#my mind's just been really funky lately and i don't know why | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 2 years ago

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tuesday again 1/31/23

month started on a sunday, ended on a tuesday, very satisfying

listening

Toxic Las Vegas (Jamieson Shaw Remix). this has been on my "silly little walk for my silly little mental health" playlist for three weeks so it's time for its place in the tuesdaypost. part of the appeal is that it's two songs i already like but this remix does something where i go "whoa is that the james bond chord" every time even though it is NOT.

youtube

reading

Bullet Train, a black humor thriller set on a train full of asssassins by Kōtarō Isaka. i have been having... mmmmmmmm. a time. let us say. and i have been clinging to things that i have lost my mind about (mostly cowboys) in order to get through the agonies. so it is weird, now that i am branching out a bit more bc things are on a slightly different tack, to be like "yeah i liked this a normal amount and i agree with the 3.8 goodreads average. i will not remember this in three months." npr said basically: fun little genre piece with no real depth! i don't completely agree with this, bc the book is not action-scene focused! the very few fights are short, blunt, quick affairs. there's a lot of focus on personal ethics and legacies, and a great deal of terror derived from random chance. but yeah it's not really a literary novel.

this was a fast, fun read. a rare example where i liked the adaptation (the recent movie which is a VERY loose adaptation) much more than the original work.

i try not to be picky about sentence structure or work choice in a translated work, bc translation is a tricky business at best, but there were some funky choices here and there that did throw me out of my groove. it's written in present tense, which is fine, but i cannot remember the last time i read a professionally published non-romance book written in present tense. i described the movies as "really wants you to know it took AP English", and the book is similar in an interesting way-- book!tangerine is constantly quoting English literary-canon novels.

the book (and movie) have a very dry sense of humor that clicked with me. "it's not clear why the man is naming fruits". at LEAST two sensible chuckles.

the biggest book/movie divergence is with the character of the Prince: a fourteen-year-old serial killer, who we spend a great deal of the book with, who asks nearly every grownup on this train "why is it bad to kill people?". a rare book in which i actively wanted a child to die. i think this character is much improved in the movie, since the character is both aged up (a young teen boy in the book, an older teen girl in the movie), and given clearer ties to the rest of the cast. however, this adaptational choice does lose almost all of the terror of the random chance the book makes you sit with. in the movie, the prince has a motive. in the book, that kid just ain't right.

had a fun time but not enough of a fun time that i will be seeking out the other novels in the series on purpose. perhaps if i come across physical copies cheap it will ping my memory and i'll grab them, which is how i acquire a lot of my physical books. this feels like im damning with faint phrase, but i did have a fun time reading this! it's just that my brain is a sieve and lately anything that doesn't completely possess me is immediately forgotten.

watching

fallow week bc i have been #gaming. i need to literally put on my to-do list "rewatch The Big Sleep for febslash feb research" maybe that'll get me to actually do it. im going to take this opportunity to complain about how much fucking work it is to write smut. not even the technical stuff bc i do like to write smut that's threesomes where everyone is the same gender and has the same color hair. the hard part is going "okay what's sexy" and then like storyboarding out the sequence of events to make sure everyone's having fun and it CONSISTENTLY stays sexy the whole time. i have never had irl sex with a narrative throughline. difficult difficult lemon difficult

playing

still running around in wolfenstein: the new order making this big beefy boy do jumps and slides. went to the moon. came back from the moon. hit a very fun bug as i try to fight my way out of the london nautica where i crash landed, bc i died, the level spat me out at the last checkpoint, and there were no health or ammo or armor pickups anywhere. just what i could scavenge off the fallen. very unpleasant to fight through a room with 20 health but i did do one whole room before realizing this was a bug. i would not like to play the entire game like this. very stressful. the big boss at the end of the level was also extremely stressful.

but let's talk about the moon, the moon in the fucking sky. how was the moon? was the moon fun? no it was full of nazis. it was also jammed full of sixties computer banks tho. many instruments and dials as well.

as i write this on sunday night i am going to attempt Again to finish the second to last chapter in this game. i am So Close to finishing this game in under 20 hours [ed note, monday night: lmao still have not finished this game]. look at some more computer banks there aren't enough pictures to break up this post.

not sure if this is a side effect of the next-location action movie disease, but wolfenstein is very interested in how areas link together. lots of temporary facilities that have grown ad-hoc roots, lots of trains planes and automobiles. we drive a lot of trucks. we’re in helicopters and subs and moon rockets. we blow up a bridge and scramble through several trains, blowing one of them up. we fuck on a train also can't forget that cutscene. we live in the sewers. we scuttle around in vents. we are in some very far-flung locations but they all look the fucking same bc they are encased in brutalist concrete. i'm sure this is bc it's fun to have a gun battle on a train and on the fucking moon and bc like u only have so many guys actually modelling things for your levels.

this is a very half-baked observation bc i think i am beginning to get a migraine (as i finish writng this on monday night) but let's get this out of the way first: all buildings are political. something something things invented and built for war never actually go away, something something transportation infrastructure to ease conquest continues to keep the colonies within easy reach of the imperial core, wartime infrastructure like highways and bridges as a tool of empire, fascism is a constant state of war which in this game is partly represented by constant shooting and also constant building. something something the unsustainability of not only constant building things but constant growth. something something long linked history of fascist architects who love brutalism. this video game has great visual design and visual shorthands is what im trying to get at. i think.

