#messy recovery

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Miles to Go Before I Sleep

cw: alcoholism, bad coping mechanisms, referenced violence, emeto

previous /// Wildefire Masterlist ///

°•°•°

Alexei trudged back to Chopper’s with the sunrise to his back, dried blood crusting the seams in his arms. Some was his, some was the mark’s, a loan shark he'd made quick work of, though it had taken most of the night to catch him alone.

He was exhausted, hopefully exhausted enough to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, hopefully exhausted enough to dream of nothing. He doubted he'd be that lucky. 

This was all he'd ever hoped for in the last two years. Of being free, of life going back to business as usual. So why couldn't he sleep?

Making it away from the Tower, from Uriah, had been some big, stupid, out-of-reach fantasy. And in that fantasy, as soon as Lex was free, it was all better. Things were back to normal. The last two years were a bad dream. Easy to bottle away and forget about.

But in the real world, it wasn't so simple.

The contracts should've been easy. They were familiar, ironically safe, but sometimes he'd forget if he was taking down a mark for Chopper or for Uriah. Those moments made him stumble, force himself to press a hand to his throat, remind himself that the collar was gone, that the only one who controlled him anymore was him.

Not that he did a good job of it.

He'd all-but handed the steering wheel to Chopper, taking any job the older man so much as mentioned, if only for a way to distract himself, to try to find a rhythm, but the rhythm he found was nothing steady.

Track, kill, collect. Drink himself to sleep if he got sleep at all. Repeat in a day or two. Look over his shoulder every time he was out of the building, feel his heart start to race at every stranger who stared too long.

Once he'd sobered up enough to track his surroundings, he found he couldn't even attempt sleep unless the lights were on, or else he'd wake up back in the cell. The door couldn't be closed, because then he was trapped, but it couldn't be open either, or someone could sneak up on him. He couldn't be around people, because any of them could be a spy for Uriah, but he couldn't be alone or the damned silence would choke him.

And as it turned out, pretending he could be okay, pretending he'd never been taken in the first place, didn't help anything.

The other Neath freelancers knew it all. People he could've called friends once, who he should've been able to fall into step with, now looked the other way or fell silent when he passed by. They could see the Tower in his scars, in his flinches. They knew how Uriah had owned him.

He'd done the impossible and escaped both, but it still hadn't saved him.

He still wasn't safe, and he never would be.

Not until Uriah Fox was dead.

The thought gave him some solace as he sat awake that night, back flat against the wall, sipping on a bottle of something he hoped was strong enough to knock him out.

Fox had to die so he could sleep, so he could go outside without being seen and caught and trapped. It was the first long-term goal he'd had since being taken, the first goal that wasn't just avoid angering the guards, avoid pissing off Uriah, survive one more day.

Lex staggered to his feet. How late was it? Was Chopper still awake? He had to do this now, he had to get this done now, he didn't care if he was tired, he didn't care if it killed him. He stumbled down the hall, just sober enough to stay on his feet, and that was all he needed. The light was on in Chopper's office. Good.

The older man was leaning back in his chair, sifting through a handful of papers. His eyes darted up when Lex passed the doorway, expression turning from neutrality to mild concern.

“Cinder…”

“I need a contract,” Lex said.

“You just got back from a contract. Sleep.” Chopper laid the papers in front of him. “And take a shower, for fuck’s sake. I can smell the blood on you.”

“I can't sleep,” Lex muttered, rubbing at a splotch of dried blood on his arm until it began to flake away, tiny pieces floating to rest in the ground like a macabre snow. “Are there any hits out for… for higher ups in the city?”

Chopper frowned at the question. “Higher ups?”

“CEOs.” He'd play this as casual as he could, in spite of the tightness in his chest, in spite of how the knowledge that Uriah was still out there was locked around his throat.

Chopper sank back in his chair with a heavy sigh, pulling open a filing cabinet. “Slim pickings. Not many people have the guts or the funds to go after them.” He pulled out a folder. “Why the sudden taste for golden blood? You can't possibly be low on cash already, unless you…”

He trailed off, eyes landing on the bottle still clutched in Lex’s hand, and he knew what he wanted to say. Unless you already drank it all away.

