#no matter how much i drank water i was miserable for 2 weeks

[bustafe]

uuu i took zoloft for the first time im scared abt the side effects cuz i fucking Hate dry mouth

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

Dincobb Week Day 2 - Hurt/Comfort (SFW)

Welcome to my Dincobb Week fanfic posts! I've written stories and scenes of varying lengths and tones. For clarity I should say that most of these exist as miniature AUs of their own and have no continuity with each other or with anything else I've written about these characters, so in different pieces they may be described having different physical features, personal possessions, preferences, et cetera. (There are three exceptions which I'll note as such when they come out.) Thanks to @djarining, who helped me a lot with brainstorming and discussing my ideas!

For today I have two pieces, an SFW and an NSFW - the NSFW is scheduled to post an hour after this one. The SFW is the first of the three linked stories - the other two are SFW and NSFW for a finale (but the SFWs can stand alone if you prefer not to read the NSFW one).

Hurt/Comfort - Sunburn and Grief

“Oh, partner,” Cobb says with rueful sympathy. “Look at the state of you.”

Din doesn’t know how his face looks, but from the hot, tight feeling of the skin he guesses it’s much like what he can see of his arms, shoulders, chest — burned crimson. Even his eyelids feel burned, and puffy to boot. He’s feeling pretty angry with himself. Just because he’d been enjoying the newfound warmth of the sun on his face was no reason to decide to take his shirt off and feel it all over the top of his body. It was a dumb impulse and the fact it had felt blissfully good, so much so that after he lay down to bask on the patch of sand behind Cobb’s house that he jokingly calls the garden, he fell fast asleep, did not excuse it. This is his natural punishment, he guesses, for getting into a “nothing matters any more so I’ll do whatever I feel like” state of mind, exacerbated by day-drinking. He’s not sure if the splitting headache is because of the sunburn or more of a hangover symptom. Either way, he knows he deserves it — and he doesn’t deserve how gentle Cobb is being with him, guiding him into the cool shade of the house with a hand carefully on his unburned back.

“You don’t have to look after me,” Din says. “I deserve this.”

“You’re under my roof, so yes I do,” says Cobb. “We take hospitality seriously out here. Sit down.” He guides him into a chair by his kitchen table and looks him over again. “You’re already blistering, you poor dummy. Well, first things first, you’re dehydrated.” He brings him a tall glass of water. “Slow sips, now. You gulp it down and you’re liable to throw up. I once found that out the hard way.”

Din doesn’t want to be fussed over but he still has enough of a wish to survive that he takes the glass gratefully. He takes a first sip to wet his mouth and throat, then another that he tries to hold in his mouth for as long as he can before swallowing. Cobb’s left the room; he thinks he can hear him in the bathroom, opening and shutting the cabinets. It’s so hard to think clearly; his head aches and he’s still not really sober. He can’t think what he should be doing. Is this sunstroke? What are you supposed to do for sunstroke again? He doesn’t think he’s ever been sunburned before, maybe it always feels this awful and he just wouldn’t know. Not really a Mandalorian problem. And he’s not really a Mandalorian now, so it’s become his problem. He drinks the rest of the water, probably too fast, but if he throws up he probably deserves that too.

Cobb comes back with a handful of washcloths and a big jar of something pale yellow and waxy-looking. “Let’s get you cooled down,” he says, and goes about efficiently filling a big bowl with water, throwing in some ice from the freezer, soaking the cloths and laying them spread out on Din’s chest and arms. They feel shockingly cold at first and he flinches, but almost immediately they seem to grow warm from the heat of his skin. Cobb’s humming softly as he does it, a constant soothing sound. “Head back,” he says, and lays a wet cloth over Din’s face, then leaves again and comes back with something that he sets on the table beside him. There’s a click and a whirr and a fan is blowing across his body, helping to chill the wet cloths again. Cobb keeps re-dipping and replacing them. Quiet minutes pass. The coolness is so merciful. Din opens his mouth a bit and sucks some water from the cloth over his face. His lips really hurt, but it’s still comforting somehow. He remembers how Grogu was hellbent on sucking soapy water out of the washcloth whenever he gave him a bath, and the memory stabs him under the ribs. Why does he have to remember stuff like that? Stuff that was annoying and a little gross and worried him at the time, but that he’d now give an arm or a leg to have back in his life?

“Okay,” says Cobb, peeling the wet cloth back from his face, “I want you to drink some more water. I put some rehydration salts in this glass, so it may taste a little funny, but you need the electrolytes or whatever.” Din accepts the glass and drinks, obediently; he’s starting to feel very slightly better physically. “And I bet you have the mother of a headache, so take these too.” He gives him a couple of white capsules to swallow.

“Thanks,” Din says, his voice even more subdued than normal. Cobb is watching him with his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. He looks concerned, which makes Din feel guilty, but also irritable because Cobb doesn’t have to concern himself. Yes, Din asked if he could stay here, but he could always have said no, he can always ask him to leave if he becomes a burden. He should leave, it was so selfish to come here just because he was miserable and didn’t want to be around anyone else. He doesn’t know where else to go, though. He can probably go and find Boba. He would give him a job. He should probably have stuck with him anyway, but he felt like he’d imposed on him a lot already. Or followed Bo-Katan and tried to sort out all the Darksaber political nonsense. Not come here just because he wanted to see Cobb. Because he missed him and wished he could have spent longer with him in the first place. And all he’s done since he got here is act like a depressed asshole. And for reasons unknown Cobb is putting up with it. Yes, he’s a good, kind person, and maybe he feels like he still owes Din for his help over and above giving him the armour, but he still shouldn’t put up with it. Maybe he won’t for much longer. Whatever good opinion Din bought back then must be eroding fast. And that thought stabs at him, too.

“Okay,” says Cobb, taking the washcloths off Din’s left arm, closer to him, resting on the wooden arm of the chair. “This is good for sunburn, windburn, you name it. The all-purpose old-fashioned Tatooine skin balm.” He takes the lid off the jar, scoops out a generous amount on his fingertips, and begins smoothing it onto the burned skin on the back of Din’s left hand. It looks waxy, but it’s so soft that it melts into his skin almost immediately. “Mind you, you’re bound to peel, as crispy as you are, but this’ll soothe the pain and help your skin recover.”

Din’s cracked lips tremble, and if he wasn’t dehydrated he’s pretty sure there would be tears in his eyes. Cobb’s hands are so gentle. Being touched on the sunburn hurts, too, but it’s the gentleness that makes him want to cry. Cobb quietly, patiently, continues up Din’s arm to the shoulder, then moves his chair to do the same on the other side. He’s humming all the while, an old Tatooine folk song, Din thinks. Or for all he knows, last summer’s big pop hit, it’s not like he keeps up with these things.

“Sure do have a lot of scars,” Cobb remarks as he reaches the top of Din’s arm. “Looks like some of these wounds were cauterised.”

“I can’t exactly give myself stitches,” mumbles Din.

“Life’s been like that, huh?” Cobb says sympathetically. “Been there. Things are better now.” His voice softens further. “Things do get better, if you give it time and don’t lose heart. Turn your chair towards me, I gotta get your front.”

When he removes one of the washcloths from Din’s chest, Din takes it from him and drapes it over his face again. Being covered is such a relief, even if he has no right to it now. It’s particularly a relief because Cobb’s hand stroking his belly and chest with soothing balm is… embarrassing. His face would be red even if it wasn’t burned. He’s not used to this kind of physical intimacy with… anyone really. The fact that it’s still somewhat painful to be touched and his head still aches is keeping him from enjoying it in any unseemly way, but he wishes he’d laid down to bask on his front. He could just have a burnt back then. Much less… confronting to have your back touched. Cobb’s hand is stroking his neck now; he’s even burned under his chin, which feels ridiculous.

“Okay,” says Cobb, “I need to see your face again.” He takes the washcloth and Din lifts his head again, but keeps his eyes closed. Cobb begins by smoothing a dab of balm over each puffy upper lid. Now he thinks about it, he must look pretty hideous, not just red but swollen. It’s not the sort of thing he’s used to thinking about, or caring about, but it does bother him a little to have Cobb see him look like this. Gentle but firm fingertips spread balm over his forehead, down his nose, across his cheeks, down to his chin. He must have absorbed enough water by now from the two glasses he drank; tears are sneaking from the corners of his eyes and stinging his skin painfully. He feels Cobb’s thumb brushing balm across his chapped lips, the last place on his face, and thinks that will be the end of it, but then he feels hands cupping the sides of his head, thumbs stroking his temples. “Look at me, Din,” Cobb says quietly.

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes. He isn’t prepared for what he sees in Cobb’s eyes, the tenderness and affection but also the trouble and fear.

“Don’t hurt yourself like this again,” Cobb says. “Please.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Din says, although his voice comes out weird, choked and husky.

“Wasn’t it?”

“Trust me,” he says with a little grim smile, “if I wanted to hurt myself I know a lot more efficient ways to do it.”

“But —”

“If I wanted to hurt myself I could just go out back and eat my blaster. Quick and easy. Roll down the dune and let the wind cover me up.”

“Please don’t talk like that,” Cobb says urgently. “Don’t be so flip like you don’t matter.”

“I — I don’t matter,” Din says. “I don’t matter any more. I — I’m nothing any more,” and then the dam breaks and he’s crying. It hurts, it hurts to stretch the burned skin of his face, it hurts where the tears cut through the balm, but it hurts worst inside his chest, around his heart.

“Oh, no,” says Cobb, and pulls him forward, pulls Din’s head to his shoulder, hugs him close, and Din feels his hands stroke his back, his unburned back where thank heavens, he can feel some real comfort from the touch. He still can’t stop crying. It’s a raw, ugly sound that tears his throat, a stupid, inarticulate a-hur-hur-hur. “No, darlin’, no,” Cobb’s telling him, “you’re so wrong, you matter so much to me, you are everything to me. You don’t know how happy I was to see you. To see your face! Or how broken up to see you so miserable. I wish I knew what to do for you, what to say.”

Din still can’t stop crying, but if he’s ever able to do so, he’ll want to tell Cobb that he’s doing and saying it now.

[horansqueen]

New Angel - Chapter 11

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1  ☆ chapter 2  ☆ chapter 3  ☆ chapter 4  ☆ chapter 5  ☆ chapter 6  ☆ chapter 7  ☆ chapter 8 ☆ chapter 9 ☆ chapter 10

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.6k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

We remained half an hour together in silence. I tried to focus on her breathing or the way her fingers would squeeze mine from time to time. After a while though, I decided to get up and ask everyone to leave. It took me twenty minutes until the apartment was empty but I couldn't lie and pretend I hadn't noticed Louis' shoes near the door along with a pair I had never seen before. Thinking that we would all have to eat breakfast together on the next morning was making me nauseous but I decided not to mention anything to Millie.

"Wow, it's so quiet. Did you kill everyone?" she asked with a smirk, making me chuckle as I leaned against her door frame.

"Told them to leave. I just thought it was late enough."

"Thank you, Niall. For... listening."

I glanced at the hall and decided to walk back in her room and close the door behind me. I was pretty sure Louis couldn't hear anything or that he would even want to, or try to, but I didn't want to take the chance.

"How do you feel?" I asked softly, walking closer to her as she sat up and leaned against the wall behind her.

"Like shit." she admitted, shrugging a shoulder. "I spent all night crying, and I want to do that again right now but I'm exhausted. I just don't want Louis to know, because I don't want him to feel bad. I'm so... scared to lose him completely."

I blinked a few times, feeling my heart twist in my chest at her confession, and finally licked my lips. "Wait here."

I didn't wait for her answer and quickly rushed out to reach the kitchen. I was gone for less than a minute and when I closed the door behind me again, I held the wine bottle to Millie and kept the vodka one before sitting back on her bed, facing her. She laughed and shook her head, already a bit tipsy, and tilted her head a bit, still staring at me.

"That's the best remedy when you feel like shit."

"One that you end up regretting in the morning." she pointed out, raising her eyebrows with a grin.

I shrugged and took a sip of vodka, trying not to make a grimace as it burned my throat. "They say what matters is now, so let's numb that pain."

Once again, Millie laughed and took a long sip of wine. The more she drank, the more my lips curled and after a while, I decided to go sit next to her, if only to be able to lean against the wall. I was feeling dizzy and blinked a few times to see better, but I also felt in peace and happy. I didn't want to think about Grace and how she broke my heart. I didn't want to think about Summer and her confession. I just wanted to get drunk and forget that I even had a heart at all. I wanted to forget that it was broken, that it was aching, that it was beating.

"I don't think you can really lose Louis." I admitted after we joked and laughed for over an hour. "A friendship like the three of us have... it can't be broken like that."

"People change, Niall. You and I were not really close a few weeks ago. You seriously got on my nerves and I was pretty sure I was annoying you, too."

I smiled sadly and turned to her, feeling my lips curl into a fond smile despite myself. I was drunk and tired but I knew exactly what I was saying and I couldn't lie to her anyway.

"Yea, you got on my nerves. You still do, but a bit differently. I never met anyone else who was so... honest and open about everything. It can be a shock sometimes, but I'm getting used to it."

Millie grabbed the bottle of vodka from my hands and that's when I realized that she had swallowed what was left of the wine. She took a small sip and wiped her mouth with the back of her hands before giving me the bottle back.

"I've been lied to so much. I've been... played, and cheated on, and had my heart broken. I told you, I know a lot about break ups." she admitted right before her eyes met mine. I could read how sad and hurt she was and I wanted to take her in my arms to comfort her. "I was always quite forward but when I was 14, after my first break up, I decided I'd never lie. I know sometimes I'm rude and I'm sorry. I'll work on that."

"I'm mostly used to hypocrite people. They don't know that I can read them and know what they really think. The cool thing with you is that I always know what you really think. That's not a flaw." I said before my voice became softer. "I don't get why you're lying to Louis about your feelings, though. Why are you sparing him?"

Her small smile fell and I could see her eyes water but we both remained motionless. "It's me I'm trying to save, Niall. It's a selfish move. I'm not trying to get him back, or show him what he's missing. I'm trying to get over him quick so I can get my friend back."

The fact that we were both trying to get over someone we had feelings for, even if for different reason, made me feel suddenly closer to her. The story was different, the relationships were different, but that hole in our chests was the exact same, I knew it.

"Maybe you should try to find a friends with benefits like what I have with Summer." I shrugged a shoulder, making her chuckle low.

"That's what I had with Louis apparently. I think I'm gonna pass for now."

I let my eyes roam on her face and she leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes. She looked miserable and I knew I probably looked just as bad. I started asking myself if she was right, and if maybe I shouldn't have started something with someone so soon, even if it was just a sex thing. I was not ready and I felt like I was just playing with Summer. I had been clear, or at least I thought I had, but with what she had told me earlier at the party I knew I was going to have to take a decision and then have a painful discussion with her. It made me want to lock me here, with Millie, and never come out.

"You're gonna miss having sex." I pointed out.

She opened her eyes as her eyebrows raised and when she turned her head my way, her lips curled into an amused smile. "Why do you think that?"

"I heard you and Louis," I started with a chuckle, shaking my head. "I only have three words : hard, intense and often."

I felt my heart jump in my chest, feeling suddenly bad that I brought up Louis again, along with a few good memories they had and I was pretty sure a few of those sexual encounters were playing in her mind at that exact moment but she just smiled more before bursting out in laughter.

"Okay, maybe you're right, Niall!" she admitted in-between chuckles. "I'm probably gonna miss sex! But I have hands. And toys. I'll be okay. Maybe you'll even hear me again!"

My face twisted in a grimace and I let out a short groan, making her laugh even more. She pushed me gently and I nudged her back. "That's way too much info!"

"Hey, if no one's gonna take care of my libido, then I will!" she argued with a big smile. "I know you touch yourself too, even when you were with Grace, and even now that you literally have a fuck buddy. It's just human nature."

"Maybe, but at least I'm discreet and quiet!"

"Probably because your orgasms are weak."

We both started laughing and when I glanced at her, she was laughing so hard that a few tears were falling down her cheeks.

I don't know how long we chatted and I couldn't remember when I fell asleep but I woke up in the middle of the night with a headache and feeling quite nauseous. I got up slowly and with difficulty, trying not to wake Millie up, and dragging my feet until the bathroom. I swallowed some meds and ended up drinking two full glasses of water before leaning against the counter and closing my eyes. It's only when I got out of the bathroom that I heard noises coming from the living room. I walked slowly, seeing lights moving around and frowned before realizing it was probably the tv. I stopped near the wall, leaning the side of my body against it until Louis looked up at me with tired eyes and a sorry smile.

"Are you still mad at me?"

I stared at him a few seconds and sighed low before shaking my head. His smile got slightly bigger and I walked to him, letting myself fall on the couch. I grimaced again as the pain in my head started thumping harder but I just closed my eyes for a few seconds and finally turned to Louis again.

"Mill told me she's the one who told you that you could bring your girlfriend." I admitted, debating whether or not I could say more without betraying Millie. "It's just.. Tommo, you should know better."

"I don't know, Niall." he started, looking down at his hands as he played nervously with his fingers. "I don't want to hurt Millie, but I'm so in love with Eleanor... I've never loved anyone like that, and I know I'll never feel like that for anyone ever again in my life. I know you can understand, right? I know you've been through that before."

His voice was soft and he didn't have to tell me how he felt. Just the way he pronounced her name, the way he talked about her, I knew he was head over heels in love with her. He was gentle and soft with Millie too, but never the way he was with his new girlfriend. I could almost see hearts in his eyes, even in the darkness of the room.

"I still love Grace, but if she came back, I don't know if I'd want to try again with her. She betrayed me and she broke me." I explained, shrugging a shoulder and staring into space as my ex girlfriend's face appeared in my mind. "I don't think I'd ever be able to trust her again."

"Do you think... Millie will ever trust me again?"

I held my breath and turned to look at him, blinking a few times. He looked sincerely scared and I sent him a small smile before nodding slowly. "Yea, probably. But it'll take time."

Their friendship seemed to be important for both of them and I couldn't help but hope it would get solved, too. Perhaps it was a bit selfish but I didn't want to be stuck in the middle of all this. I just wanted us to be friends like we used to be, and even closer, since I was now building a real and strong friendship with Millie. It was crazy to think that our broken hearts made us bond and it was a bit sad at the same time, but I guess it's true when they say that something good always comes out of a bad experience. Millie was my 'good thing' and I was thankful for her.

"It's cool that she's got you." Louis confessed in a low tone. "I've been a bad friend to her recently... or whatever you want to call the relationship we used to have. I mean, Im surprised. Millie doesn't trust easily. But it's cool."

I didn't want to tell him that all Millie needed was someone to care and listen to her but it's still what I thought. Somehow, she seemed to step aside or hide so no one would really ask about her. She was so used to help people but was uncomfortable when I was trying to help her in return. Shouldn't Louis know that?

"I'm happy I have her, too."

---

I could have walked back to my room to sleep in my bed but I hesitated, standing in the middle of the hall, my eyes moving from my door to Millie's door over and over again. I finally walked back in her room slowly to make sure I wouldn't wake her up and lied back down in bed next to her, over the covers. I brought my hands under my head and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours. I couldn't stop thinking about Grace and Summer, trying to find out how I felt for them and what I could do about it. I finally turned on my side and fell asleep staring at Millie's back.

Unfortunately, the doorbell woke me up very early the next morning, or so I thought. I could feel the sun hitting my eyes and I groaned low, turning around and pushing my face in one of Millie's pillows. There was no way I was going to answer the door. I was not alone here and I was clearly hungover which, in my opinion, deserved a few more hours of sleep. I was about to fall back into slumber when it rang again. This time, Millie groaned next to me and moved a bit.

"There's someone annoying at the door!" she yelled in a mumble to whoever wanted to hear.

No one answered and I started wondering if Louis was still home or if he had left earlier with his girlfriend. I wanted to say he took into consideration what I had told him the night before and that he was kind enough to spare Millie some more pain and at the same time, I wanted him to be there so I wouldn't have to go answer the door.

It rang for the third time and Millie and I groaned at the exact same time, making me chuckle tiredly.

"Please Niall? Can you go?" she asked in a smooth and honeyed voice. "I'm heartbroken."

"I'm heartbroken too." I muttered low, my face still pressed on her pillow.

"Mine is more recent."

I tried to find an argument but finally just groaned and forced myself to get up. I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her head, making her chuckle sleepily.

"Next time it's you!"

"Yea yea..."

I rolled my eyes with a small smile and once again dragged my feet to the front door. I yawned and passed my hand in my hair, noticing how messy it was. As I opened the door, I told myself that perhaps I should have get dressed by my mind went completely blank when my eyes met the person on the other side of the door. My heart sank in my chest and my lips parted but I couldn't seem to move.

"Grace?"

The look she sent me was a mix of hope and guilt and it made me frown. I couldn't help but think that I had called it by discussing it with Louis during the night and at the same time, I was trying to tell myself that she was probably just here because of something she forgot in my room. After all, last time she was here was because she needed her passport, right?

"Niall, I really need to talk to you."

[johaerys-writes]

Where Blood Roses Bloom

Fandom: Castlevania Pairing: Alucard/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades

Summary:

After Trevor gets grievously injured by a night creature, he and Sypha return to Dracula's castle to seek Alucard's help. The man they find there, however, is but a shadow of the friend they left behind.

Meanwhile, in far Styria, Hector does his best to survive in the vampires' court, a lamb amidst wolves. Little do the wolves know, the lamb has fangs of its own.

Chapter 2: Friends is up! Alucard POV, and a fair bit of introspection as he tries to come to terms with Sypha and Trevor returning after being gone for so long, and what that could mean for their (once) friendship.

Read here or on AO3! Read Chapter 1

Adrian’s footsteps ring hollowly along the empty corridor. He walks without thinking, with swift and purposeful strides that take him as far away from the room where Belmont is lying already half dead, and Sypha is wringing her hands in worry.

There is a stream of light pouring in from one of the windows along the dark hallway. Motes of dust bob and dance, shimmering iridescent in the early morning sun. Adrian walks towards it, presses his palm to the smooth, cold stone of the windowsill. His hand, he notices absently, is shaking.

What on earth just happened? What is he doing? What was he thinking, opening that damned door?

After that night —that dark mark in the series of dark marks that seem to be making up his life now— he swore he would not open that door for anyone ever again, unless it was to end them, swiftly and decisively. While sharpening the stakes that would hold Sumi and Taka’s lifeless bodies, he swore that those two would be the last to ever cross the threshold of this God-forsaken place alive. That he would remain in eternal solitude, feared and reviled, a prisoner in his own home, but at least he would be left in peace.

Barely two weeks later, and not only has he let Sypha and Belmont in, he practically carried them in himself.

Sypha’s frantic banging on the door caught him unawares. He never intended to open, not even when he realised it was them, but her desperate pleas called to him in a visceral, instinctual way. When he saw her red, tired eyes, her haggard appearance; when his eyes fell on Belmont —a miserable pile of blood-stained clothes and hair matted with feverish sweat, bleeding on his doorstep — his mind froze for a moment. There were no thoughts, not really, just shock, worry, and that deep, gut-twisting fear: please don't let him die, not him, not him, too.

