all.” You said trying to sound nonchalant despite feeling the exact opposite. He saw right through your act and fear must have been evident on your face because his expression softened. If you’d given this response over the phone, he wouldn't have thought twice to question you; but now, face to face, he could tell something was wrong. 

“Have you slept at all?” He said, growing very quiet. Roger knew very vague details of your diagnosis but had no inclination to the extent at which you struggled. Only now was he recalling the few instances in which you’d brought it up. You always tried to change the subject or avoid his questions and when you did elaborate you were nonchalant and spoke in a very matter-of-fact manner. This was another way you made light of your struggles, trying your best to downplay its severity. Roger also realized how little you spoke of yourself in general; the conversation always centered around him and how he was feeling. He always asked, you always deflected his questions and he never thought twice about it. This all flashed within his mind in a matter of seconds and he felt a dull ache in his heart. How could he have been so oblivious? You had become distant, in person and over the phone, and you avoided talking about yourself constantly. Roger recalls having girlfriends in the past that were your polar opposites, concerned only with themselves and constantly whining about the most trivial of issues. That’s what made you different, whether it was intended on your part or not, you were the most caring and giving individual he’d ever met. Roger was pulled from his thoughts when he heard your quiet sobs. You looked up and he was witness to your once bright eyes now clouded with bitter tears and he felt some of his own stinging his eyes. He cleared his throat, looking you square in the face.

“How much sleep have you gotten since I’ve been gone, no bullshit.” He didn’t mean to be so stern, but he was scared and when Roger was scared he got angry and you understood. You thought for a moment, doing a quick calculation in your mind.

“Maybe fourteen hours in total.” You said quietly, avoiding his eyes, afraid they would hold a look of disappointment. They didn’t, they were brimmed with tears and Roger’s heart broke. Fourteen hours total of sleep in the week he’d been gone meant that on average, you only got around two hours of sleep every night. He was angry with himself and he hurt for you. How could he have been so blind to how much you hurt? Why hadn’t you told him? Did you not trust him? A million anxious thoughts raced through Roger’s mind and he found it difficult to speak again without breaking down.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He said, his voice breaking along with your heart. This is why, sleep deprivation and the shitty things that came with it would never hurt you as much as causing Roger pain did. You broke down, the levees of your mind failed and months, maybe even years, of pent up emotion escaped and flooded the room you both occupied. He held you close as you cried into his neck. He’d failed you. 

“I’m so sorry, Rog. I try so hard to keep everything together because I can’t stand the thought of hurting you, but I’ve failed. I’m so sorry.” You sobbed violently now. Roger had never seen you this way and he never wanted to again. 

“No, love, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being selfish and treating you like you aren't my top priority. You’re the most important person in my life and I’ve been shit at letting you know that. Love, you can come to me with anything. I only want to see you happy and right now you aren’t. It’s killing me because I know you were only trying to save my feelings and that’s not something you should constantly harp on. You could deck me in the jaw and I’d still be head over heels for you. I’m here, love. Don’t worry about anything else, just know I’m here and I love you so, so much.” He was quiet, and his eyes held nothing but sincerity. You sighed and held him close, burying your face into the crook of his neck and you felt his hand come up to rub circles over your upper back. You’d missed this. This comfort he provided that held you securely to reality and kept you grounded, you’d missed it. You're reminded of why you fell for Roger as he held you in his arms. Yeah, Roger was incredibly attractive and could crack the occasionally joke but above all he was kind and thoughtful; he loved you for you, despite everything and you don’t know how you hadn’t realized this sooner. Roger listened, and he understood without passing judgement. You smiled, Roger and you were truly cut from the same cloth. Both of you were afraid of vulnerability and feared you were either too selfish or self-centered when the exact opposite was true. Roger could be emotionally unavailable at times and maybe that’s why you hesitated to tell him of your struggles, but you had a knack for knowing exactly how he felt without him ever telling you, you just had to share a look and you knew. Roger on some level resented how well you could read him, but he was grateful; where his words failed, yours took their place. It sometimes made him feel too vulnerable, but it was overpowered by the comfort he found in your presence. Still holding each other tight, you felt the surprising wetness of tears on your shoulder. You pulled back to see Roger’s tear-soaked face.

“Oh, Roger.” You cooed, immediately cradling his face in your hands. Roger felt himself nuzzle into your touch and a yawn escaped him. A moment later, you copied him and you both shared a laugh for the first time since he’d been back. You glanced at the clock, it was almost seven, but you felt an overwhelming tiredness overcome you and your eyelids began to droop. 

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?” Roger said, immediately pulling you onto the silk-wrapped mattress and draping his arms around you protectively. The bed that had countless times taunted and mocked you felt welcoming, and you relished in the moment. For the first time in a while, you felt your body willingly give in to sleep and with your last bit of energy you snuggled further into Roger’s side, your head atop his chest. You allowed your eyes to close and Roger breathed in your familiar scent, more addicting than the most expensive luxury cigarettes. Roger kissed the top of your head and laid back, feeling the sleep he very much needed overtake him. 

“Goodnight, Y/N. I love you.” He said in a sleepy voice, allowing his baby blues to close gently. 

“Goodnight, Rog. I love you too.” You replied in a similar, sleepy tone.

The last you recall was the feeling of Roger’s arms wrapped around you and your head on his chest, falling asleep to the rhythmic beating of his heart. The atmosphere of the room had calmed, and the morning sun cast a halo over you both. This was heaven and you knew you’d never have to walk through hell again as long as Roger was by your side. 

[chilliebean5]

Fictober Day 11: “But I will never forget!”

Rating: Teen and up

Fandom: Overwatch

Characters: Mei-Ling Zhou, Winston

Warnings: Post-traumatic stress disorder

Words: 1154

Staring into the vast, endless expanse of space is always relaxing for Mei.

It’s something that is almost impossible to do back home, either too cloudy in Xi'an or too smoggy in Beijing. Nothing will beat Antarctica, though. With no light pollution, on a moonless night she could see the Milky Way with the naked eye, and see it in incredible detail through the telescope.

Gibraltar, though, isn’t bad. On this side of the cliffs with as little light there is, she can see thousands of stars, twinkling in the midnight sky. It has the added advantage of being warm, so she can enjoy it without having to look through a window. She comes out here whenever she can, when the sky is clear and just sits with a thermos of tea, stares into the night with the sound of the ocean below, nocturnal birds above, trying to identify the constellations from memory.

She startles when she hears a creak from behind her, panic turning to relief when she sees Winston’s silhouette in the distance.

“I’m sorry, Mei, I didn’t realise you were out here.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Would you like to join me?”

Winston hesitates for a moment, but eventually nods his head. “Sure,” he says, walking over and sitting next to her. “It’s a beautiful night,” he says after a moment.

Mei nods, taking a sip of tea from her cup. “It will be clear for the next few nights,” she breathes. “I don’t suppose we have a telescope in storage?”

“Not a working one,” Winston sighs. He looks at Mei and she can see the barest hint of a smirk. “I’m sure I can reallocate some funds. It has been too long since I’ve seen the stars.”

“I would like that,” she says, twisting off the lid of her thermos and offering it to Winston. “Tea? It’s jasmine.”

“Thank you.”

Mei pours him the tea. “I’m surprised I’m not the only one up this late.”

“You’re the third person I’ve bumped into tonight,” Winston says sheepishly, taking the cup. “Not many of us know how to keep a good sleep schedule, it seems.”

“Insomnia,” Mei says quietly, looking at the stars. “I’ve slept for nine years straight, it seems my body is done sleeping,” she chuckles.

“Seems to be a common problem here,” Winston replies, taking a sip. “During times when I know I’ve spent hours, if not days, working on something without taking a break, I make myself take a step back. My first port of call is out here to clear my mind to help me settle down enough for sleep.”