the london nautica museum/labs/spaceport is a big gun. this is not a subtle game.

making

here's a peek behind the curtain: i talk about cooking when i don't have anything else to report on. but i genuinely did not have anything else going on this weekend bc this took all my fucking literal and metaphorical spoons. this represents like three weeks worth of soup lunch (the red lentil previously discussed on this series) plus two quiches.

why so many quiches lately? i bought two dozen eggs before christmas and thought i would do more baking than i did, which was zero. tried this dal palak recipe, majorly fucked up the proportions of the spinach bc i cannot read the back of a package, and by the time i corrected my mistake i had a fuck of a lot of the spinach/onion/spices. unfortunately i fucking hate the texture of rice plus lentils plus this mixture all together, but felt bad about wasting so much food, so the lentils went into the soup (which i needed to make more of anyway) the spinach mixture went into some quiche (bc i needed to use up those eggs anyway) and uhhh idk what will happen with the rice yet. maybe fried rice to finish off the last three eggs in the carton. this entire debacle used all my spoons for the weekend.

there's also a pork shoulder defrosting (and after that marinating[from last summer's Father's Day Meat Sale i also wish i was making this up]) but that's not very photogenic. i desperately need freezer space and it's been a fucking minute since i had some meat.

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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nikkop123 · 2 years ago

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Brawlhalla Jaeyun x Jiro (FF)

6 months, 2 days, 3 hours and 14 seconds.

Make that 18. That's how long Jiro and Jaeyun have been dating.

The shadows were counting, and thats a good sign. Jiro found themselves to be much of the quiet, apathetic type, but that was always challenged somehow. Whether it be from the kids they help take care of at the orphanage, or his friends. Usually, he does pretty well with making sure people don't see through the mask, but someone could pierce this. Someone they'd let take off his headband. And no one touches Jiro's headband. Jiro knew Jaeyun was something else. Something, no, someone, special. On a normal day, Jiro could just ignore everything and continue his facade of his usual quiet and dark image. After all, it's to protect themselves from being hurt emotionally again. Jiro's sure they've have enough of that. Quite recently, they noticed Jaeyun had been pretty observant with them lately, and it was getting hard to ignore! But maybe Jaeyun was being too perceptive. It could just be Jiro's mind, but for some reason he can't stop thinking the worst. And what's worse, Jiro wasn't sure if it was infatuation or just pure pity sometimes.

" Jiro, you can say it. I'm you're boyfriend. There's obviously something on your mind. " The sellsword stood and walked over to the assassin, frowning with his eyes.

Speak of the gods.

" Is something wrong? "

Jaeyun really was a sweet guy, so Jiro knew he meant it. He always encouraged Jiro to talk to him about anything. That's his job. To comfort him. And he'll do anything to make sure he's okay. Jiro knows this. He has to. They're lovers of course, so that has to be reiterated.

" We think we're sick. "

" Sick? "

" Yeah. "

Jaeyun giggled with an hearty expression, smiling at how cute his partner really was. This is why they've been so quiet? Why they didn't feel like eating something earlier? Even though they had all day to rest, after tournaments, matches, sparring, and daily training?

" I-I mean it! I feel sick, and my head hurts! " The shadow-user groaned, pushing Jaeyun back a bit softly, glaring at him with a angry stare.

" My body gets all flushed all of a sudden, my mouth gets dry, my hands get all sweaty, and I just can't get you out of my head! " He grimaced, fangs baring slightly at the amidst boy. Jaeyun couldn't help but giggle. This was adorable. Not only did Jiro think 'this' is what being sick must feel like, he didn't think it was a bad thing that he was running through his mind all day.

" That's not a fever Jiro, it's love. L-O-V-E. " He snickered, brushing his boyfriend's bangs out and away from his eyes. Jiro grimaced, baring their fangs at their lover for his playful attitude. They didn't want to admit it, but they did find Jaeyun cute at times like this.

Before Jaeyun could spout more nonsense, the shadow-wielder decided to keep up the tough visage.

" Shadows don't fall in love. Shadows don't listen to idiots about their opinions either! " Jiro grunted, flicking Jaeyun's head as softly as he could, a faint blush spreading across his own scar and face.

" Hah " The mercenary sighed, grabbing Jiro's free hand. He was met with a deathly gaze, but Jaeyun knew all too well that Jiro was just shy.

" Well, whatever Jiro. " Jaeyun giggled, holding his boyfriend close. " Guess I'll go to Funky Fries all by myself~ " He teased, wanting to see Jiro's reaction.

Giving in with a kiss and a smirk, Jiro agreed to eat and rest for the end of the day. They couldn't help but think maybe things might be okay. Jiro wouldn't admit it, but they enjoyed being held. They liked the forehead kisses. They enjoy the tummy pokes and long talks.

But you didn't hear that from me.