And all this for Belmont. Trevor fucking Belmont, who can’t go two seconds without insulting and pushing and prodding him, even when he’s one foot in the grave already.

“Mad,” Adrian whispers under his breath. He had his doubts before, but now he is sure: he is utterly, undeniably mad. He has finally lost whatever is left of his mind.

He shakes his head as he pushes himself upright. For a moment, he wonders what in the seven Hells he’s supposed to do with them, with the mess that has been thrust in his hands. Belmont’s condition is worse than he thought. The wound is deep and ugly and festering, and unlike anything he’s seen before. It’s a miracle how the man is still on his feet; if he weren’t built like a tree Adrian is sure he would have been dead long before.

His feet take him straight to the upper floors, where he had been before Sypha and Belmont showed up. The large, dusty room with the tall floor-to-ceiling windows that his mother once used as her study is the only place he seems to be able to find any sort of peace these days. He has taken to sorting through her old medical journals; a long, painstaking process, but oddly comforting. There are still piles upon piles of leather bound books, notebooks and scrolls that she never took with her to that small cottage she had taken to living in and treating the peasants from the nearby villages during the last few years of her life. Adrian remembers thinking of taking them to her even then, mere months before she was taken, but he never did. Now he’s almost relieved, in a way, that he never did; at least he still has something of hers that the humans -those vultures- never managed to burn. As poor a consolation as that may be.

He walks to the tall cabinet made of elegantly carved dark wood that stands at the far end of the room. It is where his mother kept most of the ingredients for the medicine she used to make. It takes him a moment to find what he needs: dried wormwood and red dead nettle to alleviate pain and slow the course of infection, wild radish powder for the fever, a strange-looking mushroom that, when pounded into a paste, can stop the progression of even advanced gangrene, or so his mother told him once. Adrian takes them all to the work table that hasn’t been used in years, wipes the dust off the mortar and pestle and disinfects them with alcohol, and gets to work.

There is something soothing about mechanical tasks, about using his hands, he thinks, as he grinds the ingredients into a paste. He is so used to drifting aimlessly through the cold, dark corridors, to watching the days pass in a slow, never-ending stream, that moving with such purpose and urgency now is a welcome change, even if the cause for it is anything but.

He has something to do. The almost pleasant buzz of excitement in his stomach while he waits for the brew to boil over the old stove is a surprise.

~

“You’re back!” Sypha says, hardly a second before he has finished knocking on their door. The dark circles under her eyes still betray her weariness, but her smile is wide and relieved when she looks up at him. The fire that’s crackling in the hearth fills the room with pleasant warmth, and Sypha’s cheeks are flushed and rosy.

Adrian opens his mouth to respond, when a strained groan from the bed cuts him short. “Was about bloody time.”

Belmont is lying on his back, exactly where Adrian left him. He looks paler than death, his cheeks gaunt and sunken, the pillow and sheets drenched in his sweat already, yet he still manages a small, smug smile when he elicits an icy frown from him. “Thought you might have lost your way.”

“Fortunately, not all of us possess your embarrassing navigation skills, Belmont,” Adrian replies smoothly as he makes his way to the bed.

Belmont laughs hoarsely, “Excuse me? I have embarrassing navigation skills?”

“Yes. How would you call getting lost in an abandoned village of approximately ten houses, and ending up ankle deep in pig shit? That wasn’t too long ago now, was it?”

The other man groans and rolls his eyes. “Christ, it was one time. And I didn’t get lost, I was looking for booze.”

Adrian lifts a brow. “In a pig pen. Really. Even for you, that's a first.”

“What fault is it of mine that the storage room was right next to the pen? And part of the wall had collapsed, as you may remember, so I couldn’t get there any other way.” Belmont narrows his  blood-shot eyes. “I don’t remember you complaining any when you drank half the wine that night. After scoffing down most of that wheel of cheese I managed to bring back, of course.”

Leaning against the bedpost, Sypha lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Leave it to you two to start bickering about something that happened months ago, and everyone else has forgotten but you.” She shakes her head, but Adrian can see the small, fond smile that tugs at the corner of her lips. It startles him how much he has missed seeing it. The warmth that spreads through him at the sight startles him even more.

It feels odd to be around them. It is odd, certainly, how easy it is to slip back into that familiar rhythm, without even thinking about it. The paradox isn’t lost on him. There was a time, however brief, that he had thought of those people as friends. Or something very close to that, anyway.

What were they now? Could he afford to trust them, like he once had? Could he trust anyone?

He straightens, his amusement dying abruptly. They are both staring at him curiously, unnerved by his sudden silence. The grey light of morning that pours in through the windows highlights the sickly pallor of Belmont’s countenance, casts sharp shadows on the concerned frown that furrows Sypha’s brow.

Adrian hands Belmont the vial, then takes a step back. “Drink it now,” he says flatly, “while it’s warm. It won't be much use, after.” That should stop the man from talking for a while, he hopes. It does something strange to him, when Belmont talks. It makes him feel —almost— human.

Belmont takes the vial he is offered without a word. He tips it over his lips with trembling fingers, winces as he swallows. The medicine is quick to work. His features swiftly relax and he sinks back into the pillow.  

“Ah, that’s better,” he sighs. “Sweet, blessed oblivion.” He is fast asleep in seconds.

A tense, uncomfortable silence spreads between Sypha and Adrian after Belmont is asleep. He doesn’t really know what to say to her. He’s not sure whether he wants to say anything at all. Her bright blue eyes on him make him uneasy. They always have, a little. It is like they can see right through him.

“The wound should be cleaned and dressed again,” he says matter-of-factly. “As often as possible. The less chance of infection there is, the better. I’ll bring some fresh water and bandages, you get him out of the rest of his clothes. Can you do that?”

Sypha nods sharply, and pushes her sleeves back.

By the time Adrian returns, she has managed to remove most of Belmont’s travel stained clothes without disturbing his injury. They only exchange the briefest of words as Adrian cleans the wound and applies the antiseptic he brought, then they both dress him in clean clothes. The shirt is one of Adrian’s own, and it is a touch too snug around the shoulders and Belmont's thick arms, but anything other than what he was wearing is a significant improvement.

As he stands back to let Sypha do the rest of the work, he notices the certainty and familiarity with which she handles Belmont. It hasn’t been lost on Adrian that their relationship seems to have changed and grown since they both left the castle. When she pushes a stray lock of hair behind Belmont’s ear, and gently presses a cool, damp cloth on his fevered brow, it leaves Adrian with no doubt.

They are together.

The realisation shouldn’t have made his heart tighten like this. An ugly feeling, something akin to jealousy, something that is eerily close to despair, rises in his chest. Sypha and Belmont are together. He wonders how he didn’t notice straight away. Of course he knew upon first seeing them that, during the months they’ve been away, travelling together, their bond has grown stronger than it was before they left. It was only a natural consequence of their way of life. But this…

He stares without meaning to. He watches as Sypha tends to Belmont, as she wipes the grime and sweat away from his face with so much tenderness, and he knows that she not only cares for him: she loves him. The realisation drives those twisted feelings deeper in his heart, when he wants nothing to do with them. Before he knows it, he’s already trying to imagine what it must feel like, to have someone care about him, so much, so deeply. He imagines what it must feel like, to be with something like this, to sleep next to them every night. He pictures Belmont’s arms coming around her, pulling her against his broad chest; he pictures him smiling at her, kissing her full, rosy lips.

Adrian tries to imagine what it would be like, if it were him.

It is a quick thing, effortless. He can almost see her responding to his touch, leaning into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He imagines her laughing at his jokes, gazing at him with love and adoration, like he’s something precious, something good, and his heart aches with a sort of longing he has long thought he is incapable of feeling.

He swallows thickly and drags his gaze away. What is it to him, if Sypha and Belmont are together? Nothing. Neither of them means anything to him. As she takes her time tending to him, he only wonders idly how she has managed to stay so close to the man, let alone sleep next to him. On the best of days, Belmont smells as if he’s been dipped in stale, sour beer— among other, fouler things that Adrian doesn’t want to think about.

Certainly, the man is quite handsome in a somewhat —or incredibly— rugged sort of way. Adrian can see the appeal, if dimly. That still doesn’t change the fact that Belmont is a boor and an insufferable lout and, frankly, more stupid than mud.

“There,” Sypha says quietly, laying Belmont’s head carefully back on the pillow, as if she were cradling an injured bird in her hands. “That should do it.” She wipes her palms on a clean cloth nearby and turns to him. There is something bright gleaming in her eyes. Hope. Adrian knows that look. “Did you find a cure?”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that.” He busies himself with cleaning his hands and pushing his shirtsleeves down so that he doesn’t have to see the hope wither on her face. “I have not seen a wound like this before. I need more time to figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“Oh.” He might not be looking at her, but he still hears the wind go out of her sails just a little. “Well. The medicine you gave him buys us time. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes, a little.”

“Good.” She nods and straightens, her jaw set in determination. “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go.” Adrian blinks at her, and a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “Did you think I was going to leave you to look for the cure alone? I’m going to help you.”

“That… will not be necessary,” he says, a bit too quick. “I am perfectly capable of—”

“Nonsense.” She walks to the armchair by the window and picks up her cloak. It looks worn and the hems are mud-stained, but the way she throws it over her shoulders with so much grace and purpose makes her look fierce, almost… regal.

Her large, round eyes are on him now, and the intensity of her gaze leaves him breathless. She gestures towards the door.

“Shall we? We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

He finds himself complying readily, without wanting to, and it irks him.

~

They don’t speak much as they walk through the empty corridors. Sypha follows him quietly- her footfalls are light, probably soundless to anyone not possessing Adrian’s heightened senses. Only the whisper of the fabric of her robes around her ankles as she walks, and the sound of her breathing. It is smooth and calm, and only a little bit heavy. It is not difficult for Adrian to tell that she is keeping herself upright through sheer will and determination. It is admirable, really, and it makes him want to reach out to her, hold her hand perhaps, but he thinks better of it.

“There we are,” he says as the wide doors of his father’s library come into view. The hinges protest loudly when he pushes them open. Adrian hasn’t walked in that place in months— no, years. He has purposefully avoided it all the time he’s been there, yet he is left with little choice now. His father’s collection of books and magical scrolls is impressive; he always had a fascination with medicine. If there is information to be found on how to treat night creature wounds it has to be here, if it is not in the Belmont library. Adrian prepares himself mentally to visit both of the places he least enjoys visiting, if he has to.

He stands at the threshold for a breath, letting his gaze sweep over the expansive room. The neatly stacked shelves, the vials and the oddly shaped instruments his father used to collect are exactly as they used to be, not one of them out of place. There was once a time when Adrian would spend the majority of his spare time there, the countless books and scrolls his only company in that castle when he was growing up. It had been a comfort for him then, yet the sight of them now just makes him feel… hollow.

It was odd, how a man as transfixed with death and blood as his father went to so much trouble to keep the art of healing alive throughout the centuries. It seems like a farce now, a joke, a twisted image of reality that has no place in that world. Yet here it is before him, staring at him, laughing in his face. It is like looking at his reflection in a broken mirror.

Sypha’s shoulder brushes his own as she takes a step forward and into the room.

“This is amazing,” she says under her breath. She spins in a small circle, gazing around her in awe. “Look at all these things! There must be something here that we could use.” She walks swiftly to one of the low tables filled with the strange apparatuses his father liked to construct. She carefully pokes a brass, bell shaped instrument with the tip of her finger. “What is this?”

“A bloodletting cupping vessel, used by Ancient Roman healers. A long, long time ago.” Adrian drifts near her, coming to stand beside her. She straightens, and as she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, he catches a hint of peach blossoms, of jasmine. Her soap, he assumes. He takes a deep breath, trying to discern the scents. Jasmine and peach blossoms, a hint of fresh hay, and is that sweet, slightly musky smell hers?

Before he knows it, he’s taken a small, perceptible step closer to her. Yes. That scent is definitely her. Jasmine and peaches, and that faint musk that is her, sweet and sharp like fresh cream—

He stops himself abruptly, drawing back as if stung. What on earth is he doing? He clears his throat discreetly and walks away. “And this is the funnel that goes with it,” he says, feigning disinterest, nodding at another apparatus nearby. “It is to collect blood for tests.”

“Tests?” Her eyes widen and focus. It unnerves him when she does that. Whenever she looks at him like this, it makes him feel like he is the only person in the world just then. “They used to run tests, back then?”

“In a way. Some of their methods are used to this day. Well. By those that don’t believe that sprinkling goat’s blood can cure a wandering eye, or that burning dried nettles can scare away the spirits that cause gout.” He clasps his hands behind his back and looks around. “So. I believe that what we’re dealing with is a sort of hex. We would need to remove that first, before attempting to heal the wound. Any idea where we should start?”

Sypha’s enthusiasm dims only slightly. “I’m… not sure. I can use healing magic, but my inventory of spells is quite small. I could devise a new spell, I suppose… but I would need the right books for that. That could take time. Or—” she glances up at him hopefully, “—we could look for a scroll. It seems your father has quite the collection. There must be something here, some sort of spell that can remove the curse. That was what I was hoping for, in fact.”

Adrian nods, humming in thought. “A scroll would be just what we need. My command of healing magic is rudimentary at best. I doubt I could even use it, but you could certainly try.” He turns around and walks to the far end of the room, towards the bookcases that line the walls. That was where his father kept his scrolls— hundreds, perhaps thousands of them, arranged in neat stacks in alphabetical order. His father was always very particular about the correct way to store books and scrolls.

“This is as good a place as any to start,” he told her, gesturing at the shelf with the scrolls written in Adamic. If there are powerful curse lifting and healing spells to be found anywhere, that is the place.

Sypha blinks, her eyes wide and sparkling as she takes in the sheer amount of carefully rolled up papyruses. She picks one up and opens it, swiftly reading the letters on the page.

“Fascinating,” she whispers under her breath. “This is… this must be at least two centuries old. This form here,” she points at the cluster of elegant shapes written in squid’s ink, “I don’t think it’s been used since the eleventh century. At least.” She walks up to him to show him. That faint, underlying scent tickles his nostrils again; he takes a discreet step to the side.

“Yes,” Adrian says, nodding absently even as his stomach twists in knots. “It is one of the more recent ones in my father’s collection.”

“Recent?” That gaze is on him again: bright, intent, clear like a midsummer’s day sky. Her lips widen in an enthusiastic smile. “There must— oh, there must be centuries worth of wisdom hidden in those shelves! There are scrolls from the ends of the world here. I wonder how your father came by it all.”

“Sacked the towns and villages that kept them. Killed and staked those who’d written them.” He shrugs as he examines elaborate glass vials on a nearby shelf. “Or so the tales go.”

Sypha stares, then looks away."Oh. Yes, I... I suppose you're right."

A cold, awkward silence falls between them. With slow, careful movements, she places the scroll back where it belongs and drifts slowly towards the far end of the bookcase.

They don’t speak much after that.

~

The hours fly by swiftly, one bleeding into the next in that sunless room, as Adrian and Sypha search through the scrolls. Were it not for the large, mechanical clocks on the wall, Adrian would never know whether it was day or night outside. It was probably late evening when Sypha falls asleep, with her cheek pressed to the desk. He brings her a blanket, some tea and a piece of pie he made the previous day, and continues to work. She barely stirs. Her hears her when she wakes up a few hours later; feels her gaze on his back, but says nothing.

His eyes are dangerously close to falling shut on their own as he reads through a scroll with annoyingly small letters, when an enthusiastic cry from the far side or the room jolts him bolt upright.

“I found it!” Sypha says, walking briskly up to him. She is grinning, her cheeks flushed, “I think I’ve found it. This must be it!”

Adrian blinks the weariness away from his eyes, examining the contents of the scroll that Sypha is holding under his nose. The forms are familiar, an incantation that must be hundreds of years old. It was first written by one Yin Chunhua in a province in Northern China almost three hundred years before, and was translated in Adamic by an Arabian scholar at the end of the twelfth century. Adrian takes it from her hands carefully, brushing the tip of his finger over the dried ink.

“Are you sure?” he asks, glancing up at her. “You think this will work?”

“I think so, yes. We can try.” Her face is glowing with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling with determination. “If it doesn’t work, we try again. And again. And again. Until Trevor is healed. I know we can do it.”

Adrian holds her gaze for a long moment, a strange warmth creeping up inside him. ‘We’, she said. Them.

“Alright,” he nods. “Let’s do it. No reason to tarry.” He starts walking towards the door, when he is stopped short by Sypha’s hand on his elbow.

He turns around. Sypha’s touch is light, careful. She looks up at him, and, once again, it seems as if everything else has faded into the background, as if there's nothing else in the world but them, gazing at each other.

“Thank you, Alucard,” she says softly. Her blue eyes are earnest and crystal clear; it's like looking at the shimmering waters of a crystalline pool. “Your help means… everything. It really does."

Adrian’s breath grows shallow. The tenderness in her voice is unmistakable. It feels so strange, being directed at him. There is something stirring within him now, stronger the more he gazes at her; something that feels dangerously like hope. Could it be that she still considers him a friend? Could it be that the bond the three of them once had, however brief, is still there? Could it be that perhaps she could… love him?

The thought withers as soon as it blossoms. How foolish, how futile it all is. Sypha and Belmont left months ago to hunt monsters, they moved on with their lives, and he stayed behind, an empty shell of a man drifting endlessly through rooms and hallways that were emptier still, consumed by grief and loneliness. It was that same loneliness that Sumi and Taka had detected, and that they had pounced on, like hounds on blood. He let them. He paid for it, dearly, and so had they. And now, one kind word of thanks from the people that left him behind and he is ready to make the same mistakes all over again.

Adrian clenches his jaw as the familiar sting of shame and anger drives through him. They are not his friends anymore; he doubts they ever truly were. It was a matter of convenience from the start that they came together, and once his father was gone, so were they. What are friends, anyway?

What are friends? He’s never had any, and he never will.

Adrian takes a step back, slipping out of her gasp. His voice is flat and icy, his features schooled to an expressionless mask when he says, “This is wasting time. Let’s go.”

He turns towards the door, leaving her staring after him. The sooner Belmont’s injury is dealt with, the sooner they will both leave.

The sooner he will be on his own again, in peace.

~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, I’d love to hear thoughts! :)

[lokidiabolus]

Last Resort - Chapter 2

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents’ home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :’)

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I think I never did so much rewriting like I did with this chapter. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I swear my brain just can't come up with anything else. Scrapped like 6 pages asdfjslfjslfjsdl. Now it's short :c

Anyway, guess I just wanted a bit of Thomas' insight for it. He's complicated lol. Or maybe not really, just trying to keep up. Don't we all though lol.

Oh and @izzymultifan (actually remembered)

Unbetad!

EDIT: (17. 5. 2021) I edited the ending with a lil continuation of the scene I previously deleted, because I thought it was unnecessary, but then I returned to it after few days and thought it should stay. It's not very long but I guess it's kinda important.

***

Thomas woke up disoriented, thirsty and definitely not rested enough, like when his alarm goes off on a workday and he only slept for four hours. But here was no alarm, no work, just him waking up with a flinch and realizing he wasn’t in his flat, and he wasn’t alone either.

The blond hair right in his face immediately pushed him into realization he was holding onto Newt like he was his lifeline, one hand under the shirt on his belly, other on his chest clutching the fabric, and an unmistakable morning hello tenting his pants, digging right into Newt’s backside. In retrospect there wasn’t much worse Thomas could have done to him, except maybe having a hand down his pants (which admittedly he used to do sometimes when they were together, but then again, that situation definitely didn’t scream murder like it would now).

In a sleepy confusion that hazed his just-woken-up-brain he searched the foggy memory on how this situation came to be, no matter how familiar it felt to him. Newt made himself pretty clear about sleeping together, so the sudden closeness – well, more like an absolute merge, unless he’d slip in – no, no dirty thoughts, bad Thomas, bad – didn’t make much sense.

The night came back to him embarrassingly slow – he got drunk because for some reason his dad decided to decimate his super precious whiskey, even though normally he hoarded it like a dragon his gold. He could only think of Newt being the incentive, drinking the whiskey so fast in his dad’s eyes, while Thomas downed it all to save him from barfing (Newt’s alcohol tolerance never existed in the first place, he disliked about any kind of it, and as far as Thomas remembered he got drunk only once with vodka mixed with orange juice on Aris’ wedding, because he could barely taste the vodka in it until it was too late). Then the world started spinning, Newt dragged him to his room somehow… which sounded farfetched, so maybe dad helped, he drew blank around that area honestly, probably because he stood up and all the alcohol began circulating faster. Then they talked… probably, and then Thomas fell asleep, since that’s all he could recall.

And now his hard-on was trying to get some, and he held Newt against himself with sheer ferocity of an obsessive hugger off his meds and the realization dawned on him like tons of bricks. Was he going to wake him up if he let go? Newt always woke up at the slightest noise before, there was no way of going to pee at night without getting back to the blond blinking owlishly at him, asking what happened. Was this Newt he barely knew anymore still the same? Still twitchy and light sleeper and grumpy and slow to rise when getting up?

Thomas didn’t have much choice anyway, did he. He just had to let go either way, and preferably remove his hips from Newt’s back and act like it was no biggie to be hard when in bed with his ex. He slowly untangled his hand from the front of Newt’s shirt and retreated from under the shirt as well with the other hand and managed to roll onto his back without Newt visibly stirring, which was a success. Unless he pretended to be asleep to avoid talking to Thomas about pushing into him like a horny teenager, which also worked.

Not like he hadn’t been doing that in the last month of their relationship anyway, just... ignoring the problem until it went away (a problem named Thomas) and well, ultimately it succeeded. It would work now too, and Thomas refused to poke the wasp nest this early in the morning – judging from the clock at 8:04 – and just went with the flow.

Need coffee, he thought unhappily when the headache set in. And water. Maybe some alone time in a bathroom first.

Newt didn’t stir until Thomas slinked out of the bedroom, which was a complete lie.

***

“Dad, just drop it,” Thomas repeated for fourth time when his dad couldn’t stop haggling him about his childlike alcohol tolerance the moment he appeared in the kitchen, asking for black coffee. He couldn’t tell him he drank Newt’s portions and without that argument nothing would sound plausible anyway, so he just dodged it with an increasing headache. Newt got up about half an hour later and didn’t speak a word to him – Thomas would even say he avoided his eyes several times, which meant he was absolutely awake in the morning to witness all of Thomas’ struggle to even exist around him peacefully. Which he couldn’t for years, really, so this only proved it.

It was fine. Thomas learned how to deal with it, despite taking him two years to come in terms of being hated by a person he loved since he was 17. Well, everything around the breakup took a lot from him, but he dealt with all eventually, right? He could finally look Newt in the eye without having all the incoherent anger and frustration pile up and he could talk to him fine as well unless they breached one of the thousand forbidden topics. Like them. Like family. Like love. Like sleeping. Like breathing, existing and fucking just trying to live.

Anyway. All dealt with, of course. No hard feelings.

(Lots of them.)

“You dealt with the drunkard just fine, right Newt?” his dad chattered towards the blond, patting him on his back and Newt forced a smile and a nod. Thomas saw this particular expression too often to not recognize it and huffed while sitting down at the counter with his own coffee.

