#should i kms or have a coffee? but then you just . feel shit but quickly TM

[corpsegold]

i need to get an overdraft set up so i can afford more alcohol. I cant cope with being awake or having emotions or being aware lmfao

[sometimesiwrite]

The Way It Is

Prompt: Fake Dating

Pairing: Lambert & Essi Other Characters: Julian (Jaskier), Eskel/Geralt

Rating: Teen Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings; platonic/queerplatonic dynamics; pressure to engage sexually; coarse language; alcohol/intoxication; modern AU.

Summary: When Essi and Lambert are setup on a blind date, they don’t expect to get along as well as they do. However, when they decide to keep their relationship platonic and non-romantic, they realize they might face some uncomfortable pressure. For the sake of simplicity, they decide to tell people they’re dating, but is it sustainable? 

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

Essi fidgeted with the bent corner of her cafe menu, looking around at the various styles of local artworks hanging on the walls. She was early by about ten minutes, but that didn’t stop her from checking the pearlescent dial of her watch every thirty seconds. Finally, the bell above the door tinkled and a man walked in. Essi could tell from the way he was looking around that he was there to meet someone—her. The only other people sitting alone in the cafe were working on laptops and tablets; no one else waiting for a date. And this man was most certainly looking for one. 

He was handsome in a ruffled sort of way, though he’d clearly put in a bit of effort. His black casual dress shirt and slim light-wash jeans fit his lean frame impeccably, and a subtle quantity of mousse was clearly doing its best to tame his short, scruffy brown hair. Even his bristly beard appeared to have been trimmed recently. Though there was nothing particularly remarkable about his clothing, there was something striking about the way he carried himself, a devil-may-care sort of presence that Essi appreciated. For a blind date, she thought, it certainly could be worse. Allegedly, they knew each other, at least based on his abruptly out-of-the-blue text, and the closer she looked, the more her memory of him crystalized. 

A loud ping! emitted from Essi’s phone and the man looked up from his own cellular device, clearly having just texted. 

“Uh, Essi? Essi Daven, right?” He took a step towards her and leaned in, pointing to his phone screen. 

“Yes,” Essi stood to shake his hand, “hi.”

“Nice to see you again. Lambert.”

They sat down awkwardly, both struggling to find the will for smalltalk. 

“So…” Lambert had become keenly interested in a black-and-white digital photograph behind Essi’s shoulder.

“Listen,” Essi could feel the words start to tumble out of her mouth, and it was too late to do anything about it. Lambert raised an eyebrow,  “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to be honest and probably regret it later: I don’t really do this. Dating. I find it strange and uncomfortable and if I’m perfectly honest I think I’d rather die.” She didn’t cringe apologetically, which would have been the expected behaviour to accompany an outpouring of disinterest. Instead she stared at him, wide-eyed, lips slightly pursed as a muscle in her neck twitched, waiting for his response.

Lambert laughed. Genuinely laughed—a joyful release of tension and dread, “Oh, thank Fuck!” Essi blinked in pleasant surprise and watched as Lambert began to relax.

“Excuse me?” Her startlingly blue eyes widened in amusement. 

“No, no, I just mean—I would absolutely and one-hundred percent, without a doubt, rather die in a hole than date,” Lambert slotted the edge of the menu under his fingernails and let his eyes wander a little more freely around the cafe. 

“So then… why?” 

Hm. Direct, frank, amusing lack of filter… the memories were starting to come back from what limited, heavily inebriated, time they’d spent together.

There was something about the straightforwardness of this endearingly odd woman that made Lambert feel infinitely more comfortable. Usually, any kind of interaction with the potential of building mutual interest made him feel like he was playing a game he didn’t know the rules to. The signals, the code words that never meant what they said: having sex on the first date means you’re a slut; not having sex on the third date means you’re a prude; grabbing coffee means this; having dinner means that; if they your arm but don’t invite you up, it means that they’re actually a KGB operative and need to give you the launch codes for a super secret missile...

Fuck that, we have words for a reason. Say what you mean and don’t waste my time. For that reason alone, Essi was already scoring quite well in Lambert’s books. 

He shrugged, “You somehow remembered me from the KM Christmas party almost six months ago, and still asked for my number. I figure that at least deserves a coffee and a conversation.”

Essi was bewildered, “I didn’t ask for your number, you texted me.”

Lambert shook his head, “Impossible. No offense, but I absolutely guarantee you I did not.” He produced their short text exchange and scrolled to the top of their conversation: 

Hi, is this Lambert? From the KM Christmas party? 

You might not remember me, we got talking about 

the political situation in Kashmir after about…

Too many drinks. Eeep! 

Anyway, I’d love to get a coffee sometime, if 

you’re interested. 

Sorry, this is Essi Daven. 

You called me Goldilocks at one point and 

seemed amused XD 

Hope you’re well! 

Essi snatched Lambert’s phone, shocked and slightly outraged as she reached for her own device, opening her thread with Lambert. The text at the top was not from her, but from the man across from her: 

Yeah, hi, this is 

Lambert-from-the-KM-Christmas-party. 

As it happens, I remember you and our 

conversation quite well. Not many folks 

happily get into drunken political discussions

You know what, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a 

coffee. 

Let me know if you’re free in the next couple 

weeks! 

Lambert gestured emphatically at Essi’s phone screen, “In what world is this an acceptable way to ask someone out?! I wouldn’t have said yes to that!”

“I don’t know,” Essi fired back, “It was straightforward! I found it charming, okay? Is that a crime?”

“No, but I have some serious concerns about your taste in men.”

“Like you’re in such a fine position to judge after the hollow, paltry invitation you accepted—which I absolutely did not write, by the way. I want to make that perfectly clear.”

“Alright, alright, cool your jets, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Lambert narrowed his eyes as he passed Essi’s phone back to her, “You didn't fire the first shot, so who texted me from your phone and cleared the history?”

Essi nibbled the inside of her cheek, “I can think of a few.”

“Okay, next question,” Lambert pocketed his phone, “who added you to my contacts before you texted. Because we did not exchange numbers six months ago, but your name was already there when I received it.”

Essi shrugged, “Who has access to your phone?”

“I dunno. Really just Eskel and Geralt and neither of them would—”

“Geralt.”

“Why him?”

Essi’s bright blue eyes turned steely and murderous, “Julian… They’re working together.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that Geralt the-last-thing-I-need Rivia and Julian Alfred these-aren't-my-pants Pankratz think we're so helplessly undateable that they decided to secretly set us up?” 

“Eskel doesn’t know me that well; he wouldn’t try to set you up with someone he hadn’t vetted. Who did you talk to first when you got that text from me?”

Lambert’s eyes widened, “Holy shit, they’re working together.”

Essi nodded, a flood of embarrassment warming her cheeks. “Sorry to waste your time. You’re very nice but, um, I should just…” she got up to leave.

“Wh-hey, hold up. I mean, if you wanna go, go, that's fine, but there's something you might want to know first.”

Essi tossed her yellow bangs out of her eyes, “Oh? What's that?”

“This,” Lambert produced an Amex credit card from his breast pocket, “is Geralt's.” The cheeky glint in his eyes was a very convincing argument.

“Fine then. Coffee and a conversation.” 

The coffee was hot and decent, and the conversation meandered through the usual topics of music, movies, and television, but also dipped into deeper waters as they grew more comfortable with each other’s company. Of course, it didn’t hurt that neither of them had any stakes in the outcome of this “date”. It made it easier to be frank and open, which in turn led to them quickly enjoying their time together. So much so that coffee turned into lunch, which turned into a long walk in the pleasant weather, which finally landed them outside Essi’s apartment, just around dinner time. 

“I have to say, this was actually a pleasant encounter,” she said, turning to face him with a characteristic toss of her bangs. 

“Yeah, who’d’ve thought two people forced together by meddling friends would actually find it enjoyable?” 

“In light of that,” Essi squared her shoulders and found Lambert’s hazel-brown eyes, “I think it’s fair to say I want to see you again.”

He cringed regretfully and scratched the back of his head, “Ahh, yeah, so… I don’t know if that’s really--”

“Oh, relax,” Essi smirked with a casual touch to Lambert’s forearm. “I don't mean like that. I just mean--you're interesting and fun and, well I don't have many close friends and I feel like we connected well today.”

“Well…”

“I'll make it even simpler: I absolutely, one-hundred percent, am not interested in dating you.”

“Easy there, you know I love it when people get all straightforward with me.” 

“I mean it, I just want to be friends,” she toyed back, trying her best to look sultry. It kind of worked.

Lambert bit his lower lip in mock arousal, “Mmm, oh yeah...”

She swayed her shoulders forward and back, doing her best to emulate the seductive actresses and models of the 1950s, “I want to Netflix and chill with a documentary about Soviet propaganda.”

Her last comment prompted a playfully stern look from her companion, “Careful now, you’re wading into actual turn-on territory.” 

“You're such a weirdo,” Essi chuckled, giving him an endeared shove. “Seriously, though, would you like to do this again? Friends?” 

He nodded sincerely, “Yeah, I think I'd really like that. Just one problem, though.”

“If we claim not to be interested in each other but keep hanging out we’ll never hear the end of it?” 

“Bingo.” 

Essi hummed thoughtfully and nibbled the inside of her bottom lip, “Well… we could always… pretend?” 

***

“Sounds like you two are hitting it off. I’m glad. I know Essi’s been feeling a little isolated between work and being new to the city.” Geralt closed the fridge with his foot and headed towards the sofa, popcorn in one hand, three beers in the other. “I’ll take my card back, by the way.” 

Lambert reluctantly handed the Amex back in exchange for a beer and perched on the arm of the sofa. “She’s really something. We’re, uh—yeah, hitting it off is a good word.”

And hitting it off, they were. The last ten days since their first “date” had been more enjoyable than all the dates he’d had in the last year combined. Essi was a fantastic companion: sharp, witty, kind, took no bullshit… They had done absolutely nothing but hang out, and no one had pried them for many details about the nature of their relationship. As far as their friend group was concerned, they were simply dating in the way that most adults dated. This also meant more time to themselves without unwanted interruptions (namely Julian barging in with his spare key to gossip about whatever fires were currently alight on twitter). The first night Lambert had been over, it took Julian all of five minutes to “grab something from the fridge” before parting with a knowing wink. 

To her credit and imagination, Essi had expertly fielded her cousin’s initial barrage of questions when she first announced their “involvement.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like her cousin, Essi adored Julian, but she was also the first to admit that the man had no boundaries. What he lacked in that arena, he certainly made up for with opinions, which he was always more than happy to bestow on his younger cousin—usually dating advice, almost always unsolicited. Lambert had a much easier time convincing his side that he and Essi were taking it easy to see where things went. Between Eskel being a consummate gentleman and Geralt having his own Delicate Sensibilities, neither of them had demanded any details. 

“As long as you’re both happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters,” Geralt’s partner reiterated, reaching into the bowl on Geralt’s lap. 

“Jesus, Eskel, you sound like my Nonna.”

“That's no way to talk to your father,” Geralt smirked into his hand of popcorn

“You're no better,” Lambert took a swig from his beer, lips popping as he lowered the bottle. “I swear, you've turned into a couple of mother hens since you two got together. Quit fussing and watch the game.” 

Geralt put his arm around Eskel’s shoulders, “We have gotten a little soft haven’t we?”