“How long has it been for you?” Mei asks.

“Awake? Close to twenty-four hours.” He looks at Mei. “And yourself?”

Mei looks at her watch, huffs a little laugh. “Approaching thirty.”

“Oh,” Winston chuckles, “got me beat there.”

Smiling, Mei takes another sip of her tea and looks back out to the stars. They sit in a companionable silence for a long time, and Mei feels a little more comfortable with Winston being here. Not that she needed anyone to sit with her, but there is a part of her that feels just that little bit better knowing that she isn’t alone. “I’m glad you came out here,” she whispers, and she closes her eyes when she starts to feel that telltale prickling of tears.

It must have come out a lot more desperate than she intended, because Winston wraps an arm around her. “We should make it a regular event,” he says, voice quiet. “We can bring out a picnic rug, maybe some snacks. Set up the telescope, too.”

Mei chuckles, takes off her glasses to wipe her eyes. “I would like that,” she says. “We used to have viewing parties at the ecopoint. When it was clear enough, at least. The times we were treated to Aurora Australis was just magical. We would have discussions about the likelihood of life on other worlds, space travel, wormholes, parallel universes…” She looks up at the stars and smiles. “I like to think that there is a universe out there, where they all woke up from stasis. Or another where they didn’t miss the resupply window.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me through the night,” she whispers, closing her eyes and resting her head on Winston’s shoulder. She waits for the tide of emotion to pass, for the nausea and survivor’s guilt to subside, to take the time to tell herself that what happened happened, that she is a survivor, that she overcame the greatest odds and made it to McMurdo Station on foot. Smiling as she pulls her head up, she takes her glasses off completely, folding them and setting them down beside her before wiping her eyes and nose on her sleeve. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t apologise,” Winston replies. “You have been through an incredible challenge and come out the other side stronger. You are an amazing person, a fighter, a survivor.”

Mei chuckles, looks at the sky, even though she can’t make out any stars. “Sometimes I feel guilty whenever I think ill of one of them. I spent so long down there with them, with nowhere to go, sometimes they got on my nerves.”

“That’s only natural.”

“But I will never forget!” she says defiantly, looking at Winston. “I’ll never forget those little moments, the discussions, the viewings, the laughter and jokes.” She pauses, looks down at her hands. “What Captain Opara’s looked like when I woke up…” she adds, barely a whisper. “But I can see their faces, hear their voices so clearly in my mind, I’ll never forget them.”

Winston doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t need to, just having someone to speak to who isn’t a counsellor is enough. They sit in yet another comfortable silence for a long time, right until Mei lets out an eye-watering yawn.

“I think I have hit the wall,” she says rubbing her eyes.

“Me too,” Winston says, separating from her. “Mind if I walk you to your quarters?”

“Of course not,” Mei answers, taking the lid back to her thermos and screwing it back on, before picking up her mug and glasses, sliding them on and standing up. They head inside, walk the dimly lit corridors of the base, and Mei is fully aware of how tired she actually is by the fact that her feet are dragging on the ground. When they stop in front of her quarters, Mei looks up at Winston and smiles. “Thank you for sitting with me. And thank you for listening.”

“Any time, Mei,” Winston says quietly. “Whenever you want to talk, about anything, you just find me.”

“I will.” She inputs the code for the door and it slides open, and when she glances at her bed, she can feel it almost pulling her in. “Good night, Winston.”

“Good night, Mei.”

[alixzin]

Unfinished Medical Procedures Fic

In which Lin takes Alex to see a neurologist and has a series of brain tests done (EEG and MRI) to make sure nothing more serious is wrong. I wrote this last January while I was snowed in and highly productive. This was before I knew what in the verse to write and was doing a little of everything. I stopped working on it when “Where You Started” took over and demanded all my attention. At this point it’s been so long that I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to it, but it has some really nice moments that deserve to see the light of day, so here it is. 

They are at first neurologist appointment, discussing tests he wants to run before prescribing medication to prevent migraines.

 “It’s not at all scary, not like the MRI,” the doctor reassures them after expressing the need for an EEG. “All that happens is we attach electrodes, which look a bit like watch batteries, to different parts of your head with washable glue. Each one is attached to a wire that records the brain signals. You’ll just lie on a bed for an hour and your parents can stay with you.”

It’s starting to become a thing that every doctor they see refers to them as Alex’s “parents”, “Dad” or “Mom”. They’ve given up on correcting it.

“Now one part of an EEG that is challenging is that we intentionally put the brain under a lot of stress to increase the likelihood of catching unusual activity.”

Lin’s eyes widen at this and he gives Alex’s knee a squeeze. As if he doesn’t have enough stress on his brain already.

“What exactly does that mean? Can it be done without that?”

“It would just be a waste of time and money to be honest. The biggest aspect of this is sleep deprivation. For teens this means staying up for at least 24 hours beforehand.”

Alex full on rolls his eyes at this. Even Lin has to crack a smile. Alex would consider being allowed to stay up all night a special treat.

“I saw that look. It’s noted on his health history he has insomnia. Is staying up like that typical for Alexander?”

“Very. If we aren’t policing him Alex will go a full week with only a couple of hours of sleep.”

“That does not sound at all healthy and increases my worries about unusual brain activity. I’d be interested to see what’s going on in his head when that’s happening.” Wouldn’t we all. “If we’re going to do this, it’s best to do it right. Do you think Alexander could tolerate going 48 hours?”

“Alexander’s right here, you know!”

Lin grins. He loves Alex’s sassy side.

“What do you think Alex?”

“Please. That’s cake. I can go longer if you want.”

“No!” Lin and Vanessa say at the same time.

 Alex is confident in his ability (and likely ecstatic to be allowed to stay up that long), but Lin can’t help but be nervous that this might not end well.

 There’s a catch. Of course, there’s a catch. When Lin finally reads through the info packet on the test the night before Alex starts the sleep purge one detail jumps out at him: absolutely no caffeine.

Alex’s entire existence is powered by mass quantities of caffeine, which is one of the many things they have in common. Him and Vanessa have figured out that even when Alex is home sick or recovering from a bad migraine he still needs coffee, or else caffeine withdrawal symptoms get added to his illness. With all his anxiety cutting back on Alex’s consumption has been on the “things with Alexander that need to be addressed” list for a while now, but they haven’t gotten to it yet. Partially because that would mean Lin going through coffee detox with him to avoid looking like a huge hypocrite and partially because then they would lose their most powerful Alex negotiation tool. Need to convince him to do something he doesn’t want to? Bribe with extra coffee. Need to get Alex to stop an unhealthy behavior like refusing to go to bed? Threaten to take away his coffee. In their defense they are very new to this whole parenting thing.

 He does try to convince Alex to back out of this and just do the twenty-four hours, but once Alex gets something in his head as a personal challenge there is no backing out.

 The pamphlet recommended having an adult stay up with him to make sure he doesn’t sleep, but they all know that with Alex on the first night it’s not at all necessary. They’ll save that for the second night, if for nothing else then to keep him company and show solidarity.

The next morning over breakfast all Lin has to do is take one look at Alex to know this is proving more difficult than they had anticipated, taking in how pale he is and the already increased size of the bags under his eyes.

“Alex, you’re not going to school today.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

“Even so, I’d really prefer if you didn’t, mijo.” He wants Alex near him just in case something goes wrong.

Lin’s concerned that if he leaves Alex home alone he might accidently fall asleep, which would normally please him, but that would just mean having to start this whole thing all over again. However, since Alex isn’t actually sick, Lin can’t quite justify taking the day off with him (given how many times he’s done that already), so he quickly comes to the decision to have Alex tag along with him all day. Besides it would probably be better if Alex was up and about doing things all day.