He was used to being a bad guy anyway, no matter how much of the blame he genuinely deserved. They both knew he didn’t get drunk because he wanted to get wasted enough to drop unconscious on a spot and Newt would be a hypocrite to badmouth him when he was pouring all his whiskey to Thomas’ glass with thankful expression yesterday. But then again, not even he could tell Thomas’ dad about it, so they just had to have this unspoken oh yes, Thomas is a real piece of work as always.

Which sort of sucked. But Thomas couldn’t care less what his dad thought about his alcohol tolerance, it wasn’t like he threw up everywhere or broke mum’s precious bowls set (again). Not that he expected Newt to defend him anyhow, but he could at least say nooo, he was fine, he just fell asleep or something. Not that it surprised him he didn’t, but…

“He used to drink majority of guys from my work under the table and now look at him,” his dad delivered his fifth Thomas can’t drink for shit jab. He sure loved to milk that. “At least he has you to look after him, huh.”

Thomas stared at Newt’s back with mild annoyance the more the blond refused to elaborate on anything, just smiling at his dad while making himself a cup of coffee, and then Thomas’s eyes suddenly fell on the nape of Newt’s neck with a vicious, red mark near the hairline, and his whole body seized up like he got paralyzed.

A hickey? Since when? From who? What? Wait, was Newt already dating somebody else?

Saying already like three years were short amount of time… Thomas mentally scolded himself and his body raised up on its own volition, like being pulled in by some invisible force towards the blond. He had no clue if it were a twisted need for revenge or vindication or just him being unable to come in terms of not being told or warned, or maybe all of it together, he just couldn’t stop and plastered himself all over Newt’s back, trapping him between his body and the counter, circling his thin waist like a vine (he got thinner for sure).

“Of course I have you, don’t I,” he purred into Newt’s ear, loud enough for his dad to hear perfectly, and felt how Newt’s whole body froze, his hand mid-stir of the coffee. Thomas could see how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. “Looking after me when I get hammered into unconsciousness.”

“Yeah.” Newt’s voice sounded small, and Thomas wanted to bite down at that red, angry place on his nape like an animal. His dad probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but his ego sure would. He let his hands slide lower, to Newt’s hips, grabbing a handful, and the habitual movement made him restless. He did it zillion times during the time they were together. He did less, he did more, naked, clothed, lying, standing up, in whatever situation, touching Newt was his privilege.

And some fucking horny prick just took it?

Just marked his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, Thomas, ex-boyfriend for three years, pull yourself together, you’re not 17 anymore – like a property and he didn’t even fucking notice?

Newt’s breath hitched and the spoon he was holding dropped into the coffee, splashing the black liquid around it, dribbling down the drawers under, making the blond curse under his breath.

“Sorry,” he immediately said towards Thomas’ dad who was handing him a cloth to wipe it with, and started squirming. “Thomas, leggo. Can’t reach.”

“Don’t wanna,” Thomas refused, squeezing Newt even tighter. “I’m hangover and miserable and you’re supposed to take care of me.”

Thomas’ dad snorted but took the hint and retreated while calling at his wife the boys are being rowdy again, Anna! And the kitchen fell back into silence, except of their breathing, with Thomas plastered against Newt’s back like he wanted to topple him over (he sort of did).

“Do you enjoy being a bloody prick?” Newt finally broke the spell, pawing at Thomas’ hands to get them off, his voice an angry whisper. “What’s your deal, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hangover,” Thomas huffed, not letting go and to be completely honest, Newt wasn’t really trying as much, just slapping his hands half-heartedly. “Could’ve at least said I didn’t give you any trouble, I covered for you the whole night.”

“You gave me loads of it!” Newt started wiggling, and Thomas had to fight the urge to just bite down, mark any piece of skin available, to make the restlessness go away. “You were heavy as fuck, I had to carry you all the way to your room!”

“Yeah, and?” Thomas grabbed him lower, and Newt pinched his hand in revenge, which finally made him let go with sharp breath.

“Fuck you,” the blond barked at him with fiery eyes. “I don’t know what you are trying to prove but groping me is not on the bloody table, get it?!”

“Mhm,” Thomas rubbed the place Newt pinched him at. “Sure. No fun allowed, got it.”

“Fuck off!”

Thomas hated how Newt turned away and the hickey was so visible it made his insides churn. He used to talk about his problems a lot these past few years, so he could finally let go of whatever was holding him in place, unable to forget, and he thought he reached that point, that he was free.

Looking at Newt marked by another man… no. He was not. Still stuck, still the same.

Still angry and miserable.

Still… there.

***

The fact Newt refused to talk to him completely was an understatement. Thomas blamed his unsteady approach on the alcohol, because what else he could blame it on – his own feelings? He sodealt with those already, there was nothing that would make him see red.

Except of a hickey on his ex-boyfriend’s neck, that would do it. Apparently.

But still – it was the hangover that made him stupid, right. If he’d be completely sober and not aching anywhere and his mind clear, he would just… shrug at it. It was Newt’s business who he slept with or not, or who he let bite his nape like a dog (some young fucking idiot who thought hickeys are still sexy? Stupid shit).

Not Thomas’. Not anymore.

The more he tried to push it away from his mind, the more his mind pushed back, just pointing it out loudly every time he glanced towards the blond sitting on the couch in the living room, bundled in a fluffy blanket, fiddling with his phone.

He was fiddling with his phone a lot actually. Texting somebody?

The guy who left the mark?

Thomas felt the irrational anger seep into his consciousness again and he forced it back down with a frown. He knew asking Newt to help him to get his parents off his back wasn’t exactly a great idea (asking ex to be your bf again for a show just screamed trouble), but at the same time asking anybody else just felt… wrong.

Thomas had to admit he’d be able to go along with this only with Minho, probably. Because Minho was a born actor, he’d be able to breeze though this with ease and Thomas’ parents would like him for sure, because, well, everybody liked Minho, honestly.

Asking Teresa or Brenda was just… desperate. Because other than them it would be Newt and getting back together with Newt… well. Thomas could tell from the moment he saw him getting into his car in front of Newt’s workplace it was going to be tough for both of them.

Not much of a surprise so far climbing Mt. Everest would be easier than keeping his chaotic feelings under control.

“You need some fresh air,” his vision of Newt got obstructed by his mum in a frilly apron she wore unironically and he looked up to her with half-lidded eyes.

“I think I need chicken soup, actually,” he offered in response, because dragging himself through the snow outside now sounded like a death penalty.

“Air first,” she insisted, adamant, and turned towards Newt like an executioner. “Right, Newt? A walk would do him good.”

Newt looked at Thomas and Thomas just knew. He was doomed. Newt was going to betray him like Scar did with Mufasa and he’d enjoy it, he could see the glint in his eyes, just shining there, spelling revenge in big, neon letters.

Please, he mouthed at the blond in desperation and Newt tilted his head to the side and then his mouth curled up.

“Sure, that’s a great idea, Anna,” he signed the death certificate without an ounce of shame and relished in it.

Fuck you, Thomas mouthed again, and Newt sent him a condescending smile. Fuck him especially.

***

“You’re unusually quiet,” his mum casually pointed out like she didn’t just drag him out to cold ass weather while holding a knife (butter one, but that’s what made it scarier), despite his very vocal (or vocal sort of, too loud and his brain wanted out of his skull) protests.

“Hungover,” he reminded her bitterly. The snow under their feet crunched sharply and the noise was tearing his brain to pieces, like walking on a broken glass and he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to act like it wasn’t killing him.

“Well, it was nice of you to cover for him,” Anna shrugged like she didn’t just blew their cover with a killer one liner and Thomas probably shouldn’t have been as surprised. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink.”

“That’s cuz he can’t drink for shit,” he mumbled with a frown. “Did dad notice?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He was too busy boasting about the partnership. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him so happy, you know how he hoards the whiskey otherwise.”

“Yeah, cheapskate,” Thomas snorted, and the noise sliced his brain painfully, like an instant karma.

“Think he was happy about Newt being back too,” she hit the nail on the head a bit too close to home and Thomas hated how his stomach lurched at it. “Well, you know him.”

“Sure is happy for not getting any grandkids,” he just grumbled and Anna patted him on his back.

“We still have Hannah,” she reminded him sweetly. “Maybe one day she’ll feel like having kids and force you to babysit for her two times a week.”

“Me? You’re going to be the grandparents, it’s your obligation to babysit!” The idea of taking care of Hannah’s kids made him scared for life, and they didn’t even exist yet.

“Pretty sure Newt wouldn’t mind,” she chirped happily, and Thomas loathed how right she probably was. Newt never really showed any kind of real interest in having kids or anything, but he never minded babysit for his own sister, and generally all the kids liked him.

Not that thinking about that had any merit anyway, since they split up with a point of no return. Maybe Newt already planned kids with the new person who left the distasteful hickey on his nape, or the person who he kept texting, and the more Thomas thought about it, the more his chest burned.

“Cherish him a bit more, would you,” she poked his arm. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you have some beef between you. Had an argument before coming here?”

Why the fuck is she so perceptive?

“A bit,” he answered quietly. “No biggie.”

“Set things right,” she plainly ordered him like he was ten again and had do her bidding. “I don’t want another sad Christmas.”

There isn’t going to be any Christmas for us, he wanted to tell her, but kept his mouth shut. At this rate, there wasn’t going to be anything for them, at all.

I really need some sleep.

***

Not very often did the morning come so peacefully, like a gentle spring washing over tired soul, leaving it invigorated. Thomas basked in the pleasantness of it, a quiet, warm and relaxed moment where he slowly woke up from a dream into reality still welcoming and soft like he never left the fantasy realm.

He took a deep breath, stretching, slowly coming to realize of contours of another body pressed into him, and under his hands and around his legs and under his chin. The soft blond hair came to view when he opened his eyes, with Newt draped around him needily, and his heart melted.

The first night in their flat. Their home. A place that only belonged to them, these walls and floors, and small kitchen and big windows, for them together. It came true, finally, inevitably, for Thomas to have Newt all for himself, to share his mornings, his evenings, his life with him. Nothing else could make him happier.

“You already up?” came a sleepy rumble from Newt’s chest, the hands holding Thomas’ waist slowly moved up, to his back, pushing them even closer together.

“Just woke up,” Thomas kissed the top of the blond strands, his own hands traveling over Newt’s back, right onto his butt, kneading it.

“Mmmm.” Approving sound doubled his endeavour and then Newt was slowly grinding to him, lazily, his lips stretched in a smile, reaching to pamper Thomas’ neck with small kisses. “This sure is nice, huh.”

“Love it,” Thomas agreed with the sentiment while grabbing Newt’s thigh and hiking it up over his hip. The blond softly moaned at the contact and Thomas pushed more into it, completely awake and needy and allowed. There was nobody that could hear them, scold them or gasp in shock like a puritan at them making out – just them, two lovers in their home, free to make love any time they wanted.

And Thomas wanted too much.

***

He never stopped wanting.

He woke to his room bathing in shadows, with the blanket twisted between his legs, his headache still present, even though in weaker state than in the morning, and his body wasn’t any less sluggish. The walk with his mum didn’t help him much, just added to his misery with freezing cold and nagging reality he couldn’t play this game any longer, which made him feel empty and unhappy.

He didn’t feel this unhappy in a while, it usually only came back when he heard of Newt about a year after the breakup. Every time his ex came back to his life, even when somebody only mentioned him in a passing conversation, Thomas’ chest set off that painful pang in it, like a trigger just waiting to be pressed, and he fell back into hollow kind of depression.

He got rid of it, somehow. He built walls around himself, he locked all of his twisted personality traits and pushiness and hateful behaviour away, he spent years searching for more he could fix, for all that made Newt unhappy with him, what made him leave Thomas after seven years without really talking about it.

He thought he managed to become a better person. He believed he could change the way he acted. He hoped if he ever talked to Newt again, at any point of their lives, he would be at least able to show him he wasn’t that ungrateful, lousy boyfriend anymore, that they could at least be friends. Somehow. Just talk normally. Just… exist in the same room without… Newt making that anguished face, like it hurt him still.

Thomas tried. But failed. Maybe it was just recurring theme of his life – to touch something wonderful, to taste true happiness, just to fuck it all up and lose it.

Maybe he was just obsessive. Suffocating.

Maybe making mistakes were rooted too deep in him to get rid of.

Maybe… it was simply impossible.

***

Newt was playing games with Hannah in the living room when Thomas came back down. Hannah made fun of him for sleeping all day like an old guy and his mum said something about hoping he didn’t catch a cold and gave him a bowl of chicken soup.

The strange, unattached feeling stayed with him since he woke up, and only doubled when he saw Newt’s neck marked by some fucker on display. His stomach churned at the implication there was this unknown guy waiting for Newt to come back home, who kept impatiently sending him texts that made Newt frown and smile in turns, like he just slowly sunk back into the problem they never resolved. Thomas felt disgusted with himself, and angry, and, when it came to it, immensely tired.

“Oh, you have the whole week free?” his mum asked suddenly, breaking Thomas’ bubble of trying to eat the soup like a mental case of lobotomy, and he realized there had been a conversation going in meantime and he didn’t catch any of it. Newt wasn’t playing the game anymore, though Hannah still furiously pressed buttons on her controller, and instead of it sat on the couch, turned towards Thomas’ mum at the table.

“Yeah, thought getting out of the city might do me good,” he answered her with a soft smile and the idea of another week like this sent Thomas into desperate mode. Even though it was him who forced Newt to take whole week off, because… he only had bad ideas, obviously.

“But there’s bit of a rush now, right?” he entered the conversation impulsively and Newt glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “At work. Christmas and all that being close.”

“Yeah, it’s… a bit hectic,” the blond admitted, making Thomas’ mum go aww. “There’s lots of people taking vacations they didn’t spend yet, so we usually work crunch time.”

“Yeah, kind of same,” Thomas added. It wasn’t really a lie. But not the truth either. “And I know I said a week, but I’ve got some texts from work already, thought of going back tomorrow instead.”

Newt stared at him with an evident confusion, but Thomas knew at this rate they were going to crash and burn again if they stayed, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t even trust himself to keep it civil when his blood boiled like in a bull taunted with red flag.

Except the red flag was an unknown nobody on the other side of the line of Newt’s phone.

And bed.

“Uh,” came from the blond. “No, wait. What? You��”

“We can visit again during Christmas,” Thomas offered a big fat lie, he almost bit his tongue at it. Christmas were a taboo, he knew mentioning it were already risky, but it gave him an out with his mum, so that worked at least. “When it’s calmer.”

“When is what calmer?” Newt still stared, Thomas said almost disbelieving, and he just prayed for him to play along and not act like he knew nothing about it.

“Work,” he answered stiffly. Too stiffly, he realized, since Newt’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh oh,” he heard Hannah interject, which meant he already failed in the mission to make this believable. Fuck.

“I need a smoke,” the blond announced instead of reacting and stood up sharply. Then shot Thomas a badly masked glare. “Keep me company?”

He wanted to say no but couldn’t when his whole family watched them like during tennis match. So he just nodded and followed Newt outside of the house while feeling like slapping himself.

***

“Care to explain or am I supposed to guess.”

The cigarette was lit, its fiery tip shone bright in the darkness of the porch once the automatic light shut itself because they weren’t moving like they rooted in the wooden floor. Newt was wearing his coat and Thomas only stood there in the long-sleeved shirt, which in retrospect was probably a mistake.

“I did explain,” Thomas said. “Just thought about work-,”

“No, you didn’t,” Newt stopped him immediately while crossing one of his arms on his chest while other held the cigarette like a weapon. “You said a week, so I took a week off. I’m not bloody leaving now. It’s my vacation.”

“I also said three days would probably be enough,” Thomas asserted. “And they are. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Why?” the blond demanded. “It’s not like I suffer here. I like this place. What’s your problem?”

That kind of question had no easy answer and Thomas held Newt’s eyes only for few seconds, before looking away.

“Am I the problem?” came another question, even sharper. “You just can’t stand me anymore, so you want to leave?”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Thomas scoffed. “Since when did I ever-,”

“No, I don’t know!” Newt interrupted him with raised voice and Thomas flinched. “I don’t bloody know anything about you anymore! You brought me here and expected what? War? Did you want us to fail?”

“Why would I want us to fail?” Thomas’ eyes widened in a shock. “What kind of fucked up logic would that be?!”

“I don’t know!” Newt barked. The cigarette he was holding was slowly fading away, the ash falling everywhere how he moved his hand. “But something’s up since this morning, so obviously you’re lying about work and I want to know why!”

Well, finding out his ex-boyfriend had a lover, or a sex friend or whatever the other person was definitely served as a wake-up call. Thomas couldn’t overlook it – he thought he’d be fine with anything, it had been years, but one fucking hickey and some fleeting texts and he just had the rising urge to tear the walls he built down and get angry and make Newt inevitably miserable, which he despised.

He fucking loathed it. And himself. And everything around him.

“Why did you even agree to come here?” he couldn’t help but demand. “Why did you even bother playing this stupid game when you have somebody home? You trying to make him jealous or it’s just your thing?”

Accusing – stupid Thomas, fucking idiot, just talk normally, what’s wrong with you – as always.

“What?” Newt’s eyes shot up, wide in honest surprise. His cheeks were red from the cold, or maybe embarrassment, Thomas didn’t know. “What are you talking about?”

“About that hickey on your neck?” Thomas pointed towards the incriminated spot and Newt’s whole body went rigid.

“A hickey…?” Newt’s free hand was touching the place now, his voice shocked. “You… ugh.”

“Look, it’s not my business, clearly,” Thomas rubbed his eyes tiredly, desperately trying to make an excuse for his own consciousness why he couldn’t look at Newt. “But obviously it’s causing you trouble with him, so. As I said. Three days are fine, we can leave now. Go back home. Forget about this.”

And forget about me trying to corner you, and me getting hard in the bed with you this morning, and me sounding jealous and lame, and me… just for being me.

“Are you fucking with me?” Newt’s voice sounded disbelieving. “Are you bloody serious right now? A hickey from some random guy appeared over night here? That’s what you’re saying?”

Overnight…?

“Overnight?” he asked a little dumbly, which forced him to look Newt in the eyes, where he saw hell unleashed. It made his throat squeeze almost hard enough to suffocate him.

“You think I just popped back home for a quickie, then back to your bed in the morning like a bloody Cinderella?” the blond seethed, the cigarette in his hand morphing into a protentional weapon of choice. “Where did that even came for, for fuck’s sake? You’d been seeing me for two days, never noticed anything, and then suddenly your Esmeralda syndrome got cured or what?”

“But-,”

“You bloody drunk fucker,” Newt took a step towards him and Thomas found himself hitting the entrance door with his back, when he automatically tried to back out. “Should have known your bird brain won’t remember anything.”

The realization hit Thomas like tons of bricks right in his face, able to cause heavy concussion if it were real.

“I did this?!”

“No, the bloody sucker behind you, who the fuck do you think?!” Newt’s voice was harsh, but Thomas could only hear the bare fact he made a hickey of size of Texas on his ex-boyfriend’s nape while spending the next day being jealous… of himself.

“What the fuck,” he breathed out with an ugly relief flooding his veins, which was all sorts of wrong. Being relieved over attacking his ex at night definitely did not count as a good point in anybody’s book. “What the fuck.”

“Calmer now?” Newt sighed in exasperation and Thomas couldn’t say he was. It just opened door to another set of bad he had to deal with.

“I attacked you when drunk?” he asked quietly, and Newt blinked in surprise.

“Attacked?” he repeated and then barked out a laugh. “No, you really didn’t. You were drunk out of your mind, for fuck’s sake.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t think it left anything,” the blond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if in memory, which was kind of hot – no Thomas, it was not hot, but embarrassing, shut up -. “I mean you just munched on me a little, then fell back asleep. No harm done.”

“You made a fuss about us sleeping in one bed but it’s no biggie when I leave a hickey?” Thomas couldn’t help but laugh a little and Newt’s face showed signs of hesitation.

“Look…” he tried after a moment, the cigarette in his hand nearly gone. “I… don’t know, you were just sleeping while holding me, it doesn’t mean anything-,”

“And that’s fine with you?” It was Thomas’ turn to interrupt him, and Newt looked a little lost for a moment.

“I suppose that’s fine with me, yeah,” he admitted slowly.

Thomas looked at his shoes, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t deny the knot forming in his belly over the day already started easing off, for purely selfish reasons he had, but at the same time his head became even a bigger mess than before.

“So what does it mean?” he asked after a while. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, I thought… you’d rather leave than stay with me longer, after today, but…”

“I want to stay,” Newt answered immediately. “Unless you really don’t want me here. Then no, of course. I had the same problem the first day, feeling all kinds of weird and jumpy. I guess I just sort of dealt with it. Stepped out of my comfort zone and all that.”

“Sorry you had to.”

It wasn’t like Thomas wanted Newt to change anyhow by doing this favour for him. But he’d also be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit he wished Newt to feel good here. With him. Selfishly, hopelessly. Like before, like they were okay. Like they still… liked each other. At least a little.

He knew that kind of hope was self-destructive and harmful, but he didn’t stop loving this man three years ago, after going through an immensely rough patch, so he wouldn’t stop loving him now for no reason either.

“No need to be sorry,” Newt interrupted his thoughts with much softer tone than Thomas expected. “I mean even despite it’s you, you didn’t really do anything bad yet.”

“Wow,” Thomas snorted. “Way to ruin the mood, boyfriend.”

“I try,” Newt grinned, and it seemed like the tense mood dissipated and they both relaxed enough to breathe easier. Thomas possibly wouldn’t even notice he had been so strung up until now, if the huge boulder of irrational fear of fucking up didn’t fall off his shoulders with a bang.

“And just for the record,” Newt added while finally inhaling the last puff from the already burned-out cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “I noticed you digging into me in the morning.”

“Of course you did…” Thomas banged the back of his head against door in utter shame. “Because universe hates me, and you had to fucking wake up.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt let out a small shrug. “I got hard at night, if it makes you feel any better. Let’s call it even.”

“What.”

“Had a real nice dream,” the blond casually announced like he was ordering pie with no filling and Thomas was a stupefied cashier at Costa Cafe. “Woke up with you being handsy with me. Tried to scramble away, cue for you to make the hickey and fall back asleep.”

“Uh.”

“1:1, right?” The sly smile Newt’s mouth produced did things to Thomas’ underbelly and before he even caught himself, he automatically reached out and grabbed Newt’s side.

Fuck.

“Pretty lousy score,” he just said – bad Thomas, stop making a pass at your ex -, “That’s no match whatsoever.”

Newt glanced at his hand resting on his waist and then back to Thomas with a thoughtful hum.

“I’m not that good at sports,” he just said, looking back into Thomas’ eyes. “But you might be onto something.”

Thomas took a deep breath and risked the second hand grabbing other side of Newt’s waist, pulling him closer. The layers of clothing made him dissatisfied, no matter how cold it was and how his skin already felt like ice, he just wanted to get under the coat and the sweater and the shirt and make Newt react somehow. The blond just silently watched him, let him do whatever he wanted, and somehow it felt like a test and Thomas was scared of failing it.