Eskel huffed out a laugh, “Probably. Hey, Lambert, don't fuck it up or I'll kick your ass into next week.” 

“Thank you. See? Was that so hard?” 

“Eh,” Eskel shrugged, helping himself to another handful of popcorn, “I stand by my original statement. Geralt agrees.” 

“It's true,” he said between mouthfuls. “Essi’s a good woman. Smart, talented, kind, attractive.” 

Eskel cleared his throat.

“Eskel, she is, it's just a statement of fact it doesn't mean that she doesn’t have other…”

“I know it doesn't but I still think you could bear to be a little more…”

“Funny thing,” Lambert interrupted, “I still can’t figure out how this smart, talented, kind, attractive woman’s number programmed itself into my phone. Because I may have been drunk the night we first met, but I have never in my life forgotten a successful number grab. Fess up, fellas. Who was it?”

Eskel’s eyes widened, “Geralt, you didn’t.”  

“I… may have… helped Julian gain access to Lambert’s phone.”

“Unbelievable. The betrayal,” Lambert shook his head, eyes still on the game. “If only there was some way to square things up…”

“You charged everything to my company card, didn’t you?”

“First two dates and a fresh pair of pants. Thanks, bud.” Geralt accepted a pat on the back as Eskel began gently but sternly berating him.

Lambert shook his head, smirking as he took another swig of beer, leaving the two lovebirds to bicker amongst themselves. His hip pocket buzzed and he checked his phone: Essi. 

Next Wednesday? Pizza and a movie?  Still can't believe you haven't seen  Ocean’s Eleven. 

Yeah, okay, fine. Jeez :P 7:30 my place? I'll provide beverages. 

If by ‘beverages’ you mean watery beer…

Fuck off, I'll get the good stuff. Unless  you prefer Arbor Mist or some shit. 

*gasps* I am offended! (but also it's delicious)

*sigh* do you want me to get you some?

*turtles into hoodie* ...peach or cherry pls? 

Haha okay, fine, I'll get a bottle. Can't promise  I won't judge you forever, though ;) 

It's okay, I deserve it.  g2g, see you tomorrow! xox 

***

Lambert groaned contentedly, massaging his stomach as he sprawled back on his aging brown sofa, long legs resting habitually on the coffee table. The now-empty pizza box lay abandoned on the far edge, accompanied by four empty beer bottles, and a nearly-empty, unfavourably warm Peach Arbor Mist. The toilet flushed and Essi emerged. Her dark gold hair had long ago been pulled into a messy bun, but her indigo skinny jeans had been replaced by soft-looking grey leggings. 

Lambert shook his head in amusement as she settled back next to him on the couch, "I still can't believe you brought your own lounge pants"

"That's because I'm a genius," she quipped, crossing her legs and adjusting the height of her waistband. "Besides, when else will I have the opportunity to actually be comfortable during a date?" 

"You took your bra off, too, didn't you?" Lambert asked without missing a beat, eyes never leaving the screen. 

"Yup!" Essi confirmed, her sparkling blue eyes glinting with joy as she raised her glass to her lips.

The movie continued as the new friends settled into comfortable silence, their food-drowsy, alcohol-fuzzy states lulling them into a new level of comfortability around each other. Legs fell asleep, positions were adjusted, and shoulders leaned on as the two sought maximum comfort for minimum effort. Soon, an arm was around Essi's shoulder as she settled her cheek on a comfortable spot on Lambert's chest. 

"You good?" Lambert asked, only half-irritated at her seemingly endless search for the perfect angle. 

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd found a good spot, but..." A few more adjustments of her head and Lambert couldn't take it anymore. 

"Jesus, woman, here. Get up for a sec."

Essi sat up as Lambert rearranged himself into a sort of semi-recline with one foot on the floor so his other leg could make room for the tiny pain-in-the-ass that was taking up the rest of the couch space. At his invitation, she wriggled up to the crook of his arm and quickly settled in. Lambert hadn't really thought about what they were doing. Not when Essi had harmlessly leaned against his arm; not when their weight settled into each other; not when Lambert had put his arm around her; not even as he was rearranging to get to where they were now. It had all just... happened. Now, though, with Essi lying still, Lambert felt the weight and warmth of her body shifting gently against his, and it dawned on him that this had the potential to be, well, weird.

But the strange thing was, it didn't feel weird. He'd fucking cuddled before, but there was always a sense of holding back, a tension in his body, being on the lookout for signals from the other person to move onto the Next Step. But now, he actually felt comfortable. There wasn't anything that was supposed to happen after this. Nobody was asking anything of him, no one sending signals he could pick up on but never read properly, no sinking feelings of dread as the other person moved in for a kiss that always felt too soon. Essi was just there, breathing, content. And Lambert was relaxed.

The woman half-on top of him gave a twitch as the credits started to roll, and Lambert let out a private laugh, "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, show's over." 

Essi inhaled heavily through her nose and lifted herself up, "Hmmm?" 

"Movie's over." 

"Did I fall asleep? I'm sorry!" she sat and rubbed her eyes, taking a sip of water to rinse the stale taste from her mouth. 

"Eh, only a little." Lambert exited Netflix and tossed the remote back on to the table. "Thought you might wanna start heading home before it gets too late." 

Essi nodded in response as she grabbed the pizza box and brought it to the kitchen trash, leaving Lambert to bring the empties. 

"You going to finish this atrocity of a beverage?" Lambert waggled the near-empty wine bottle at Essi as he passed on his way to the sink. She merely scowled and shook her head, letting him pour it down the drain 'where it belonged anyway'.

Essi gathered her things and met Lambert by his front door, checking her pockets for her phone and keys one last time before putting her shoes on. 

"You okay to walk? Want me to come with?" 

It was only 10:30 on a weeknight, and she appreciated the gesture all the same, but it was fine to walk. "Thanks, though. And thank you for tonight. I really needed to get out of the house. I hope, um..." 

She trailed off, not sure how to ask. She didn't have the same physical boundaries that most others seemed to have. She was affectionate—often overly so, and it had led to more than a few misunderstandings in the past. She didn't want Lambert to feel as though she had ulterior motives when the simple fact of the matter was that she hadn't really been thinking. Between the instant relief of not actually being on a date and Lambert's easy manner all evening, she'd forgotten that most friendships didn’t generally involve that much physical contact. Would Lambert be confused now? Thinking they were onto something more than friendship? Had he been wanting more? Had she pushed past a point of no return and doomed their friendship?

She inhaled, "Were you comfortable tonight?" 

For a split second, Lambert flailed, wondering whether he’d made her uncomfortable. Fuck, she'd seemed comfortable, if anything it felt like he’d been following her lead but maybe...

"I—yeah. That was, I enjoyed that. Were... were you not—?" 

Essi smiled and Lambert relaxed again, "No, I was. I wanted to ask in case, that's all. Boundaries and all that. I'll text you when I'm home." 

Lambert opened the door and waved her off toward the elevator, "'Kay. 'Night!" 

The door clicked shut. 

Okay, alright. Fine. Did they cuddle? Yes. Did he enjoy it? Fuck yes. He absolutely didn’t care what anyone might think about how he chose to enjoy his time with other people. However, this didn’t stop him from acknowledging that he was in uncharted friendship territory. More than anything, he was worried about how Essi really felt. Of course, she had no reason not to be honest with him. But the last thing he wanted to do was play fast and loose with someone’s emotions, especially not a friend, and definitely not one as close as Essi. Time would tell. As Lambert’s head hit the pillow, the memory of her warmth and weight settled over him again, and he slept soundly for the first time in months.

***

“Yes Poppet, but have you slept together yet? Honestly, you’ve been dating for almost three weeks now, what could you possibly be waiting for?” 

Oh, I don’t know, hell to freeze over? You to mind your own business? Whichever comes first… 

“I mean, you clearly adore one another, I’ve never seen you happier. What’s there to lose?’”

Essi scoffed. 

Julian placed his hands on her shoulders, “I know it’s been a while for you, but I think you can afford to let yourself go a little, have some fun, hm? Besides, it’s better to find out sooner rather than later if you’re sexually incompatible.”

She took a deep breath, “That’s a very good point, Julian, I’ll think about that.” The dating act was starting to wear a little thin, but it was worth not having to explain to anyone that they weren’t doing exactly what it looked like they were doing. 

Julian took time to give his cousin a scrutinizing look, “Well, by the look of things it won’t be long anyway. If you spend all of your time together as tangled up as you were the other night when I came over, it’ll happen sooner rather than later. Just trust your gut, and when in doubt, a little hint never goes awry.”

Needless to say, Essi more or less ignored her cousin’s advice.

As the weeks stretched on, it became evident that they were quickly becoming what most people would consider to be more than friends. The first time they pulled the covers back and climbed into bed, each on their half of the mattress, they were aware that yet another boundary of friendship had been pushed a little farther into the grey zone. But, they woke up the next morning feeling happy, content, and refreshed, and surely there was nothing wrong with two people sharing a comfortable bed. Essi had woken up with crust in her eyes and her nightgown bunched around her waist. Lambert had woken up with morning wood and his hair a mess. Neither of them cared. People wake up in the morning, big deal. 

Still, it didn’t stop the questioning that oscillated in the background of Lambert’s mind. Was he unknowingly leading Essi on by allowing her so much closeness without a clearly defined relationship? She’d made her own disinterest clear enough on their first “date”,  but feelings change over time. What she’d told him three weeks ago might not be true anymore… 

And then there was that soft warm tingle in the middle of his chest every time she lay her head in his lap, every time he ran his fingers through her hair. He knew he wasn't in love. Not that he was an expert, but what was all that "when you know, you know" bullshit if he couldn’t trust his own feelings? He loved her, sure, but more like a... not a sister, that would be weird. He didn't know what like. Whatever. Fuck it. Eskel had said it best three weeks ago: “As long as you're happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters.” Yeah, sure. We’ll stick with that.

As far as Lambert and Essi were concerned, it was what it was, and whatever it was was working… wasn’t it?

***

"Fuckin' finally!" 

The door to Essi's apartment clicked closed as the tenant wilted against it, emitting an exhausted groan, "Two. Hours. It took me two hours to get home!" She toed off her penny loafers and abandoned her purse and jacket in a pile by the front door, ignoring the hook three inches to her left. She flopped heavily onto her living room carpet. 

"I see you found my spare key," she added, not at all surprised that Lambert had managed to let himself in. 

"Yeah, you should probably put that in a less obvious spot," he answered, crossing to the door to hang her things up. "So, I see it's a lying on the floor kind of evening. Can I interest you in a drink to start? Vodka pairs well with the general vibe of Done-With-This-Shit, or we also have tequila if you feel like shouting out the window after a couple shots. Alternatively, there's gin if you want to cry later." 

Essi smiled with her eyes closed, feeling her body slowly relaxing into the spongy throw rug underneath her, "You know me so well." 

"Vodka?" 

"Vodka. Euch, I need to vacuum!," Essi peeled herself to a seated position as clinks and clatters began in the kitchen. She hopped in the shower to rinse the day off, and after a few minutes, there was a knock on the bathroom door. 

"Yeeees?" she called, playfully. 

"Drink delivery!" Lambert hollered back, "you want this now or later?" 

"Why are you so good to me?" 

There was a draught of cool air as Lambert opened the bathroom door, "Because you only marginally annoy me. Here," he passed his hand between the shower wall and the opaque fish-scale-patterned curtain. "What's on the docket for tonight?" 