 [Insert fluff of spending day together and finally meeting the cast for real. I’ll get to it!]

-         Spoiler from nearly a year later, nope never did, oops.

 Later on in the day at the Public Theater backstage, Lin finally convinces Alex to formally meet a few people.  Knocks on Daveed and Oaks door. 

“Hey Daveed, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is my…this is Alex.”

A man with one of the largest afro’s Alex has ever seen pops his head out. He looks familiar though.

“Alex. Good to finally meet you officially.”

“Hi.” Alex resists the urge to hide behind Lin. Not cool Alex. Not cool at all! You’re fifteen, not five.

“I’m glad to see you looking better. You really worried me a couple weeks ago.”

That’s it. He recognizes the voice now. This was the guy who called him “baby Lin” and had so frantically called Lin claiming he needed an ambulance. Alex could just about melt into the floorboards in embarrassment. What the heck is he supposed to say after meeting someone like that?

“Wait until you hear Daveed rap tonight Alex. The man’s a beast!” Lin gushes, completely oblivious to Alex’s humiliation. Or is it because of?

“Are you seeing the show tonight?”

Alex nods. Why is talking so hard?

“You’re in for a real treat! You’ve got a certified genius for a foster dad. Seriously, if anyone else had pitched this idea to me, I would have laughed at them, but because it’s Lin... Okay, I still laughed at him. Listen, I want to apologize for our last encounter Alex. We’ve been hearing Lin talk about you for so long, we were a little too eager, but shouldn’t have burst in like that. I’m sorry for the additional pain we caused you.”

Alex gapes at him. Nope—no idea how to respond to that either. He must look like such an idiot.

“Are you kidding?” cuts in Lin. “Daveed, you get that if you, Oak and Ramos hadn’t disregarded my orders to leave my kid alone, it probably would have been another hour before I checked on him? I don’t even want to think about what state he might have been in then. I am so incredibly grateful for your interference.”

Did Lin just call him his kid? What the hell is he supposed to think of that? This is his tweets referring to him as his ‘son’ all over again. Everyone had assumed he had meant Sebastian with that one, but sheesh. It flashes him back to the conversation he overhead Lin and Vanessa have about it while he was still recovering in bed.

“Oh come on, give me a break here! There are only 150 characters allowed. I don’t have room to put foster in front of it. Besides, the public doesn’t need to know about him.”

“You didn’t have to tweet about it at all.”

“People thought I was dying. I didn’t even give a goodnight tweet. I had to give some explanation.”

“And those fault is that? Lin, you have a twitter problem.”

  Lin is very aware that Alex has never seen him preform outside of ‘In The Heights’ youtube clips he caught him watching, so he decides to still go on as Hamilton as planned. Instead they get a sitter for Sebastian so Vanessa can sit in the audience with Alex.

 Alex is dazzled by the first act. Lin sees him from the stage go from drooping in his chair looking close to falling asleep to wide awake and hanging on every word by the second song. It makes for one of his best performances. Having Alex there and earning his approval matters so much more to him than any celebrity in the audience. What’s truly adorable is that when Vanessa brings him backstage during intermission Alex is acting shy and tongue tied around him, as if he’s suddenly star struck by his own foster dad. Lin’s not worried though, he knows it will pass the next time he annoys him.

“Did you really write that?” he asks shyly right before they leave to take their seats in the audience.

“I did.”

“How?!”

“It did take me seven years. If you like we can add a discussion of the writing process to our nights planned activities.”

“I’d like that.”

 It takes him a while to notice since his back is turned to the audience for the second half of “The World Was Wide Enough”, but as soon as Lin comes forward his eyes zero in right on Alex. He’s bawling his eyes out and Vanessa is starting to look worried. Lin’s distracted enough by this that he misses his cue and grabs Pippa’s hand at the wrong time. At least he doesn’t have to sing anymore. Lin doesn’t know how he could do it when his Alexander is in the front row crying like that. During the bows he makes eye contact with Vanessa who shoots him a panicked look. She holds up her phone to indicate that she sent him a text, which he nods at in confirmation. Once they’ve gone through the motions, he all but sprints off stage to get to his phone.

“Bit of a situation here. Alex *freaked out* when you got shot. Flashback maybe?”

“Stay put for now. Don’t try to navigate the crowds. I’ll meet you there once it clears out a bit. See if I can get security to move things along.”

“Did you hear him scream when Burr shot you?”

That was Alex? Shit! On most nights at least one person shouts out when that happens so it was barely registered. In retrospect, it did sound a little more anguished than normal.

 “You didn’t say you were going to die!” Alex wails, clinging tightly to Lin in a death grip.

“I’m sorry. It’s common knowledge that he dies in a duel. I thought you knew. Leslie even says he shoots me in the first song.”

“Shoots! Not kills!”

 Would give him a sedative if it wouldn’t make staying up any longer impossible.

 “Alex honey, you’re exhausted. Your emotions are all out of sorts right now. It was stupid of me to think seeing the show tonight would be a good idea.”

“No, I’m glad I saw it. It’s a masterpiece. You just need to change the ending.”

“Mijo, this isn’t just something I made up. You can’t rewrite the endings on a real person’s life and make it happy.”

“Then you need to play a different part where you don’t get shot.”

“It’s not real.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want you getting shot at every night.”

 Too exhausted to hold back emotions that night Alex ends up telling him about the cousin who took him in and moved them to New York after the hurricane and shot himself in the head soon after. That’s how Alex ended up in the American foster care system and why he’s not at all a fan of guns.

 Alex is not satisfied until he gets to examine the prop gun and confirm that it can’t hold bullets that someone who dislikes Lin might sneak in. Even so, they have to get the props department to remove the trigger to reassure Alex he’s not really being shot at and make it so that if someone replaced a prop gun with a real one it would be obvious. Even after all that, it’s clear Alex doesn’t trust Leslie.

   It’s past midnight and Alex and Lin are holed up in a café getting desert.

“Alexander, I know you don’t like talking about these things, but do you think you could fill me in a little on what happened tonight? That was a pretty big reaction.”

“I don’t like guns,” Alex mutters, taking a sip of his herbal tea. Even though it doesn’t provide the caffeine fix he takes comfort from the ritual of drinking a hot beverage. It gives him courage.

“Can you tell me more?”

“My cousin Peter shot himself in the head while I was in the next room. There was a loud bang, I ran in and he was on the ground. There was so much blood.”

This is a huge breakthrough. Alex has never shared anything about his past with them. All they know is the bare facts: his father’s not in the picture, his mother died quite suddenly of “natural causes”, cousin who was given guardianship of him committed suicide and he’d suffered unimaginable abuse at the hands of his most recent foster family. The exact details of these occurrences are foggy and until now Alexander hasn’t been willing to share.

“Do you think tonight was a flashback to that?” Lin tries to keep his tone mild and calm.

“Yeah…probably…” he looks so defeated. “When I hear a gunshot it’s like I’m back in that room again. Usually, like when Lee and Phillip were shot, I can talk myself out of it, remind myself it’s not real and I’m being stupid. But…when there was a gunshot and then you were keeled over... It looked like there was blood everywhere. I don’t think there was though. There was nothing to clean up after.”

“No Alex, there was no blood on stage.”

“All in my head,” he breathes heavily. The absolute exhaustion just oozes out of him. It’s clear all his defenses are down and Alex doesn’t have the energy to resist questioning. Lin will have to tread lightly.

“Do you think you could tell me more about Peter, mijo? Did he treat you okay?” Lin asks gently.