“That’s it?” Newt broke the tense silence around them when Thomas just stood there, holding him.

“Thinking,” the brunet mumbled with a frown.

“About?”

“How to touch you without it being classified as groping,” he moved his hands a little lower as an experiment, getting no reaction. “Since it’s off the table.”

“Pfff.”

He hesitated, then gingerly let go of one side and reached for the zipper lodged under Newt’s chin, keeping the coat closed like a fortress. His hand barely cooperated with how frozen it was, but Newt still didn’t stop him and that encouraged him unfairly.

“Newt.”

“Yeah?” the blond’s voice was quiet and close to his face.

“What’s with all the texting?” He kept holding the zippier between his fingers like he couldn’t decide, and Newt made a soft huh? noise in the back of his throat.

“You were on your phone the whole day,” Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Is there somebody…?”

A sigh. Thomas let go of the zipper.

“That’s Alby,” came a reply and if Thomas wasn’t already propped against the door, he’d take a step back. There was nowhere to run now, so he just let go of the blond completely, nodding.

“He’s my partner,” another string of words Thomas comprehended but wished he didn’t. “A bit demanding one.”

“Sounds like it,” he just commented, staring at his feet until Newt’s shoes came into view as well when he stepped closer.

Seriously testing me. That’s-

“A bit cruel,” he breathed out with a puff of white smoke and Newt pushed further and pressed his mouth against Thomas’. His cold lips lingered for a moment before parting, their breaths mingling, and Thomas’ heart fought really hard to get out of his chest and run away. The proximity was non-existent, Newt stood so close their chests were touching, and his eyes were so dark, and pupils blown wide Thomas got easily lost in them.

He always did. Nothing had changed.

“You look cold,” Newt whispered to his lips, hovering so close their mouths gently touched when they took a breath.

“Freezing,” Thomas answered in daze, holding back only by a miracle. He wanted to reach out and pull the blond man flush against him, to grind into him, to kiss him so deep his toes would curl, and he’d buck up, he just wanted so much it made him suffer.

“Alby’s my colleague,” Newt dropped quietly. “Funnily… you weren’t wrong about work being in a rush now. He’s struggling a little. Wanted to know my opinion.”

A colleague. And nothing else?

“Nothing else,” Newt answered like he could read his mind and then sagged against Thomas’ body like the energy just left him, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I thought I can handle being this close to you,” he heard him mumbling into his shirt. “But the more I am, the less I can fight it.”

“I thought I can handle you dating somebody else,” Thomas added to it while letting his head fall back against the door with a dull thud. “But obviously not. It’s scary. I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed with him. “Me neither.”

He wasn’t sure if this had been some sort of consensus they reached, or just a fling that happened because they were both lonely, but Thomas didn’t want to let go – even though he should have, logically, to protect them both. The pain they caused to each other three years ago was still there and festering under their skins, but the more Newt was pressed into him, breathing softly, the more Thomas noticed his reason slowly creeped away, like a thief in the night disappearing with loot.

But he wanted. For fuck’s sake how he wanted to just hold him close and promise him love and eternal happiness, and the scary part was he couldn’t promise shit. His love was real, but not unconditional, happiness was fleeting and simply relying on both of them and the rest of the world deciding whatever to fuck them up or not.

But…

“I give up,” he mumbled, weary to the bone. At Newt’s soft hm? he just sighed. “It’s fucking cold.”

The blond barked out a laugh, but nodded and let go of him, immediately taking all the warmth away.

“Then shall we assure them we’re not breaking up again?” he nodded towards the door and without waiting for Thomas’ reply he already reached for the handle. “Or not leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” the brunet conceded. “Hannah’s going to be milking this for the rest of the week…”

“Serves you right,” Newt laughed quietly while opening the door and Thomas kept the answer to himself.

We’re not breaking up again rang in his head like a bell, deafening his reason even further. Newt didn’t protest when he reached for his hand on their way inside, and he wondered if his heart was ready for another trial.

He ignored the uncertainty and took a leap of faith.

[aliynavenus]

DamiRae Fanfic: Vulnerable

Authors note/Summary: Takes place during the new timeline everything that happened in JT VS TT happened even Raven gifting Titus to Damien. Terra didn't die or betray the titans; she's part of the team happily. Also along the way Raven became very fond of Superman thinking of him as a father figure and a mentor. Trigon has now weakened due the help of Constantine's dark magic powers yet Raven still has him but now on a necklace since he isn’t much of a threat to her. Just wanted to clarify so there's no confusion i don't really want to focus on how trigon isn't much of a problem anymore, he just isn’t. keep in mind this is my first time ever writing a fan fiction story and writing in general anyway thank u 

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chapter 1: comfort

Damian walked into the titans conference room only to reveal the massive wreck that the previous day caused. Beast Boy would throw random little surprise parties after missions and this was like every other one. Red plastic cups scattered on the ground along with confetti after beast boy would pop them when the titans walked into the tower last night, loads of pizza boxes surrounded by random fluid that knows what it could be. As of Beast Boy and Conner, their bodies were being tangled up in the couch drool falling dramatically down their mouth. Donna and Terra passed out on the kitchen table literally on the table with red cups in their hand. Jaime has took a departure for a week to be with his family the day before, not attending this little surprise party which was a blessing for him. 

Tsk How could they be so foolish after a few drinks down their system. Damian shook his head heading towards the kitchen to get a water bottle for his morning training, not caring if he made any sound that would wake them up. 

“They’re on the kitchen table this time?” Damian looks up from the fridge door seeing a restless Raven rubbing her violet eyes with her palms. It was only 7 in the morning and considering today they didn't have training but had a conference til 2 o'clock it was rare to see her this early, usually she’ll be meditating in her room a little bit longer. Not like Damian knew her whole morning schedule or anything. 

“Yea, I guess whatever they drank last night hit them harder than usual.” Damian says, raising the bottle of water to drink, “Why are you up early?” 

She shrugs her shoulders, “I felt like making my tea first before meditating today,” Damian nodded looking at her, her hair has gotten longer a little bit passing her shoulders since the last encounter with Slade. The red crystal her father was trapped in now became part of a necklace that laid on her collarbone. His eyes traced down her body taking notice in her pajamas she wore. Her legs bare wearing a pair of navy blue shorts hugging her small curves that he would always notice paired with a rather large dark red shirt that hid all the perfections of her body. He never cared about the female body as to just comparing it to a distraction to please men yet Raven never used it for attention. She was pure whether or not she was the daughter of a demon. That's what she was to him, a considerate flawless untouched being that was real. 

“I’ll feed Titus right now you can go train to get a head start on everyone today, something tells me this hangover is going to kill them today.” Raven eyes their teammates feeling utter failure that the crime fighting superheroes at night are drunkenly passed out experiencing a hangover in broad daylight and might add underage too.

He looks down in her violet eyes, always being fascinated by them looking like a portal to infinite dimensions that could pull him in. “I appreciate it, I’ll take him out for a walk later today” Damian responds to her. She gives a small smile before turning her back to him. He had become less of a brat in his time with the titans but yet still kept his arrogant remarks here and there but it was nice seeing a change in him even if it was ever so slightly. 

He exits to the training room, activating the training system to a level higher from the day before's training. The system activates with holograms of criminals and little silver machines coming out of the ceiling to shoot red lasers at him to make it more realistic, and so he begins battling. 

It’s been quite some time that he and Raven have felt comfortable with each other, ever since Titus especially. Despite the bond that has been connected to them ever since Raven healing him with his fight with Jaime. He and Raven both knew they understood each other the best out of the team, they felt at ease with their presence. He never knew exactly when he started feeling attached to her, nor did it matter because that feeling of wanting to be closer to someone was never negotiated in his life. 

Damian grunts his thoughts cutting when the red laser slices the skin on his shoulder. The effect soon left him with a deep bloody long injury, yet Damian just went harder annihilating his acrobatics when running towards the opposite wall lifting himself to abolish the battling exercise into pieces falling to the ground becoming nothing more than a useless piece of metal. 

An hour later in the other room Raven was picking up the trash her teammates had caused last night with her magic. She knew Kori and Dick would lecture them if they came here with revolting pieces of trash everywhere. 

“Sorry to make you do this i could’ve helped you--ow” The girl with blue eyes remarked only to hit with a sudden headache when she turned her head too fast to stop Raven from picking up all the trash with her abilities.

“It’s okay besides magic, remember.” Raven lifted up her hand as dark purple magic appeared. In a quiet second all the trash was lifted from the floor and gone into the trash. 

“thank you again, so boy wonder is already up and at it.” Donna sips from her cup of tea Raven whipped up for her. 

“Yea he should be done soon.” 

“You should join him ya know training together, a touching moment to share, i mean hellooo sparks flying hmmm..” donna raises her eyebrow with her mouth being covered by the mug she lifted, “I mean come on Raven it doesn't take a genius to see you guys have a connection.” 

Raven let out a small laugh, “Yes a connection we do have,” she lifted her finger pointing to her head reminding her of the mind link. 

Donna rolls her eyes sighing as if she expected her to say that anyway, “A different one i mean,” 

Raven has never thought about Damian and her in that position before although she had to admit he was a sight for sore eyes. Puberty hit him more than the team expected, not to mention his shoulders becoming much broader along with his chest, his height now becoming a head taller than her, his voice became deeper, everything changed in appearance as for her, it was like she became small to him. 

Donna knew something was always between them; it felt like they had their own inside language in their own little way. Whenever they were with the team or on a mission they would exchanged glances and small nods as if it were a secret code.The team noticed but never once mentioned it to both of them in the room knowing damn well that damian would just oppose with an arrogant remark that would just lead to whole argument of back and forth protest. 

 “It’s not like that, we just feel secure with each other that is all.” she dipped her mouth to take a sip from the mug, “Just like you and jon” she quietly said with a hidden smirk. 

Donna’s cheek redden whipping her head towards Raven pouting, “Shhh he’s right there he has super hearing remember.” she whispers pointing at the boy who is still tangled up on the couch sleeping. 

Raven rolls her eyes, “Please he looks dead.” she scoffs tilting her head to view the boy “He might actually be dead considering whatever fluid Beast Boy made to get him like this.” 

Donna sighs lowering her tone “Still, it’s not the same thing either. Just because I like him doesn't mean he sees me that way.He just sees me as the sister of the girl his dad had a fling with. He’s already grossed out at the fact that his dad basically hooked up with my ‘sister’ at one point.” she lowers her head into her arms in defeat. 

“I’m sure he’s not grossed out. It just makes him uncomfortable knowing his dad has been with other women before marrying his mom and that women happen to be wonder women. I think you should keep trying, never know.” Raven smilies at the girl patting her head as a sign of support. 

Damian sees the two females chatting at the table or more like a miserable ball of Donna being pet by Raven. “What’s with you?.” he questions donna walking towards them with a small towel thrown over his shoulder to stop the bleeding from the wound he has just gotten. 

She sniffs, “Just some girl time. Hey did you hear about that new mission Kori has assigned for us?” 

Raven looks at her puzzled, “No. I thought she would come later today to tell us. How’d you hear about it already?” 

“She told me when we were on our way home yesterday. She thought I would take an interest in it especially, so she gave me a heads up.” 

“What is it?” Damian glared at her thinking what it could possibly be. There could be endless possibilities such as tracking down Prometheus once again or perhaps there could be a crisis in Themyscira. Either way he did not care what the mission could be as long as it benefited his combat skills. 

“It’s an undercover mission!” she lifts herself off the chair raising her fits, “Kori said that we're going to be going undercover to night clubs because of some new insights about something dealing with a new serum of something….?” she dies down her words acknowledging she doesn’t actually know what the reason of the mission is. “But! We get to go to nightclubs guys even when we're only 17 i mean come on how cool is that . Being able to dress up in cute little tight dresses, wouldn't that be fun Raven.” her eyes light up as if her dream mission was finally coming true.

Raven blinked, obviously trying to process what she said, “Uh it's not really my taste in missions.” Tight dresses? Getting all dolled up? It’s not like they never done undercover missions before but this was like stepping into a new realm into Donna’s world. It also meant she would have to wear something rather revealing to blend in but her more concern was that Damian was going to see her in scandalous clothing. He was going to see her out of her comfort zone, would he like it? Would her body even look good in it that he would take notice? What is she thinking of course not, he's used to seeing beautiful girls with voluptuous bodies at the academy. How could she compare.

 She sneaks a glance towards Damian in the corner of her eye. He looks pestered as if he was expecting a grand mission that would save human lives but instead got nightclubs? 

“Perfect. We’re going to a destination where people roofy others, drunks everywhere, with horrible music. That was your idea of an interesting mission, Donna?” Damian’s hand fell to rub his temples and bit back a curse before he caught the curious expressions of them. 

Raven shifted over to him “What’s wrong? Did you get injured while training?” immediately telling that something was wrong no matter how many layers he would secrete. 

Damian grunted rolling his shoulder to help ease the pain only making it worse when he grunted, “It’s nothing I got hit with a blast today sliced the skin above my shoulder,” he pulls away the towel exposing his hidden bloody ruptured combat injury, clearly needing healing. 

He saw Raven’s angelic eyes widen quickly putting the towel back on his shoulder holding pressure on the wound, “Come on let’s go to the infirmary so i can heal you.” Pulling his hand on top of hers when adding pressure to his wound, he nodded. Raven opened a portal, walking side by side, vanishing leaving Donna alone in the kitchen feeling like an utter third wheel in that moment. 

They sat down on the little nurse bed that stood in the middle of the room. Raven pulled herself close to him causing his knee to gently knock against hers as her body became close enough within reach to heal him . His body towered over, was he always this much bigger than her? Heat started to rise up her body flushing her cheeks with a small blush seeing his muscular arms close the sides of her hips. He looked down at her, seeing her long lashes flutter as she blinked. Oh how he wants her to look up at him to admire every perfection on her face. She turned her body fully towards him; it took everything in his power to not lean forward and just bring her so much closer to him. Her hands crept over his wound; he felt the fondness of her magic overrun his skin. Feeling it takeover the wound unleashing small sharp stings that he loved to feel. He closed his eyes, how he loved the insignificant bitterness causing a sense of pleasure run through his veins, he enjoyed it even more knowing this came from Raven. He let out a soft valuable breath from his lips as he felt the sensation disappear, damn. 

He clears his throat wanting to break the silence after his little incapable moment, “Thank you seems like you're doing that a lot to me lately.” he chuckles considering since he’s the only one who doesn’t have rapid healing abilities in the team. He rolls his shoulder again not feeling the sharp pain he once had. “Once you get healing abilities you’ll be my new sorcerer.” She gives him a soft smile. He lets out a laugh at her shaking his head playfully. She loved his smile. It was rare to see it genuine in front of the teammates, it might've been selfish but she loved that he shared this side of himself with just her. 

They sat still on the bed not moving, it wasn't awkward it was actually kind of peaceful. They both knew they didn't need words to enjoy each other's company. “This mission is going to be a pain don’t you think. It's already got Donna riled up.” Damian groans 

“Yea, males feasting on women. Gross.” 

“Especially females roofing people’s drinks.” They both look at each other snorting knowing they are referring to their own parents from their horrific ways. 

Raven sighed in defeat shaking her head “We’re going to hate this mission so much.”

“Yea we are.” their eyes met each other. The room fell silent and you could almost feel their heartbeat pacing at the same time within each other. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding as she admired his vibrant emerald eyes. She hated the effect he had on her not even realizing it himself. Their fingertips were practically brushing against each other, all he wanted was to keep her close, so fucking close. It pained him how innocent she appeared, how she could do the littlest touches, the littlest words she could say can concede him to make him do anything for her, and he will. Without breaking contact she felt his hand lift from the bed and slowly move towards her collarbone. Shivers were sent down her spine when she felt his finger tips delicately land on her necklace.

 “He doesn’t give you nightmares anymore?” his voice barely a whisper yet loud enough to break the silence in the room. She gulps hoping her didn't hear her seeing how flustered she already was, “N-no, he hasn't since Constantie ya know,” 

He nodded in response, his hand still on her now looking down at her chest, “I remember,” his voice and face expression changed stern looking down at her chest, “when I would feel your energy from the mind link. When I felt the negative emotions stirring at night all because of your father. Those violent destructive dreams yet all i was able to offer was staying with you the nights of your nightmares.”

Raven was terrified that he could feel her heart beating beating out of her chest. Why was he to bring this up now? It's been 2 months since those nights. She'd be lying if she said she didn't think about them but she did if anything she missed them so much. Those nights where he would come into her room cautiously questioning what was wrong, shaking her to wake her up only to be woken up by him hugging her. He stayed with her, made her feel safe. They were valuable memories she cared for. Even though all she ever wanted was for those nightmares to be gone she didn't realize those moments would have to become memories. Another selfish thing she had yet to add, missing him comforting her. He thinks he didn't do enough for her? He did more than enough he stayed with her, that was more than she could ask for. 

Raven carefully thought of her words, placing her hand on top of his that still layed on her collarbone, “Damian I’m more than grateful you stayed with me during those times. You offering to continue to be by my side is more than enough for me especially during those times. I’m happy you were there.” she genuinely smiled at him giving him a sense of comfort. 

Her smile. The most treasured thing he could ever lay sight on. The one thing from the very start that made him change perspective on his new lifestyle when he first came to the team. He felt like his heart just got pinched and stopped with her words, he felt a blush crept up but tried to keep it under control. He just wanted to bring his lips towards her, to let her know how much she means to him. His other hand lifting from the bed slowly crossing over him wanting to reach her soft cheek, he wanted her no, needed her. 

“TITANS! I have news on your new mission to come to the conference room to discuss please and thank you.” 

Damian’s and Raven’s bodies jumped in shock snapping their heads towards the announcing speakers to what they just heard their leader's voice come out of. Raven stands up first walking towards the exit, Damian already in the miss of her touch, “We should probably go.” 

“Right.” he follows her out the door. 

He could’ve had her right then and there. He would have made her his. Then again he was just a boy who has no idea of the concept of sentiment or romance if anything. He wanted her so bad it pained him not being able to hold her. Then again she wasn’t his, possibly never will be. 

Just teammate Just Teammates 

[lightanddarklove]

Connverse Week Day 4: Together

We Made it Through the Night, Together

Rated: Teen | 2628 Words | Tw: Drinking/ Drunkenness

Read on Archive of Our Own | Day 1 prompt | Day 2 prompt |  Day 3 prompt | Day 5 prompt | Day 6 Prompt | Day 7 prompt | My Writing Masterpost

This chapter is a sequel chapter to day 2, Singing. This is set in the Soft Jock AU, @susoftjockau.[One of the most wholesome AUs out there, I heartily recommend it]

Steven and Connie are in established relationship here, and there's a good amount of talk about being drunk, as a warning, though that's more of a backdrop to Steven dismissing his own well-being.

Soft Jock AU. After sleeping off having a bit too much to drink, Steven and Connie talk. Rated T for discussions of inebriation.

Connie was very comfortable when she woke up. She would have snuggled deeper into the covers on her bed, but she knew that Steven was awake from the small circles he drew with his hand on her forearm. She cracked her eyes open and he still looked asleep but the motion continued. She set her hand on top of his and he sighed.

“You awake?” he mumbled groggily.

“Yeah,” she replied. He turned from laying on his back to his shoulder facing her. His eyes opened slowly, still looking tired. “How do you feel?” she asked. He swallowed.

“Mouth’s pretty dry, and I feel like I need to brush my teeth.”

“Well that’s pretty normal,” Connie replied. “Anything else? Upset stomach, headache, or dizziness?”

“No, I’m ok. Just a bit tired.” Steven blinked a few times and glanced around. He noticed a slight bruise on his left forearm. “That wasn’t there yesterday.”

“You stumbled a bit when we came in and hit it on the doorframe.”

“That explains it.” Steven licked his right palm and pressed it to the mark, watching it fade. “That’s better.” Connie looked him over.

“If you’re feeling ok, sit up for me and look out the blinds,” she instructed. He turned over on his back and sat up slowly. He reached an arm out to the window behind her and peeked through the blinds. “Any light sensitivity?”

“No,” he replied.

“You don’t get hangovers,” Connie hissed in blatant envy.

“…I guess not?” he muttered, laying back down on his back. “Sorry.” She sighed.

“That’s not something you should feel sorry about,” she replied unhappily. “From what I understand, they’re miserable. I only have had one, and it wasn’t good.”

“How do you feel?” Steven asked.

“I didn’t have enough to be drunk last night, so other than a bit cotton-mouthed, I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, again.”

“Steven, you know you apologized and thanked me a bunch last night, right? You don’t have to keep apologizing.” Steven avoided her gaze. “How much do you remember?”

“Most of it, I think.”

“Tell me.” Steven closed his eyes, brow furrowed with distaste.

“We went to Amanda’s party, we were having a good time.” His voice was bitter as he recounted the night’s events. “ You talked to Natalie for a bit and then when Fiona offered me a cocktail, I stupidly didn’t ask ‘what’s in this’ or ‘how strong is this,’ I just thought, ‘it’d be rude to turn her down,’ then, ‘oh this tastes good’ and drank it too fast. You came over, I started singing something I was planning on playing for you when I had my guitar, and you got embarrassed. We left, came here, you gave me aspirin and water, you tried to brush my hair, I said some dumb things that made you cry, we talked, I got changed and we went to bed.”

“Ok, so you do remember,” Connie replied. “Do you-“

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you and I wish I could take back what I said that upset you so much.”

“You talked about being worried about losing control of your powers.”

“It’s happened before,” he replied voice edged with agitation. “You being around helped ground me when my head was fuzzy, but that kind of pressure shouldn’t be on you. I need to be more responsible.” Steven sighed, closing his eyes. “If I’m going to have more than one drink, I should have a gem chaperone me, so they can grab me so I won’t get out of hand.”

“Steven, you’re my best friend, and I will repeat what I said last night. ‘It’s ok to ask for help.’ I’m willing to help you, with anything you would do for me. If I do have a few drinks sometime, I know you’ll look out for me.”

“Connie, I can’t ask you to keep me out of trouble if my powers freak out. I could break something that normal people can’t. I could hurt somebody. I could hurt you. If my pink switch goes off, and I hurt you, I don’t think I could forgive myself.” She stared at him in confusion.

“Pink switch?” His eyes shot open, realizing what he had said, and his pupils shrank to pinpricks.

“I- I- uh, I shouldn’t have said anything about it, forget it.”

“You’re worried about it, whatever it is.”

“Most of the time I’m fine, it hasn’t happened since first year, so it shouldn’t happen again.”

“That doesn’t stop you from being scared.”

“I know. But it also doesn’t mean you have to make it something you’re afraid of too.”

“I feel like not knowing is making me more afraid. ‘The devil you know,’ right?”

“I’m sorry, Connie,” he sighed, looking away, “but it’s not something I like talking about. I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“Please know that when you are ready, I’ll listen.”

He turned his body back toward her and reached for her hand. She opened hers and gave his a small squeeze. “Thank you,” he replied, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. She kept her face neutral as he drew circles with his thumb onto the back of her hand.

“There was one other thing you were doing last night that was a bit… concerning.”