Essi groaned, "I don't know, I'm sorry. I used all my brain cells trying not to murder people on the streetcar." 

"Okay," Lambert sat on the lidded toilet, "here's the thing. I kinda maybe figured that might be the case so I kinda maybe picked up a few things to make dinner." 

A shampoo-piled head poked out from behind the curtain, "You're kidding." 

"Nuh-uh." 

"I love you." 

Lambert chuckled, "Yeah, you're alright. Come on, hurry up, this bathroom's a fuckin’ sauna, and I don’t want the croutons to get soggy." Essi burbled an answer about conditioner and almost done, and Lambert took that as his cue to leave.

Dinner was simple: pan fried Salmon with crispy skin (delicate and buttery on the inside); wax beans in butter (tender and not overcooked); grilled brussels sprouts (just beginning to brown on the edges); and a fresh caesar salad. Everything done to perfection. Full, content, and ready to take their relaxation to the next step they settled themselves on Essi’s blue-grey sectional to begin the arduous task of deciding what to watch. 

This was proving particularly difficult with the addition of Essi's caveat that whatever they chose not be "too plot-heavy" which so far had included Masterchef, an interior design show, and program about shepherding in the Orkneys. 

"Sweetheart, you gotta give me some slack here. I thought I was on track with the sheep!" 

"I know, I'm sorry!" Essi muffled into his shirt sleeve. "I do like animals..." She gasped loudly. "BLUE PLANET."

Lambert stopped the endless scrolling and pushed play as the soothing voice of David Attenborough filled the small living room.

"Hey! Why'd you pause it?" 

Lambert was standing up, "If we're going to do this, then we're doing it right. Hang on." 

Essi slumped on the sofa as the microwave kicked on. In a few minutes, there was popcorn in their laps and half a bottle of vodka on the table with an ice bucket and lemon wedges in a bowl. Lambert read off his phone screen.

"We will take a drink when: 

-David says 'Extraordinary' -David uses a clear understatement such as 'But then again, living in an active volcano is not without its risks' -An animal is being eaten -An animal is mating -There is sped up footage of a plant growing."

"Oh no," Essi lamented, chewing her popcorn ungracefully, "I'm going to get so drunk." 

"You got it, Goldilocks. Fill up."

And with that, they were off, taking it slow with their vodka twists, but nonetheless feeling the warm buzz start to tingle under their skin. The box of microwave popcorn was empty by halfway through, and the remains of Essi's exhaustion had almost dispersed entirely.

"Ooh! Understatement! Drink!!" 

By ten o’clock, pink-cheeked and feeling boisterous, they had finished with their favourite parts of Blue Planet, or at least the ones they had patience for, and had moved on to Planet Earth II.

“Holy fuck, that’s a lot of snakes—Go, you little fucker! Go!”

The drama on the screen had caused the two to separate from one another while Lambert invested himself in the success of the small lizard. Once the baby Galapagos Iguana had made it to safety, they were once again able to recline without Essi risking an elbow to the face.

She bundled against him, scooting farther between his legs where he leaned in the corner of the sectional. He gathered her hair and draped it over her left shoulder so it wouldn't get caught in his buttons—they'd learned that the hard way. It was still damp, cool to the touch, and smelled like verbena sea salt shampoo. He felt a pulse of affection ripple through him as her weight resettled. He loved that feeling. It had taken some time to get used to it. But now it was high on his list of favourite things. He was happy. And it was healthy. And that really was all that mattered. 

Right?

Eskel’s words turned themselves around again in his mind as he wrapped his arm around the front of Essi’s shoulders. He let himself indulge in the texture of her cotton knit nightshirt under his fingers. He relished in the peace of mind at being able to just be there with someone who meant something to him and made absolutely no demands. He let himself relax. 

Essi felt a kiss land on the top of her head with a playful, "Muwah!" 

She giggled quietly, "Thank you!" Then, upon further thought… Did he want to kiss her? Her mind did a double take as she tried to get on top of the ball.  

It wasn’t impossible. They were close after all, and she wasn’t opposed to the idea. She’d recently found herself in a balancing act of realizing she could, in theory, have a deeper kind of feeling for Lambert. Only if, for whatever reason, it turned out he felt the same way. These weren’t the helpless uncontrollable feelings of ride-or-die infatuation; they were malleable, translatable, general feelings of affection and fondness that belonged in any number of different relationships and dynamics. 

No sense risking it, she thought. They'd found a liminal space of comfort and safety that she'd never experienced with anyone else before, and if the options were between being a little confused and ruining everything, the choice was an easy one. Then again, if Lambert was developing feelings for her, she didn’t want to miss an opportunity. Shit. Her cheeks burned as she felt the question rise closer to her lips. 

"Lambert?" she sat up abruptly and turned to her friend who was still moulded into the corner of the couch, watching the mating rituals of exotic birds with bewildered skepticism. 

He jolted at Essi’s sudden movement, "Hello, yes." 

Her bright blue eyes were now slightly unfocused, "Do you—? Nevermind." She lay back against him, suddenly skittish..

"Mm, nah, try again," he said, sluggishly. "What’s up, buttercup?" 

She swayed a little when she sat up, "Are you happy with what we are?"

Lambert blinked, caught slightly off-guard. The question was easy enough to answer, "Yeah! I mean I don’t know what the fuck we are, but I’m feeling pretty good about it. Shit, why? Are you not? I can be less… whatever. Or… more?" It wasn’t like he was repulsed by the idea of anything else happening between them—in theory it was a possibility. In practice, however...

Essi put an emphatic hand on Lambert’s knee, her glassy eyes going wide, "Do you want more?" 

"What? No! I dunno, I—maybe. I haven’t really thought about it. I mean…” Lambert searched Essi’s face for any clue that might help him know how to proceed, “I don’t not want anything else. Fuck, I don’t know! I’m used to doing things the other way around. You know the drill: uncomfortable date, smoosh faces together, have sex, hope feelings fall out. Lather-rinse-repeat. I dunno, do we have to… But what if we try something and...? I don’t wanna lose this." 

Essi leaned in close and whispered, “I have an idea.”

"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?" 

"We should kiss."

Lambert nearly swallowed an ice cube, "What?!"

"Just once. Quickly. Just... in case." 

"You want me, Lambert, to kiss you, Essi Daven, on the lips."

She nodded sincerely, "For science."

There was a brief pause during which Essi felt the beginnings of panic brewing in her stomach, but by the time she'd finished grappling with potential consequences, Lambert was filling their glasses. 

"Alright. Fine. My friend wants me to kiss her for science? Fuck it. I'll drink to that." 

They downed their drinks and squared up, knee to knee on the edge of the sofa as they each prepared for their best form—or as good as they could offer given the circumstances. They counted down, 3-2-1...

The kiss was quick, over as soon as it had begun, and both friends pulled away with questioning looks. Inconclusive. They tried again for a little longer, still returning with the same quizzical expressions. They went in for a third time, committing more thoroughly, and for a brief moment it seemed they might have found the semblance of a spark. But it didn’t build. It felt… fine? But no different than if they were lying together on the sofa. It was just another thing they were doing. They each tried to find the right word for what they were feeling, but were soon distracted by the oddness of it all.   

Essi started to giggle. Less than a second later, Lambert joined her, and they both pulled away, thoroughly satisfied that their experiment had yielded a strong No on the subject of More. There was a dull thud as Essi slid from the couch and onto the floor, still holding her drink in one hand and laughing hysterically. 

Lambert sighed and shook his head, "I think it’s time we got you to bed."

Headaches and dry mouths greeted the two friends the next morning when they blinked awake. Essi’s hair was a cotton-candy mess, having still been slightly damp when Lambert put her to bed. The brunet himself didn’t look much different from his usual scruffy state as he gathered Essi up in an armful of duvet and squeezed tight.

“Gods, Lambert, I still need to breathe,” Essi chuckled, pressing her back into his chest. 

“You’ll get over it,” he teased and self-indulgently nuzzled even closer. “You feeling alright? I mean, aside from the hangover. About last night?” 

“Oh no,” Essi groaned, “I’m so sorry, Lambert. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just—you kissed my head and then that got me wondering about whether you might want something else, and then I didn’t really know what was happening and—” 

“Hey, easy on the rambling, okay, I’m running on limited brain cells, here. Look,” Lambert sat up to find those big blue eyes, now shining brightly, “I have no idea what the fuck this is that we’ve got going on, but I like it fine just the way it is.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And we can keep talking about that. Just, you know, maybe next time something’s on your mind, don’t wait ‘til we’re wasted at 2am?”

“Okay, deal. Can we go get bacon now?”

Lambert chuckled, “Yeah, alright, fine. Make me put pants on, I see how it is.”

Their conversation continued over strong coffee and eggs benedicts. Between their check-in that morning and everything that had happened the previous night, it was well-established that they were perfectly happy where they were. Rather, the main topic of conversation was their growing desire to level with their friends about the nature of their relationship. Eskel and Geralt, they both agreed, would be the easiest—Lambert could tell them that evening. Julian and Essi’s friends on the other hand would be a little more difficult. 

Telling Julian together would be best, Essi thought. He was bound to have questions, and if both she and Lambert were there to answer them definitively and explain that no, they didn’t have secret feelings for one another; and yes, they really were just friends and not at all interested in exploring the relationship further thank you very much. Exactly when this discussion with Julian would occur still wasn’t clear. Realistically, they could pick any time, but they decided to wait until Lambert could tell the Old Men. At least then they were assured some less invasive support. 

Their reaction was easy enough to predict: Eskel reassuringly repeated his standby “As long as you’re both happy with things…” and twirled a forkful of pasta; Geralt tilted his head thoughtfully and said, “That sounds very nice. I’m happy for you.” Lambert had expected mild disapproval, concern that they were deviating too far from the norm and into a complex dynamic that would be too messy to manage. Instead, Geralt simply said it ‘sounded very nice.’ Lambert smiled into the open refrigerator on his way to get a beer. 

The following weekend was Julian’s birthday, and, as per their annual tradition, the group all gathered on Friday evening at the birthday boy’s favourite restaurant—Vegelbud’s. The two decided to tell him the week after his birthday so as not to detract from his Big 3-0. Just one more week, and it would all be in the open. Easy breasy.

The afternoon of the dinner, Eskel and Geralt received a group text: Haven’t told Julian the details yet. Keep the beans to yourselves please (I’m looking at you, @Eskel). 

“Why me?” Eskel turned to Geralt over his paperwork, looking a little hurt. 

Geralt chuckled, “You have a slight tendency to overshare when you want to be supportive.”

“I do?” He turned on the bar stool to follow his partner on the way upstairs.

“It’s not a bad thing, but…” Geralt sighed, “Lambert has always needed to feel in control of situations like this. He doesn’t want one of us bringing this up before he’s ready to talk about it, especially in a public place, you know how he gets when he feels cornered. And Julian is Essi’s cousin…”

Eskel raised a hand, “You’re right, you’re right. All points taken. Are you showering?”

Geralt smirked as he headed for the stairs, “Come on then.” 

Four hours later and halfway through dinner, everything had gone swimmingly. The food had been expectedly delicious, the company and conversation excellent, and so far no one had felt the need to bring up Essi and Lambert’s relationship on any level. That is until Julian got a few drinks under his belt, and decided it was time to document the occasion. Geralt and Eskel were the first victims. 