“Does it matter?”

Chopper opened the folder. “I guess it doesn't.” He scanned the pages within in silence for a moment. “Looks like we've got some attorneys… project manager, company director… any of those shiny enough for you?”

Lex grit his teeth. “Are any of them Uriah Fox?”

The folder snapped shut. “Uriah Fox,” Chopper repeated. “You want to kill Uriah Fox?”

His fist tightened around the bottle. “What do you think?”

“I think you should know the code by now. We don't make it personal.”

“I can't fucking sleep, Chopper. I can't…” He let his head drop. “I can't keep doing this. I need… I need him to be gone, I can't—” He pressed a palm into his cheek, cold metal on hot skin. “I don't need a contract to do it. I'll do it on my own. With or without your help.”

Chopper let out a sigh, laying the folder on the desk. “I'm afraid I can't let you do that.”

Lex's stomach churned, uneasy at the way he said it. What did he mean? Weren't they allies? Hadn't it always been us against them?

“You understand.” Chopper spread his hands, something apologetic on his face. “Fox is one of my top investors. It's a conflict of interest.”

Investor. Lex took a stumbling step backwards. Investor, pester, sequester, how had he not seen it? How has he not realized he'd been hiding in the fucking lion's den this entire time? How could Chopper do this, side with Uriah, didn't he realize what he'd done to him? That he'd come for him, take him back, let him rot in the Tower, even further underground than a grave would put him?

Chopper pushed himself up. “I don't want you panicking over this. I'm perfectly capable of maintaining both relationships.”

“You… Y—” Lex hunched over, emptying his stomach on the linoleum tile.

“Fuck, Cinder,” Chopper muttered, moving around the desk. Lex staggered backwards, wiping acrid bile from his chin with the back of his hand, eyes wide and locked on the older man.

Maintaining both relationships. He knew what that meant, he knew Chopper would have no issue handing him over to Uriah if only he was asked to. How had he thought this was a safe haven? (raven) How could he have passed out drunk here, let his guard down so severely? (clearly) He'd been lucky. He'd been so damn lucky Chopper hadn't seen fit to give him up in the last few weeks, and fuck, it would've been easy. Lex had made it easy, by being stupid and trusting and complacent (adjacent).

“Sit down. We can talk about this.”

We can calm you down and keep you in place long enough for Uriah to come barging through the door.

“You're not thinking rationally. I know you haven't been yourself lately.”

You haven't been the same since your return from hell. 

“It was a bad idea to set you back to work so soon.”

You came back ruined.

Lex's back hit the wall, and he flinched away from it as if it were another enemy. He couldn't stay here, it wasn't safe, nowhere was safe.

“Cinder…”

He whirled around, head spinning, heart pounding in his throat, not safe.

“Alexei.”

He barreled through the door, feet hardly moving fast enough to keep him upright as he made a mad dash through the front door and stumbled out into the cool night air.

Nowhere was safe (waif, chafe, strafe). Chopper had dozens of freelancers on his payroll, hundreds of allies (spies, cries), thousands of eyes that could watch for him, nowhere was safe, he couldn't sleep (cheap, creep).

He didn't stop running until he was several blocks away, practically collapsing against the wall of a locksmith shop. What now? He couldn't stay awake forever, couldn't stay vigilant, and it was only a matter of time before he passed out and someone took the opportunity to snatch him or report him and fuck, fuck, he hadn't escaped, he'd never really escape, nowhere was safe—

…was it?

He forced himself to inhale, shuddering breaths fighting against the way the world was spinning. There were like-minded people out there, people who hated Uriah as much as he did, people who wouldn't hand him over to Titanium, if only out of spite.

Enemy of my enemy.

He sucked in air, his heartbeat slowing down, if only a little.

"You don't have to go out and face the world alone.”

He still didn't believe that, didn't trust any of the rogues, but he could trust in their shared goal.  He'd saved them once, weathered Uriah's anger to protect them from his own fire, and maybe they were still grateful enough that they'd be willing to watch his back and let him rest.

He pushed up from the wall, squinting into the darkness. The rogue's safehouse was miles away. He couldn't even be certain that they'd still be there, but it was the only plan that made sense.