“Was it the embarrassing song?” he asked, voice resigned. “Because that was supposed to be a surprise for you, not blurted out in front of a bunch of people.”

“No, you sang another song, after we talked.”

“Oh, right.” He avoids her eyes again, and she frowns.

“Steven, do you really feel like, you can’t-“

“Measure up? Well, sometimes. I’ve never been normal, so occasionally it feels like no matter what I do, it’ll never be enough.”

“It’s hard feeling that way.” Connie replied. “My parents wanted me to be a doctor and now, it’s not what I want, and I’ve finally accepted that. So those expectations aren’t going to be met. You shouldn’t have to be the one who meets everyone’s whims in your life.”

“Is it a bad thing that I want to make everyone around me happy?” He asked. He looked her in the eyes again. She shook her head.

“That’s not what I’m saying. Other people’s happiness shouldn’t mean more to you than your own all the time. You can’t satisfy everybody.” She rested her hand on his arm.

“It’s not all the time-“He muttered.

“You can only make so many people a priority and you have to make yourself the top of your priorities.”

“That’s-“He stops himself. “That feels selfish.”

“It isn’t. It’s caring for yourself.”

“I still do, just not- I don’t think of myself in the same way as when I think of when I’m helping others.”

“I think you’d treat yourself better if you did. If what you said in that song-”

“It’s only feels that way now and then. I try not to let it bother me too much.” Steven paused, shrugging. “Anyway, I didn’t write that one, my mom did. The gems taught it to me.”

“Oh wow,” Connie whispered. “That’s kind of… messed up?”

“I mean, they probably didn’t think I would feel the same way sometimes, but, what do I know?” Steven was deflecting, but she was almost sure she wouldn’t be able to press him much further.

“Well, I think that we should put a pin in this, and probably get something to drink. My mouth is getting dryer by the minute.”

“Hang on,” he said, and sat up, turning to face the rest of the room. He quickly spotted his empty bottle from the previous night and the one Connie hadn’t drank from. He hopped gently off the bed and picked up both of them. He strode back to hand her the full bottle and kept the empty one. “Take that, I’ll refill this one for myself.”

“Steven, wait,” she called.

“You took care of me last night, I can take it from here. I’ll bring you some ice too.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, sitting up.

“It’s no trouble, I’ll be right back.” Steven replied with a half-smile. With that, he stepped out of the room and Connie was alone. She pulled herself to the edge of the bed and leaned down to the brush forgotten on the floor from the previous night. Setting the water bottle between her knees, she began brushing her shoulder length hair.

Her eyes wandered around the modest dishevelment that had come about in her room. Her end table had been cleared to ensure that if Steven had gotten sick in the night her books would definitely be out of range for them to be damaged. The books were in a small stack by the edge of her closet. Steven’s shoes sat a few feet from the door in a heap next to her own sneakers. His jacket was messily thrown over her desk chair. Her desk and dresser were the only things that seemed to be in order in the room.

She stood, moving toward the doorway when Steven entered holding a plastic cup in one hand and his full bottle in the other.

“Gonna go brush my teeth,” she said hoarsely, moving her water bottle back to the nightstand and stood. Steven nodded and sat back down on the bed as she strolled past him. Placing his bottle back besides her he unscrewed the cap on her bottle and dumped the ice from the cup into it, sealing it afterwards with a twist.

“If you want to toss me my pants, I’ll get changed while you’re in there,” Steven requested, setting down the empty cup and bottle on the nightstand.

“OK,” she answered, picking up his wadded jeans from the floor and giving them a light toss toward the foot of the bed. He snatched them out of the air as they came close to the ground. “Nice catch,” Connie said, closing the door with a smirk.

“I’ll tell you when I’m dressed, won’t be long.” He called through the closed door.

“Sounds good,” she replied. With just a few minutes she completed her short morning routine of washing her face and brushing her teeth.

“You can come out now, Connie,” came Steven’s response from the bedroom, as she spat out toothpaste into the sink. With a wipe of her mouth she opened the door to find Steven with jacket and jeans on, hair up in its usual ponytail, and in the process of making her bed.

“You know, I can do that later, right?” She asked mischievously.

“Of course,” he replied, “but I figured it was the least I could do to straighten up-“

“Steven, having you stay over isn’t a problem you need to make up for.” She interrupted, stepping to him and opening her arms for a hug. He placed the comforter down and wrapped his arms gently around her middle, gazing affectionately at her. She smiled, and continued. “You are welcome here. If there was anything I wanted your help with, I’d ask. You don’t have to go out of your way to make yourself useful.”

“I’m trying to be the best houseguest I can be, and that means not leaving a mess.”

“The room doesn’t smell like vomit,” she snarked, “so that’s a win enough in my book.” He laughed, making a slightly queasy face, and released the hug. He turned around, tossing the pillows back in place and sat on the bed. She joined him with a smile. “Best drunk houseguest I’ve ever encountered.”

“I guess I don’t have very steep competition, huh?” he asked, reaching for the water bottles.

“No one else is a thoughtful as you when wasted.” He handed Connie her bottle and took a sip from his.

“Was I really that bad?” he asked quietly, not meeting her eyes again.

“The main thing was your balance, you were tripping all over yourself.”

“I’m-” Steven began.

“No more apologizing,” She interrupted again. “You’ve done that enough in the last 10 hours.” He rubbed his neck with a sheepish smile. “It’s ok. I’m glad things didn’t go badly, I still had a good time, you’re not hungover and I got to spend the night with you.”

“I’m glad you had a good time. I hope that me being stupid didn’t ruin any plans you had for last night.”

“Don’t.” she chided, reaching out with her empty hand and giving his arm a squeeze. “You aren’t stupid. You miscalculated how much drink you can handle and we dealt with the situation. Now we can move past that and focus on today.”

“OK,” he answered. “I should probably get going soon, huh? I don’t want to keep you from your essay you were talking about before we went to the party.” She released his arm to put a hand on her hip.

“Firstly, how are you going anywhere without your keys?”

“Oh, right.”

“And secondly, we should probably get a bite to eat before you go home. I don’t want to hear that you got lightheaded driving and wrecked your car.”

“If you’re hungry, we can get something, but if not I can get something on my way.” Steven grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket with his empty and unlocked it.

“I’m making sure you get something to eat before I let you leave campus.” He nodded, conceding. She drank from her water bottle while she waited for him to check his messages.

Steven opened the group chat between Connie, Natalie and himself, reading Natalie’s message from the night before: I have your keys, come get them after you’ve slept it off.

One new message had come in at 10:06 this morning: You awake yet?

Yeah, I’ll be at the café in a few, do you want to meet me there or should I stop by first? Steven replied, the timestamp reading 10:47. He looked back to Connie and set the phone onto his lap.

“There was one thing I remembered about last night that struck me as a bit strange,” Steven said.

“Oh? And what was that?”

“Well, other than the song thing, I don’t remember saying much that would be embarrassing, but you were blushing a lot when I was talking.” Connie ducked her head and looked away self-consciously.

“You sound different when you’re drunk.” She mumbled.

“Really?” he asked. “I didn’t notice.”

“Your voice goes a lot deeper. Bassy.” She replied, staring at the floor. Steven smirked and cleared his throat.

“Why Connie,” he said, purposely deepening his pitch. “I had no idea that you find my deeper voice alluring.”

“It does things to my head, Steven!” She replied testily, face flushed. “I don’t want to be thinking about how it makes me feel, I want to be paying attention to what you’re saying and not about the way you sound.”

“What do you mean?” He asked huskily. “You can’t focus when I get all sultry?”

“No!” She barked, redness reaching her ears. “I don’t like feeling like I’m beholden to the whims of the baser parts of my brain.”

“Aww,” He replied, adjusting his voice to its typical tone. “Ok, I’ll save that voice for special occasions then.” He waggled his eyebrows, and she pouted at his expression. A ping from Steven’s phone caught both of their focus to his message instead of each other.

Meet me at the café in 10 mins, Natalie’s reply read. Connie glanced at his phone and stood.

“I need to get dressed,” Connie said, moving to her dresser.

“Ok, I’ll brush my teeth and I’m good to go,” he replied.

Within moments, the pair was ready and they walked out, hand in hand. Not every problem could be solved with a conversation, but together their struggles were easier to bear.

[astras-world]

WHAT MAKES IT WORTH IT- V

Here's chapter 5! Leave some feedback for me.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

When you woke up you immediately felt the throbbing pain of your head and the offensive light burning through the lids of your eyes indicating that the curtains are open

You groaned in pain slowly attempting to sit up and get something to help nurse the aftermath of last night's drinking opening one eye lid first and turning to bedside stand where you found Tylenol and a glass of water sitting atop next to your glasses.

Deciding that glasses won't help you see any better in this condition you opted to drink 2 Tylenol pills and washed it down with some water  giving it a few minutes to take effect as you sluggishly made your way to the bathroom to fix yourself up, washing your face, brushing your teeth with the free toothbrush that came with the suite deciding to take a hot shower to ease up some tense nerves and wrapped yourself up in a bath robe right after

You spotted a plate of waffles and some coffee on the table in your room as you got out of the bathroom, it looked like it has been sitting there for a good 30 minutes but you eat it anyway and drank all the coffee, even making yourself a new one right after

Your hungover was slowly getting better and you could hear a faint sound of laughing and music but you weren't sure if it were coming from right now or if you were imagining it from last night's events

You looked around the room only to realize that it wasn't your room at all. It was very similar but had different shoes and different baggages, a little more messy

You tried to recall the events of last night trying to remember who you had come back with, you were clothed so nothing could have happened

And then it hit you like a lighting strike.

The bar. Drinking. That stranger. Dancing. Tom. Punching. The car ride and the conversation from last night

You couldn't remember if you kissed or not, you couldn't even remember falling asleep. You were freaking out at the possibility of him finding out your feelings

"Oh my god, y/n how are you so stupid?!?" you whispered angrily to yourself

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, what did i say? What did i do? What even happened?" you said nervously

You went to pick up your phone to see if any messages could give you a clue as to what happened last night only to be greeted by a couple messages from Zendaya, haz and Tom that gave you absolutely zero clues as to what may have happened last night.

You groan miserably trying to think of what you could do next. You definitely can't leave the hotel room, the only way out is to face them.

You can't even call for help cause youknow that they'll just convince you to talk to Tom and you weren't sure how to do that just yet

So decidedly you stayed in that room, you had everything you needed anyways so you dug up one of Tom's shirts he'd wear on a normal day and one of his boxers cause you refuse to wear the dress you wore last night.

You clean up your surroundings to occupy yourself a little, fixing up Tom's clothes on the gound, folding and sorting. Fixing up the bed, cleaning up the table littered with disposable coffee cups and paper plates.

You finished that task quickly and grew bored as you sat on the bed thinking of what you could do next when you heard the door open, snapping you out of your trance and quickly turning to see who it was

Tom was there leaning against the door frame with a sly smirk on his face

"When do you plan to come out?" he asked teasingly

"We'll hopefully, never if I'm gonna be honest." you muttered quietly

"hmm well if it helps they went out, got lunch I think" he said walking in and closing the door behind him.

"Why didn't you come with?" you asked

"Well, I couldn't exactly leave you here to starve now can I?" He said amused

"I could've take care of myself after you left you know." you replied

"And risk not talking about last night? You're not getting away that easy, darling" He said walking closer to you stopping and the foot of the bed

You shivered slightly at the pet name, god ypu missed being called that with his voice

"What's there to talk about?" you asked nonchalantly 9.30am

"Ah, so we're gonna play that game are we?" he said raising an eyebrow.

"why are you avoiding me?" he asked blatantly

"I'm not, how can I, I'm your personal assistant" You said

"Exactly, you're my assistant so why are you avoiding me? " Tom asked expectantly

"What does it matter anyway?" you asked giving up

"It matters to me." Tom said simply

"It's not that important anyway, I'm still doing my job correctly." you respond avoiding the question

"It's not about your job, y/n. I don't care if you decide to book me for the same thing 3 times or if you decide to not let me show up on set for a week, you'd keep your job if I had anything to do about it" Tom said cooly

"Then what is this about?" You asked looking at him in the eyes

"You and me." He said simply.

"You and me? Wha—What you and me?" You asked surprised

"Don't act like there's nothing going on between us, don't pull that on me." He said his jaw clenched

"Elaborate" You said inching closer

"Do you remember nothing from last night?" He said walking towards the side where you were sitting.

"I remember some of it." you confirmed.

"so you don't remember coming here?" he asked

"Nope. I've been trying to" you answered honestly

"huh." Tom stepped closer in your direction and lowered his head at your level, your faces inches away from each other "Maybe this will jog your memory."

Memories of last night came pouring in, your faces inches away from each other just like right now but still you couldn't remember if you kissed just the way your heart was beating out your chest and the overwhelming feeling to pull his face towards you and his hot breath reeked of beer but turned you on nonetheless.

"I remember this part, but not what comes after." you said so quietly it almost felt like a soft gasp

"Interesting" he said smirking "Do you wanna find out?" He asked his eyes locked on your lips

"I wouldn't mind too much." you said almost panting your eyes drawn to his lips your mimd littered with his soft curls between your fingers and his lips locked on yours.

"Care to guess?" He asked daringly

"No, it's hard to make assumptions" You said tilting your head just a little

"Hmm, I don't think you want to know that badly" he hummed tauntingly

"Hmm but you do." You fired back.

"You have a point" He admitted

"I know, I always do" you said

He pulled away from you and walked 2 steps back

"I think I'll keep that information to myself a little longer." He said.

"Hmm, can you live with yourself that way?" You asked jokingly

"We'll see." he shrugged his arms crossed

"What were you doing out there by the way?" you asked curiously

"Oh, deja was just teaching me a few dance moves" He answered

"You still dance?" You raised a brown at him amused

" 'Course I do, love. Why would I risk losing a talent like that?"  he said exaggerated

"I dunno, Movie star. Why would you?" You teased

"Don't call me that" Tom groaned pulling his head back

"Aw don't like being called that, tommy?" You said teasing him even more

"Enough, Princess. You've had your fun, let's get some lunch."

"I'm wearing your boxers." you deadpanned

"we'll order in." he said

"Then why can't I stay here" you pouted

"Cause, the dining room is outside not here" He reasoned

"But it's comfier here and a table is right there." you convinced

"We can always come back later, darling"

"Why? am I staying the night?" You asked

"If you want to" he shrugged

"I'll decide later. Show me those moves first" you said biting your lip

He rolled his eyes at you but pulled out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and unlocking it

He sat next to you and handed you the phone

It was a video of him and deja dancing the controlla challenge

"Damn boy, what them hips do?" You laughed

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He said suggestively looking at you

You turned your head to face him and you immediately felt his breath fanning your face

"Hmm, I think I could just ask one of your girls." you said thoughtfully

"I don't have any girls." He said

"sorry, don't believe it" you shrugged

"You are literally with me all the damn time, you know the ins and outs of my schedule." He says flatly

"your schedule doesn't cover every minute." you pointed out.

"Those minutes are spent with you. On the bed. Or with Harrison out drinking." He deadpans

"And whose to say you don't pick up some chick when you're out drinking?" you ask

"You. You pick us up when we're drunk off our asses or not." he states.

"True." you nod

"see, now c'mon I'm hungry." He says pulling you away from the bed.

"Fine" you let out an exaggerated sigh and Tom rolled his eyes playfully at you.

You decided on Thai takeaway and turned on a bad romcom for the both of you to make fun of.

"Why were you avoiding me?" Tom brought the conversation up again.

"Did we kiss?" you countered the question.

"If I answet your question, will you answer mine?" he asked

"If you answer two of my questions, I might."

"Now that's just unfair."

"All is fair in love and war" You shrugged

"Fine." he said turning slightly to face you.

"You gonna tell me, pretty boy?" you ask holding his chin up with one finger

"thinking about it, actually" he muttered. "What's your second question?" he asked.

"Hmm. Why'd you wanna kiss me?" you asked tilting your head curiosity filled your eyes

"You really have to ask that?" He asked raising a brow an amused smile playing oh his lips.

"Well, I wouldn't if I knew the answer?" You fired back

"Have a guess?" He ask

"A few." you replied.

"How many exactly?" he asks

"Hmm, around 2 or 3?" You hummed

"Care to tell me?" He answered

"Nah." you say shaking your head slightly

"you really wanna know?"

"Yes."

"I can't be the only one who sees it."

"See what?"

"I mean, Z noticed it, Jacob too, Even Haz!" He said raising his hands in disbelief

"See what?" you ask curiously

"I'm pretty sure everyone sees it." he said unbelievably

"What?" you ask again

"I think I like you?" he finally says.

What.

Shoot me an ask if you wanna be included or removed from this taglist! Please leave a like, send feedback and reblog Thanks for the support on this series, yall are A M A Z I N G.

@bookworm104 @hells-personal-bitch @bellagrayson-wayne @igoldieloxi @potter-holland @spideyyeet (Hi i follow u ❤️) @danicarosaline @annaweldon17-blog @yeeterbenjaminparker @breadbudzo @carry-on-my-wayward-spiderboy @whiskeywinter89 @rose495 @faeriedelalune-blog @liberty-01 @hiccup005 @lookalivefrosty @dramaticdimples @laucontrerasv @icegirl2772   @julsgrc @smexylemony @fuckyeahhomerun @wonders-of-the-multiverse @unknwn98 @ixchel-9275 @popluckbih @marvelislove10 @spideylovin @wwindflower @the-magical-fox @jubaydahk @jackiehollanderr @fangirlingisajob @spideyxxboi @americaswritings @amazingjordanjazzyisnotonfire @lolistheway

[sidehowriting]

Love Isn’t Always Enough

Masterlist in bio! (It is not up to date, 2 stories are not on there but I just reblogged them so they shouldn’t be too far down. I’ll update my masterlist soon!) 

A/N: So I basically wrote this right after I saw Endgame because I love pain and angst apparently. Its for @barnesrogersvstheworld 4k Challenge Challenge! 

Prompt: We should get back inside

Pairings: Thor x Reader

Summary: You see Thor for the first time in years

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: ENDGAME SPOILERS, swears, alcohol consumption, Thor wearing finger less gloves (I hate them)

Italics are flashbacks 

“C’mon, Nyx.” You gave the leash a little tug, pulling your dog along. The little black corgidor wanted to stop and smell every single flower, but with the impending storm you wanted to get back inside. “C’mon, you silly pup.” She finally complied with your request and started following you again.

You kept up a brisk pace back to your place, little dog at your heels. As you rounded the corner you saw someone standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He looked out of place. Long, raggedy hair, sunglasses despite the sun not being out, hands covered in fingerless gloves. Tacky. His face seemed to brighten up as you approached, and you could recognize the smile anywhere.

“Thor?” You slowly walked up to him. “Thor?”

“Hello! Yes!” He waved awkwardly at you. “Yes! Y/N! It’s me, Thor.”

“What?” Little Nyx was interested in Thor. She pulled at her leash, trying to get closer. “What are you doing here?” You held on firmly to keep the pup closer.

“Well,” he started picking at his gloves. “It has been awhile.”

“Almost five years.” You didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes, almost five years.” Even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew he wasn’t looking directly at you. He kept his head down, staring at his fingers. “I thought… maybe… I could come and see you.”

“Oh.” You were confused. Why would he show up after so many years of nothing? Just silence.

The rain you were trying to avoid started. Drops of water falling onto you and your dog. You picked the pup up, trying to keep her more covered. If she got too wet, she’d shake and drench you and everything around her. And she would have that wet dog smell. “We should get back inside.” You quickened your pace to your house, calling over your shoulder, “You’re welcomed to come in with us.”

He followed without question, closing the door once you were inside. You unhooked Nyx, setting her down. She gave a little shake, sniffed Thor’s feet, then trotted off into the house. Apparently no longer caring about your visitor.

“This weather isn’t your doing, is it?” You hung up the leash and took off your shoes.

His laugh was small and forced. “No, not this time." He looked around your little house, taking it all in. "I didn't think you'd be one to get a dog. You said you were more of a cat person."

"Technically I didn't get her," you said, making your way to the kitchen. “Can I get you something? Water? Coffee?”  You gave him a glare before adding, “Beer?”

You didn’t miss the flinch of his body or the grimace on his lips. “No. I’m good. Thank you.”

“That’s a surprise,” you muttered to yourself. You entered the kitchen, grabbing yourself a cup for water. Thor followed, his footsteps heavier than what you remembered.

“I know,” he started as you filled your glass of water, “you have every right to be upset. I don’t blame you.”

“Well that’s a relief,” you snapped. “Glad I’m not to blame for you choosing alcohol over me.”

“I know,” he repeated, taking his sunglasses off. “I had lost people-“

“I did too, Thor!” You were almost yelling now. “I lost people too. It wasn’t just you. And every time I wanted to talk to you about it you shut me out. Every time I tried to help you heal you went straight for the beer.”

You had just finished helping more of the Asgardians move into their new homes. They were small, quaint, very different from the beautiful planet. It was hard to adjust but at the end of the day, everyone was together and had a roof over their heads.

Thor had sworn up and down that he just had a few things to do and he would be right out to help you. That was nearly six hours ago. The day’s work was done, and you had done it all by yourself… again.

Stepping into the small cottage you now called home with the God you groaned. The amount of beer cans on the floor seemed to have doubled since this morning when you left. Seems the King of Asgard spent his day drinking himself stupid.

“Thor!” You called, kicking cans as you went. “Thor!”

“Y/N! There you are!” He stumbled out of the small living room, beer in hand. “I was starting to think you got lost.”

“I’ve been working all day, Thor,” You huffed, kicking cans as you walked.

“I thought you went to the store. We’re almost out of beer.”

You pushed past him, going to the kitchen. After all the moving you were ravished. “You were supposed to join me, you know,” you yelled, looking through the fridge. The majority was taken up by alcohol. But food, actual filling food to have a meal with, was scarce. Closing the fridge in defeat you grabbed an open bag of chips that was on the counter. Perhaps you should have gone to the store.

He followed you in, collapsing into a chair. “Was I? I’m sorry. I must have forgotten.”

“Like you’ve done the past couple month.” You shoved a handful of stale chips into your mouth. “All you do is drink.”

“I’ve done more than that,” he countered, gesturing to you with his beer can.

You shook your head. “No, you haven’t. You haven’t done anything since Thanos-”

“Don’t!” He cut you off, voice rising. “Don’t. I… I killed Thanos. I sliced off his head.”

“I know you’re hurting, Thor. I know. I lost family too. You’re not alone in this.”

He started to laugh but instead of jubilation, it sounded pained. Like that of a broken man. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N. I’m not hurting. I told Thanos he would die and then I killed him.” He tossed his head back, finishing his beer in one gulp. “I’m not hurting.”

“Fine!" You felt yourself snapping. Weeks of pent up frustration and hurt bubbling over. "Then I am! I’m devastated, Thor. I lost my family. My friends. I need you,” you begged, putting the bag of chips back down on the counter. “I need you.”

“You have me,” he said softly. He got up and walked over to you. Cupping your face, he kissed your lips gently. The smell of the alcohol buring your nose and the taste bitter on your tongue. “You have me.” His smile didn’t light up his face or meet his eyes. Reaching around you, he slipped his hand inside the fridge and pulled out another can of beer.