“Aww just look at you two! So in love, so vivacious and full of adoration,” Julian held up his phone as Geralt touched the side of his head to Eskel’s. Beep-Chk! A perfect image of a happy couple was captured and posted to Instagram (#julianturns30 #dinneratvagelbuds #dinnerout #cutiesofinstagram #favoriteotp #gaycouplesofinstagram #livelaughlove…). There were a few more photos of the three of them together, the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake with the candle in it, a group shot taken by the waiter. It was all so close to being over, Essi could practically taste the refuge of the streetcar. 

"Come on, lovebirds, show us a smooch!" Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Essi’s stomach lurched and she felt her cheeks start to warm. Lambert’s hand landed gently on her knee under the table, his fingers pressing firmly into her leg as she desperately tried to think of something to say. 

"Oh, um..." 

Across the table, Geralt and Eskel shared a wordless communication: de-escalate, distract, redirect.

“You’ll want to eat that cheesecake before it gets warm” Geralt offered. “I hear it’s so light it’ll disintegrate in a heartbeat.” Eskel nodded in encouragement, taking a bite of his own. 

“I know, I know,” Julian shrugged, “Just a quick one. Say Cheese!”

"Not right now, Julian," Essi tilted her head, her eyes flashing a little. 

"Oh come on, Poppet! I know you don't like PDA, it's just one little picture--"

“Don’t call me Poppet.”

Eskel cleared his throat loudly, "Doesn't seem they're that keen on it. Maybe let's try for one another time." 

"It's past your one-month-a-versary, let everyone see how in love you are." 

"Julian," Geralt growled, "leave it." 

Julian covered his mouth in alarm, "I’m so sorry, have you not used that word yet? I didn’t mean anything by it, I just want the world to see how happy my beautiful cousin is!" 

“Really Julian, it’s not necessary we—” Essi’s fingernails were starting to dig into Lambert’s palm from the sheer effort of maintaining composure. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry or disappear, and with neither of those being an option, it seemed the only possible escape was for them to kiss. They’d done it before. No big deal. It would feel off, but they’d just go back to her place and drink about it after. 

“Essi, what’s the matter with you, it’s just one little picture, and we all know you’re not camera-shy. On three, ready? One, two…”

"For fuck's sake we're not dating!" 

The table all silently turned their attention to Essi whose cheeks had been turning progressively redder. 

“What?” Her cousin laughed incredulously. 

“We’re not a couple, Julian. We’re friends. We have been from the beginning, but we didn’t want to tell you because we knew you wouldn’t fucking leave us alone until you could boast about having set us up.”

Lambert shared a brief look with Eskel before lowering his eyes to the tablecloth, his hand still firmly clutched in Essi’s. 

Julian gaped, “So, it was all… the cuddling, the laughing, that time I came over and you were asleep on the couch, that was all… a ruse?” 

“No, Julian, that was real. I told you, we’re friends.”

“That’s not friends! Since when have friends watched a movie half-on-top of each other?” 

“Two people can enjoy each other's company lying flat, Julian,” Eskel’s rich voice interjected across the table and the discussion ground to a halt. 

Geralt shrugged with his tea at his lips, “It is the twenty-first century after all.”

Julian’s cornflower blue eyes flitted back and forth between the two friends, utterly bewildered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well what with your complete and utter invasion of privacy for the sake of hooking us up, we didn’t necessarily trust you to believe us,” Essi answered curtly, her hand shaking slightly. 

“Poppet, you could have just told me—”

“Stop. Calling me that. And I did tell you, Julian!” she exploded. “I told you the first day I moved here. The first. Day. I said, ‘Julian, I think I want to take a break from dating until I’ve been settled for a year.’ And what did you do? Conspired with my well-meaning former mentor to hook me up with someone I had one good conversation with at a Christmas party. And do you know what? We are happy. But we’re happy in our own way. And maybe our boundaries with each other seem a little strange to you, but we’re not fooling ourselves. We don’t want to kiss each other, we don’t want to have sex, and we don’t want a relationship. And even though it’s absolutely none of your damn business, I’ll tell you anyway: we’ve talked about it. All of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I want to be here anymore.” 

The chair legs scraped against the floor of the restaurant as Essi stood to leave, throwing her purse over her shoulder as she went. Lambert looked hesitantly around the table, “I should probably, you know…” He gestured after Essi with his thumb. Eskel gave Lambert the go ahead and he quickly stood to follow his friend out of the restaurant, leaving a very stunned Julian with the other two. He found her perched on the parking barrier in the small lot to the left of the front doors. He called to her and she looked up. Eyes shining, mascara running... 

“Ah shit, you know I’m no good with this kind of thing.” 

“I’m sorry, Lambert, I just—” she blew her nose, “—he just wouldn’t stop and I didn’t know what to do or say, and it all just came pouring out. I didn’t want it to. The whole time I was begging myself to stop, but I just couldn’t, it’s been bottled up for so long and-and—but it’s his birthday, and—oh, he must feel so awful! I didn’t want to make him feel bad, but—and with Eskel and Geralt there too! They must think I’m horrible! I’m so sorry, Lambert, I didn’t want it to be like this, I wanted to have him over and sit him down and be patient, and instead I’ve just made a complete mess of things. And on his birthday! It’s his birthday, oh God, this is the worst thing I could have done.” Essi choked back bitter tears as she tried desperately to stem the flow with her soggy tissue, “Are you upset with me, Lambert? If you are, I understand. Maybe we should take a break of some kind, you know. Not see each other for a while and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there. Look, I’m probably not going to say any of the right stuff here, but I am absolutely not upset with you. You got that? And for what it’s worth, I don’t think us taking a break from spending time together is going to do anything. Unless you’re looking to punish yourself by taking away a nice thing which, okay. But the fact that you’re willing to ditch me instead of Arbor Mist says something about our friendship I’m not too pleased with.” 

Essi turned her wide, pleading, bloodshot eyes to Lambert who cracked a smile, “Jesus, I’m kidding! You adorable fucking mess, c’mere.” He pulled his petite friend into a hug and rested his chin on the top of her head until she quieted down. Neither of them was quite sure how much time had gone by, but Essi found herself wishing it had been long enough for everyone to have gone home so she didn’t have to face whatever aftermath she’d left behind. 

Meanwhile, Eskel and Geralt had settled the bill and offered to give Julian a lift back to their place for a night cap, not wanting to leave the evening on such an unsettled note. Essi needed space, and whatever company she needed, Lambert was clearly capable of providing. It was for the best, they suggested, and dissuaded Julian from trying to call her. 

“Best to sleep on things,” Geralt said, tucking his card back into his wallet and giving the waiter a nod in gratitude. “We can meet for coffee this weekend and sort this out. For now, just let her cool down.” 

Eskel clapped Julian encouragingly on the shoulder as they made their way into the damp summer night air. As they turned into the parking lot, they came face-to-face with Essi and Lambert who had clearly just turned to come back inside. Both cousins looked like they had seen better days: Essi’s eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks blotchy and streaked with inky makeup stains; Julian was perhaps less dishevelled, but the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, his boyish features now dejectedly weighted down with remorse and hurt. 

“Juian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—” 

Essi’s cousin raised his hand, “Don’t. Please don’t. Essi, I am so, so sorry. I never meant to push you like that, I didn't realize... you both have been so happy this last month and—"

"It's okay, really, we can talk about this all another time. I'm just so sorry I ruined your birthday. We wanted to sit down with you and talk properly but..." Essi's tears welled up again, and Julian smiled weakly. 

"But we both did what we always do?"

She sniffed, nodding emphatically with a tearful, "Yeah.” Julian pulled his cousin into a fond embrace while the other three clumped together to watch the reconciliation. 

“Oh! Here,” Essi reached into her purse and pulled out a small, neatly-wrapped box. “Happy birthday!” 

Julian opened his gift without a second thought, his face brightening instantly. The box contained a set of premium ultra-light guitar strings and a pair of concert tickets. The perfect gift. Overwhelmed with gratitude, and the atmosphere having been recovered, Julian suggested they all attend brunch together that Sunday morning, his treat by way of apology. Geralt offered to split the bill as a peace offering for his part in the initial setup, and the five made a date. 

A fresh start, a promise of spending time together with fewer secrets and, Julian conceded, a few more boundaries. 

[johnkrrasinski]

one bad day;

full masterlist

Pairings: Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 4,128

Warning: angst, fluff with steve rogers though 

Summary: you just lost your job and you couldn’t find an easy way to tell your boyfriend, Steve about it. lucky for you, he’s the kindest boyfriend you could ever ask for, though. 

a/n: hey there!! i recently got this idea where i was having one of my bad days myself and of course, like most people, one of the reasons was this pandemic. i am also aware of how many people are struggling with finance right now and i truly hope that this fic could ease your pain somehow, even just a little bit. if you are in a really bad place right now; whether it’s financially, emotionally or mentally, or even physically, i truly hope that things get better for you and that you deserve all the happiness in the world. hang in there. i believe in you. if you need someone to talk to but don’t know who, you can message me or dm me on my instagram (@keedyperestroika) anytime. don’t hesitate if you can’t hold it on your own any longer. anyway, enjoy! 

You just had a terrible day. You are currently walking home from work, waiting for the traffic lights to turn into a walking person sign, to let the pedestrians cross the street. You have this fatigued and exasperated look on your face that most New Yorkers have when it's 5 pm and the streets are filled with people carrying their suitcases in their formal attires. But despite the weariness and the stress that is clouding over people's heads, they still walk faster than the subway train that would take these people to their office and back home.

Just like life doesn't stop no matter how worn out you are. It doesn't care whether you are alive or you are dying, it just keeps going at a 132 km per hour. You were supposed to just sit there as a passenger in this speeding vehicle that goes beyond out of your control. So you buried your hands deeper in your pocket and walk as quickly as you can with all the strength you have left. The grumbling crowd behind you isn't going to wait for any second longer.

You had worked in this local cafe called Le Chateau for 7 months now, and the pay is alright but the tip is good on the average days, especially on the weekend. At least it's enough to keep yourself afloat living in Manhattan. But it's not exactly the most amiable environment to work in.

You had to deal with a lot of rude customers who think they own the place and they can say whatever they want to you as if you live to serve them because they have the money. It had been 7 months of dealing with this and it still destroys your mood every single time. So you decided that today was the day that you were going to stand up to yourself and do the right thing.

Earlier today, a man in a white collared shirt and khaki pants walked into the cafe while talking on his phone with a furious tone. You already knew this one would be a pain in the ass to serve, he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would greet you with a smile and order in a cordial manner, so you asked him.

"How can I help you today?" The man doesn't answer. He continues to talk on his phone while lifting a finger signaling you to wait, hold on.

Meanwhile, at 8 in the morning, every cafe in the streets of Sixth Avenue is filled with fast-paced folks who want to make their order, get their coffee, pay for it and flee as soon as possible so they wouldn't be late to work. But apparently, not this man, whatever his agenda is for today, he clearly wasn't in a rush, but that doesn't mean the horde lining up behind him isn't.

He was talking so loudly, screaming his words into the poor ears of whoever is on the other side of the call, he was talking about some improper order that he was supposed to today, meanwhile, everyone in the queue is getting sourer, if humans had their klaxon pressed up somewhere part of their limbs, they would be honking simultaneously and incessantly right now. But this man was too selfish to sense that the people around him were irritated and that time isn't waiting upon him.