#Dontbullymeplz #Anime #brawlhalla #Fanfic #Ship #Jaeyunxjiro #Brawlhallafanfic #Jiro #Jaeyun #Myfirstfanficinlike6years #Ijustwantedtowrite #Drabbles #oneshot #Fluff

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lightandwinged · 2 years ago

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SO. I've been trying for a hot minute to get an autism diagnosis because even though I'm 99% sure I'm autistic, you can't really use that if you're requesting accommodations somewhere (like a place of employ or a school or what-have-you). I'm self-diagnosed, in other words, which is a thing I used to hate, but I've obviously changed my mind there because (a) who fucking cares, and (b) getting an actual diagnosis as an adult woman is a bit like trying to run a marathon in swim flippers. Like you might get there eventually, but you've been given such an absurd handicap that it's easier to just give up about a hundred feet in and take a cab.

The tl;dr is that I finally had an appointment and while I didn't get an autism diagnosis (because, as it turned out, the neuropsychiatrist I saw literally could not do that without my insurance then charging me several thousand dollars wtf), it was not ruled out; and I did get diagnosed with inattentive-type ADHD (which tracks) and nonverbal learning disorder (which is new).

With the ADHD, I am not surprised because apparently the latest version of the DSM categorizes a lot of women's autism cases as being funky ADHD. But it also tracks with the way my life has kind of worked to this point, so even though I don't think ADHD explains everything, it does at least track with my shitty homework doing abilities, my failure to pay attention to literally anything by itself no matter how much I want to do so, and a whole host of other WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS, BRAIN, things. I have no idea what the next steps will be there--typically, I'd be like sure, let's try drugs, but apparently all the ADHD meds that exist are rare to find these days, so we're just going to put a pin in that and come back to it some other time.

And then there's the NVLD, which is.

Okay.

It's not a new diagnosis as a whole because it's been talked about since ages ago and thrown around as a diagnosis for people since at least the 80s, BUT it's really coming into prominence lately since Asperger's Syndrome was correctly removed as a potential diagnosis. The name is stupid because it makes it sound like I'm nonverbal completely, which I am the opposite. What the disorder actually entails is struggling with literally everything that isn't verbal learning; or not even struggling but it doesn't come as easily as verbal learning. Like part of my diagnosis was an IQ test, and I'm apparently a literal genius when it comes to verbal intelligence, but everything else was in the normal range, which isn't BAD but also when you're REALLY good at one thing and then everything else is just normal, it feels like you're bad at everything else.

Anyway, it's basically marked by exactly that, being really good at verbal intelligence and then having struggles of varying levels in other areas, especially visual/spatial and social. It's typically comorbid with at least one other neurodivergence (ADHD, autism, dyscalculia, dysgraphia, etc.), but it's not a diagnosis in the DSM just yet, so it's the kind of thing where knowing you have it helps with recognizing that no, it's not my fault that I trip over thick clumps of air and can't do math or socialize to save my life BUT I also can't really go into a workplace and be like "you need to allow me this this and this accommodation because NVLD" because without DSM recognition, it's not necessarily legally protected, which is bullshit.

But I guess that's what the ADHD is for.

IN ANY CASE. I've also decided not to give up on an autism diagnosis because it's possible but it's an uphill battle. I have to find the funds for it (because insurance won't cover the assessment), and then I have to find a neuropsychiatrist who won't take insurance so that I can actually get assessed, and THEN I have to get an appointment, but I want to have it on record, one way or another.

And also this basically has me pretty solidly certain that once I've figured out the fibromyalgia pain and fatigue, writing A Lot needs to happen because like... if you're Very Gifted With Words and not writing, maybe you should change that, or maybe just I should, idk.

#autism #adhd #nvld #abby has brain things

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nervoustragedyluminary · 1 year ago

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31 Nonbinary trans man They/Them pronouns only. Only started medical transition at like 27/28 wish I could've started earlier in hindsight but it's never too late. Adding some of my experience:

The things that made me realise I should stop putting off starting transition were :

imagining getting old as opposed to assuming I'd die young/of suicide and thinking about the kind of old person I wanted to be and how I'd feel comfortable in old age and that was a dudely person

( even though old women are awesome and badass and beautiful;not that anyone has to be attractive to have worth and even 'ugly' old people are fucking beautiful and worthful - I'm just saying I know some terf is going to read this and be like "internalised misogyny detected! you only transitioned because the patriarchy hates and devalues older women" no piss off also lol if you think older trans people have it any easier than older cis people - educate yourself asshats)

I realised that the idea of aging into an old lady was the reason I was having difficulty with seeing a future for myself and that it was the 'lady' part that was an issue not the 'old' part because I didn't feel the same discomfort when I imagined myself aging as a nonbinary dude & was overall excited to reach 30

Another thing was realising that if I didn't like T or the effects or changed my mind or realised I'd been mistaken that I could stop taking it and that would be fine and not the end of the world due to listening to detransitioners and retransitioners who weren't transphobic & also to trans women and trans people who'd gone through T puberty and had that hormone making changes to their bodies for yonks but were still women nonbinary etc and the sky didn't fall

- there is a reason terfs and transphobes who don't want trans people to transition only focus on and platform the small pool of detransitioners who are mired in self hatred and talk about themselves as 'ruined beauties/ lost fertility who are worthless to the patriarchy and thus miserable now' - it's to fear monger "you can never go back to being a woman if you realise you're wrong after a single drop of T you're poisoned you'll be forever dEsTrOyEd and marked and miserable so don't even try to transition medically in the first place "