“I liked Peter. He was kind to me.” Alex stares down at his plate, not making any eye contact, but he talks. “After my mother died the probate court ordered all her possessions be auctioned off and the funds given to my half-brother, her legitimate son. Peter went to the auction and bought back all her books to give to me. He didn’t have to do that, I never asked him to and he never had much money, but he did anyway.”

“He sounds like a good guy,” Lin comments, encouraging him to go on.

“Peter was never stable though. His emotions were all over the place. He’d get really down sometimes and be too depressed to get out of bed for weeks. I ended up having to lie about my age and get a job so we could afford food and rent because he never went to work and couldn’t keep a job. When he got like that I’d have to bring him food or he wouldn’t eat at all. I used to worry all the time that he was going to die in bed like Mom. Sometimes he wouldn’t eat what I gave him, so I would force him and he’d yell at me to leave him alone to die.”

“How old were you when this happened, Alexander?”

“Twelve. I was twelve when I moved in with Peter.”

Over a year then. Over a year with that horribly depressing home life.

“It wasn’t always like that though. Sometimes Peter was full of energy. He was a lot of fun. He never slept much when he was like that and would take me out on wild late night adventures, sort of like we are now.” Alex smiles fondly. It’s clear that despite everything, he cared a great deal for the man. “Peter would get all these wild moneymaking schemes that he’d obsess over, but usually he’d get sad again before anything came of it. Except with moving to New York, that was the one plan he actually did and his mood didn’t change until a week after we moved.” Alex’s breath hitches in his throat. Lin can already see where this is going. “I don’t know where he got the gun…I should have kept a closer eye on him. I should have known the crash was coming.” Alex blinks rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling.

“Mijo, it wasn’t your fault. Not even a little. It sounds like Peter had severe bipolar disorder that was untreated. Do you know what that is?”

“I’ve heard of it,” Alex sniffs.

“You never should have been put in a situation to have to care for him like you did.  He shouldn’t have been made responsible for a child in that state. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“I loved him.” At this the tears start running freely that Alex tries to rub away, though it makes no difference. Lin can’t hold back anymore and gets up from his seat across from him to pull Alex into a hug.

“I know honey, and that makes it so much worse.”

“I must not have mattered that much to him if he could kill himself and not care what happened to me.”

“He had a mental illness Alex. His brain was sick and not functioning properly. I don’t think he was capable of thinking of anything but his own misery at that moment. But it sounds like he did care about you a good deal.”

“He bought me back the books.”

“That’s right mijo, he bought you back your mother’s books. That sounds like a man who cared. Who loved you as much as he was able.”

Lin wishes so badly that this was the end of his trauma. That Alex was brought to live with them right after his cousin’s suicide, because surely all of that had been enough horror to last a lifetime. It’s not the end though. It’s not even close. After all of that Alexander’s story gets so much worse.

[conflictedrabbit]

2* the AvPD

Conversation w/ my friend I mentioned earlier. With their name / identifying characteristics edited out and some chopping here and there. 

___: 

I made a post abt avod once tho and it got like A few rbs and I thought "if this isn't irony idk what is" Trje

66ccff: ekjal;kdjd;

___: 

me: why do, so many avoidants want to pay for being alive avpd Tumblr: hm . I relate

66ccff: ekleja;ejdl;k

___: me: I'm glad to know people relate but are we fucking ok

66ccff: 

LOL i mean mood tbh

___: HINESTLT like I noticed i do it cuz of you NFBNSBDKSBDKSS

66ccff: though do you mean pay as in like. pay the medical system or pay as in guilt

___: Guilt

66ccff: 

kejk;ldj;L yes ok that is definitely me me: i breathed 5 gallons of air within 3 hours i am so sorry world

___:

me: [realizes it's not entirely religious trauma and also probably just Guilt over taking up space and needing to help ppl otherwise Why Live?} 

Oh god me

66ccff: (this is not even ironic i get like this multiple times a week)

___: 

hdjhdjsd I've been having a bad ep lately actually and like I think I failed to look 5-6 people in the eyes today CUZ IM JUST [WALKS AROHND] WOW . TERRIBLE

66ccff: 

omg it's ok i nearly cried in class today b/c i didn't have a good eng translation for this jp sentence

i was like.... no.... don't....

i stabilized cuz the teacher went on a tangent for a second but like forcing myself to look in his eyes and act normal was so hard i looked away so many times i wa slike. oog my god. end m i love it when walking around where there's other people makes me really nervous and irritable agoraphobia is great!

___: 

GOD yea It's so awkward for me I'm fine if I have a safe person or I'm walking to class but like

66ccff: i came back from class today and took a 6 hr nap cuz of my shame and agoraphobia

___: 

Rip Wish I could do that...

66ccff: well i haven't done my homework so

___: 

I just. Cry a lot NDKSJDJDNSKDNS rip me: I'm strong Me: spent the last 5 days like crying over nothing

66ccff: 

dkjle;ajd i mean... i used to cry but then i got mad at myself for crying so now i just Repress (tm) and sleep and then. the joke is that sometimes it doesn't work self harms... oops... that didn't work either better nap again

___: 

zz Pillows keep u safe Idk what I've been doing lately but I thought I was getting better til I realized I was like Abstaining from feeding myself BFBJSBFSJJFD

66ccff: o h my god

___: 

And I was like "oh fuck I'm a terrible person bc someone told me I should eat and j Didn't Do It I Failed Them"

66ccff: 

ahahahahaahahaha i thought i was getting better too but it was actually because i was just forcing myself to study to give myself an illusion of doing my part and then i went to school and my actual performance is like bad b/c i avoid so many activities that would make me better and i just

___: samd

66ccff: 

Wow i want to die!

___: 

hdjsjdjs

I think I only managed to eat cuz my brother was expecting me to

66ccff: tavpdfw you want to be punished constantly so you don't have to have anxiety about existing

___: 

Cuz he bought me dinner like 6 hours ago but I didn't touch it til now BFJDJD MEEEEE

66ccff: dkja;eljd;

___: 

GOD me: ah I feel good today Me like 3 hours later: oh my God I shouldn't feel good abt myself that's so Selfish ? I am trash

66ccff: oh Mood

___: Avpd solidarity

66ccff: 

honestly i love my environmental soicology class but liek it talks about how we're all consuming and putting things back into the environment

___: Idk how I manage to have avpd and __pd but that's how it is on ths bitch of an earth

66ccff: and i was literally contemplating if death was the only way to take myself out from the cycle

___: 

Me Bhhjsfjd

66ccff: 

i was like holy shit. it's not just consumption i forgot i also put bad gases into the air with everything i breathe i am Bad

___: 

All day today I was hearing abt what happened in Vegas and we were like. Talking in my apologetics class abt the Nature of Evil

66ccff: the true environmentalist take is death

___: And I was just thinking "why must I, exist if all I am is bad"

66ccff: 

oh my god same! i looked over my abt page and i was like this looks fake tumblerina

___: 

apologetics: so mankind is basically evil Me: great! I'll die so there's less evil in the world

66ccff: 

me ME

MEMEMMEMEMEMMEMEMEMEME

___: HHDHSBDJSHD

66ccff: 

sometimes i have fantasies of like going backwards and apologizing to everyone i've ever talked to and to everyone who ever had to work to produce what i've consumed

___: 

M. E

m

66ccff: 

and then hoping that they forget about me and then like disappearing forever i jsut can't see how some people can be like oh yeah factories in china and mexico earn less than 2 dollars an hour to make our stuff and not jus twant to kill themselves

___: 

I'm just pathetic and compulsive if I feel bad about stuff I apologize til like 2 weeks after God. Yea

66ccff: 

the joke is that people hate if you overapologize so you jsut damned if you do damned if you dont :upside_down:

___:

me: uh sorry for being sad People: don't apologize for that Me: Avpd:.  They are mad that I am apologizing also that I am sad Hhhfjjejd

Me: 

ME WKJD;LKD "can you stop saying sorry" "sorry"

___: 

me: oh God I'm so miserable Someone: oh im sorry Me: I wish I could accept this but Pity is too much for a lowly worm like me

66ccff: "what did i just say"

___: MMSNDNBHHHHHHGGGGG

66ccff: 

:smile: :gun:

MOOD

___: avpd feel when you don't deserve to be pitied ?

66ccff: pity is too much kindness ___: 

God yea

LIKE probably just a conflicted feel but I prefer ppl being active than pitying me but then I'm like

"that's selfish I don't deserve that ?"