"Sir, could you please step aside for a moment if you are not going to make a direct order?" You tried to be as polite as possible, not wanting to piss him off even more.

"Hold on." He notified the callee. "What?"

"I said, could you please step aside if you are not going to make an order right away, people are lining up sir."

"Lady, I'm on the phone about an important business that will cost me millions if I don't take care of this matter right now. Now, you better shut up unless your salary in a year could indemnify my loss." He went back to his phone with his hand on the counter and people were starting to yell, but he still didn't give a shit. He just stood there as if he was the only person in the room.

"Sir, please, step aside for just one moment and come back when you are ready to make an order. You are holding back the line."

He looked at you incredulously as if you had just called him an asshole in a public place. "What the fuck is the matter with you? Don't you know who I am?"

You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself in 0.0002 seconds before answering, "I'm not trying to be rude here sir, I am simply asking you to just step aside so that other people could make an order and you could wait for your turn when you are done with your call."

"Hey, I make $20,000 per hour and I am not going to waste a single minute talking to you or waiting in a line of another 20 people ordering their tasteless drinks while I could be making another 20,000, I could buy this whole cafe in one night if I want to and where would you be? In the streets begging for shitty jobs of scrubbing toilets or taking out the garbage so shut up or I'm going to make that a reality for you."

You couldn't believe the words that had just been vomited all over you. It felt like you had just been stripped down naked in an open space. You had dealt with countless impudent customers but no one had ever been as obnoxious as this guy.

He had straight-up humiliated you as if you were nothing but a slave. You couldn't hold yourself back any longer, the ounce of patience in you was wearing thin, so you did what you knew you always had to do. You fought back.

You scoffed and shook your head. "You know what, I don't give a fuck how much you make money per hour or that you can buy this cafe in one night. Men like you think you own everything and everyone? And that you can just treat people however you want? Well let me be the one to tell you this asshole, you are just an insolent piece of shit."

And that's how you ended up losing your job. Yup, by standing up to a corrupted man. Your manager, Brock Rumlow, had called you to his office later that day and had taken the job to be the second person to scream at you that day as if you were nothing but an owned slave who had just broken your master's favorite vase. Even though you had explained the whole incident, he still didn't give a single fuck about your explanation.

"It doesn't fucking matter! He is a customer, an important one! What do I always say? Customers are the kings! You don't talk back to them, you don't raise your voice to them, you don't glare at them! You. Serve. Them. Well." He asserted each word with a stern glare that could cut your skull wide open. "And if they told you to fucking wait for them, then you better fucking wait for them!"

That's what it's like working in a big, expeditious city that is owned by capitalists and men in charge, sitting on their throne with their feet up their servants' backs to keep them cozy. You had enough. You had enough of the shitty attitudes, inappropriate customers who try to flirt with you, and your overbearing boss.

So you carried your heavy steps on the pavement to the building that you live in. This day had been such chaos to you that you just want to go home to your boyfriend. Your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, who would always try to comfort you on your worst days by ordering you pizza or offer to give you a massage after a seemingly-never-ending way.

His blue eyes that would calm the raging storm inside of your heart and his tender touches that would shut the vicious words in your head away. His kisses that would melt you like ice cream on a summer day, but also, made you feel safe and protected. Like you know it's gonna be okay. You just do. The promise is in his kisses.

You walked home to a tranquil environment. A place with a few potted plants here and there, a soft 40's music playing somewhere in one of the rooms, and to a large, muscular man in a dark blue shirt that is doing a poor job at fitting his muscles. He was wearing an apron with a picture of a white, furry cat holding a ball in front of it and he had a spatula on his right hand.

"Hey babe, you're home!" He greeted you with that lovely smile you have missed.

"Yes, I am. Are you cooking?" It was hard for you not to smile at the heartwarming image despite your awful mood.

"Yeah, I am. I figured we should eat something home-cooked today... We have been ordering too many takeouts, my organs are starting to give in." And at that attempted joke, he smirked.

You couldn't help but laugh at how horrible that joke is. Also, at how adorable and proud he looks at that joke. He would always try to make you laugh with his featherbrained humor and his even better attempt at it.

You shook your head subtly and spoke up, "I'm pretty bushed, think I'm gonna treat myself with a nice long bath first."

"Okay, sweetheart." He gave you a peck on the lips. It was brief but enough to elevate your somber mood. At least for now.

You stripped yourself out of the clothes that you wore from your former workplace to home, put your hair in a messy bun, and threw in your favorite lush bath bomb that would make your bath experience far way more pleasant in this bleak evening. You poured yourself a glass of red wine and turned on your favorite Jazz music playlist.

You needed to clear your head after the long, hard day. You were trying to come up with ways on how to initiate the conversation about telling him that you had just lost your job and that you had an unfortunate incident earlier that kinda got your own ass fired, as your former boss spat.

The truth is, you and Steve had been dating for three years before you both decided to move to Manhattan. You and Steve used to live in Brooklyn and had moved a year ago. You used to live in the same neighborhood, went to the same school, and had been friends since childhood but were never really close. You knew his best friend though, Bucky Barnes, Brooklyn's most eligible bachelor, the playboy with a pretty face that could make a lot of girls and boys weak at the knees, that would take different ladies on a date every Friday night but never settled for one.

Steve was a lot smaller and skinnier back then, he wasn't the huge, muscular man with the perfectly trimmed beard sitting on his face that he is now that could've taken any girl that he wanted on a date. He was shy and introverted, unlike Bucky who was outgoing and confident. Sometimes it dazes you that these two were really best friends, they were too different in a lot of aspects.

You also knew Sarah Rogers, Steve Rogers' mom who had raised him as a single mother, all on her own because, his father, Joseph Rogers was an abusive husband who used to beat Sarah up after he got wasted every night and would often threaten to kill her. So one day, Sarah decided that she had enough, she took up every bit of penny that she had in her purse and gathered all the courage that she had within her to leave him and bring 4 years old Steve Rogers with her. They found a nice, little house in Brooklyn. It wasn't much but it will do for the two of them. It was only her and him since that day.

By the time you both went to college, you went on separate ways. You had gone to Colombus Culinary Institute in Ohio, and Steve had gone to Rhode Island School of Design. After you both had graduated, you came back home to Brooklyn. On one fortunate Autumn day, you went shopping at the convenience store which was located near your home, you crossed paths with Steve Rogers, the scrawny, sickly fella that you used to know, now all grown up and buffed up. He is so... handsome. You had never noticed how lustrous his oceanic eyes are.

Despite all the glow up that he had, his gentle demeanor still hadn't changed.  He was still that shy, introverted kid who would blush at the slightest human contact with a woman.

He had bumped into you in the dairy section whilst you were too busy ruminating on which cardboard milk you wanted to buy, on the opposite direction, Steve was too busy checking through the list on his phone, ensuring that every single item that he had noted down on his phone had been checked off. And so, the little incident happened.

You had caught up with how things had been for the two of you during college, never realizing that the sparks had always been there, you were just too young and foolish to let it lead you to anywhere. Next thing you knew, you were saving up to move to Manhattan.

Steve had decided to move to the big city with the hope of becoming a professional artist and hoping that he would open his own gallery someday. Of course, that wouldn't be as easy as finding an empty space in the town and transfer your money. Like you said, Manhattan is expensive. Much worse than Brooklyn.

Steve had graduated from RISD with an art degree as he had always possessed a raw talent in art and painting. He was always brilliant in designing and drawing too. You believed in him, and he believed in you. You, on the other hand, wanted to be a chef at a five stars restaurant with the hope that you could save up enough money to open your very own five stars restaurant. But of course, those dreams wouldn't happen overnight too. You had to work twice as hard and so, you were left with nothing but the choice to become a waitress slash cashier at a cafe, which now had forfeited. Now you were going to have to find another admissible job that could at least help you stay afloat for now.

You had lost track of time of how long you had been in the bathtub. You were getting drowsy but your stomach started to make grumbling noises that signaled you that you had to have the conversation tonight. You thought about postponing it 'till the morning, maybe you could suck him off and make love to him before you sleep. Yeah, that seemed like a perfect way to initiate the daunting conversation. At least he'd feel a little more relaxed than before, but no, you were an adult, and adults communicate things out. Not keep secrets from each other and dodge dreary conversations.

You got out off the tub, dried yourself with a towel, and wrapped yourself in a cotton bathrobe that had always fit your body perfect and comforted you on days like this. You walked out of the bathroom, and saw your boyfriend's broad back facing you, he was still in the kitchen, but he had finished his cooking. He was currently cleaning the tiny kitchen counter off the remnants that had smeared the tiles.

You leisurely walk toward him, circling him with your arms and pressed your chest, and rested the left side of your face against his broad back. This is your safe place, your little bliss on earth. Where you can feel him so close against you. Your fingers roam all over his firm chest and closed your eyes and just relish in this pleasant moment. You let yourself get lost in his warmth, savor the strong man that you had come to know as home.

He chuckled and took your hands in his and kissed the palms. It's like he could read your mind before you even said a word. He had learned about you intimately for way too long to not understand it by now.

"Bad day?"

"Worse."

"Hm. Wanna talk about it?"

"Later, maybe, but for now, I just really wanna spoil myself with my boyfriend's amazing culinary skills."

"Okay, now you are just mocking me."

"I'm not! As a future chef myself, I know good food when I eat one. And when the man who makes them is a five stars meal himself, it wouldn't be so hard to cook one."

Despite having been dating for three years, you still flirt with each other like teenagers pining over each other. You were grateful to have such a loving man who never stopped making you feel cherished even when you couldn't believe in yourself. He'd always be there for you, to back you up, to encourage you and help you reach the finish line, and you would do the same for him without a single doubt.

You two sat on your tiny dining room, eating in comfortable silence. He told you about the client that had called him for the second time that week to book him for the weekend. He said the client told him that after many considerations, she liked his work best amongst other artists she had looked through. She wanted him to paint a portrait of their family because she "believed that painting is the most delicate form of art." With her own words. He was excited to bring out the passionate artist in him once again.

You nodded as you chewed you food and braced yourself to finally bite your tongue and unleash the words that had been gnawing the insides of your stomach. So you took a deep breath and said; "I just got fired today."

Steve stopped scooping the mashed potatoes that he wanted to mix with the honey butter chicken he meticulously put together a couple of hours ago. He sat there frozen, eyes glued to the cuisine placed neatly in front of him.

You and Steve had been struggling to make ends meet, with both of your average income just barely enough to pay the bills and cover up the expenditure, you didn't have much when you first came into the city, but at least when you started working at La Chateau, the burden of your bankroll had become less tyrannical. Steve had to wait for clients to hire him to receive incomes, which is only occasional, you'd never tell him to get another job because he believed in his dedication to his art and he told you once that he would lose his mind trying to do what he wasn't born to do.

However, with the dire situation you two are currently stuck in now, well, it's only been less than 24 hours but, it's going be the circumstances you two will have to endure for God knows how long. You were hoping that by having this conversation as soon as possible, you two are going to come up with a solution on how to survive.

"What happened?" He finally gazed into your eyes with that ridiculously sexy disappointed look on his face. Even when he's not in the most cheerful mood, he is still insanely attractive, it should be a crime.

You explained the whole incident, starting from when that prick walked into the cafe and to the last thing your boss said, no, no, yelled at you.