Because once I realised that was complete fear mongering BS I felt less scared of starting T and then when the sky didn't fall and I was actually HAPPIER and more chill (still never experienced the so called T rage and I'm starting to think it's mostly about the same amount of BS as 'hysteria' is Tbh) I was like "Oh, dang why did I wait so long hoping my dysphoria would go away 🤦this is actually helping it holy shit"

Before any medical transition changing my name and pronouns helped SO much, as did doing mascara mustaches and sideburns and cutting my hair short and binding heck I even realised Id worn satin boxers years ago before I even realised what trans was or that I could be trans before feeling embarrassed and stopping,

I wore the uniform pants at school and had short hair then I tried to overcompensate by doing (in hindsight very drag like) makeup and growing out pigtails and then I'd get sick of it and cut my hair again then feel bad because I was told I was "making yourself unattractive" - just oof

I swung back and forth like that for a while I got really into funky earrings and shaved my head and wore dresses and skirts or jeans and button ups and tank tops - I was trying so hard to figure out what kind of woman I was (tomboy, butch femme futch, goth, punk, hipster, hippie etc etc-it always cracks me up people saying transness is a replacement for counterculture fashions because trying them and flitting between the styles was in hindsight a way I repressed my transness/ I was trying to find anywhere else that I could fit and not have to admit to myself what was really going on was gender dysphoria - also there are trans ppl in all those 'subcultures' lol we've always been wherever people are because we are people too) and never quite feeling comfortable and I finally realised that I'm just not a woman, I'm not a binary man either though I do feel more comfortable aligning with transmasc these days. It didn't make me unlovable or a pariah - I did lose some shitty people Ngl but I'm better off and happier without them and I wouldn't trade who I am for the fake love of what felt like a cage I was trapped in

but yeah it's been a wild journey and idk maybe reading this will help someone on their own journey to realise it's not all the neat and tidy just so narratives the cis media gives you ecspecilly if you grew up when transness wasn't really talked about. It's your body not your parents' or your partners' or society's it's Your life to live and your decisions to make

Also TBC not medically transitioning/ having a "non normative" transition doesn't make you 'less trans'or whatever either truscum can fuck off, as I said its YOUR body not anyone else's

i feel like there’s a very skewed perception of trans men or transmascs being only teenagers who i guess magically grow out of being trans??? so if you’re over idk lets say 21, and youre a trans man/trans masc person, can you please reblog this and drop your age in the tags?

i’ll start- im 27

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0nlinejournal · 2 years ago

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12/30/2022 9:44pm

I am finally back and chillin'. I had work at my barista job today. Closed with someone new. I don't know if I've mentioned my new job on here yet, but I'm a barista now on top of my production assistant job. I only have one shift a week currently, but I can pick up shifts, and today was one of those picked up shifts. I usually close with a long time friend, but today I closed with someone else. It went better than most of my other closes, honestly. I feel like we worked well together, and he started preclosing pretty early so we got out at a good time. It was also strangely busy, so I made 24 dollars an hour. And that's only it being moderately busy. It's fucking wild how much money they make at that store. With my usual shifts, I still make around 20 an hour, and that's with it being dead most nights. I mean like nobody in the shop for the last two hours dead. It's crazy.

I forgot tomorrow is New Years Eve, and the shop is having a little bowling party at three. I'm going to go, but I also scheduled a hair appointment for three. I forgot about the party. I feel awful because I really want to go. I'm hoping I can just show up a bit late and they'll still be there? Our manager paid for the whole thing, and he's such a nice guy and I know not a lot of people are going. Hopefully it'll just work out, maybe I'll go to my hair appointment early and see if she has the time to take me early. If not, no big deeeaaaallllll.

I've been feeling real weird recently. That feeling where I don't really feel real. I feel like I'm looking through a lens, or a screen. Like I'm watching myself move around and do little tasks. POV life simulator. Roleplaying a normal gal doing normal things. Another feeling I know is a sign of my declining mental state, but also another feeling that I kind of enjoy because it feels so funky. Like woOaaAhhh! WhAt aM i GOinG tO Do nExT?!

I don't know. I simultaneously understand I need help, and should definitely start looking for it, but also I'm not at the worst part yet and I kind of like not caring about anything important for a second. I'm always so stressed and anxious and tired, but I think I broke my brain again and now I'm just doing whatever, still trying to set myself up to be financial stable, but ultimately doing whatever is going to make me happy in the moment. Although, I know that if I have to do something I really don't want to do, it'll probably send me into the depths. So sensitive!

My writing sucks. These entries are so boring and I'm bummed about it. I just don't have the brain juice to make anything sound nice when I finally have the time to sit down and write. Is that just life? Being to tired to use your brain? That's why people do such mind numbing activities, right? Watching tv, playing repetitive video games? Speaking of video games... I'm off to play ESO!

10:02pm

#december #december 30 2022 #journal blog #online journal #daily entry #tumblr journal #spilled ink #personal

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disenchantingwrites · 2 years ago

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Rainbow Nails • G.W

Gerard's trying to mind his own business, but suddenly you attack him with several bottles of nail polish and demand that you paint his nails.