66ccff: 

someone tells you to watch where you're going feel like you're unable to go outside for the rest of the day

___: 

m. mebdbdhdhdjs

66ccff: oh yeah the joke is that i want people to like. be kind to me but also i don't

___: hell brain

66ccff: so i can't say what i want

___: GGG YEAH

66ccff: 

be kind to me except don't because i'll feel invalid either way so maybe just don't talk to me >feels worse anyway

___: 

Hhhhhhhhhhh me Me: talk to me ? But I don't know what to talk abt ? But I am also not good enough for pity you could just sit there maybe But then the presence of another person will overwhlem me and I'll go cry again/s

66ccff: feel free to entertain yourself, and forget about me, ___: 

Mebdndmdkskdjsja god [looks at all cluster c disorders] you are all bitches and I hate tou

66ccff: 

tavpdfw u gotta depersonalize to make it through the day of talking to other people and acting like ur a normal human bean MOOD

___: GOD yea

66ccff: 

i have a question though if im depersonalizing why do i still feel terrible even if i feel ilke im fake smh

___: God me

66ccff: 

me: i'm not real so heres me acting like i am chill and cool person that is interesting maybe or maybe not me, inside: this sucks and i hate this but im not real so it shouldnt affect me but damn i hate this when u feel separate from your auto-pilot but you still experience all the shame you would without it :thinking: avpd is stupid and contradictory and evolutionarily useless

___: 

__pd isnkind of the same but like if you manage it well you can get stuff done but you still breakdown over the TINIEST DETAIL I hate it And I waste more time thinking abt what I'm gonna do and not actully DOING MT SHIT

66ccff: cripes

___: LIKE A NORMAL PERSON

66ccff:

me in high school UGH i'm ahving that problem right now dude in high school i used to just waste my days reading manga and thnking i should do my homeworka

___: 

me: I'll spend this hour scheduling [2hours later] Me: [stressed nbdjdjjsjdjsjdks

66ccff: and then i'd like. start at 10pm and fuck myself over ___: rip 66ccff: have a crying session at 4am every time an essay is due the next day ___: I actually didn't do one of my assignments tonight 66ccff: bad coping habits ___: Rip me I got discouraged over something lame JFJSNFKSNFD 66ccff: oh mood

___:

relationship issues: occur Me: well, I can't, do anything ever again

66ccff: 

i shouldn't even be discouraged abt my classes bc i'm here to learn and i'm just like. i know nothing i deserve to die kejd;kakejd friend, disagrees with you on something you feel unsure about: WELL I GUESS I AM BAD AND THEY HATE ME NOW time to ghost them

___: 

me: [perceives someone not caring for me] me: and Now...what is Mine Purpose...what do I live for...my Friends....have all abandoned m MEEEEEE avpd sounds super dramatic when you separate it from yourself but like In the moment I'm always just [jdut starts Fucking Crying

66ccff: 

i just want to manage to some kind of social work, give my wealth to some impoverished family, and then kms before 30

yeah my therapists in the past are like why... so soon

___: Jfjdjfjdf 66ccff: and i'm just like "why not i need to minimize all my ills on the world and also on the emotions of my family" ___: That reminds me of like. One of my mutuals talking abt how early he sleeps and he was just 66ccff: this is the optimal time look my life plan

___: 

"why be awake longer than necessary"

Hdhdhfjsjfdjdjdband. I was just . Me

66ccff:

because you hate yourself too much sleep :^)

___: 

God yea That's true. Me rn

I should've been asleep like an hour ago but [plays secret of Mana and then mopes]

66ccff:

dude i used to have bouts of insomnia b4 i got drugs that knock me out (and help me w/ anxiety) like.... i would lay awake and every second of being awake was just making the situation worse

___: I feel like I should get meds to balance out my bipolar eps but

66ccff: but then i couldn't sleep anyway so it was a damned situation ___: my parents r so anti meds 66ccff: rrghbh

___: 

also like Internalized ableism That I don't Needthem and So Many people don't need them

66ccff: oh yeah, why do my essay when i can read an hour of garbage romo manga and feel slightly less bad during that time and then hate myself more

___: 

So I Can do it cuz I'm like Everyone Else and not like Those "crazy" people Rifp

66ccff: 

man i don't wanna encourage meds if your side effects r bad but honestly how did i get the fuck through high school other than triggering intense anxiety about all assignments

like... i was so nonfunctional i shouldn't have even been in school

.....

66ccff: 

all accessibility problems are solvable humans are so bad

___: caring ? About others ? What a concept 66ccff: except sometimes they are good but that is definitely not me

___: 

Me

Ok I try to overcompensate w good to make up for inherent badness THANKS RELIGION

66ccff: 

the US is like: here's a pricetag for your life pay up

___: AAAA

66ccff: 

yeah i can see how christainity wouldn't help there w/ the "original sin" and stuff that doesn't quite exist in other abrahamic religions iirc judaism doesn't even have hell

___:  it's really weird

66ccff: 

i'm guessing its bc of jesus like.... y'all binches killed him so now this is life - christainity

___: 

Like. Christianity makes the most sense to me probably cuz I grew up w it but fuck Man

66ccff:  o yeah i grew up w/ some christianity too ___: It's FUCKED!!!!!! 66ccff:  i actually have agoraphobia issues w/ going inside of churches ___: Oh same 66ccff:  :^) ___: I'm actually fairly anti-church just because the current state of them is very bsd 66ccff:  oh yeah

....

66ccff: 

how can someone like me, who is literally not deserving of life, raise someone else

scrumbles

___:

Me Hdjehdsk

66ccff:  ___ we are so fucked ___: 

It's true Life is fucked We, are fucked

66ccff: existence is violence

[theindifferentdroid]

Mad Sounds: Part 2 [Modern!Kylo x Reader]

Summary: Sleepless after an eventful night, you turn to Kylo for comfort. 

Part 1

A/N: I wanted to lighten the mood a smidge after some intense stuff in part 1. Enjoy!

Warnings: Just fluff and angst. 

Word count: 1,600+

You had been staring at your ceiling so long you were sure you would never forget the sight. Bundled up in your sheets, you were warm, but to say you were comfortable was a lie. You had wound yourself so tightly in them, thinking it would make you feel safe and secure, but you just could not fall asleep. Not after what happened. 

You had an idea, but you didn't want to act on it. Every time you decided to get up, your body didn't go along with it. You groaned out loud, frustrated with your conflicting thoughts. Closing your eyes tightly, you sat up quickly enough you wouldn't have to think about what you were doing. You wrapped a blanket around you and trudged into your living room, defeated. It reminded you of your childhood, except the nightmare wasn't in your mind. 

Standing in the hall, you sighed heavily, obviously. It was more of an announcement of your appearance than anything. You didn't want to scare Kylo. He had offered to sleep on your couch, to keep you safe while your window was busted open from earlier. You had gladly accepted his offer. But now, it was awkward. 

His dark locks fell away from his face as his head poked up from the other side of the sofa. "Y/N? What's wrong?!" He started to get up, but you waved him down. 

"Just can't fall asleep."