Lex took a swig from the half-empty bottle, still clutched in his fist, hoping the liquor would beat back the fear that still clawed at his chest.

He had a long walk ahead of him.

•°•°•

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump ,

[machinerot]

[watercolourcritters]

trot trot trot

[ID: marker art of a kiwi bird running with text reading "I will keep putting one foot in front of the other even when it sucks." Sucks is underlined for emphasis. The background is plain white, and the artists signature is @ watercolour critters. End ID.]

Instagram | Etsy

[thepeacefulgarden]

[catastrxblues]

EVERMORE by taylor swift (feat. bon iver) — “and i was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step. and i couldn’t be sure, i had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn’t be forevermore.”

my #swiftiegiftexchange2024 for @lovesickallovermybed!!!! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

[sofiaruelle]

Guess what finally came in the mail!!!!! My copy of Seasons of the Valley fanzine and these gorgeous lil goodies!!!!!!

Thank you so so much, @seasonsofthevalley for having me as a guest artist!!!

Also big shout out to my fellow contributors and the amazing mod team!!!!

[chronicsymptomsyndrome]

How do I recover from severe burnout with an overwhelmingly messy recovery space

How do I clean my overwhelmingly messy recovery space properly if I am severely burnt out

How do I recover from severe burnout if I’m constantly using all of my energy doing the bare minimum

How do I recover from severe burnout

How do I recover

[dyke-husband]

Hey you!!! Are you queer? Are you a trauma survivor? Do you experience desires and longings?

Fill out my google form! Or at least share with your friends! Everything is anonymous and just between you and I. I’m looking for honest, shame-free responses about the intersections of queer desire and trauma.

[mymarifae]

does anyone want to join me on the aventurine/argenti train. it's got all the perks of being as funny as any other argenti ship - especially given the random absurdity of their first meeting. what the hell was argenti doing in the depths of the nihility? who even knows anymore man. but like also i think it has the potential to be really sweet?

aventurine hasn't let anyone In since his sister died. he's long since forgotten how to Trust, and Love, and how to BE Loved. and this, combined with enormous amounts of survivor's guilt and trauma and being treated as an object, has really done a number on his self-esteem. he doesn't act like it (because he's learned that it's dangerous to be vulnerable; it's the one gamble he's not willing to take), but 2.1 gave us that glimpse into his inner dialogue and it is Bad in there

between his conversation with acheron, the note veritas left for him, and finding a sense of closure in the apparition of his younger self, he's on track to becoming better. we can see it in the way he pretty much immediately reaches out to the trailblazer to get some things off his chest once he gets his phone working again. and the way he's accepting what is basically a form of therapy from the doctors of chaos. but his self-hatred has been building up for years, and it's going to take a long time to unpack and unlearn all of that

so like, in comes argenti, right? he's a loud show-off, but he is SO earnest. he sees the beauty in everything and everyone. he's kind, and gentle, and so full of love. he also comes off as a bit... lonely to me? he's spent so much of his life chasing after idrila's shadow, and only catching a glimpse of them in his many near-death experiences (and isn't that something to think about...........). he's not like, secretly miserable or faking or anything - i think his exuberance is 1000% genuine. but humans are social creatures; everyone wants and requires at least some form of closeness and intimacy. to have a love to pursue in This realm... someone he can see and hold without needing to have one foot in an early grave . i think that would be good for him. that's all

anyway, it's clear that argenti was pretty enchanted by aventurine

like yeah that's kind of just how he talks normally but !?@,%&#& that's a lot of awfully romantic things to say about one specific person out of the several you apparently rescued (??????? god i love this guy he makes no sense. literally why are you even here bud). it seems that aventurine's more subdued state left an impression on him too, and well wouldn't it be pretty in character for him to start popping in randomly... as he does, because he can apparently just go wherever the fuck he wants. to check on this sad yet oh so beautiful peacock.. to try to bring a true smile to his face... to show him how kind and beautiful the universe can be......

i think aventurine might have a hard time laughing off offers of comfort and company and the beginnings of a courtship if it comes from someone like argenti. this man couldn't be disingenuous if he tried. he doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve as much as he rips it out of his chest to show you. it'll be a learning curve regardless - aventurine is too used to needing to constantly prove his worth to keep anyone around and to keep them from hurting him

but do you see it. do you see the vision. do you see how Sweet this could be. aventurine is about to receive more roses than he'll know what to do with

[uncanny-tranny]

Healing can look and feel a lot like pain, so it's hard to imagine this being a good sign. However, I think feeling like it's getting worse can be a sign that you're healing and you're making progress.