You were bracing yourself for the even worse discouraged words coming from his mouth, you were expecting that he'd get up and storm into your bedroom so he could clear his head and then maybe, maybe, after that he'd be ready to talk to you. He would never hit you or blame you, positively never, but sometimes when he's angry or he's downhearted, he would shut himself away and would utter very few words when it's absolutely necessary.

You hated seeing him like that. You hated seeing him dismayed, you hated seeing that scowl on his face caused by the stress of life. You would always try to give him a massage, or rub his back as to offer comfort. You were lucky if he even spoke a few words about his feelings to you. Which happened only once, a couple of years ago, when his mother died due to tuberculosis. She had been sick for several years before that. It had only gotten worse during the last six months before she passed away. You had never seen Steve so vulnerable before and you remember holding him tight until he fell asleep in your arms.

You hadn't realized that you had started crying and tears were brimming in your eyes. You felt your vision started to become blurry and you saw your boyfriend, got out of his chair, and walked up to you so he could comfort you the way you had alleviated him from his demons before. He got down on his knees and put his hands on your shoulders to ease the tension on them. Wordlessly, he embraced you in his arms and you put yours around his neck to hold on to him even tighter than you ever did. You needed him, and you wanted to feel him as close as possible.

You sobbed even harder than you planned on, hell, you didn't even plan on to turn this into a poignant conversation for the two of you. But you couldn't help it, the emotions had taken a toll on you and you were finally able to just let yourself fall free into the love of your life, let everything sink and pour it out bit by bit before him.

He spoke up with a gentle voice, "honey, I'm proud of you, for standing up for yourself like that. You did what was right, you did what you should've done a long time ago. I couldn't bear the thought of people treating you like that, you deserve to be surrounded by people who revere you and an environment that makes you happy."

"I know, Steve, but now I don't know how we are going to pay our bills, how we are going to fill our fridge, and how we are going to-"

He shushed you and grabbed your face in his calloused hands. "Honey, we are going to figure this out.  We always do. I have faith in us, and as long as we got each other, we are going to be okay. I promise you."

"How can you be so sure?" you stifled.

"Because I remember when I was skeptical about our future, you were there, and you convinced me that we'd come through. I mean, look at how far we've come! Remember when we thought we would never save enough money to rent a place in Manhattan? But we were wrong. Remember when we thought, we wouldn't be able to fill in our gas tank? We overcame that too."

"But it's going to be different now that I am unemployed, and I am getting even further than I was before to my dreams."

"Honey, all setbacks are just a hitch along the journey. I promise you, we can defeat this together, you and I. I am getting hired for the weekend, aren't I? I made a promise that I'll take care of you and I will hold on to my word. I love you."

"I love you too. Thank you for never giving up on me. I don't know how I got so lucky to end up with you."

"You've done the same for me and you would do it again. And I can say the same thing about you. On my worst days, I'd wonder how you still haven't left me yet."

You flashed him a smile, a genuine one this time, it wasn't much but it will do for now. And you were content to have this man by your side to go through all the highs and the lows with.

"There's that beautiful smile. Now, how about we finish our dinner, and we can go cuddle in our bed okay? Whatever tomorrow will be, let it be. We'll figure it out step by step."

"Sounds good."

[ofstaffs]

steve steve was absolutely walking on air. the weather was amazing and he was enjoying it with the woman he loved. of course, it wasn't a totally perfect afternoon due to his endearing clumsiness. after his second time dropping the venue folder, they decided it was better if peggy carried it instead. other than that, it couldn't have been better. "i really like the meadow, if i'm being totally honest," he glanced at peggy as they walked under a cluster of trees in magnolia park. "but the park is fine too, of course."

steve: im screAMING

peggy: OM G CUITE

peggy: CUTIE

steve: the ghostbusters theme song came on while i was writing thiS

peggy: HAHAHAAHHA

peggy she didn't think it was possible for her to love him anymore. the bold and the brave captain america was stumbling over his own feet and dropping the folder each time he held onto it, papers flying everywhere, which required a ton of chasing. she hadn't laughed more in her whole life, and she was sure she had never been more infatuated with someone in her life. "i know, i do too. i just wanted to look around here to see if it was a backup choice," she explained, craning her neck to glance around.

peggy: lets just do them for a bit then ill bring rey in

steve: okie dokie

steve "you know, the first wedding i went to was out here." steve spoke, pointing at the patch of grass by the fountain. it wasn't exactly an enjoyable experience; they hardly knew the grooms and there was quite a bit of drama at the end of the night. he decided to leave out the fact that he brought a date to it. "you would have hated it. it ended in absolute chaos." he laughed quietly, knowing his future bride wasn't one to put up with people's shit.

peggy "oh, dear. maybe we shouldn't have it here, then. i don't want people to be reminded of bad memories when they come here," she said, biting her lip in concern. then she glanced up at him with a teasing smirk. "you know that if anyone tries to start /anything/ at our wedding that i'll deal with them myself." they couldn't exactly hire security; plus, they didn't need any. the groom was captain america, after all. "i don't think you'll let that happen, though," she winked.

peggy: omfg deans rper will not stop chatting me

peggy: like

steve: my ot4 tbh :,)))

peggy: actually

steve: im confused on how it all happened so fast

peggy: they kind of pushed it on kathryn and i

peggy: im convinced the mun is the same person

peggy: they're literally the SAME

steve: nO WAY

steve: mia's rper chats me a lot too so

peggy: yep

steve "i can only think of one person who'd be bothered." steve shrugged. that person was rey. she left early on in the ceremony and sprayed someone with beer when she returned. but at that point, he wasn't even sure if she'd show to his wedding. "i know you will." he grinned with a raised brow, tightening his grip on her hand lightly. him and peggy had already waited way too long for someone to ruin it. "hopefully everyone just keeps their issues to themselves."

steve: if somebody hijacks the steggy wedding i will take it ooc

steve: no shame

peggy: ya tru

steve: i feel like dia would tbh not trying to be rude

peggy "they better," peggy agreed with a firm nod, placing a hand on his cheek then slowly smiling again. "but i don't care if /everything/ goes wrong. as long as i get to be your wife at the end of the day. that's all i want. that's all i've ever wanted." she leaned up to kiss him softly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

peggy: BLESS

peggy: ok im gonna bring rey in]

rey joined the chat 2 hours ago

steve: yaaaasssssssss

rey getting some fresh air was nice, as her dispute with derek was still ongoing, and she felt like she had the opportunity to really clear her mind of everything. until she stumbled across a couple. as soon as she saw the red and blue clothes (did they plan that or did they always just coincidentally dress that way?), she knew exactly who it was. she clenched her jaw but let out a sigh and tried to walk past without her face being seen, tilting it away as much as possible.

steve: does steve stop her orrrrrrrrrrrrr

peggy: probs

peggy: i didnt know how else to bring her in lmao

steve "trust me, you'll be my wife no matter what. even if it means i have to become a minister and do it myself." he chuckled against her lips, gladly welcoming the kiss. naturally, he got too carried away, wrapping his arms around her waist and stumbling back slightly. he didn't even think about anyone else in the park until he felt his back brush against another person. "oh, geez. i'm sorry about that," the avenger apologized to this person behind him, before he quickly realized who it was. "rey?"

steve: i just did that instead whooops

peggy: nice

peggy peggy pulled away as soon as steve did, glancing at the person he had, literally, bumped into. uh oh. hopefully he wouldn't be recognized. she smiled apologetically and began to say sorry when steve said the girl's name. peggy's smile faded as she stared up at him, then chuckled softly. "is-is this a friend of yours?" she asked quietly, nervous about the expression on his face.

rey oh, great. clumsy steve, back at it again. she rolled her eyes and turned to him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. she was sure she looked horrific, given she'd been bedridden for five days, but finally seeing peggy in person for the first time shocked her most of all. she really did look like her. at peggy's question, she just glared up at steve again before firmly replying, "nope."

rey: ouch

steve: damn steve, back at it again

peggy: i kept saying that in my head while writing jrc

peggy: jfc

steve "uh..." he stammered, glancing between rey and peggy. oh god, they looked so much alike he was getting confused. he genuinely did not know what to say. rey and him had a large falling out, sure, but they were so close. they were still friends in his eyes, best friends even. his eyes narrowed at her once she spoke. "no. she's tony's friend."

steve: yiggity yikes

peggy peggy's shoulders straightened at steve's words, and she stood protectively at his side, hand on his arm. "tony stark is no friend to us. it is obvious that steve doesn't want you around, so i recommend that you keep walking before i have to take action."

steve: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

rey rey couldn't tear her eyes away from steve. her expression was a mixture of heartbreak, anger, jealousy, and distress. she missed him, but seeing him with peggy angered her beyond belief. she clenched her fists at her sides as peggy spoke to her, then raised her eyebrows. "believe me, i think that's the best idea, seeing the last time i spoke to your fiancé, he threw a coffee table across the room."

rey: riP

rey: sry im replying so fast im like trying to do this fuc kn g study guide

rey: WHY DID I PORCRASITINA

rey: ETE

steve: UR DUMB

steve: WHAT CLASS IS IT FOR

peggy: US HISTORY

peggy: FML

steve: WRITE STEVE ROGERS FOR EVERY ANSWER

peggy: O K

peggy: ITS OPTIONAL TOO

peggy: BUT ITS 20 PTS EXTRA CREDIT

peggy: KMS

steve steve was stupid to think this day wasn't going to get ruined. he expected the cops would have something to do with it, not rey. not his /best friend/. he glanced at peggy once she spoke, but rey was already retorting before he could catch up. "that's enough." the expression on his face was enough to kill. no more clumsy, adorable steve. rey awakened the beast that was captain america. "so where's derek this lovely afternoon?"

peggy peggy's head snapped up to glare at steve slightly. "so /that's/ what happened? you threw a coffee table because you were angry?" she asked in disbelief. but the expression on his face was not allowing for any chastisement at that moment, so she turned back to rey, watching her carefully. obviously she had done something to make steve, sweet, kind-hearted steve, angry and she didn't like it one bit.

steve: http://66.media.tumblr.com/902d809ec25de... LOOK AT THIS

rey "he's at home. i wanted to go on a walk, so here i am." she'd only mumbled a few words to derek before leaving, but she didn't tell him that. she was too afraid he'd poke fun at her for having a failing relationship. two at the same time. just in very different ways. "oh, but i see you two are planning your wedding. you know, that's funny. the last time steve was at a wedding, he brought along a date. but i'm sure he's told you that."

peggy: DED

peggy: REY ST OP

steve "yes. but you should let rey tell you what she said to make me so angry." he spoke through gritted teeth. he could almost hear rey's angry outburst about peggy and bucky leaving him. his hand flew up to his nose, pinching the bridge of it as she continued to spill like an immature child. "i brought natasha romanoff, my colleague. interesting that you bring up the wedding, rey. recall your little beer incident?" two could play that game.

steve: steve rn: (ง'̀-'́)ง(ง'̀-'́)ง(ง'̀-'​́)ง(ง'̀-'́)ง(ง'̀-'́)ง(ง'​̀-'́)ง

peggy "yes, i /would/ like to know that," peggy snapped to rey, crossing her arms firmly across her chest. anyone who upset steve had to deal with her. "i understand. you didn't want to be alone at the wedding. i get it," she assured him then turned back to rey, furrowing her eyebrows as steve brought up one of /her/ issues.