“If I do,” you whispered, hearing the crack of the can opening, “then put the beer down.”

He laughed again, nervous and unsure. “What? Why would I do that?” He pulled away from you, holding the can of alcohol close to him.

Tears were forming in your eyes. You knew how broken Thor was. You could see it. Feel it. Everyone could. And you wanted to help him. You loved him so much you would do whatever you could to fix him. Help him heal.

But you yourself were already broken from the fight. From losing everything to Thanos. And you needed to take care of yourself too. You needed a shoulder to cry on. Needed someone to help you pick up your own pieces.

“I can’t stand here and watch you drink yourself stupid.” You shook your head. “I can’t.”

“I’m not, my darling.” He came at you again, arms open wide. “I love you.”

You wiped away the tears as they fell. “I love you too, Thor.”

He pulled you close, warm body an instant comfort for you. You melted immediately, clinging to him. “You don’t have to cry,” he whispered into your hair. He kissed your forehead like he used to. “Everything is going to be alright.”

“Prove it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Dump the beer out.” You tilted your head up, catching his eyes. The familiar twinkle no longer present. All you saw was sadness and pain. If he wasn’t willing to fix himself, you couldn’t force him.

“Y/N, I… I love you, my queen.”

You kissed his cheek. “I know. But love isn’t enough sometimes. I’m sorry, Thor.”

You didn’t turn back as you walked out, no matter how many times you heard him call out.

“You were right,” he said, sitting down at your kitchen table. “You were right I was hurting, and I couldn’t handle it, so I just drank and ate and tried to forget.”

“Glad you finally realized that.” You sat down across from him.

“It’s taken some time, but after having a good talk with my mother-”

“Your mother?” You distinctly remembered Frigga dying. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“It’s a long story. But I was able to see my mother again and talking to her has really helped me heal and move on.”

“Good. I’m really happy for you, Thor.” You meant it. Over the years you were apart you had this sinking feeling that Thor was spiraling. You didn’t want that for him. He deserved the world. But knowing that he was able to find peace was a comfort for you.

His smile was real this time. One you hadn’t seen in years. “Thank you, Y/N. I’m just sorry it took so long to happen. I know you were hurting too, and I should have been there to help you as I should have let you help me.”

“It’s alright,” you whispered, running your finger along the lip of your glass.

"It's not though. I thought I had lost everyone, but I hadn't. I still had you. Until I fucked it up with all the drinking and avoidance. It was then that I realized I truly lost it all."

"I can't lie, I was really hurt. For a while." You folded your arms across your body. "It felt like you just threw away five years within what, three months, four? I wanted to blame you. I did, for a while. I hated you. But that wasn’t fair of me. You were hurting too, and you didn’t know how to handle it so then I blamed myself for leaving. I should have stayed and been more supportive. Tried ever harder to help. But that would have just made us both miserable.”

Thor reached across the table for your hand. Sighing, you leaned forward and gave it to him, fingertips running over his gloves. "I know I'm not the same man I was before-"

"I'll say, since when do you wear these cheap fingerless gloves?" You teased. His normal, adorable smile crossed his lips once again making your stomach flip.

"They keep my hands warm. It gets cold in New Asgard." His eyes sparkled brightly. He was the same lovable goofball you fell so hard for.

"I guess that's okay," you teased making his grin spread wider.

"I know I'm not the same," he repeated, squeezing your hands. "But I still love you. And I'll do whatever it takes to win you back."

"Thor…" You pulled your hand away from his. "I'm sorry."

"Is it my appearance?" He rushed. "I can change that. I'll do whatever I can."

You shook your head. "No, Thor, I don't care that you've put on some weight. You're just as handsome as I remember. That has nothing to do with it."

"Tell me what I have to do to win you back," he begged, reaching for your hand again. "Please, Y/N. I've gone mad without you by my side. You're my queen. Let me be your king."

"Thor, its…" Nyx interrupted as she barged into the kitchen, running around and barking. Her little tail flailing side to side.

"Y/N?" You heard a voice as the front door opened. "You home?"

"Yes, hun! In the kitchen!" You stood up to greet your boyfriend as he entered. The little dog also excited, jumping and barking.

"Hello." He quickly kissed your lips before picking up the dog. "And hello to you too!"

 Even with his face covered in hair, Thor's shocked expression couldn't be missed. "Thor, this is my boyfriend, Ryan. Ryan, Thor."

Setting Nyx back on the ground, Ryan stepped over to Thor. "It's an honor to meet you!" Thor rose from his chair and shook Ryan's hand. "You're my favorite Avenger!"

"Why, thank you," Thor said modestly. "You're very kind."

"What do I owe the pleasure of having the literal God of Thunder in my kitchen?”

“I ran into him while walking Nyx,” you said, answering for Thor. “It’s been awhile since we saw each other, and I invited him in to talk.” You didn’t keep your past relationship with Thor a secret. It was quite impossible as it was the talk of the internet for some time. Everyone loved seeing you and the God of Thunder being happy and cute together.

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” Ryan asked, still beaming from meeting an Avenger. “We would love to have you.”

Thor waved him off. “No, no, I can't, I'm afraid. In Fact, I really should be getting back.” Thor started crossing the kitchen to leave. “Thank you, though.”

“I’ll walk you out,” you said quickly, feeling bad Thor had to find out you moved on this way.

“That’s quite alright, I can see myself out.” He said another goodbye to your boyfriend before heading out. You were hot on his heels, calling after him.

As he opened the front door and stepped outside you finally managed to grab his arm and stop him. “Thor, please. Wait.” He paused, turning his attention back to you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“I should be the one who is sorry. If I had known you’d… you’d moved on I never would have come.”  

The sky was still dark from the storm, rumbles of thunder could be heard in the distance. But the rain itself had stopped. "I'm glad you did stop by. I have missed you, Thor. And I'm happy to see you doing better."

“I am, my darling.” He took your hand in his, bringing it slowly to his lips. His beard tickled the tender flesh; his lips just as soft as you remembered. “And I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you happy.”

“Thor…”

“I won’t bother you anymore.” He kissed your hand once more. Lingering just a bit longer than the first time. You’d known him for years. You could tell he was heartbroken. And as he walked away you knew, just like before, you couldn’t fix it.

Tags: @dsakita @lancsnerd @xxloki81xx @teddybeardoctorr

[hauntedyouthus]

COVID19

So, it happened. I didn’t think that it would happen to me but it did. I was tested for COVID19 and it came back positive. I had a mild case of it but even the mild case was scary. This is a wakeup call people… it’s not the flu. Not even close. Let’s start at the beginning… to when I was exposed…

               Saturday – I was working at a restaurant/bar where I work one or two nights a week for extra cash. It was Saturday night – a normally busy night that had thankfully been slow this particular day. I had a customer who was joking saying that they had left Philly because Philly had shut down all non-essential businesses (including restaurants and bars) due to an outbreak of coronavirus and they just wanted to party. They coughed a bit, but I attributed it to the fact that they were smoking. There was a live band that night and I had to get close to them to hear their order – not a good practice of social distancing. I made sure to wash my hands frequently and sanitize after going to every table. But I must have breathed it in or touched my face at some point throughout the night.

               Sunday – All non-essential businesses were closed throughout all of PA.  My manager reached out to me to let me know that the restaurant would be closed and I could work take-out if I wanted to. I didn’t so I turned down the offer. I figured I could use the time off to do grad work.

               Monday – I started feeling sick. Not COVID19 sick but off. I had some chest tightness, a slight cough, and was tired. Thought nothing of it other than seasonal allergies, it’ll pass.

               Tuesday – I woke up with chest pain that wouldn’t go away. It was all day. My cough had got worse but I still wasn’t worried about the cough. I was worried about the chest pain. It was so uncomfortable and I was really distressed by how it wouldn’t go away. I honestly was worried that I was having a heart attack. I reached out to my friend who is an ER nurse and she suggested I go to the hospital. I was stubborn and said I would just call the cardiologist in the morning.

               Wednesday – I woke up with chest pain again. Not as bad as Tuesday but still there. I called my cardiologist at 11 and they asked me to come in at 11:20… Sure. No problem. Hastily I got dressed, threw my hair into a messy bun and went. They screened me before I went in, gave me a mask, and within minutes they had me laying down hooked up to an EKG. The doctor saw the results came in and told me that my EKG was fine but based on my symptoms he wanted me to be tested further. He sent me for bloodwork and scheduled an EKG for Friday. He believed based on my symptoms that I had swelling around my heart which could be related to a matter of things including a viral infection. Went for the bloodwork, was given a mask, and at this point my anxiety was pretty high. I got home and felt like I was having a hard time breathing. Brushed it off as just anxiety. By the time I was getting ready for bed, my breathing had gotten worse and so had my coughing. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I lay down the coughing would get worse. I was gasping for air at some points. I was starting to get scared at this point. I still didn’t think I had coronavirus. I thought no way, not me. But I couldn’t breathe right and I couldn’t stop coughing. This went on the whole night but eventually eased up closer to 4 in the morning. I closed my eyes and fell asleep for about 2 hours. I was woken up by the sudden urge to try to take a deep breath. I couldn’t. I just gasped for air.

               Thursday – After not having slept and struggling to breathe all night, I was exhausted. I stayed in bed all day – sitting up and watching movies. My doctor called me with the results of my bloodwork that afternoon. Everything was normal including my inflammatory markers. He did mention that they were on the higher end of normal though. I was coughing a lot throughout the day and struggling to catch my breath after but it wasn’t as bad as the night before so I didn’t think anything of it again. I didn’t have much of an appetite all day and didn’t bother trying to eat. I thought at this point maybe I was coming down with something… still not thinking it was coronavirus. By the time I was getting ready for bed, my breathing was labored. I was struggling getting a good breath in. I was dizzy, tired, and just wanted to lie down but when I did the coughing got worse and I couldn’t catch my breath. I went through the night like this. At one point, I had to bend over on my hands and knees trying to get a breath in. It was around 2 A.M. at this point and I was fearful that I wasn’t going to get any sleep.

               Friday – I must have fallen asleep at some point Thursday night and woke up Friday fighting to get a breath in around 6 am. I was going to the cardiologist that afternoon for my ECG so I decided to try to be productive in the morning. I tried cleaning but was instantly exhausted and felt like I just needed to relax. I watched some movies on Netflix. I realized I hadn’t eaten anything Thursday so I decided to make myself a salad for lunch. I barely got through one bite of food before I was struggling again. I had to try to catch my breath and I was nauseous and dizzy. I ended up just lying in bed until it was time for me to leave. I got to the cardiologist, was screened given a mask, waited a few minutes and then was brought in for my ECG. The woman doing my ECG had to ask me to not try to take a deep breath because it was messing up her image of my heart. It was a struggle for me because I felt like I needed a deep breath even though I knew I was having a hard time anyways. When it was over and I went home, I felt a little better again thinking that whatever was wrong with me was passing… I was wrong. Friday night was the start of the worst of it for me. I couldn’t breathe. I was gasping for air for what felt like hours. I was scared. My head was pounding. My chest was burning. And then I got one good breath in. But that one breath led to a coughing fit which in turn resulted in me fighting to catch my breath for hours again. This went on all night.

               Saturday – Exactly one week from when I think I was exposed. I was so tired. Felt so sick and was now thinking something was wrong. My doctor called me early that morning with the results from the ECG and told me that the lining of my heart was swollen. It could be that it was irritated from me coughing so much but he said that he suggests I be tested for COVID19. I called my family doctor and did a telemedicine visit. She put an order for a test for me and I went right away. They took my vitals when I got there, my heart rate was high and I had a fever. Then came the test. The test was awful. I guess people say it’s basically like the flu test but I’ve never had a flu test before. They use a swab and stick it up your nose, twist it around and then do it again on the other side. It made my eyes water and my nose run but once it was over, it was over. I was told I would have the results in 7 to 10 days. I went home, scared and worried. My roommate went out and bought me some medicine to help manage my symptoms. All day Saturday, I was struggling to breathe, I was coughing, I had a headache, my chest hurt, and I was flat out miserable. I didn’t sleep again Saturday night. It was like Friday night all over again.

               Sunday – I had a low grade fever from the moment I woke up - 99.7. I was also so fatigued (probably because I haven’t slept in days at this point), coughing, struggling to catch my breath, and my chest hurt. I stayed in bed, feeling miserable and scared. I still haven’t eaten at this point but I wasn’t hungry. The reality was starting to set in that I might not be okay. I honestly didn’t think I was going to survive. By nighttime, I decided to try to sleep early. I took Mucinex PM to try to help me sleep through the coughing and difficulty breathing. Surprisingly, it worked. I slept through the night.

Monday – I woke up with no fever. My cough wasn’t as deep as previously so I thought that I was getting better. Breathing was a little easier – still a struggle but easier. I thought to myself – okay, it can’t be coronavirus because I’m already getting better. I still didn’t feel well but I felt like I could see the other side of this, the recovery. But it was short lived. Even with the Tylenol and Mucinex my fever came back by NOON. I was coughing again, struggling to breath, etc. My anxiety kicked in too at this point and my hands and feet were sweating and tingling and I was scared. I was literally open-mouthed gasping for air but unable to get a deep breath. I went through the whole night like this. Another sleepless night.

Tuesday – Low fever, headache, cough, but not struggling to catch my breath as often. I tried a little solid food but ended up having a coughing fit immediately after the first couple bites. I was weak and tired and my lungs felt like they were on fire after coughing. But I managed to sleep Tuesday night, thankfully.

Wednesday – Still coughing, still had a low fever, still struggling to catch my breath. I was doing better than Tuesday, though. I ate soup, drank a protein shake, and felt like I could be on the mend.

Thursday – I went backwards. I felt so sick again. I didn’t sleep well Wednesday. I was up constantly trying to catch my breath or cough.

Friday – Coughing a lot again. Any activity resulted in a deep cough and then 5 to 10 minutes of trying to catch my breath afterwards. But I ate finally. I actually had an appetite. My breathing was easier but still not great. After each bite, it took me a few minutes to catch my breath again before the next bite. That left me feeling exhausted and frustrated. However, I realized that I was doing much better today than I was a week ago. Progress has been slow but I am doing better.

Saturday – So that brings us to today – I got a call at 11 am this morning. They had my test results. The woman sounded chipper at first but immediately after I confirmed that I was in fact who I am, her voice got very low and she told me that I am positive for COVID19. It took me a little while to process my thoughts and emotions but I decided that I could use this to help others. I know every case is different but if someone else is going through a mild case and is scared or anxious, there is hope. I am exactly at two weeks from when I was exposed and I feel better. Not great, hell not even good, but better. The worst is over (hopefully) and I’m recovering. I still fight to catch my breath every 20 or 30 minutes and I still have coughing fits and eating is still a struggle. But I’m getting better and I refuse to stop trying to get better.

So people, please take this seriously. I was fighting to breathe for days and was scared out of my mind. I didn’t know if I was going to come out of this alive or not. Thankfully, I did start getting better. Thankfully it was a mild case. There are people out there that have it much worse than I did or do. Do your part and stay home. Self-isolation and social distancing is the only way that we can flatten the curve.

TL;DR – I have a mild case of coronavirus. I coughed a lot, fought for my breath, but I’m getting better.

[trashforhockeyguys]

Can’t Help But Love You-2- Kasperi Kapanen

A/N: Hey look it’s part 2. Smut, poorly written though it may be, is included.  

You laid out on the front of the boat with Steph while the guys were swimming. All the while your head was spinning as you tried to sort out what you were going to do about Kappy. You’d managed to keep him occupied during the short ride to a small cove your family always went to. But he was constantly begging you to get into the water with him.

 If you were being honest, you wanted nothing more. But you knew that being that close to him wouldn’t help your situation. You were determined not to get hurt this time.  Even though you knew you would, no matter what you did.

 “What, you don’t feel like swimming with us?” Willy asked, getting a drink out of the cooler.

 “It’s not that, I just figured I’d let you guys do your thing,” You shrugged.

 “You’re just avoiding Kappy,” He corrected, “Because you’re trying not to start your season romance, right?”

 You pushed yourself up on your elbows, “Does everyone know that?”

 “Everyone but Kappy,” He confirmed, “The two of you are never very subtle. Plus, I saw the look you had when you picked the two of us up.”

 “She’s trying not to cave,” Steph added, “But she’s already failing miserably.”

 “Thank you for that, Stephanie,” You hissed.

 “Anytime,” She joked.

 “Swim with us? Please?” Willy almost begged.

 “Later,” You promised, “Besides, I want a tan before winter hits and I become as pale as Casper.”

 William laughed at you before jumping back into the water. Steph shook her head and rolled over. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of the water, and the guys all yelling at each other. You’d almost forgotten how nice this was. They weren’t yet worried about everything that came with the hockey season, this was normally the last week where they could really just be guys.

 You were close to falling asleep, thanks to the sun warming you up just enough, when you heard someone climb back onto the boat. You didn’t bother opening your eyes, figuring one of the guys was just getting another drink. However, you quickly realized that wasn’t the case when someone somehow grabbed you and threw you over their shoulder.

 It didn’t take more than a second for you to realize that it was Kappy. You screamed and hit his back, trying to get him to put you down. But he just kept walking towards the back of the boat. You knew he was going to throw you into the water, which normally you would’ve been fine with, but you’d just gotten comfortable and getting in the cold water was not ideal.

 “Kasperi! Put me down!” You yelled.

 “Oh c’mon Kap!” One of the boys chirped.

 “I swear to god, Kasperi!”

 He laughed and shifted your weight before stopping on the edge of the boat. You knew you were going in one way or another, he wasn’t going to put you down, unless he was throwing you into the water.

 He started shifting again, which meant you were about to be thrown. You screamed and basically clawed his back when he finally tossed you. The water wasn’t as cold as you expected, but that didn’t mean you were happy with him.

 When you came back up to the surface, you pushed your hair out of your face and shot him a look. He was still on the boat, holding his stomach because he was laughing so hard. You wanted nothing more than to throttle him.

 “I hate you so much right now,” You told him.

 “Oh c’mon Y/N! Just wanted you to come swimming with us,” He explained.

 You were angry, you understood why he did it. But yet you were fuming. You couldn’t really explain why, but you were. You shook your head and swam away from the boat, but more importantly away from Kappy.

 He started to try and swim after you but the guys eventually got him to leave you alone. You managed to swim all the way back towards your dock, which wasn’t too far. You were used to swimming back from the middle of the lake.

 “Oh c’mon! Come back!” Kappy begged.

 “Fuck off!” You yelled, hoisting yourself onto the dock.

 You’d worry about the boat later. Willy and Kappy both knew how to drive it, even if you didn’t often let either of them do so. You stomped down the dock, well aware that you were throwing a temper tantrum. But you didn’t care, because now you were cold and wet.

 Everyone came back almost an hour later, but you were still locked in your room. It was definitely easier to avoid Kappy when you were mad at him. Eventually though, you knew you needed to leave and make sure everyone was taken care of. Even if you did want to pout in your room all day.

 You were gathering up the courage to go downstairs when your bedroom door slowly cracked open. You didn’t even have to guess who it was, there was only ever one person that came in without knocking.

 “Don’t throw anything at me,” Kappy begged, holding his hands up.

 “I won’t throw anything,” You promised, “But I’m still pissed off at you.”

 “I’m sorry,” He said honestly, “You used to love it when I did that.”

 You shook your head and sat down on your bed, “Kap.”

 He sat down on the other end of the bed, careful to give you space. You could tell by the way that he was looking at you, that he was unsure of what to do. You’d never really been mad at him. But the thing was, you weren’t even mad at him anymore, one look at him took care of that. Now, you just wanted to get out, because you weren’t sure if you could be this close to him and not touch him.

 “What’s wrong?” He asked you.

 He shifted so that he was just a little closer to you. But every inch felt like a thousand. He was too close and yet he was also too far away from you. You wanted to pull him to you just as much as you wanted to push him away from you.

 It was enough to make your head spin, because you knew that the feeling wouldn’t go away.

 “Nothing,” You mumbled.

 “Liar,” He had an annoying smirk, the same one he always got when he called you out.

 He scooted even closer. Now there was little space between the two of you. Your heart started beating a little faster. You tried to take a deep breath, but it was like he’d taken all of the air away.

 “We promised we wouldn’t do this Kap,” You said softly.

 He sighed and backed away from you before standing up, “I know.”

 He took a few steps away from the bed, towards the window. His entire mood changed, it seemed like he was trying to fight it just as much as you were, “You’re right,” He spoke again, “It’s unfair to you.”

 “Kappy-”

 “Um, Auston and Zach are making dinner,” He told you, “They wanted me to come get you. And Willy told me to stop being such a dumbass and come talk to you.”

 “Well, at least Willy’s right,” You attempted to joke, “You are a dumbass.”

 He looked back at you and smiled before laughing, “You think you’re funny, huh?”

 “Oh I know I am,” You replied, “C’mon, let’s go eat.”

 And just like that, the two of you were fine. Back to just being best friends for the moment at least. He still kept his distance, let you sit in between Auston and Willy. When all of you headed out to start another fire, he wasn’t going to force you to sit with him. In fact, it took a few drinks to finally convince him to finally sit with you.

 But other than his thigh touching yours, he didn’t touch you at all. You could tell he was trying to give you space. You almost wondered if both Steph and Willy talked to him, and told him to try and let you be.

 You both drank more than normally, although everyone did. Your brain was fuzzy. Fuzzy enough that you, somehow, moved closer to Kappy. His hand was resting on the inside of your thigh, squeezing it occasionally.

 Your body was slowly heating up. You weren’t sure if it was just because of how close he was, with hand on your bare thigh from where your shorts had ridden up. Or if it was because of the fire and the alcohol.

 It was strange, the way you’d ended up here. In some ways, you almost expected it. However, you never thought it would be just like this. You never pictured yourself off on a small vacation with some of the leafs, drinking out on the dock one minute, and stumbling into his bedroom for the weekend the next. 

 Your brain was still so fuzzy, but not because of the alcohol. You’d sobered up practically the second he kissed you. Your mind wanted to go back to when you were younger. To when you first met and how much you once hated each other.

 But, oh god, the way he was kissing you and touching you. Your whole body burned. His touch could be felt all over your body. This was so unlike the times you’d kissed him years prior. And unlike any time you’d kissed someone before. It seemed cheesy, but he knew you better than anyone else ever could. He seemed to know every inch of your body, finding the spots that drove you crazy way too quickly.

 The two of you stumbled back towards your bed. He somehow kicked your door shut behind the two of you. Your hands worked their way down his firm chest and towards the hem of his shirt. He pulled back just long enough to get his shirt off, just as you did the same. You were both panting and gasping for air.

 You could feel the question lingering between the both of you. He knew, just as well as you did, that if the two of you kept on this path, nothing would be the same for the two of you. You’d be crossing a line that you’d drawn when you were teenagers.

 His hands were on your hips, his eyes not daring to leave your own. You could stop now, and pray that come morning the two of you could find a way to go back to normal. But you didn’t want that. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t want to stop either. But he was waiting for you to make that move.