"Can't blame you. You had an eventful night." Kylo sat up properly and patted the sofa cushion next to him. 

You hesitated. This was all so.... weird. You must have been drunk on adrenaline when you agreed to let a stranger spend the night. Not that he wouldn't leave if you would ask him to. But he was here now and you're were awake and in desperate need of conversation. 

You walked over and plopped down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping the blanket wrapped around you. It was quiet for a while, only your breaths conversing with each other. The living room was dark, only barely lit by the outside lights seeping in piecemeal through the cracks in the blinds. You both sat facing forward, deathly still. It wasn't nearly as awkward as either of you would have imagined. Still, the silence was a bit much. 

Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Kylo looked over at you, face twisted into a puzzled look. He didn't speak. 

"I ruined your night and now you're awake and you're probably exhausted and I should just let you go home." Your voice trailed off as you moved to stand up. 

"Hey." Kylo grasped a handful of the blanket to prevent you from walking away, and you didn't have the energy to pull it out of his grip, not that it would have been possible even if you had. 

"I'm not going anywhere. Sit down."

You complied, a protesting sigh escaping your lips. 

"Do you want to watch TV or something?"

You shook your head slightly. "Can we just... talk?"

Kylo flinched, glad you weren't looking at him. Talking: not one of his strong suits. But he'd try, for you. 

"Sure. Whatever you want."

"Um," you began. You had always wanted to get to know your neighbor better, but you were so ill-prepared now, exhausted and rattled. This wasn't the ideal situation. 

"What do you do?" Once the words came out, you were embarrassed. This is what you want to talk about? Your insomnia would be cured in a matter of minutes at this rate. 

"I'm a mechanic," Kylo said plainly. You could tell he was already bored. 

"Cool." You rolled your eyes at yourself, not able to look at Kylo. 

Kylo smirked. He could tell you were nervous, and he thought it was adorable. His heart swelled with his feelings for you. He hadn't expected to fall this quickly. 

You stifled a yawn. 

"You're tired."

You closed your eyes and titled your head back. "Exhausted."

"Then lay down."

You kept your eyes closed. "I just tried that and -"

"No," Kylo interrupted. You picked up your head and narrowed your eyes at him. 

He leaned forward and removed the pillow he was leaning on from behind his back. He squeezed it a handful of times to return its shape, then laid it against the side of his leg. Giving the pillow two quick pats, he looked at you. 

Your expression hadn't changed. The seconds of silence and eye contact felt like hours. 

"Lay down, Y/N. I'm not going to hurt you."

Hearing him say your name made you melt. This was so surreal. 

His eyes pleaded with you. You began to wonder if he liked you and wasn't just being polite. This was beyond just being a good neighbor. You felt your heart in your throat, 

Wrapped in your blanket, you slowly leaned down, adjusting yourself so you were curled up in a ball to fit on the rest sofa. Your head rested gently on the pillow hardened by Kylo's thigh, and your body, though warm, broke out in goosebumps. 

You inhaled deeply, cuddling further into the sofa and against Kylo, and closed your eyes. This may have been the key to your sleep tonight. 

You jumped suddenly, scared by something touching you. Kylo pulled his arm back quickly, a worried look apparent on his face. 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -"

You turned your head to see what happened and noticed Kylo's arm in midair. He was trying to put his arm around you. "No. It's fine. I'm just a little on edge tonight. You can put it back."

Kylo watched as you nestled your head back into the pillow, appreciating the contact. Reaching out again, more slowly this time, he placed his arm along the length of your body, his hand resting on your hip. He was careful where he landed, but he was strangely confident about the placement. 

This all felt so domestic to you. Comfortably so. You imagined coming home from work and cuddling up on the sofa with him, taking in his scent of sweat and oil, watching a movie, eating popcorn. This was never the type of guy you had imagined yourself falling for. A shaggy-haired, muscular mechanic. Who apparently owned brass knuckles. 

"Hey," you said without opening your eyes. 

Kylo hummed an acknowledgement. 

"Why do you have brass knuckles?"

"Is that seriously what you're thinking about right now? Go to sleep."

An exaggerated huff left your lips. "But why do you -"

"Hush." Kylo placed his other hand on your head, smoothing your hair.

A relaxing calm came over you. This was exactly what you needed: the slow, steady pass of his hand though your hair. A peaceful moan sounded from your throat involuntarily. 

"This always helped me when I couldn't sleep."

"Hm?" You didn't want to move your head for fear of making him stop what he was doing. 

"I have trouble sleeping." He spoke calmly and clearly. It surprised you how open he was being. "I know it helps to have someone... with you." He trailed off. 

You rolled onto your back to get a better look at him. He was looking away from you, eyebrows furrowed. He seemed sad, suddenly. 

His openness with you gave you the courage to pry a little. That, plus the exhaustion playing with your mind. "Do you have someone to sleep with?" You paused. "That sounded weird. I'm sorry."

"I used to." He ignored your phrasing. "Not anymore."

"Oh." The answer was the one you wanted. You wanted to be sure he was single. But he was obviously upset by the fact. Your etiquette had disappeared with your sleep. "What happened?"

The corners of Kylo's plump lips pulled downwards. Guilt tugged at your gut now. You didn't mean to do that to him. 

"Anger management," he said sarcastically. 

You recalled the first time you met him, and how he had been "rearranging furniture," as he called it. 

"You're a nice guy, though."

"You don't know me," he retorted. 

You sat up quickly, frustrated. He ignored the movement, as if he was expecting it. "You're right. I don't know you." You faced him, glaring, until he finally looked at you. When your eyes met, it was like you were seeing him all over again. Your heart fluttered. You wondered if the feeling went both ways. "But I'd like to."

That was all the prompting Kylo needed. He hastily grasped the back of your head in his hand, crashing his lips forcefully into yours. Your hair tangled in between his fingers. You kissed him back, finally closing your eyes after the shock wore off. He began working his way towards you, not allowing your lips to part from his. His other hand found its way under your blanket and into the small of your back, and he gently began to lower you to the sofa. His strength amazed you, noticing you didn't have to move yourself much. 

When you removed yourself to take breath, he propped himself up with one arm, his face just inches away. His eyes were piercing, even in the darkness, gazing down upon you hungrily. 

A sly smirk crossed his face. "I'd like to get to know you too." 

You chuckled, giddy. It wasn't much, but it was exhilarating, unexpected. Your breaths were sparse now, the adrenaline pumping your heart on its own.

He nudged you. "Now scoot over. Let's get some sleep."

"Were not going to -"

"We'll fit just fine. Here."

He sat up a little bit, giving you more room on the sofa with his wide torso out of the way. Your head was just even with his bare chest. You were hesitant, but he pushed your face down to meet his skin, leaving his hand on your head. Slowly, he began to run his hands through your hair. Slumber overtook you quickly, finally. 

[yi-dashi-a]

Whispers from Ionia - News from the Front Lines

Perhaps, at least outwardly, it may have appeared that things had returned to monotony.

The cold of Snowdown fell away, and warmer weather slowly crept in over the land of Demacia. Time and soft meditation healed the wound to his torso, but in mind it still pained him as much as the day ballistics had struck him through his core. Even his small grievances felt amplified when left to dwell on them, and most notably in his current moment was stiffness. His old flexibility wasn’t to be found when he outstretched his arms above his head and arched his back.

At least not yet. Muscles had healed taut, but that didn’t stop him from working on the injury every moment he could. Stretches were done regardless of ills upon awaking from a nap, and he tested his sword arm every evening to ensure it still could charge a blade. Unlike the other spats of melancholy in his life, this one was underlined by a subtle sort of determination the likes of which he had yet to experience. In his mind he was still doing this for someone, somewhere. Whether she was a living woman, a corpse full of worms, or a ghost by now.