peggy: omg steve should do like a rly low blow

peggy: and then rey will just strt cr ying

peggy: bc i need them to make up

steve: how low u talkin

peggy: as low as u want

steve: idk how low i can go

steve: damn is this limbo

peggy: truth

peggy: idk like her being abandoned by her family or smth

peggy: or her problems with derek

peggy: or her family issues

peggy: rey has a lot of things to use against her ok

steve: i'll talk about her trying to get derek to propose cause i got an anon bout it

peggy: make it bad tho

peggy: or else rey will just be angrier

rey rey's eyes widened slightly as her expression darkened. now /he/ was digging. this was bad, and was surely not going to end well. she wished she had derek here to back her up. if he even would at this point. "well YOU'RE the one who had feelings for me while you said you were in love with /her/!" she exclaimed, motioning carelessly to peggy.

steve "why don't you tell her." steve looked down at his friend demeaningly, unable to bring himself to repeat her words. "at least i don't have to beg the love of my life to get marry me. i know who i love, rey, and you're sure as hell not one of those people when you act like this." the captain spat, grabbing his fiance's hand. "let's go, peg."

peggy: shIT

steve: shawty got low low low low low low

peggy "is that true?" peggy tried to ask steve after rey explained how he had feelings for her. if so... that was shocking. extremely. but at steve's words, she froze. ouch. that was a harsh one. but it was necessary. so peggy swallowed thickly and held on tightly to steve's hand before turning and beginning to walk away with him.

rey no... he couldn't have just said that. had he? he /had/. he didn't love her. once upon a time they were inseparable, spending every day together. first he had used derek against her, and then he outright said he didn't love her. not even as a friend. her hands clasped over her mouth in shock as her eyes fell shut, not even acknowledging them anymore. silently, she began to sob as she slowly crumpled to her knees on the ground, slightly ripping the comfortable pajama pants she had on, decorated with stars. she hated this. she wanted her best friend back.

steve "it was." he admitted swiftly, avoiding her glance. it was before he knew peggy was alive. it was a mistake, all of it was. she had a boyfriend anyway. right as he's ready to turn on his heel, rey falls to the ground in front of them. at first he thinks she's hurt, so he accesses her body quickly until he realizes she's just crying. oh no. was it really that harsh? his jaw clenched as her scene attracted attention from civilians in the park. "rey... just get up, okay?"

peggy "steve," peggy gasped as soon as she saw rey fall to the ground. they were friends at one point; and she knew steve wouldn't want to see his friends hurt. even though it was obvious she was just crying, she knew steve would still want to help. maybe. so she stayed back but watched carefully as he approached her again, hoping things wouldn't get worse from here.

rey rey simply ignored them both, covering her face with her hands and tucking her knees to her chest as she continued to cry. after all they had gone through together... that was what he now thought of her? simply because she was jealous? sure she had said some things that went over the edge, but he knew she hadn't meant them. but his words... he meant each and every one. and she didn't care that he was now seeing her break down right in front of his eyes. she couldn't hide her sorrow anymore. she cried even harder as she leaned forward slightly, threading her fingers into her hair.

steve steve pursed his lips, sending peggy one last apologetic glance before crouching down next to rey. he wish he could comfort her like he used to, but it felt too unfamiliar to him at the moment. "c'mon, rey. get up." he curled his hands around her forearms, making sure to be gently while he pulled her to stand. he meant the words in the heat of the moment, but now he was beginning to regret them. "i didn't mean it, alright?"

peggy peggy nodded her head swiftly as her eyes saddened. she knew he had to take care of this. he needed as many friends as he could get here in magnolia, seeing as they had enough enemies. and she didn't want one friendship to be ruined because of some simple jealousy. she kept some distance, but watched closely with a sympathetic expression as he tried to apologize.

rey "no... no..." rey cried as he, literally, tugged her up to her feet. it took a few moments for her to get a stable stance on the ground, but when she finally did, she began wiping at her eyes as her sobs became almost completely silent. "y-you did- you-..." she tried to say, but only wept harder, wiping at her eyes yet again and trying to move out of his grip. she was beyond humiliated and ashamed now and just wanted to go back inside where no one could see her.

peggy: wtf im tearing up

peggy: this is rly sad but its also bc of this study guide LMAO

peggy: but mostly bc of this bc aw

peggy: i miss my bbs

steve: omg dont crrrrrrrrrrrry

steve: im sobbing this sad ass song just came on my shuffle i feel it

peggy: right omfg

steve: speaking of shuffle wdyt about the plot shuffle

peggy: what about it

peggy: did they post it

steve: no they just talk about it when they get clique qs

peggy: oh lmao tru

steve: ive never done one b4

peggy: idk ugh

peggy: bc i dont want rey or peggy to be stuck with chars they've never interacted with

peggy: fml

steve: same dude

steve: can u imagine if peggy and negan had to be 2gether

peggy: riP

peggy: steve would be freaking tf out the whole time

steve: steve would literally bust through every door in magnolia to get to peggy

peggy: i love him what a nerd

steve the expression on rey's face caused an ache to spread through his chest. "i didn't, i-i swear." he murmured softly, struggling to hold back the lump in his throat. he couldn't believe he let his anger get the best of him and cause this. the last time he saw rey this upset, it had something to do with snoke. she was right, he lost everyone he loved. he always did. he looked back at peggy with forlorn eyes, almost as if he was making sure she was still there.

steve: im cryin

steve: ldr just came on im gonna fight

peggy: whats ldr

steve: lana del rey

peggy "it's okay," peggy mouthed to him when he turned to look at her, making a silent promise that she wasn't leaving anytime soon, unless he asked for privacy with rey. she understood that she wouldn't understand their friendship, and she didn't try to. it was for them, and none of her business. unless steve was being hurt.

peggy: nice

rey "you /did/, you did," rey sobbed, beating her fist weakly against his chest two times then just crying again. maybe if she wasn't so weak from the concussion, bruised ribs, and all the medication she was on, then she would've run away by now. or maybe she just didn't really want to run away. she wanted to stay, to bring back what they once had. "l-leave me alone," she pleaded anyway, attempting to tug her arms out of his grip, to no avail.

steve he let her hit him once again, her fists rekindling memories from their last fight. "stop, s-stop!" he curled his hands around hers, pushing them away from him. "stop this! stop trying to fight me, rey. i don't wanna fight anymore!" who would have thought, steve rogers, the kid who would fight anything or anyone, begging to avoid a quarrel.

steve: im screAMI

peggy: riP

peggy "steve," peggy gasped when he raised his voice, immediately stepping to his side and placing a hand on his shoulder. but she didn't stop him from speaking to her. he wanted this solved, and she didn't blame him. so she let it continue, and would only step in if things got really bad.

rey "then why would you /say/ that to me?" rey sobbed in distress, trying desperately to tug her hands out of his, though, obviously, that was impossible. he surely wasn't even using half his strength and she was using everything she had in her weak body. "y-you don't want to be my friend, you-you don't love me anymore..."

peggy: im em o

peggy: r u here

steve: IM HERE

peggy: YEET

steve "i'm sorry," steve looked down, letting his head hang low. he was apologizing to both of them at this point for losing his temper and control. "yes i do, rey! i never said that," his eyes were wide in confusion, "do you even want to be my friend? every time we're near each other we fight!"

peggy "it's okay, steve. m-maybe we should take this somewhere more private, though," peggy whispered, noting how people were beginning to stare at the three of them. if steve was recognized... the location of the wedding would be the smallest issue.

rey "of COURSE i do! i-... i miss you..." rey admitted, her voice thinning out to hardly nothing as she said it, finally peeking her eyes up to look up into his own. then she sobbed again as she shook her head. "but-but not after you said that. n-no... y-you meant every word... e-every word..."

peggy: midnight rip

peggy: and still working on this piece of shit.

steve: jesus h christ

steve steve nodded, instantly cooling down when he heard her voice. peggy was his happy place. any place, any situation; if peggy was there, he could do anything. "no i didn't, rey." his brow furrowed and his face fell once again. "let's go home, okay? come with us."

peggy peggy held onto steve's arm gently, though he was still holding a fragile rey up. she wondered to herself why she looked so sickly, but kept her thoughts to herself as she led them both inside, and up to their apartment. "i'll get some waters," she offered and stole a kiss when rey wasn't looking before moving into the kitchen to do so.

rey rey didn't want to go to their house, to where the two of them spent their time together. but the stress was overwhelming and she needed to sit down, but she didn't want to go to her home just yet. she still wanted desperately to fix things with steve. she let him practically pull her up the stairs and past the door, feeling too weak to do so at that point.

steve "okay." steve whispered quietly against her lips. he lead rey's weak frame to the couch, passing over the spot where the coffee table used to be. "-uh, are you alright?" he questioned, refusing to let go of the grip on her arm.

peggy "you don't seem too well," peggy agreed, bringing over a glass of water for each of them and setting it on the little makeshift table they had in place of the coffee table. she knelt before them and looked worriedly up at steve, silently asking him what was going on.

rey "yes," rey exhaled as he sat them down on the couch, closing her eyes and bringing her hands to her head. "i... d-derek and i were pushed down a flight of stairs... i hit my head and got knocked out. and bruised a couple of ribs... w-we went to the hospital and now i'm on five different kinds of medication..."

steve steve shook his head at peggy's questioning look. he had no idea what was going on. whatever it was, it was more than just her being upset. she looked horribly fatigued. "what?!" he exclaimed loudly. the floorboards in the house might as well vibrated at his staccato.

peggy: omg steeb my bb

steve: he cares so much about his girls

steve: peggy, rey, nat, wanda

peggy peggy's hands came up to her mouth at rey's admission, looking over at steve in shock. oh, no. she knew her steve; and she knew the guilt would hit him /hard/ after this. "i-i'll get some ice," she whispered immediately and jumped up, jogging to the kitchen to get some ice to cool rey down.

rey for some reason, she assumed steve had known about her injuries. but how could he possibly? they hadn't spoken in weeks. "i-i'm sorry, i thought you knew..." she admitted honestly, nodding in appreciation as peggy went to get her ice. then she moved her hair out of the way so steve could see the stitched up gash near her temple, with sweat-soaked bandages covering it.

rey: im emo

steve way to go, steve. he felt absolutely terrible for everything at this point. all previous guilt he had was superimposed at her admission. "o-oh, god, rey. i'm so sorry." his gaze fell to his hands, which he quickly retracted from her forearms and placed in his lap. once peggy returned with the ice, he gave peggy his best attempt at a smile.

peggy peggy knelt in front of them yet again as she finished wrapping the bag of ice in a paper towel, giving a small, hesitant smile back to steve. "back of your neck, darling," she said to rey, handing it over carefully. any friend of steve's was a friend of hers. she was choosing to look past their differences, as they obviously wanted to as well.

rey rey shook her head. "i-it's okay, i should've told you..." she whispered, feeling bad that she'd, accidentally, of course, kept him in the dark about it all. it was why she couldn't stand up when he told her to, why she couldn't leave when all she wanted to do was run away. but maybe it helped them reconcile in the end. "thank you..." she whispered to peggy and placed the pack on the back of her neck, leaning back against the couch pillow with a slow exhale.

peggy: LAST PAGE

peggy: ITS SO LIT

steve steve instantly sat up from his spot once peggy administered the ice. she didn't need to be on the floor anyways. "i don't blame you." after the whole coffee table mess, who would want to speak to him? he acted like a complete and utter fool in their apartment and in the park. "i'm sorry."

steve: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

peggy "no, no, no," peggy mouthed reassuringly, shaking her head and helping him to sit again. "you sit, i'm okay." obviously rey wanted, or needed, his support right now, and she was sure he needed hers as well. they had just come back together, after all.

rey rey opened her eyes and looked sorrowfully over at steve, shaking her head gently. "don't apologize, it's my fault too... i-i didn't mean anything i said either, i just wanted your attention again..." she admitted. speaking of... she looked down at peggy sadly. "i-i'm sorry i was so jealous... it led me to do things that i wouldn't usually do. bad things, and it wrecked my relationship with the best friend i've ever had. so i'm sorry..."

steve steve responded to peggy's refusal with a tight lipped nod. "you didn't wreck anything." he murmured with sad eyes. "i shouldn't have got angry when you told me what you did. i acted the same way when you were with derek."

peggy: omg wtf when did u get here

peggy peggy smiled kindly and nodded to rey, gently patting her knee. "it's alright... everything's all better now," she reassured her with a light, soothing tone. obviously she and steve were very close, and it made her sad to think that they'd spent so much time apart because of peggy herself.

rey right... derek. that was a whole other ordeal that she still had to sort through. her eyes closed slowly as she let out a heavy sigh, readjusting the ice pack on the back of her neck. "i don't know what's going on with us now..." she admitted quietly, peeking up at steve again. "i want to be married to him... /so/ badly, but... but he's still not ready yet. and it's been /two months/... we've known each other for three of them... he doesn't understand that i haven't had a real connection with anyone for fifteen years... i don't want to waste anymore time in my life..."