Gerard Way x GN!Reader

A/N: i've been addicted to painting my nails lately, and decided to project my own wishes with this ficlet. <3

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

(626 words)

With North America's tour leg having ended a short while ago, Gerard was more than happy to take some time to relax before they had to return to the stage. Most of it was spent with you, whenever you were available, or he used the time to write more lyrics or draw, or plan the fourth instalment for Umbrella Academy.

Today, however, was different. You had a day off work, yet Gerard had not seen you since that morning, as you'd claimed you had things to do in the room you'd claimed as an 'emergency office' for yourself. It was only there due to you being forced to stay home when the pandemic was rampant, but now you rarely touched it. However, today, Gerard hadn't seen you leave it once.

So he remained in the living room, taking a rare look at the tags and mentions that came up on their social media. The joy from the fans only solidified the grin that settled upon his face and cemented the zealous feeling which had resided within him over the past few months.

"Gee!" They barely managed to react to your call before you bounded over and spilled the contents of your arms over the coffee table. Confounded, Gerard tucked his phone away and sat straighter, taking in the sight before him.

"Why do you have tons of nail polish?" He inquired, unable to contain the laugh that ticked his throat.

"I want to paint your nails, obviously," you replied with a roll of your eyes.

They eyed your own hands as you scrounged up the bottles which had fallen to the floor. "Don't tell me I haven't seen you all day because you were doing your nails."

You frowned, then glanced at where their eyes were fixed, and let out a soft laugh. "No, don't worry. I actually was doing some work I needed to finish, but then I got bored and dug these out from... pretty much everywhere. I didn't realise we were such nail polish hoarders."

"I'm not surprised by it," Gerard hummed, taking a survey of the colours you displayed in front of him.

"Now," you began, "I can keep it simple, if you want, or you can have a little fun with it and let me add some funky designs." You held out your hands, displaying the small pumpkin and ghost you'd added to your pinkies. "The only rule is that you have to chose more than one colour, otherwise it's boring."

"I have to?" Gerard faked a frown. You nodded, now frowning yourself, befuddled by their reaction. "Well, I guess you won't mind if I choose a colour for every finger then."

You grinned and slightly narrowed your eyes at your husband for concerning you. "Okay, you can pick ten, but do you want glitter top coat, holographic, or just a plain?"

"Let's just do plain for now, just so we don't overdo it." You nodded, accepting his choice.

"You know," you spoke up, resting your arms on the table, followed by your head on your arms as you peered up at Gerard.

"Hm?" Gerard hummed, glancing over to you as he began to select the colours they wanted.

"I really love you when you do this like this with me," you finished, your lips curling into a tender grin as Gerard's attention returned to you.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a sap?" Gerard teased, toying with one of the nail polish bottles.

"You, funnily enough," you replied, unable to bite back your amused smile, "all the time."

Gerard let out a soft chuckle. "Hm, probably because I love you for that."

"Gee," you cooed. "Okay, no, stop, before I start crying. I need to do your nails."

#gerard way x reader #x reader #my chemical gerard #gerard way #my chemical romance #mcr x reader #gender neutral reader #one shot #gee way #my chem gerard #my chemical romance gerard #fluff

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rommahh · 3 years ago

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Love On Tour…Actually

{Im sorry for how late this was. I went to the show Friday and honestly, it was the best day of my life. I had a little PCD which made me super unmotivated but I’m back. I love you all, R}

You woke up a little grumpy, you won’t lie. You didn’t like waking up alone especially on a show day. It made you uncomfortable to be left to your own devices without any structure or schedule. You understood that Harry was a busy man but it would’ve been nice to receive some text so you could plan your day accordingly.

Sitting on the couch in the lounge of your hotel room, you chowed down on leftover pasta while watching Netflix on your iPad. You had yet to receive a text from Harry even though you had texted him hours ago when you woke up. It was hard to tell if he was ignoring you out of anger or if he was simply just lost in track. Either way you felt dejected.

On the other hand, Harry hadn’t even noticed that he iced you. He was busy running around Nashville trying to get things ready for tonight’s show. He bought you a new dress and shoes, and got the ring fitted. It was hard to figure out your ring size but he end up measuring your finger when you were passed out asleep in bed last night. When you slept, you slept and he knew that would be the perfect time to measure your finger.

Harry was so busy that morning, that by the end of his errands he realized he didn’t even have time to go back to the hotel before rehearsals. He was sporting a small cough and his vocal chords felt overworked but that’s all apart of tour.

Pulling his phone out of his back pocket as he walked into the arena, he dialed your number quickly. He had people trying to talk to him but he paid them no mind.

“Oh? Would you look who’s here?” Harry’s head shot up to the sound of your voice. There you sat on his dressing room couch, arms crossed over one another as you glared at him. Your gaze burned through him and he could just tell he was in trouble.

“Hello lovie.” Harry rasped.

“Harry you sound like shit but here you are up and about running around. You should’ve slept in this morning.” Scolding as you stand up to walk in front of him. Harry could feel the anger radiate off of you but you hid it well. He melted into your hands that cupped his warm cheeks.