 You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down again. He groaned, pulling you close to him again. You tried not to think about how he’d changed since you’d last been in this situation with him. He was so much more muscular, and a hell of a lot more confidant in what he was doing now. He wasn’t stopping and asking if it was okay every few minutes. He wasn’t unsure of what to do and when.

 He reached around to unclasp your bra, quickly pulling it away from your body. You couldn’t help but moan as his hands gripped your breasts. Your hands fumbled with his pants. You couldn’t undo the buttons fast enough. You needed more, you needed to feel more.

 Finally his hands covered yours and he carefully pushed them away before finally getting his pants off. You quickly struggled to get yours off. His hands were back on your body, continuing to explore more and more of your bare skin. There was no doubt about it, he did know what he was doing this time.

 You almost wanted to laugh as you thought about your first time together, which happened to be both of your first times with anyone. That whole thing had only happened because you were both tired of being virgins, and decided to just get it over with. You both figured it was better to do it with someone you knew and trusted.

 Funny how even after you vowed you’d never touch each other like that again, you were here all these years later. You’d both changed in so many ways. In ways that neither of you had yet to discover, but you were also the same. The two of you seemed to fall right back into a rhythm that was set years and years ago. It didn’t matter how hard either of you tried to fight it, you were like magnets, you always found your way back.

 “Fuck,” You gripped his arm as his hand slid under your underwear.

 He laughed lowly before beginning to kiss your neck. You were trying to process everything. You and Kappy had never really gone this far, one of you normally wised up before this point, or were too drunk to really remember specifics, and both chose not to talk about it after the next morning. However, it seemed that neither of you were planning on stopping the other anytime soon.

 “You want this right?” He suddenly questioned, pulling back slightly, removing his hand.

 You spun around to face him. There was a little bit of worry, almost like he thought you’d say no. So instead, you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. It seemed to answer his question because he didn’t stop again.

 You broke away and pulled your shirt off, before unclasping your bra and tossing that to the floor. Kappy sucked in a breath before pulling his shirt over his head. You ran your hands over his chest, taking in the full feeling of it.

 He slowly backed you towards the bed, his hands reaching for your shorts. You tried to calm yourself down. You’d never slept with Kappy before, and you knew that this was completely destroying the boundaries you’d set.

 “I really need you to fuck me,” You said breathlessly, “Like right now Kasperi.”

 He stumbled forward, “Yeah-okay.”

 You tugged your pants down. He quickly tried to unbutton his and tug them down. You paused for a second, before slowly tugging down your panties. You didn’t have time to blink before he was on you.

 Your lips crashed together as you fought to get as close to each to each to each other as you could. You tried to pull his hips closer to yours. You needed to feel him, needed to feel more of him. Neither one of you seemed to want to take time to really process what was happening. All of this just felt natural. You didn’t miss a beat. You both somehow already knr each toher’s bodies. There was no guess work.

 “Kappy,” Whined as you bucked your hips.

 “I know, fuck,” He groaned, “Condom, we need a condom.”

 “I’m on the pill,” You rushed to say.

 He pulled away long enough to shed his boxers before climbing back on top of you. He kissed you slowly, like he’d lost the sense of urgency.  You had the feeling that he’d take all night just kissing you. However, you weren’t keen on the idea. It took all of your strength to flip him over, but you managed it. His eyes darkened. He liked the idea of you being on top. And you liked the idea of being able to control this.

 You didn’t waste any time lining him up with your entrance, slowly sinking down onto him. You fought to breathe. He felt different that you’d drunkenly remembered. His cock was bigger than you’d thought, stretching you almost to the point of pain.

 You dropped your head as you let out a loud moan. You couldn’t even think about the fact that someone might’ve come back into the house, and might be able to hear you. Nor did you really care. They should’ve been able to guess why both you and Kappy were leaving so quickly.

 “Fuck,” Your voice was high pitched and breathless. Your hips started to slowly on their own accord. You barely had any control over yourself. You were already lost in the feeling of his cock.

 Kappy sat up and pulled you to him, putting his hands on your hips to try and guide you. You grabbed fistfuls of his hair, whining when he bucked his hips just enough for his cock to thrust deeper.

 His lips were on your neck and then back on your mouth, “You gotta try and be quiet,” He grunted, “Woudn’t them to hear you.”

 You almost screamed when he bucked his hips again, you would’ve had his mouth not been on yours. You were already starting to lose it. But you still needed more. Your body craved it. You tried to move your hips faster, but you couldn’t go as fast or hard as you wanted. You could tell by the way that his body was tensing that he was trying to hold back for your sake.

 “Kap,” You forced out, “Please.”

 “What do you want darling? Hmm? What do you want me to do,” His lips now dragging across your shoulder.

 “I want you to fuck me,” You begged, “Please Kasperi, please fuck me.”

 You could feel him smirk against your shoulder before he flipped you over. His thrusts were fast and almost painful as his hips snapped against yours. But the pain mixed in with the pleasure and it was hard to tell which was which.

 “Oh god,” You almost screamed as he slammed into you even harder.

 Your pussy clenched, drawing a long low moan from Kappy. You decided that you’d die for that sound. His thrusts started to get sloppier, yet somehow even faster.

 “You gonna cum?” He questioned erratically, “Huh? You gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Kasp-”

 You couldn’t finish before he reached down and started rubbing your clit. You couldn’t hold anything back even if you wanted to. It was like you’d exploded, every single bit of pent up energy was let go in that moment.

 You saw white, but you were very aware of the feeling of his cock twitching as he came, and how his teeth sunk into your shoulder as he tried not to be too loud either. You weren’t entirely sure how long either of you stayed like that, in an utterly blissed out stage. But eventually he pulled out, causing you to whine and grab his arm in an attempt to keep him close.

 You didn’t have the energy to do anything else. All you could do was lie there, eyes closed, and listen to the sound of him breathing next to you. The bed shifted when he got up, causing you to whine again do to the fact that you were cold without his body heat.

 You heard him laugh before sitting on your side of his bed, “Sit up for a second.”

 “Too tired,” You mumbled, peeling your eyes open just enough to look at him.

 He smiled softly down at you before slipping his arm under you to lift you back into a sitting position. He then carefully put, what you were assuming was one of his shirts, on you before laying you back down.  

 He carefully climbed over you and pulled the covers over both of you, before pulling you to him. You used the last bit of energy you had to roll over so you could burry your head in the crook of his neck. Never mind the fact that you both needed a shower now, you were just content being close with him.

 Even if it meant everything would be different in the morning.

[cognitiveanxiety42]

Prompt #2: Bargain

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast‘s #FFxivWrite2019 challenge.

Ao3 link here!

In which Greleita Hyrtstyrmwyn reconsiders her career choice.

Greleita was miserable. 

The setting sun beat down on her, not seeming to lose any of its heat even at this time of day. Greleita shrugged herself deeper into the cloak she’d managed to fish out of the sea, wishing that she had the means to fashion it into something more useful. A sail, preferably. Not that there was currently a hint of a breeze; even if she somehow managed to rig a sail, her little chunk of debris would remain at the mercy of the currents.

Speaking of currents… Greleita peeked out from beneath her hood, but saw nothing but ocean. Again. She was reasonably certain that she was caught in a current, but right now she had no real way of telling which one. If luck was with her, she’d wash up in Eorzea; if not, her corpse would wash ashore on the island of Thavnair weeks from now.

She sighed. She’d known that piracy was dangerous, had grown up knowing. But the crew that had raised her had turned privateer for the Admiral when traditional piracy was outlawed, and besides, where else did she have to go? And so she’d stayed on, earning a living preying on anything waving a Garlean flag. It had been a decent way to live, exciting and lucrative in equal measure, though much of the crew had remained bitter about the Admiral’s decree.

Their most recent job had been a big one, a military vessel stocked with Garlean weaponry. They’d still been celebrating in anticipation of the reward when the storm had struck, turning a calm sea into a tempest in a matter of half an hour. As it turned out, a cargo hold full of heavy magitek armaments wasn’t conducive to safely riding out a storm.

The levin bolt that had taken their mast hadn’t helped.

It had been chaos after that, as the crew frantically tried to find a way to save their ship. When that had proven a lost cause, they’d abandoned ship. And still the storm was not sated. Greleita’s lifeboat had capsized, spilling its occupants. Eventually she’d managed to find a piece of drifting debris to cling to. She had no idea how the rest of her crewmates fared.

Greleita started, and realized she’d been dozing. She shook her head. She really needed to stay awake, see if she could figure out anything about which direction she was heading once the stars came out.

Feeling more than a bit sorry for herself, Greleita struggled into a sitting position. That done, took a deep breath, feeling inordinately proud of herself for managing to not capsize the piece of… deck, she thought, judging by the gouge there that looked to be from where one of the cannons had sat… that was all she currently had between her and the sea. 

“Llymlaen, Nymeia, any of you that might be listening,” she murmured as the reds of sunset began to give way to twilight. “Please, give me something. An oar, a breeze, a pair of dry socks, even!” She pushed back her hood and sighed. “Look, if you get me out of this, I’ll… I’ll give up the piracy, the privateering, all of it. I’ll take up adventuring, or fishing, or cooking, if that’s what you want.”

Despite her plea, the gods remained silent as twilight deepened to night, bringing with it a star-strewn sky and, eventually, sleep.

Greleita came to with a face full of sand. Blearily, she opened her eyes to a smudge of crimson that eventually resolved itself into a miqo’te, hand extended and… was that a healing spell? Greleita blinked. Definitely a healing spell. Wait. Sand. The sound of waves on the shore. A (hopefully) well-meaning stranger.

She sat up, spitting sand, and set grateful eyes on land. The shore she’d washed up on was plain, studded with rocks and washed-up debris, but at that moment it was the most beautiful thing Greleita had ever seen.

“I’m glad to see you awaken.” The voice brought Greleita back to the present. “I was beginning to fear the ocean would have you in the end.”

The automatic reply was on her lips - the sea will have us all in the end - when she thought better of it. “My thanks,” she rasped instead. “I would not have wanted her to have me today.”

“But another day might suit you better?” he asked, amusement in his eyes. “Here,” he said, holding out a water skin. 

As Greleita drank her fill, she studied her apparent rescuer. The crimson blur had resolved into a fine coat and breeches, topped with a hat that would make any captain proud. A seafarer? Perhaps. She wasn’t certain it even mattered, now. The gods had, it seemed, answered her plea, and whatever crew this man might belong to, it wouldn’t be hers.

“I’m X’rhun Tia,” he offered as she handed back the (mostly empty) skin. “A simple traveller.”

Simple my ass, Greleita thought, noticing the exquisite rapier slung at his hip. “Greleita,” she replied, considering. “And, I guess I’m…” She paused, remembering the bargain she’d struck with the gods the previous evening. Would the Twelve hold her to it? Did she want to risk it? She frowned, recalling the options she’d given herself. “An adventurer, I suppose,” she said finally.

X’rhun smiled. “Are you?” He asked, delighted. “Then it would seem we have much to discuss.”

Greleita raised a dubious eyebrow, and then shrugged. “If you’ve got some food around here, I’ll listen to whatever pitch you want to make.”

His smile became a laugh. “It’s a deal.”

And this is how Greleita meets X’rhun Tia, who will go on to teach her the fundamentals of being a Red Mage.

[littlebitlizbit]

The Two Year Miracle

Tinker...  Where do I begin? With his spirit, his sass? His grumble meow, or his cooing purr? The crook at the top of his long broken tail, or his blown out oracle eye? There are so many feelings and emotions that his name brings up, and I hope that I have the words to get them out right...

So right, where do I begin? I guess at the beginning. 

About two and a half years ago my household lost one of our cats to old age. Our other cat, Rufus, was never a huge fan of his late sibling, but he was still used to anothers cat’s company. I wanted to bring him in a new friend, but knew that financially it would be a stretch. I have a rare genetic disorder that gets in the way of full time work, and vet bills, especially for older cats, tend to add up... but still, Ruffie needed a companion.        I started to look online at some of the various animal rescues around the lower mainland, and stumbled across Katie’s Place. It is a no kill cat rescue, that offers a unique option for those looking to adopt.      It’s called the Permanent Foster Program. This program exists to get the most in need cats into a household asap. It applies to the senior cat’s, in Kate’s Place care, that have non life threatening issues. The hardest part about adopting out older cats is people’s concerns over vet bills, and this is where Katie’s place differs from most shelters... They work with vets who continue to see the cats for the remainder of their lives, and Katie’s Place covers any fees or medication costs.           I started looking through their cats available for adoption gallery, and finding out which ones were available for the PM program. There were at least three that could have been a good fit, so a friend and I headed out on one of their open house days to meet the candidates.            I remember thinking how smart of a set up they had, to house the rescues in a comfortable way. You pass through a safety gate and into a comfortably lit portable, with rooms running down either side of the hall, each with an connected covered patio. Instantly we were greeted by the “hall cats.” We entered the first room, that comfortably housed about 6 rescues. One of the PF cats was sleeping in her bed, and she perked up as I put my arm near her bed. She was a beauty white fluffy girl, who was sweet, but wasn’t a fan of other cats, so not the best fit. As we popped in and out of the rooms, I had my eye out for one named Smigeon, a black fluffy guy who sounded chill on the website. He was in one of the rooms towards the back, on the porch, a volunteer informed me. On the way through to him, my eye was draw to this miserable looking cat, with very obvious sight issues. He was bald and covered in scabs, raising his paw cautiously in front of himself from on top of a cage within a cage. There was something about him... but not wanting to startle him, I let him be, and continued through the door to find Smigeon snoozing utop a cat tree. He instantly rolled over and gave me the sweetest look and started purring at my pets. I was sold, and went to tell the woman in charge that I would like to take him. As I was petting some cats nearby her and another volunteer, I overheard the volunteer tearfully say “I don’t want him to die in here.” I went over and asked what was up, and was told that Smigeon came in with another cat, but this other cat was super sick, and had a stomach tumour, and wasn’t expected to last more than two weeks. I called home and asked my partner if he trusted me, and he said yes. I told him we were getting two cats. Turns out the mostly blind scabby guy was Smigeon’s old house mate. I knew that I could give him so much love in the time he had left, and though it would hurt, resigned myself to this short term guy. I was told to really have a think about it overnight, and was there the moment they opened the next day with carriers ready to bring them home.        It was as if this scabby cat, this Tinker, knew we were coming for him. He was off of his smaller cage, and at the mouth of his big one with his paw outstretched towards me the moment I walked in. My friend helped cage up Smigeon while I got Tinker into his. Smige fell asleep in his cage on the way home, while Tinker, sat half in his cage, half on my lap, staring either at me or out the window. He could see a bit...but not much. 

And then the boys were home.

Smigeon pranced around the house like he was the happiest prince. He LOVED water, like would let the tap drip on his head he loved it so much (even tried to jump into the bath with me once.) Rufus was wary of Smigeon, there were a couple hisses, but for the most part didn’t seem to mind him.      Tinker was another story... the poor guy walked into walls and chairs, but could see at least a little bit and had great hearing. Rufus was mesmerized by him. Like he could tell that something was wrong with this guy, so wasn’t aggressive in the least bit. If Tinker hissed, Ruffie would just quietly sniff near him, and give him space.       That first night, all the cats were on the bed. Tinker couldn’t jump up on his own, so I made him a set of makeshift stairs, that he ended up being really good with. He then marched, with all the grumpy sass of an old man, onto my chest, and promptly curled himself around my neck, falling almost instantly and deeply asleep. I knew then and there that this cat had my heart, in a way that I’d never experienced before. 

Sure, I’ve had some great cats, amazing cats, sweet silly cats. One of my favourite cats growing up was exceptional, Taz. He was a rescue, a smushed faced himalayan persian, who would jump from the floor up to my stomach then from stomach to shoulder and perch there. He’d give me kisses and hugs, sat on my lap every meal and whenever I was on a couch. He slept at my feet and used to love to sit on my chest and just stare at me, purring. He was the cat that made me fall in love with grumpy old man cats... but he has long since passed and I didn’t think I’d ever get that lucky again. 

I was wrong. 

As the days went by, Tinker thrived. Him and Rufus seemed to be bonding exceptionally fast, and he would devour any food that was put in front of him. He loved fresh water, and would drink loudly while padding the floor, and then would put his paw right into his mug. Oh yes, he drank out of a Batman mug, he wouldn’t drink out of a bowl, but the mug was his jam.         Smigeon, our clean, other than being older, bill of health kitty, on the other hand, was not doing well. No matter what I’d put down for him food wise, he wouldn’t eat. Not even fresh cooked meat or bacon. I started to “baby bird” him and would fill a thick syringe up with moist food, and feed him that way. He ate a tiny bit of dry food one day, and he’d drink tons of water. After a week I brought him and Tinker in for a check up, since Tinker’s skin condition didn’t seem to be getting any better, and Smigeon was getting weaker. Turns out Tinker, and now my house, had ringworm. But poor Smidge, the vet wanted to keep overnight, to see if he’d improve after being on an IV. I was called the next day by the vet, Dr.Gold, who told me that they did some more tests on Smigeon, and it turned out that his entire body was riddled with tumours. He was weak and in pain and the vet said there was nothing they could do, and that we needed to let him go. I rushed out in time to hold him, give him lots of loves and pets, as he crossed the rainbow bridge in my arms. It was hard, and unexpected, but I’m thankful that he at least got to have a final couple of weeks in a loving home. 

           He and Smigeon did not come from a safe/loving home. Tinker had scarring that showed not only a once broken tail, but also ribs. Some of his teeth were broken, and he wasn’t born blind, but one of his eye was completely blown out. Both cats were surrendered after a raid, completely matted and dehydrated. It boils my blood to think that some people can be so cruel...             Back home, now Rufus had contracted ringworm, and both Tinker and him had to be quarantined in the spare room, while we disinfected the entire house. Tinker was on cold meds, as well as ringworm meds, and it took me a few times to figure out the best way to administer it. He would go full on feral if I tried to pinch his mouth open at all, but the liquid meds seemed to be the easiest, while I held him with my arms and legs. Both boys had to get bathed once every 2  to 3 days for about two months, and we had to completely disinfect their room a couple of times a day.                     During this time I would go, in my massive Batman onesie, and just lay down with them. Rufus was never big on pets and cuddles, but everytime Tinker would march straight up my chest, and lay claim to the real estate around my neck. My guess is that my breath on him from there was comforting, like he knew he was safe... The two boys became inseparable in that time, and Ruffie actually started to want tactile love. Rufus had never liked to sleep near any other cats, but the two of then now cuddled almost constantly. 

         Finally, after getting the final check/ok from the vets, the boys quarantine was over. (Funny side story, during that visit Tiker needed to have bloodwork done... I could hear him yowling down the hall, and when they brought him back in the vet tech was wearing a fully padded suit, and plastic neck and face guard. She basically threw him at me...poor feral guy, but was calm the second he was back in my arms) Tinker was the first out of the room, slowly but surely relishing in his new freedom. Rufus was a little more cautious upon exiting the room, but cautious is kind of his default. 

     Slowly but surely more of Tinker’s personality started to come out, as he blossomed. We’d now had him for about three months, and he was showing no signs of slowing down...in fact quite the opposite. After watching him one morning accurately swat at and chase a fly, I realized how good his hearing was. The pet store near me sold these crinkle balls, that made the slightest noise while being batted around. As soon as I dropped it for him, a new Tinker was unleashed. He chased and batted around that thing with the energy and accuracy of a kitten. I couldn’t believe it. Neither could the vet. On his next check up they were pleased at his weight gain, and the fact that his fur was starting to grow back in (the exact same shade as Rufus, who knew!?). His tumour wasn���t growing, but it also wasn’t shrinking, so he was put on some pain meds to make him a little more comfortable. He became even more active after that. It’s funny, he would sing, literally sing and coo to his crinkle ball wherever he would catch it and carry it around in his mouth all proud like. If he’d lose it under some furniture, we’d have to go on our hands and knees around the house to see what he lost it under, because he would cry if he couldn’t find it. Finally I bought him a pack of 12 online, so that if he lost it, we could just pop him out another. Well that didn’t work out.... turns out this one crinkle ball in particular was his baby, and no matter what, we couldn’t trick him into a different one.

As winter started to melt into spring, and we started to let Tinker out into the front yard. It’s completely fenced in, and I'd sit with him while he explored, sniffing everything he could, with a lust for life.           When I was home (Which was most of the time) he would be my constant shadow. I sew, as well as make jewelry, and whenever, wherever I had a project on the go, Tinker would be right there beside me. I ended up getting him these vintage stools covered in padded fabric, and he would snooze lazily on them beside me as I worked away, occasionally waking up for some fresh water and head pets. Him and Rufus were still super close, cuddling for hours every day, an absolute first for Ruffie. He adopted a small Batman stuffy of mine, and started cuddling with it daily. The days that I had to go to work, he would give me sass all morning (if I put on makeup that seemed to be the give away that I was going out) and then come trotting to the door, as fast as he could, upon arriving back home. He did this hilarious thing when he was upset with me for going out... he’d crawl onto the bed and start biting the blanket. The first time he did it I thought he was stuck or something, but then I tried to pull the blanket away, and he grumble meowed. He would do it anytime I had to go out of town (The longest I was ever away was three nights) and usually when I’d come home from work. It turned out to be like a game of tug of war for him. 

 Before I knew it, a whole year had gone by with this little miracle. I was falling more and more in love with him as time went on, all the while painfully aware that every moment with him was a gift. He started to get a bit more grumbly, and eventually started developing mouth ulcers, apparently something common in cats with stomach cancer. During a check up the vet said it might be time to let him go, but he was still super active. Still eating and drinking a ton, still purred when getting love, and still played actively with his crinkle ball. We decided to treat the ulcers as best we could, and upped his CBD dose. The vet said that if the ulcers didn’t shrink with this treatment, that it might be time to let him go. I knew his lust for life, but alo didn’t want him to suffer. I remember getting him home, and telling him that I would fight for his life as long as he did. I know that cats can’t understand our language, but I feel like some of them are really excellent at picking up intent. He would always look me square in the eye, with whatever vision he had left, and seemed to be intently listening. He would talk back often too, it was pretty incredible.              That week he upped his active factor... Played more than usual, wanted to go outside more, cuddled a ton, and was just an overall super happy to be alive cat. I sent the vet videos of him from that week, and she couldn’t believe it. She agreed that this was a cat who still had living to do, so ulcer meds got added to the pain med list, and he kept on going. 

I started working from home, and that really pleased Tinker, though he became even more bonded to me than I thought possible. It got to the point where I'd open the bathroom door, and there he’d be, sitting like a patient dog, waiting to crawl back into my lap. He took his meds like a champ, and just like that, we were passing the two year mark of bringing him home.

Things with him were mostly great, but he was starting to slow down little by little.