I've been noticing in myself that I feel a whole lot worse ever since I actually... acknowledged I have a lot of healing to do and that I am unwell. I actually allowed myself to entertain the idea, and it's opened the floodgates to me finding out just how bad it got. I'm grateful in a way that I'm getting worse now because I have the ability to heal.

If it feels like it's gotten worse, maybe it could be because you're making your way out of the storm. It's going to be okay.

[nwarrior777]

my personal top 10 fav "I Beat Anorexia And Happy With My Body" things:

thinking "ohhohoooo who is that sexy bitch of a man here with yaaammmmmmmmmmmy hips mhhmhmhmhm" while looking in a mirror before going to shower

"that would be so rad renaissance painting" in same situation

getting over "yeah i love myself as i am but if i gain more i will feel sad again" thought to "i love my body in every way, body where you going i am going too, leeets gooooo biiitch wroom wroom" as the last milestone to completely loving yourself and opening-

-the biggest energy source world ever known - loooove! to yourself to others yaaaaassss

understanding that the difference in the smallest clothes size and the biggest is like 10 cm is fucked up shit and problem is not in me here

checking weight because i worry that i loose weight [and thinking that maybe i got sick or smth] not otherwise (it's fine, i didn't! :) i am about like. 80+ kg, feeling fine! heheeee!!!!)

eating! fucking! taaaaaaaaaaasty food!

loving all my photoes, concept of "i am ugly on that photo" doesn't exist anymore because there is no "ugly" in my system of coordinates

talking with my girl friends with dialogs like "biiiitch you are beautiful fashion goddeeees" and constantly giving each over compliments, and we are all really mean it, and a lot of my girl friends are 80+ kg and they fucking beautiful and they know they are beautiful and we love how we look and know that we are absolutely slaying [i am not a girl, but i am afab and have a lot of fems in friends youunderstood the pointt]

the feeling of endless energy of love and confidence in general, for yourself and people who you love, after you understand that beauty standarts sucks

igewoh i love my body so much yaaaaaaaaaaahahahaaaaa

feel free to reblog and add your fav things in loving yourself, it doesn't have to be 10, write more or less, just spread the looove if you waaant but don't forget to # twwwww yahaahhehehrir i am going to sleeep bye byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee love ya alllllllll

[watercolourcritters]

it's worth it, i promise it's worth it!

[ID copied from alt text: Marker art of a Pallas cat looking at the viewer over a simple white background. Text reads "There's no guarantee it'll get better, but isn't it worth it to try?" The artist's signature reads @ watercolourcritters. End ID.]

Instagram | Etsy | Tip Jar

[thepeacefulgarden]

[huellitaa]

i'm dancing around my room i'm having a fashion show i'm getting dressed up for no reason i'm listening to music i'm learning kpop dances i am girlblogging i am drinking water i am having the time of my life oh my gosh. haven't felt this good in months

[safe-haven-safe-place]

@youngpueblo

[coffeexxcigarettes]

Therapy In Practice

-

I'd never see Italy in person,

I'd miss the way a pen moves across paper.

I'd never learn how to sign the words

"You are my star, my savior."

I'd never feel a night breeze

After a night spent laughing

With people who will forget me,

I'd never finish learning to play the ukulele,

And I'd never play terribly for the birds and myself

On a Sunday afternoon.

I'd never dance with you in a kitchen

Only lit by the setting sun.

I'd never smell champagne toast or cigarettes,

While struggling to stay awake.

I'd never read another piece

Written by somebody whose hand I'll never hold;

I'll never see a glimpse into that gentleness ever again.

I'd never smell a new book and crack the spine,

I'd never be able to call you mine.

x