It was not explosive revenge. It was calculated purpose.

One less abstract concept he couldn’t help but dwell on was the insomnia, however. Terrible burning sensations had rid him of proper sleep, and even when they subsided the night time hours had become his new prowling ground. It had practically become ritual to watch the sun set in the reflection of a hand mirror to the soft snipping of sheers. Yi made sure the fullness of his beard complimented, in some way, the rope like length that already hung from his chin... though the real intent was to keep it short enough to scratch when his nerves wished for the sound of stubble. In the beginning it had been a painful venture to even think about cutting his whiskers regularly, but Wuju was far from his mind in the face of simply persisting in the moment. For the time being the style gave him some semblance of self-worth, and the want to continue his existence prevailed.

Even so, the sun would set in his mirror eventually, and his lenses would glow under the moonlight. While others intended to sleep, the Ionian saw it as his opportunity to rise. Adjusting the shawl of his Demacian civvies about his shoulders, and checking his swords on his boots, he let the night consume his wanderlust addled bones.

But outings were less an exercise in exploration and more one of endurance. He had lived in the same area for so long now that the streets were no longer unknown from corner to corner. Even at night he could easily note where he was by the dim candlelight in windows, or by the odd late hour individuals like he who gave him their polite waves. If he’d learned anything by now, it was that the place was resistant to change. At the very least no one had anything new to say when they regarded him in the street, so when the routine of his strolling was broken by a call,

“Excuse me, monsieur?”

Yi certainly wasn’t fussed, and continued listening to the ping of loose cobblestone upon his boots with his lenses turned downwards. Along with the night owls, it wasn’t uncommon for his wanderings to entice the attention of those with complaints. Guardfolk were often attracted to the glow of his lenses like moths to a flame, and Yi burned their wings with a curt,

“If you question the lights upon my face, you will find I need these to see, thank you very much.”

Some took more explanation than others. Some even contended that his techmaturgy was some sort of cultural faux pas. To them all he gave was strained patience, and eventually they would depart as he would. This one, however, seemed keen to speak,

“Aha! No, I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on there, Master Yi. I even called you Master Yi this time. I’m learning.”

His lenses didn’t even need to focus on the features of this guard as he stopped dead and turned. Yi saw completely past blond waves tied tightly back behind a head, a smug spring to his step as he approached, and the heft of a bow over a shoulder. There were those archer eyes again, their piercing emerald hue visible to his night vision over all things, “… I wish I could grow a beard like that--”

A duck and a weave to swords on his heels would have culminated in a strike if the act hadn’t ripped through his injury. Before he could possibly steel himself against the instinctual gritting of his teeth a soft clunk sounded to the head of his helmet. With the strained sounds of a bowstring that followed soon after, the only response immediately apparent to the Ionian was to let his gloved knuckles fall to the ground where he stooped.

“… Why should I not gut you where it is you stand?” He growled to the pavement, though the weight of a threat was nowhere to be heard, “What of your face? Should I punch you once more? Why do you approach me so unprovoked in my moment of quiet?”

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I don’t like the thought of a messy reunion.”

Carefully Yi inclined his head upwards, feeling the weight of the arrow shift upon his head. With lenses in flurried activity he regarded the young guard once more. The muscle-bound archer had his bow fingers ready to pop, and there almost looked to be a man behind his frown, “… You wanted me to come and find you anyway, when the time was right. I didn’t really know how to, you know, knock on the door of a noble house and ask for you. This is a happy coincidence... as always.”

“What does it matter? Why not just shoot me now?” Yi rolled his eyes behind hextech, raising his arms flippantly, “Try and shoot me through my helmet. Try…”

“I won’t shoot so long as you cooperate. Unlike you, I don’t actually want to gut anyone.”

A twang and a clutter sounded off in quick succession, the arrow seeming to graze right by Yi’s head and almost splinter upon the pathway to his side. The Wuju Master in that moment saw another opportunity to strike, but the man with his hands up was too tired. Yi’s shoulders slumped and his head fell to a slight one side.

“Unlike me...” He scoffed, “You are the only one who has done anyone harm thus far.”

“Are you have made me scuttle one of my arrows. Thanks.” The Demacian’s eyes narrowed, “Now are you going to be peaceful with me? I can draw an arrow faster than you can blink.” Yi could only sound a sad laugh,

“And yet you only managed to shoot me a single time.”

“Just get up. I don’t want to argue with you, and I don’t want to fight you…”

No help was offered to Yi as he struggled to his feet, nor was there any hint of smarmy attitude from the Demacian any more. Perhaps there truly was a man behind all the grins and the quips, but Yi wasn’t about to perform a character study as he finally stumbled back to a standing position. He merely stared down his fellow man and said,

“Talk then.”

“Not here…” The archer replied, looking over his shoulder momentarily, “… People tend to listen for wayward conversations in the night. That’s at least something I’ve learned recently. Funnily enough,” It took the act of Terrius flicking a long knitted scarf over his face for Yi to finally look him up and down. There was not a lick of blue, gold, or white to be found upon his person. Any armour akin to the guardsman garb he had always seemed to wear was replaced by nondescript leather, “the best places are talk are where a lot of people are talking. So what do you say I buy you some food instead of us coming to blows again, hm?”

As if it were an obvious progression to him, the man adjusted his bow, scooped up his abused arrow from the ground, and continued to walk down the street. Yi, however, simply remained where he stood, trying his best to keep his posture firm as he angled himself defensively towards the walking Demacian. It took a second or two before the archer noted the lack of plate boots to stone in the space and he turned quietly on his heels. For a time not even the wind blew the dishevelled pair about as they stood at distance, but it was Yi who softly inquired,

“… Is she alive?” The stubbled blond seemed to wince,

“I can’t talk about that he--”

“--Terry…” Yi let the man chew his cheek for a moment before he sighed to himself, “… I will not follow you just for you to shatter my hopes, Terrius. I have other things and people I must attend to in this life after we have finished speaking, and I wish not for you to play with my emotions so in your secrecy or folly. If she has died, then there is nothing left for me in this endeavour. Tell me so. Just tell me and be done with it.”

“Yi…” Terry too let out a deep sigh, ensuring his scarf was further wrapped tightly around his face, “… I can say she’s breathing. That’s all I can tell you right now, okay? Just follow me, please.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not going to like anything else I have to say tonight!” Snapped the archer, setting off in his hurried steps once again, “I’ll explain it, just come with me…”

The Master of Wuju clenched his fists as his lenses spat amber fire.

What other choice do I have, you bastard..?

[mikeyd1986]

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 147, March 2019

On Tuesday morning, I had an appointment to see Sleep & Respiratory Physician Dr. Sameer Kaul at Wattletree Specialist Consulting Suites in Frankston. Considering how little I knew from information there was about Dr. Kaul online, I really didn’t know what to expect from him today. I brought along a pile of medical evidence including my referral, letter from my neuro-psychologist, blood test results, mental healthcare plan and autism assessment report. And yet I still felt nervous and ill prepared for this morning’s consultation. https://www.healthshare.com.au/profile/professional/149074-dr-sameer-kaul/

I found Dr. Kaul to be very blunt, harsh and condescending one minute then carefree and casual the next. I really couldn’t adjust to his personality at all. Even in my zombified state, I did the best I could to answer his questions, though I could tell I wasn’t really explaining myself too well. “What are you worrying about? What’s keeping you awake at night?” I didn’t have specific answers for him. Work, money, lack of close friends, self esteem and self confidence issues, frustration, anxiety, sore joints and muscles. But these vague responses didn’t seem good enough for him.