“I had a lot of errands to run and I didn’t want to wake you. Also it’s just a sore throat from singing and traveling- comes with being on tour.” He mumbles dropping his head into your neck. You caress the hairs on the back on his neck and massage the tense muscles.

“You’ve got to think about yourself more, Harry. You have a show to put on but you can’t put on your best show if you’re not at your best. I am not happy with you at all.” Even though your words were scolding him, you held him your arms in the most soothing way. That’s what Harry loved about you, you cared for him like no one else could (aside from his mom). You could tell him off with your harshest words but he’d always feel your love from miles away.

“You’re right love, sorry for not keeping in touch today.” You hum in acknowledgement. You both pulled away from each other when his driver walked in with Harry’s abundance of bags. “Thank you, sir.”

“What all did you buy?” You ask walking towards the bags. Harry’s arm shot out in front of you making you stop. You looked up at him in shock. “Fine be secretive.”

You huffed before making your way back to the couch. Harry rolled his eyes at you, making way to his shopping bags. Plucking the bag from Nordstrom he plopped it down on the table in front of you.

“I just didn’t want you snooping at some other stuff. I bought you this, for tonight.” He sat down beside you, thighs touching leaving no room between you two.

“Im not trying to be mean. Just a little peeved that you left this morning without telling me. You also have a cold and I wanna take care of you since you won’t do it.” A hand rubs his forehead luring his eyes shut.

“Sorry baby, I thank you for caring so much.” He whispers sleepily.

“Im always gonna care for my bubs.” Kissing him on the lips, your turn your attention to the bag. The small grey bag had light tissue paper covering the product within the bag. The tissue falls to the floor as you dig into the bag. A silky champagne dress, folded neatly to decrease wrinkles, sits in the bag. The dress was soft and you knew it was loose enough to give you the room to dance. Soft snores escaped the boy beside you- the exhaustion evident on his face.

You pull the dress out of the bag and walk over to where his outfit of the night hung. The dress was hung beside his to be steamed for later. Turning around, you smile at the sight of your curled up boyfriend. Your heart hurt knowing that in a few minutes he would have to go rehearse.

Harry sleepily went through rehearsals sitting in a chair the whole time. He knew his stage cues and performance, he only had one more thing to rehearse but it required for you to not be in the room. He gave one look to Jeff to signal him to get you out. Jeff made up some excuse saying that he needed help with some social media post for the show.

Before the show, there was a catered dinner from some local restaurant. Harry ate a light meal of fresh vegetables and a sweet iced tea which has grown on him having lived in the states for some years. You ate grilled chicken and fries enjoying the free food. The two of you ate alone in his dressing room- wanting a moment of piece before the crazy.

“How are you feeling?” You ask Harry. He shrugs, he was more nervous than anything but you wouldn’t understand why if he had told that to you. He felt floaty. Tonight would be a game changer, a step in a whole new direction. This is something he’s wanted to do for years now but it’s finally happening, and he’s scared.

"Im ok, a little tired but what else is new. I can't wait to sleep all night and cuddle with you." He grabs your hand from across the table. you squeeze it, frowning at his revelation.

"I don't like that you're so tired." You worry, his hand squeezes yours in reassurance.

“Im ok, it’s all apart if the job.” He looks down to your bare ring finger, thumb brushing over the empty spot. Your nails were done in your favorite way, some funky pattern you found from Pinterest all painted on short coffin nails.

“I love you Harry and I’m so proud of you. I know that these years put us both in a bad place mentally but I’m happy of where we are now.” Harry could almost tear up to your words. They settled into his mind, resonating. He was making the perfect decision and you solidified that ideal.

2014

Harry didn’t know how they did it. A show every night, a new state everyday, a new country every few months- he was burnt out. He was tired of shared tour buses and the lack of autonomy. Last nights LA show was amazing, the crowd was amazing, the energy was amazing- so why did he feel so horrid?

He walked around in The Grove, security guards walking in front and behind him. He wanted a peaceful day alone but here they were. Fans watched suspiciously trying to decipher if it was Harry or not. His hat and sunglasses were obviously not the disguise he thought they would be.

As the whispers got louder, his heart started to flurry more. Panic seeped into his veins as he looked for an escape. Bolting in the Barnes and Nobles- security guards close behind- Harry asked for the employees to close shop just for a moment. Harry only needed a moment to get a car near by to escape to. Feeling overwhelmed, Harry hid.

In between the historical fiction and romance aisle is where he sat. Head between his knees, trying to catch his breathe.

“Are you ok?” A voice asked from above him. His head whipped up in shock. Standing there was you, three books clutched between your arms. Adjusting your dress you dropped down to the floor in front of him.

“I-im fine, tired but fine.” He replied. He looked different than he did the night before, you thought. Last night, he was energetic and full of life and now, now you saw a boy whose exhaustion overpowered him.

“You here for any books?” You were just trying to change the subject, something you did with yourself when you had panic attacks.

“Oh no, I don’t-“ he stuttered shaking his head. You smiled at him before pulling a book from your stack. The fault In Our Stars, your new favorite.

“I love this book, one of my favorites. Heard a movie is coming out too so that’s fun.” You joke. Harry’s relaxed slightly, you nestled closer to him. Opening the book, you began reading, your gentle voice calming Harry.