 He started to pee on the floor once in awhile, around the litter box, rather than in it. He prefered to do his business outside, but if someone wasn’t around to take him out, he would let his displeasure be known this way. He started coming and asking for his pain meds at the exact time he was supposed to get them, if not a little earlier. He was getting slower and slower, and I knew that the time was near. I started to build up this steel wall of protection around my heart, because everytime I thought of life without him, I’d feel this overwhelming sense of loss, and couldn’t stop from crying uncontrollably. We took things a day at a time, and things were mostly normal, other than him getting a little slower. A couple of days after my birthday he was playing with his crinkle ball. The next day he didn’t eat much, but still drank a ton and went outside. The next day he didn’t eat anything, but still drank and went outside, albeit slowly. Three days after playing with his crinkle ball he had trouble standing. I looked him in the eyes and could see that my little miracle, the grumpy old man of my life, the cat love of my life, was done. I called the vet, and found out that our favourite Doctor was just getting home from Japan that night. The receptionist booked him in to be put to sleep the next day and I hoped, selfishly, that our she could make it in.            I was with him 24/7 that final week, and spent the last 48 hours on the floor with him. The morning of his appointment i brought him onto my chest, one final time onto the bed. He fell fast asleep, and I got to just feel his warmth and breath for about 4 hours. Finally, but way too soon, it was time. My friend picked me up, and we drove him out, as we had for multiple check ups, him wrapped in a towel on my lap. The wall of protection around my heart was suffering terrible fissures, but I knew that I had to be strong for him. I did my best not to cry or allow my energy to get upset, so as not to upset him. Thankfully Dr.Gold, our favourite vet, was able to make it in. She set aside a room fo us for an hour, dimmed the lights, and had a beautiful hand knit blanket for him. Remembering what he was like that last time he got poked with a needle, I asked them if I could go in the back with him to have the IV put in, and they were kind enough to just do it all right in the room. He didn’t even squawk when they administered it, which just solidified for us how done he was. We were offered more time with him, but I knew he was done, and every moment with him now was a selfish one. He closed his eyes for pets, then looked at me one final time, as the rainbow bridge opened in front of him. 

Afterwards I felt strangely numb, but also calm. I did what I had set out to do, two years previous, and was given so much more than I ever could have hoped for. As I’m typing this I’m crying, and have had to take multiple breaks. Knowing that such a special relationship is over, in these forms, has been harder than I’d care to admit. Being prepared to lose him from the get go hasn’t made grieving any easier. Greif is such a funny thing, that comes for you when you’re least expecting it. I’m bursting into tears much more than I’m comfortable with, but I know things will get easier with time. I’ll never stop missing him, but will always be forever grateful for every single bonus day we had together. 

      Rufus is doing ok now, though he is grieving too. His tail had a droop to it, and was yeowling the nights away... So I did what I did the last time he lost a sibling... He now has a new PF brother, Clue. I may not have much money, or energy, but I saw first hand the difference love and affection can have on a life. Clue is an all black fluffy guy, just like Smigeon was, and has asthma. He’s drooly and sweet, and him and Rufus have already started sleeping on the couch together. There is no way that Tinker could ever be replaced. That’s a hole in my soul that I don’t think will ever fully heal...but knowing that I’m making a difference in another life helps.  There are so many animals in need of loving homes, and not enough homes to house them. If you can, please consider adopting from our local shelter or animal rescue. I get the impulse for wanting a certain breed, but going to a breeder or a pet store is unnecessary. Just as many pure breeds cycle through rescues as not, so if you’re patient you can become the furrever home to the pet of your dreams, for a fraction of the price, and every fee paid to a rescue ensures that they can continue to help more animals.

My time with Tinker taught me to really appreciate life, and see things to be thankful for with crystal like clarity. He’s taught me compassion and patience on a new level, and gave me a lifetime's worth of cat love memories. 

Think of all that your next rescue could teach you, and start looking. Nothing would make me happier than if this story can inspire you to open your heart, and home. It can be hard, it can be painful, but I promise you, it’s worth it.  Please consider donating to Katie’s Place if you have the means. Or your own local animal rescue. http://katiesplaceshelter.com/ Thank you.

Love always,

Elizabeth xoxo

[mergatroid-jones-blog]

Twin Mickey

(A short story)

* 1 *

I don't have a name. That's because there's nobody to give me one. There's nobody to call me by it either, due to the nature of my particular birth defect. I'm three eighths of one inch tall. Not only that, I don't have my own body. Not exactly. I live in my brother's head. We're twins I guess. Some kind of conjoined twins--only instead of being conjoined on the outside, I live inside his head. He doesn't know I exist. Nobody does.

For all I know I'm a very common medical phenomenon. Micky's never had a brain scan-- maybe I wouldn't even show up. That's my brother's name: Micky Van Buskirk. It's sort of my name too, since I don't have one. I stole a little piece of my brother's name. I steal a little piece of everything he has. I'm a parasite. That's what I've decided. Or maybe I'm cancer. I certainly don't do anything to help him. All I can do is sit around his head and complain. He can't hear me, no matter how loud I shout. You aren't designed to hear from the inside. I figured that out.

But that doesn't matter. I still scream about everything. What else do I have? It's like I'm chained to the floor in front of the worst TV show, and I can't reach the remote. Forever.  My brother really might be king of the idiots.  Like all the best idiots, he's just clever enough to convince himself that he's being awfully rational in any given situation. He's convinced himself that everything he's ever done was absolutely the only thing he could have done. He probably thinks he's had a really hard time of it. He hasn't.

I  know literally everything about him, but his motives are a mystery to me. Like when he stole Jacob Yockey's jacket in high school. It was sitting there, all lime green and fake-leather, and he just put it in his backpack like he'd been planning it all along. He didn't need the jacket, and he wasn't some kind of kleptomaniac. That was the only time he did something like that. He put it in the back of his closet and there it sat. He didn't wear it, and he didn't have anything against Jacob Yockey either. Jacob Yockey never hurt anybody. One day, Jacob mentioned that his jacket was lost, and my brother was there. Micky laughed, and he said “Soggy pickles.” What the hell is that??

That night,  he actually put the jacket on for the first and only time. He was still wet and naked from the shower.  He posed and made faces at himself for at least three minutes. My brother is barely five feet tall, quite fat, and covered in thick, curly, black hair. He's not physically attractive.   I heard Jacob Yockey lives in Toronto now, and he's gay and breeds expensive dogs. Good for Jacob Yockey I guess. He sure was funny looking in high school.

* 2 *

You would think that self-loathing and egotism would contradict one another, but they make surprisingly genial bedfellows. My brother will be convinced that he is worth less than the scum under a pretty girl's fingernail. Then in the same hour, he'll realize once again that the world is almost entirely  idiots, and that he miraculously isn't one. If they'd just ask the non-idiots, the world would get along better. Again, these sentiments seem like a contradiction, but my brother has never noticed the inconstancy. Most people don't seem to notice inconsistencies like that.

Perhaps they would notice if they spent a day as a pimple. That's how I think of myself: a brain-pimple. Like when you get a pimple on the inside of your nose, but deeper. My brother is always picking his nose, and he's not subtle about it. He used to eat his boogers, and he didn't stop until he was sixteen. He really is a disgusting shit. One time when we were about seven, he took off his pants, crawled under the  bed, and peed into the carpet. For no reason. What reason could he have possibly had? He just did it to test his body? To test the carpet? That carpet is still there by the way, and I doubt anybody has ever shampooed it. I  think I really hate him.

If I had to live in somebody's head, it didn't have to be such a boring nincompoop. Mickey Van Buskirk has never done anything I would care to watch. Weird stuff sure. Gross stuff, definitely. But nothing good. Once he spent a whole day sorta following around this old man who carried a trombone. I guess he thought the guy was a creep, but who's the creep when you're stalking some old guy all day? Weird stuff, he does. Gross stuff he does. I've seen him lick a banister after a pretty girl touched it at least nine different times. Nasty.

* 3 *

What a miserable little shit. Here's what happens every time: he gets a shitty job and he hates it. And he hates it more and more for a whole year. Then he throws a fit, quits, and gets a new shitty job. He's like clockwork. After high school, he told our mom he was going to be a pharmacist. Whatever happened to that? He was never going to be a pharmacist and he probably knew it. I'm sure Mom wasn't fooled. She's not stupid like Mickey.  

My brother has only ever had one girlfriend that lasted, and that's because she's an even bigger idiot than he is. Angela is her name. They've broken up four times. They broke up again last week.  He made out with her sister Kara. She did it to piss Angela off. He just did it because it was on offer. Fucking idiot. The thing was Angela wasn't actually all that mad about it. Kara was getting revenge for previous transgressions. But it brought up all this drama, and everybody hates each other now.

Good riddance.  I hope I never see those two again. Talk about entitled.  Not one of the three of them can form a cogent thought. Angela literally sets fires and puts them out for fun. But Mickey can't  find words to voice this legitimate concern other than “You're a psycho-bitch.” That doesn't tend to help. But who cares? She walked out and maybe it'll stick. Mickey got good and drunk after that. He got high on pills too. Good. I can share in that.  Then he looked at a bunch of “furry” porn. Disgusting. I really hate him.

* 4 *

He had hated his job at the print shop for almost a year, so I wasn't surprised when he threw a tantrum at work. My brother has always been able to throw a tantrum for what seems like no reason. I think he must plan it in advance. The printer was being crap, and Annie was blaming him for it as usual. So he started throwing boxes everywhere and screaming “It's fucking bullshit, and I can't fucking bullshit!” He said the word “bullshit” twenty-seven times in total. I counted. He ripped off his Clayborn Printing shirt, threw it at Annie, and walked out. She didn't say a word. I don't know if she was angry or amused. At least she had to deal with the printer herself. Horrible woman.

Then what did he do? He called Angela crying and babbling incomprehensibly. I was surprised she hung up on him. Good for her. Then his classic pity party. I've seen it a thousand times. He buys a fifth of Wild Turkey and gets some pills. Angela is kind of a pill head and he's kinda one too when he's with her. Then he rolls down the windows (even if it's winter) and blares Linkin Park at full volume all the way to Foy Point in the national forest. It's isolated. It's also incidentally where he lost his virginity to Sarah Spiller who later turned out to be somehow related to us. Good going.

He did what he normally does. He drank as much of the fifth as he physically could. He smoked every cigarette he had. He used his lighter to blow a fireball with the bourbon, then he threw the bottle (still one third full) into a tree. All that was normal. Then he went for the pills, and I noticed he had brought every bottle that Angela had stored at his house. Most of them were almost empty, but it was quite an array. He dumped them all out into a Halloween candy-pile on the picnic table. He was going to kill himself! I screamed at him “YES! Do it! Finally, I'm done with you! I'm fucking done, you piece of living shit-fucking shit!” I really was excited.

* 5 *

He looked at all the pills, and he shuffled them around. There would have been enough to kill ten Mickey Van Buskirks and a thousand brain-pimple brothers. Then he arranged them by color. Then he shuffled them again. Then he took a little yellow one. Then he took a handful. No good. He couldn't swallow them all. He didn't have any water, and the bourbon was all over a tree. He puked. Now there were two Halloween candy-piles.

Foy point overlooks a creek, and it's not all that far down if you go through the brambly parts. Mickey did. He really wanted to die. I was proud of him. He took a Styrofoam cup from  Frosty Time, and filled it in the creek. The brambles cut him up, but he was too drunk to care. He took two handfuls of random pills, and swallowed them with creek water. Then he screamed “I did it!”

He had. I've never wanted anything more than to die. I would have been jumping up and down if I had legs. But then, Mickey Van Buskirk had an attack of cowardice. He was too much of a coward  even to take the coward's way out. He clutched at his uvula for dear life, and life it gave him. He made himself puke. Then again. Then again. More candy-piles. It was horrible to watch. He was covered in it. If he had waited just five minutes, I bet he would have been too far gone. What a failure.

* 6 *

He woke up the next day, sunburned and thirsty. He was covered in little cuts, and vomit, and Wild Turkey. I woke up too. Alive. I really hate him. Before he drove home (well below the speed limit) he produced his pocket knife. It always makes a satisfying click when he takes out the blade. A lot of things were carved into the picnic table. A crude owl. A penis. A fancy heart. One message said “Be happy.” Another said “Smoke a fat blunt biotch 420!”  Another said ambiguously  “Is waterlogged and so am I.”

It was important for Mickey to carve something into that table. It must have been important for him to stare at it so long.  Something big had happened there, and he needed to commemorate it. He needed to write a message of his own: to speak and be heard. After at least three minutes of staring, he carved his statement on the table very large above the owl.  Here's what it says:

“Fuck”

[deliriouscomfort]

8,760 hours later

A year ago today I woke up, grabbed the fifth of vodka that was hidden next to my bed and took a big gulp. That was how I had started the past 3 days after 407 days without a single sip of alcohol. I began getting ready for school, still taking sip after sip and washing down pills until my head was perfectly woozy and my sight a little blurred. I poured the remainder into a plastic water bottle and left for school. I drove drunk. Something I had sworn I would never do, yet had done more times than I could count.

I don’t remember much about class except that I began to shake uncontrollably, a combination of hypoglycemia and withdrawals. At break, I decided it was best to leave. I had devised a plan - I would go to the ER and tell them I relapsed and was suicidal and needed help. Simple. I could do that.... except not sober. Who would believe I’m an alcoholic/addict if I’m sober?

The plastic bottle was long empty by this point, so I went to Jewel at 1 in the afternoon, strutted my way through the aisles in my 4 inch heels (a skill I had mastered at all levels of intoxication) , and grabbed a half gallon of captain morgan (my “go to” drink). My thought? I’m either going to die or get sober again, so I might as well enjoy my last drink. I then proceeded to go through the McDonald’s drive thru and ordered a large coke (the drink • I know, shocker). I poured most of the coke out & filled the rest of the large cup with my beloved spiced rum. It burned going down. I loved it and I hated it. I felt warm and confident and lonely and pathetic as I drove to the ER parking lot. “I’m just going to get drunk enough so they believe me and help me” I kept telling myself. Around 2pm I pulled into the ER parking lot, parked my car, and drank all that was in the cup, quickly refilling it after.

My thoughts were fuzzy and my body numb so I began making phone calls. The desperate kind. I called my then very-recent-ex, not expecting her to pick up, but when I heard, “hello?” the flood gates opened. I tried to tell her what was happening, interrupting myself to drink, cry harder, and drink again. Between my inability to complete a sentence and the worry in her voice, I knew I wasn’t in a good place, but it was exactly where I wanted to be. I remember thinking her voice may be the last voice I would ever hear. I was ready. I was miserable and I was ready. I had made my choice.

What happened next I do not remember, I only know what I have been told by others. I blacked out, as I always did, and several other phone calls were made. I was found in my car 2 hours after arriving with a bottle of rum as dry as a desert. I was unconscious and unresponsive. My front window was smashed into thousands of tiny pieces - pieces I still find to this day, I believe, as a reminder. I was pulled out of my car, dislocating and bruising several ribs. I was hypothermic and apnoeic so I was intubated and put under a special warming blanket. They placed a foley, several IV sites, and restraints on me. Not a single moment of this will I ever remember. It was like I got my wish to die, but only temporarily.

I came to after 7pm that night, my sight still blurry and my head pounding. Almost immediately I realized I was in the ER -again. “I’m a failure. I failed. Again.” I began to cry silently to myself as I pulled out my IVs, disconnected myself from the heart monitor, and prayed that without fluids and monitoring I could drift away. But the nurses came in, hooked me back up, and told me what had happened - their version, anyway. “You forgot the part where I didn’t WANT to be rescued”, I thought. I laid there, my heart beating too hard against my chest, my lungs aching from grasping for air, my mind exhausted from trying to escape, my body cold and worn out after fighting to stay. Those hours I don’t remember are ones I’ll never forget.

I was taken by ambulance to the psych hospital in the early hours the following day. I arrived with nothing but the gown I had woken up in and 9 blankets trying to keep my body temperature up. I spent 4 agonizing days on CIWA as I detoxed. I was hooked up to constant fluids and had so many drugs being pumped into my system that I could not get out of bed or even remember my name. I was having nightmares, hallucinations, flashbacks, tremors, migraines, and all I wanted was to die.

When I finally got taken off CIWA and 1:1, I was put in a wheelchair because I was weak and unstable. I spent a total of 16 days in the mental hospital, 16 days in a wheelchair, and 16 days getting away with using behaviors that only made me sicker. My family and friends told me they didn’t even recognize me. My diseased mind took that as a compliment.

I was released late evening on Thanksgiving Day and the next morning I flew to California where I spent the following 2 months in residential treatment. I had to leave much earlier than planned due to insurance cutting me off. When I arrived back home I immediately knew I was not ready to be on my own so I admitted myself back into the mental hospital for another 2 weeks. This time I was on a much more strict protocol and was not given nearly as much freedom. As much as I hated it, I needed the structure and the tools I learned to be able to ease myself back into regular life, something I hadn’t been a part of for years. The transition back into a life I had tried to end was not smooth, seamless, or easy, but somehow I managed.

Today, exactly one year from when I overdosed and prayed I would not wake up, I prayed to thank God for waking me up this morning. I am not recovered. I have not fully healed. I struggle daily, but I also choose daily. I choose to fight for a potentially happier future. I choose to keep going in hopes that one day the voices will be silenced. I have chosen for 348 days to not pick up a drink or drug. I choose to give myself another chance every single day no matter how many mistakes I make, no matter how many behaviors I use, no matter how shitty I feel. God kept me alive Tuesday, November 7th, 2017 and I think I want to live to find out what She has planned for me.

If you are struggling, please reach out and seek help. You are more than worthy of living, experiencing love, and of being happy. From the bottom of my heart, I love you.

[minimonojoon]

so i was tagged by @kyut-tea (thanks, thanks a lot <3333 i love these games dfkjndgkjdn so much fun dfjgndf) and also made a banner (kyu you inspired me!). i’m tagging @94hixtape , @sleeepysugaa , @wildbeest55, @lady-shurley if you want to do it of course!! if you don’t want to, that’s completely fine <3 

last

- drink: water

- call: 4 missed calls from my dad lmao

- text: a friend on our gc where she showed me her cat (so cute dkgjndf)

- song u listened to: thunderclouds by labyrinth, sia and diplo (my current obsession bye)

- time u cried: this afternoon after a fight w my mom but couldn’t relish all the tears lmao

have u ever

- dated someone twice: nope

- kissed someone & regretted it: no

- been cheated on: no

- lost someone special: yes 

- been depressed: yes lmao i am right now, but trying to figure things out

- gotten drunk & thrown up: yes but let’s say i tried to threw up to feel better but didn’t succeed lol

favorite colors

1. all pastel colors, no matter what

2. warm colors

3. ok yes basically I love all the bright colors ok

in the last year have u

- made any new friends: yes!!

- fallen out of love: nope

- laughed so hard that u cried: oh yes fjgfd

- found out someone was talking abt u: no

- found out who ur friends were: meaning the ones who stick with u no matter what? well yeah

- kissed someone on ur fb friends list: ahah no

general

- how many ppl from ur fb friends do u know irl: most of them?? I only have ppl I know irl there

- do u have any pets: not right now

- do u want to change ur name: no, not really

- what did u do for ur birthday last year: last year was pretty chill, i went out with some friends in our favorite Korean restaurant and then we bought some useless shit in tiger; dfjkgndf sorry but this year was amazing bc I like had three birthday parties in a span of a week and couldn’t be happier, one of the three was a surprise birthday party and my non kpop friends blasted bts for me :’)

- what were u doing last night at midnight: I was watching just between lovers before miserably falling asleep lol

- what time did u wake up today: 8.07 am

- what is something u can’t wait for: get back w my friends, graduate, to move abroad (japan or australia lmao), to lose all the weight I need to, to finally be able to be happy and peaceful with myself

- have u ever talked to a person named tom: uhmmmmmm no

- something that gets on ur nerves: definitely being ignored/not listened when i’m trying to talk directly to you

- most visited website: tumblr, twitter, wordreference lmao

- hair color: brown

- short hair or long hair: short (or medium long lmao)

- do u have a crush on someone: raw nerve djkgdnf but yes

- what do u like abt urself: my eyes and being honest w others lmao

- want any piercings: no, i don’t particularly like them

- blood type: zero negative

- nicknames: let’s say on tumblr my nickname is liz

- relationship status: single

- zodiac sign: taurus

- pronouns: she/her

- fave tv shows: the 100, games of thrones, the good place, basically all the good historians tv shows and comedies along the way lmao

- tattoos: I don’t have one yet, but be sure I already have three I want to be tattoed on my skin eheh

- right handed or left handed: right handed

- ever had surgery: no

- sport: when I was younger my mom always convinced me into doing some sports, I did swimming, gym activities and idk like running and other stuff, but always left then I did dance and now I’m a runner (and I love it!!)

- vacation: everywhere, where there’s something to visit, to discover, to know about that I didn’t before. definitely best place so far visited was netherlands

- trainers: I want a new pair of shoes for running but I have to wait until December for them sob

more general:

- eating: nothing, i fucked up my diet (again) today bc first me and my family went to the beach and eat watermelon then decided at 3 pm that typical southern italian food (which is not light lol) was the best choice for a late lunch ajfknsdfj

- drinking: water

- i’m about to watch: nothing right now, but surely just between lovers or some anime late in the evening

- waiting for: losing all the weight I need to, be self-confident, be happy, to find inspiration again, see my friends

- want: read above lmao plus exercising and finish writing all my wips and post something I (might) slightly like instead of getting angry with myself and quit everything bc it’s bullshit badly written, but also (this stupid but whatever) talk to ppl here and struggle together for anythink, being bts related or writing 

- get married: if it happens, yes. marriage isn’t easy and strong and healthy relationships require patience and willpower (and lots of other things), but I’m willing to do it for the right person.

- career: i’m already struggling right now, i still don’t know what i want to do and that’s making me nervous for when i’ll have to choose my master degree but I JUST WANT A COOL JOB AND MAKE MONEY

which is better:

- hugs or kisses: both, but only from people i really feel comfortable with

- lips or eyes: eyes, if it’s kim seokjin also lips

- shorter or taller: both :’)

- older or younger: don’t care

- nice arms or stomach: idk??

- hookup or relationship: i’m too shy and socially awkward to have a hookup w someone, so…

- troublemaker or hesitant: dkjgnd forever hesitant

have you ever:

- kissed a stranger: HAHAHAHAH nice one but no

- drank hard liquor: yes

- lost glasses: not yet (…)

- turned someone down: yes

- sex on first date: no (and i don’t want to)

- broken someone’s heart: no

- had your heart broken: yes

- been arrested: no

-  cried when someone died: yes

- fallen for a friend: uhm, no, not really

do you believe in:

- yourself: working on it, but currently… big fat no

- miracles: yes!

- love at first sight: i can believe you like someone at first sight for their appearance, but love?? nah

- santa claus: wish i still believe in him :(

- kiss on first date: yes and no? idk, depends on how long you know the person you date

- angels: idk, but if they do probably mine is currently having a break down and any other laughing bc of what i do lmao

other:

- best friend’s name: i’ll say in my native language corresponds to the english daisy (yup, the flower)

- eye colour: brown

- fave movie: harry potter series, back to the future (only the first not the saga!!), the holiday, Dunkirk (I loved that movie), basically any historian well made movie, batman trilogy (directed by Christopher Nolan), marvel movies

- fave actor: BOB MORLEY OWNS MY HEART, also ELIZA TAYLOR my babe, but also Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman and idk, no other name came to my mind