When it came to describing my bed routine, it felt like he was putting me down. Sure it’s not exactly helping that I watch YouTube videos and use social media before my head hits the pillow. However, I do manage to keep the bedroom dark, dimly lit and cool with the ceiling fan switched on plus I play relaxation music to help me drift off to sleep. I also enjoy reading in bed occasionally, currently The Outsider by Stephen King. Dr. Kaul asserted that it was a terrible idea. He also implied that my sleep hygiene was shit.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to bring everything I wanted to up as I felt silenced and withdrawn by him. He was correct in saying that I do need to be more consistent about my sleep routine but he just made me feel inferior and dumb the way he was criticizing me. Perhaps I was being too sensitive about the things he was saying to me. I’m sure he had good intentions for me but ultimately I felt misunderstood by him. He wasn’t taking me 100% seriously and that bothered me a lot because I was the one who took action to make this appointment happen.

The one silver lining that I took away was that fact that he did give me a referral for an In-Lab Sleep Study held at the Peninsula Health Sleep Laboratory & Clinic. He ticked the following boxes on the referral form: Diagnostic Study, Insomnia, Unrefreshing Sleep and Daytime Sleepiness when sedentary. As I paid $245 for the consultation today, I wanted to get something out of it and I guess I did but not what I expected. Perhaps that will give me more definitive answers and make me feel more satisfied than I felt after today. https://www.peninsulahealth.org.au/services/services-f-m/medical-services/respiratory-services/

Sometimes I wish I could scream at the top of my lungs: I’M TRYING SO FUCKING HARD. I WANT TO BE LOVED. I WANT TO BE HEARD. I WANT TO BE APPRECIATED. It’s tough being introverted and quiet all the time, not having many close friends to spend time with, being alone and by yourself a lot. But I’m learning to embrace this solidarity and be more comfortable with my own company. Even doing my own shopping and going out to lunch by myself are significant achievements for me as I often have a need for company. Social media is often a go to for me and at times it’s been an unhealthy distraction from my problems.

As I’m on the verge of turning 33 years old, my health issues have taken on a greater focus in my life. Now when I look at blood test results, I take them much more seriously. I’m really concerned about my iron levels which have dropped from 97 to 56 over the past three years. So I decided to try out Ferro Gradumet & Vitamin C tablets which is a one a day iron supplement. I hope that by increasing my iron levels that it will reduce my daytime fatigue and increase my energy levels during the day.  https://www.healthdirect.gov.au/medicines/brand/amt,53373011000036103/ferro-grad-c

The other thing I’m focusing my attention on is my total cholesterol levels which are currently at 5.7. It really needs to be closer to 4.0 to be considered desirable. So I’ve decided to try eating foods such as Cholesterol Lowering Weetbix and Flora Pro-active margarine with added plant sterols in order to hopefully drop that number to a more optimum level for my age range. The last thing I want to deal with is cardiovascular health issues when I get older. https://www.heartfoundation.org.au/healthy-eating/food-and-nutrition/fats-and-cholesterol/plant-sterols

On Friday night, I went to a HIIT + Circuit small group fitness training session with CinFull Fitness. Tonight we did a series of exercises for 3 rounds and 45 seconds each. The first circuit involved doing non-stop wall balls, 10 kettle bell swings and 10 kettle bell squats, non-stop battle ropes. The second circuit involved 10 skull-crushers and 10 chest presses, single arm dumbell rows on the bench, tricep dips, 10 ball slams and 10 shoulder presses.

It was a tough class, sweating a lot as per usual and trying hard to improve my technique with guidance from Cinamon Guerin. I recently weighed myself and got a reading of 93.6kg which is a good thing. I’m making slow progress towards my goal weight again. It’s honestly been a roller-coaster ride when it comes to my body weight and trying hard to maintain healthy lifestyle choices but I’m doing better than I was 5 years ago in that department.

On Sunday afternoon, I had my birthday lunch celebration held at Kelly's Cranbourne. It didn’t register to me that it was St. Patrick’s Day until we walked into the bistro area and noticed the staff wearing green leprechaun hats. I really didn’t have huge expectations around today’s gathering. I’ve found that as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to appreciate things a lot more. And yet the ironic thing is that I feel younger than my biological age of 33. I personally believe that you’re only as old as you feel.

It was a very good thing that I booked the table in advance because it didn’t take very long for the bistro to get packed out. In terms of who came, there was Jen Angee, David Angee, Lucas Eldridge, Vanessa Bonica, Phil Anthony, Amy Amy plus my parents Angela Dixon and Rod James. It’s often difficult getting people to attend my social gatherings but I’ve learned that this is out of my control and not personal. Plus March is a very busy month for a lot of people. Just having a handful of people was enough for me today.

While the main meals at Kelly’s are typically very pricey, I do believe that they are worth it for how much food you end up getting on the plate. I ordered a Seafood Plate for $32.90 consisting of grilled fish, calamari, prawns, scallops, muscles, chips and salad and honestly struggled to get through it. The atmosphere was very relaxed and easy going. That’s the main thing I wanted was for everyone to get along and have a nice time.

“And we're all alone. And so tired of being underrated. So don't take me home 'cause I feel alive when you come and save me...I want to be someone. If you take me away, all the pain will change into a memory, of when we were amazing.” Darren Hayes - Casey (2007)

[sleep2k]

my fucked up life

i'm so anxious all the time again. i got back home from being away at school and haven't had work cause the weather. but im trying to make money to buy my camera and pay my phone and save more money for school and fests and shits. but im not working so i'm constantly anxious about money. i cried at 8am the other day after a night of no sleep cause the bank charged me 40$ that i got back later that day. it's getting so bad. this money anxiety is making it harder to sleep and i go to bed at 3-7 am every night and have been for over 8 months while waking up at 10-11 for school. my mental health isn't together. it helps to skate with friends and having people i actually connect with and have the same interests. i've never had friends like that till now. and i'm doing better than ever before in school. i have an amazing girl. but every day it's thinking of killing myself and i plan it out all the time. i look back at night and reflect on my days and i think, i was happy and smiling, but it's all situational just like the sadness. am i really happy when i'm out or do i convince people and myself that. i still feel so alone with many people around me. people always say "don't fit in" etcetc and that's all i want. to not be alone and fit in. but at the same time, i make my looks stand out and grab people's attention but i hate attention and people looking at me or talking to me but i want that feeling. it's just a battle in my head all the time. i can't wait till my next cigarette. it always calms me down and helps me get my head straight. that's why i smoke. but i chain smoke in crowds. but i love the feeling of being out at night at like 3 am having one under the sky. i want to see life's beauties like that. i want to be more creative and make clothes and get my camera and edit. i want to make the music video for my friend but i keep putting him on hold because i don't have my own camera. because i can't afford it. i love skating but i'm no good at it, but my friends are all as good as me so it helps. but i want to learn more and be able to do more. i want to die and live at the same time. i want to sleep but be awake. i don't wanna get out of bed and i want to have all the sunshine of the day to do stuff. i feel like i have depression, adhd, insomnia and whatever else but i feel i'm just self diagnosing so ill never take it seriously. i'm just a kid who stays up on his phone, not real insomnia. it's all my fault. i've never seen a doctor about any of it but when i tried to do so, it failed so i just never tried again and i probably won't. i won't sleep till 5 tonight cause i'll just watch videos on insta or fb or some other stupid shit. it's all cause and effect and it's all my fault. i do shitty things to myself so i feel shitty. i would just be so much better with my own camera and a few extra bucks. why does the world revolve around money. that's why it's easier to kill yourself, that's when money doesn't matter anymore. not to yourself at least. i just had to say this stuff and i have more to say but idk anymore and i just question myself more and more with every word. this is dumb. life is dumb. money is dumb. i'll never actually reach my dreams and i'll settle or some shit. this is all so fucked. fuck. fuck. i'm done.