At the start of chapter four, an interruption pulled you both away. Harry’s security guard told Harry that a car was waiting and the perimeter of the store was clear. Harry nodded telling the guard to give him five more minutes.

“I guess this is it.” You mumble closing your book. Harry nods but makes no move to leave. Something clicks in him as he looks at your face again.

“You were at the concert last night, meet and greet?” He muses.

“Yeah, One Direction is my favorite band. My friend bought our vip tickets for my birthday. Best night ever.” You say quietly, scared that he might think that you’re some obsessed fan.

“Oh, well I’m glad you enjoyed the show….so why didn’t you freak out today or- or expose where I was?”

“You’re a human being, just like me. You get nervous, frustrated, and sad just like me. You get panic attacks just like. Who am I to treat you differently?” Your words did so much for Harry. “Now don’t get me wrong, you’re my favorite in the band, but I don’t idolize you nor do I wish to be in your position cause I know it must be hard.”

“It is. Hard, I mean, really really hard. I love my job but I’m tired.” The silence you two shared burned a connection between you two. “This may be weird but could I have your number? I like talking to you and I wanna hear more of this book.”

Placing your hand made bookmark in the book, you closed in and gently placed it on Harry’s lap. “Have it. I have one at home and if you still want to talk about it- I’ll give you my number.”

Harry stills as the book sits in his lap. “I want to talk to you about the book.”

After exchanging numbers, Harry was urged by you to go. Walking side by side to the door, you were separated by his security.

“Harry, don’t let this keep hurting you. Find the joy and grasp on to it.”

You turned out to be his joy. Calls every night after shows and different books being read together, you both gravitated towards each other. Everyday was a new day to grow closer together. He invited you to more concerts, paying for every ticket because he just needed to be with you.

The show was going beautifully. Harry looked amazing in stage in all white and most fans were captivated by your outfit too. It worried you to see Harry so exhausted on stage but you knew he would stick it through like he always does. Proud was an understatement in your eyes. Harry made you more than proud.

You stood in the back of the watermelon pit at the end of the aisle where his stage stopped a few feet away. Jeff stood beside you like he normally did but he was acting suspicious. You two never stood on the side of Harry’s exit but this is where Jeff said you’d get the best view tonight.

Harry sang his final ‘we’ll be alright’ before doing his stage stroll and bows, but instead of finishing in the middle of the stage- he went down stage to the place he normally exits to at the end of the night. You watched in confusion, along with the crowd, as he walked down the steps to you. The crowd erupted in screams as the lights focused on where you were standing.

“What are you doing?” You asked with large eyes of shock. You felt your heart stop in your chest. The crowd getting louder by the moment. Harry walked closer to you, one hand digging into his pocket while his eyes focused on your face. You couldn’t place what was happening but you’re eyes welled with even more tears nonetheless. Jeff was to the side with a huge smile and his phone out to capture the moment.

“Y/N, my love, my light, the best thing that has happened to me,” he didn’t have his mic on so the crowd couldn’t hear him but you could hear him perfectly. As if you two were the only ones in the large arena, you could only see Harry. “From the moment I met you in the bookstore, I knew you were meant to be in my life. Somehow you took me from my darkest place and guided me to my lightest.

I know our lives have been hard but we’ve always found a way to be alright. I want that for the rest of my life. I want you to be by my side for the rest of my life, so will you please, my love, marry me?”

You gave him no time to answer as you yanked him up by his arm. You wept as you exclaimed loud yeses, yeses that could be heard by a few fans who screamed in excitement igniting the rest of the crowd to scream. Harry picked you up in his arms, throwing one arm out to wave at the crowd before bounding backstage.

“Oh my god Harry!” You exclaimed as he set you down. He only had a few minutes to talk so you kept it quick. You pulled his face down to your kissing his lips. This kiss pulled you both deeper into each other.

He pulled away making you whine. “I gotta go back but I promise you’ll get it all tonight. I can’t believe you said yes. I love you so much.”

Harry’s energy multiplied by 100 going back on stage. He even went as far as to explain what watermelon sugar was about. Remembering when the song was made, it made your legs clench together- a pulse overwhelming your lower regions.

Looking down at your hand, you could feel yourself tear up again at the ring he bought you. It fit perfectly in your hand, you remember him measuring your hand that night even though he thought you were asleep. The thought of your future made your heart swell. A future with new music, a wedding, a nice house, and babies made your heart swell. This was something you couldn’t wait for.

Harry found his joy in you but he never knew about the joy he was to your dark life.

#harry styles love on tour #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles love on tour nashville

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moonchild-in-blue · 1 year ago

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Ohh, this is nice! Brb I'll be wiping my tears 🥺💔 Thank you for this wonderful question!

(tw: depression; implied sh/suicidal thoughts)

Alright, so. I heard about them earlier this year when The Summoning came out. I had seen their name pop-up a few times before (when they toured with Issues back in 2019) but knew absolutely nothing about them and payed no mind (still beating myself up for it).

There is this one account on Instagram (also TT but I don't use/have) that kept popping up on my discover page. I never interacted with his content, nor had any interest, but every few weeks his reels would show up and he often used the Sexy Funky Part™ on them. The comments were always crazy over it, but again, I payed no attention.

Until the 3rd of June (I have the date on my journal). That day I woke up with that section on my head, and I finally decided to look it up. And oh. My. God. I heard it once, twice, three times. Then I listened to TMBTE (the song). Then Chokehold. CHOKEHOLD. Listened to The Summoning again. Decided that, okay, I need to listen to this album, who are these guys?? Listened once, twice. Looked them up. Oh, they're anonymous? Oh, there's lore?? Oh, there's masks??? Oh, oh, oh-

And so it began. About a week later I posted here, saying that I needed someone to talk to me about them, not really expecting to see any replies - I was mostly venting since I had no one else irl to talk about them. To my surprise, so, so many wonder people actually reached out to me. It was so heart warming. For the first time in a very long time, I felt genuinely part of a community. Not just as a spectator, but as someone actively in it. Everybody was (and still are!) so welcoming and friendly, it's great.

(if any of my moots reads this, I'm sending you a billion hugs and kissies and wonky heart signs 🥺💖)

Now, for context. I have been in the metal/emo/alt scene since I was around 11/12. It's always been my main music, and the reason why I'm still alive and standing today. About 7 years ago, when I moved away for uni, I coincidently started to get super into kpop, which then led me to embrace many other genres, like r&b and hip-hop (my 14yo self would call me a normie if she knew I was obsessed with Tyler the Creator).

For several reasons, I stepped back a little on the heavier side of music. I had a really bad depressive episode in 2018, and I was scared I'd go back to old habits. I needed to break my usual "listens to sad music to cope" cycle, because during that particular time, I was in very real danger of hurting myself again. Things got better, and I still listened to my old stuff, but with a much broader range added. I shifted my focus, and what was once an overwhelming presence in my life, became just one more thing. I changed and silenced many parts of myself. Some for the better, some because they were necessary to survive.

Fast forward to late 2021. I moved back home after graduation, as I needed some time to heal. My mental health had been wrecked beyond recognition during the pandemic, and as an art student, I was experiencing extreme burn-out. In a way, I still am. I went to painting and being in a studio everyday, to completely stop creating. Even just simple sketches were a huge task for me. I stopped writing my poetry, my stories. In the last year, I may have picked up a paintbrush twice.

I was glad to be back, but started to feel so left behind, as if time had moved a much slower pace to me than to everyone else. Somehow, three of my closest friends got married within months of each other. Others were finishing degrees, getting Big Jobs, moving in with partners. Me? I was back to living with my parents. I was taking driving lessons - something most of them had been doing for years. I had left 5 years ago, with plans and hopes and expectations, and came back absolutely broken, nothing but a shell of a person that no longer existed.

I was lost. I spent so much time not knowing what to do, or where to go. I had plans post-grad, but everything seemed impossible to achieve. I had 0 motivation, 0 energy. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I had forgotten about who I was.

But when I got into Sleep Token, something inside me clicked. It was as if their music took all the scattered fragments of me and glued them back together. For the first time in a very, very long time, I was so excited for something. The music was so unlike anything I had ever heard. Every cell of my being glowed and vibrated with each new song, each element. The lore was so interesting to study, the people here were wonderful to interact with. The words, his voice, everything - it was like I had woken up from a very long, hazy dream.

Thanks to them, I began writing again. Lore and lyric analysis, fanfiction, my own personal things, you name it. I have just picked up painting and I'm so happy to be creating again. Thanks to them, I've connected and met so many wonderful people here. It may sound silly, but I'm genuinely having so much fun these days in here.

Also thanks to them, I've re-kindled my love for my older music/bands, and I feel like myself again. I can't say I'm 100% okay, as I'm very much not, but I at least have the strength to face and accept that things are not okay, instead of bottling it up. I spent so long trying to adapt and survive the next thing, and the next thing, and the next thing, that I ended up abandoning who I was.

I don't know if this will make much sense or not but, yeah. Listening to Sleep Token has allowed me to connect with parts of me I thought were gone, while still allowing me to confront and make piece with my struggles. I think Euclid is a very fitting description of all the changes ST has brought in me. It's accepting reality for what it is, and knowing that, even though there are still things that linger, there is more to life. To myself. There is more than wallowing in grief or staying stagnant - and I am deserving and capable of that.

Like Vessel once said, "We are here to remember. We are here to forget. We are here to worship". Above all, I think Sleep Token's music is defined by connection, by shared experiences. Be it through the music, the lyrics, the band/Vessel, something about it allows us to connect with ourselves and with each other. And I think that's what I was missing - the ability to make a meaningful connection to something/myself.

By now, the night belongs to you

This bough was broken through

I must be someone new

How did you find out about Sleep Token and how have they changed your life?

Even if it's the smallest of changes,it still matters. I'd love to hear everyone's stories.

#Well this was... Fun. Hard. Therapeutic.#thank you op for prompting this discussion #a huge hug to everyone in the st family - you guys are incredible and amazing and i feek very fortunate to be a part of it #i know they will never ever read this but i'm so thankful to st for existing #and vessel in particular for creating such incredible music and sharing his life and mind with us #sleep token #darya is unhinged #darya talks to herself

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y0itsbri · 3 years ago

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gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

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