[thevelonaut]

Homefront.

This is absolutely classics country. Fortunately, any semblance of romance gives way, quickly, to pain and frustration. On the way South East, I’d known in my heart of hearts that a tailwind (and occasionally swipey cross-wind) was helping me out. I knew that I’d be turning back into it, and that however gentle it felt as we wandered the streets of Brux, it would be multiplied significantly as I crept back across the ridgey-flats of the North West. The reason that the early-season classics are a hotch-potch of gurn, of hellish faces and awful weather, is much the same as the reason why this was a crap place for a crap war; once the sun goes in (and to some extent when it’s out), the endless flat lands, farm smells, headwinds, sideways drizzle and cobbled tracks become as steadfast an obstacle as the Pyrenean cols, the switchbacks of d’Huez, the ramps of the mighty Lecht. I’d prefer some hardy cols to this. It’s the kind of place suited for those broad-shouldered monsters of the old days, who could puncheur into wind like a force of nature. I can, for a bit. For a little bit.

The fifth day / Brussels → Ieper

Ypres, the French call it. Some five days (and 100 years) after the Battle of Paschendaele, I roll into Ypres through the Menenpoort. I say roll, I think it was the least uphill-feeling part of the day. I’d hung out with HC, her brother and sister-in-law in Brussels for two days. I’d had a cheeky swim to spin my legs, I’d noted a twinge in my groin which I imagine is due to over-cranking a gear for 200k, loaded with luggage, and not ever stretching it en route. I curse it. It needs rest, two days probably won’t cut it, and the Cambium isn’t so comfy after a four or five hour day. Maybe leather is better. I think so. I’ll flog it.

Anyway, I was up and out at 8am; the paths and back streets of Brussels are fairly easy to navigate, and the sun was out to remind me to head in a NWerly direction. I ended up on the ring-road and saw no way to head further north without a) riding on a motorway or b) turning back and trying again from about 3 miles back. With a 90-mile day ahead, I decided to head for Aalst, due west of Brussels, then turn to the north-west after about 30km. It wasn’t the worst idea. The pastoral, calm canalside riding that had seen me down seemed to desert me; instead, I was often on paths alongside the murder roads of NW Belgium, caning it up decentish-tracks and pavements, lamenting the canopied, wind-free joyfest of days two and three. This is another of my problems - I never set out a good return trip. Or, perhaps, I am so addled by the sense of return that I fail to enjoy what is nice about it. Or, the wind is a hell-ferret that never stopped in its attempts to break me. Eventually I stopped at a Spar and sprayed my face with Appletiser, and at 2.30pm when the sun hot-spongs for a spell, I applied suncream and ate a baguette and houmous on a housing estate by a dual carriageway. If it sounds exciting, then it is. I picked up a little of that TCR spirit. Fuck the views.. they all look like this anyway. 

They do. Seriously. I did about 90k of this. There were marginally more leaves on the trees, but most of them were blowing into my face. Still, it is pancake flat, ironing board, smooth as Christ riding. Let’s not mince words. Easy-hard. Or hard-easy.

I get to Oudenaarde, then Wevelgem, and hit the final 20k to Ypres where I know there is a campings. Those last km are sign-posted all to hell with Commonwealth War Graves. Evocative names, famous craters, hills, memorials, regiments; atop the ridgeline, white crosses, monoliths and megaliths, the bright stalagmites that point to where most peoples innards ended up; scattered into the pressing wind, lovely human beings fractioned into micro-particles, cast into a land ever-fertile for the growing of war-dead cabbages and sprouts. They say each breath you take will contain at least an oxygen molecule that Julius Caesar himself would have inhaled. (They don’t say that in the song. They should.) Along the Menen road, you are sucking in the literal and figurative remains of almost a whole generation of human beings.

I don’t like it. I’d seen Ypres was en route to Dunkirk, from where I spring home, and figured that it made sense to pass through. If I did a long-day-short-day two-day ride then I could stay here. I crept in through the gate; the sun is now out glorious, and the town is a magnificent sight. HC navigates me (she’s in London, having taken a bus to the station in Brussels, a train to London, and a bus home in the time it has taken me to yam some houmous in a lay-by) to the campsite; it’s a nice one, if you ignore the Canadian grave-baggers in the mobile homes, the people wearing T-shirts that name regiments and feature photographs of eternally-young great-great-uncles. I put up camp, wash, and stroll to Lidl to bag the last baguette, 3-flavour houmous (oh MY ACTUAL GOD THIS IS AMAZING) and a tin of mackerel. Whilst I demolish this on Ypres square, I note a bunch of people dressed in their going-out clothes walking purposely through town. I’d forgotten that they play The Last Post every night at the Gate, and ambled along covered in beetroot and parsnip dip to pay my respects.

Except I didn’t really know how to. Or why I should? TO what, exactly, am I paying respect? And where are the Germans? Why is the Poort covered with only the Allied dead? And it’s nice that we honour the Indian regiments, when they were forced to dig so many trenches and graves, and be treated like shit for the privilege. Plus, I recently read that an explicit promise to release India from the Commonwealth in return for military support was never honoured. So, really, the whole thing leaves a strange taste in the mouth. Not just the race, the nationalism, the anti-nationalism, the visible lack of outreach; the spectacle itself feels like a fetish. There cannot be a person here who actually knew the dead of Ypres; too much time has gone by. And it is important that we honour this stupidity in order that we may not see its like again. But the crowds, the iPhones, the inane chat when it’s finished. I wasn’t in the mood. Is it the case that a ride across the Maginot Line is the perfect pace to consider the distance and futility of a war that became a mass-grave, formed into a perfect borderline? The Last Post had been, on some unconscious level, playing in my head for hours. It’s the soundtrack of a dark, sad place. So, so sad.

I woke at 6.30am the next day and hotfooted it out of town.

The sixth day / Ieper → Dunkirk → Dover → London Bridge → My bed.

The roads from Ypres to the border were quiet, uneventful, still windy. I got lost two or three times. I’d cycle later this month with my friend Ed, who uses Strava and Garmin and magic; the ease of navigation with devices astounds me. It picks out exactly where you are, and tells you exactly where to go. I almost give in to the temptation to update my by-now 4 year-old Blackberry to something worth a shit, that could do such things. Handlebar mounts for phones don’t do it for me, though. I use every square millimetre of space on a handlebar for, well, my hands. So... not yet. The phone still works. I got lost. Added six miles onto a 40-mile day. Nae bother.

I reached Oost-Capel after a spell of anonymity. I craved a coffee, hoped this French border town would have someplace to sit. It did not.. Belgian towns are decidedly absent of cafes, I know not why. It’s one of those subtle differences; you feel as if you are in France, but it’s the upside-down version. Instead of a nice cafe, there are about ten border guards sleepily waving down cars, mirror-checking the chassis, asking where people are off to. It’s an unsettling sight, but they wave me right by. (The guards at the port would later give me the same bored wave-through. I’m not carrying weapons of mass destruction (400k of fixed touring has savaged my groin and patella, mind you) but it’s both curious and somewhat alarming that a bike can get through to the ferry easily.)

There’s a nice small walled city called Bergues, where I stop for a brew. I dip the remains of last night’s baguette into it, soaking up about half that black glorious. I love soaking bread in coffee, but even though I still get the coffee, I feel like I’m denying myself something. Bergues is right pretty; I trace the little canal network to the North and take a cycle path alongside a canal to Dunkirk. It’s the nicest part of the day. I reach Dunkirk at about 12.30pm, and orbit the old town for an hour or so, then take the dock road up toward the ferry port. I load my bright pink musette with a lunch from Lidl, carry it over a motorway overpass, under a gyratory, behind a Travelodge, past some cranes, around ten roundabouts, over another autoroute, along a busy truck road, around a slag pile and just beneath some fire-spewing chimneys. The ferry port is not a pretty place. Pretty, in that industrial sense, which is to say not so pretty at all. I eat lunch in the weird cafe where no staff work, only machines; it’s a post-Marxist approach to the service industry. I wonder if the docking ferry in front of me is driven by a human being. I think about all those human beings who waited for a boat home in 1940 and all the ones that never got a chance to leave the cruddy fields of Flanders. I am covered in houmous, again, at a moment of silent contemplation. The world is a calm sea, choppy in the middle, and some white chalky downs that leap out of the channel at Dover. Everyone takes photographs of the sharp teeth of England’s mouth, opening up in a bucolic snarl to gobble up its visitors. Pretty soon, I am in torrential rain outside Dover station, throbbing legs, pack of peanuts, Spar lemon-lime and a newspaper to tell me what I missed.

Tour over. Legs recover. I pull out of London Bridge and spin crazy-legs to home. HC makes porridge. The sun goes down.

[restinlife]

Day was so good today and saw so many people

The fact’s I’m really sad since months and I’m feeling stuck between life and death.

No way to talk to a fucking therapist who’s only listen the sound of the proceed payment.

So impossible to realize in which moment everything has fucked up.

Stopped drinking my 3 red wine bottles a day and taking my so socializing coke who broke everything around me in less than a month.

Stopped these shit since July 2k18 but how the fuck am I supposed to escape the game now.

All I do is seeing myself wake up, drinking coffees, feeling bad without being able to drop a single fucking tear, being stressed for no reason, thinking about being left by everyone, meet people with the feeling of being at 10k miles from my own body and that’s all.

“Sleeping, repeat, bla-bla-bla” you know what is it and even forget everything from the past days, like if it has never existed.

Still reading ? Wow. Cause there’s even more.

You can not imagine how much I don’t know who I am anymore. I mean I know a fucking several versions of myself, and sometimes I got the feeling they are the ones that talk to each other when I have a conversation with myself, which happens every single day.

Sometimes I have the feeling of having friend who’re here for me but quickly remember they’re in my mind and they’re all personalities. I’m fuckin 22 years old and I got imaginary friends with who I’m even arguing sometimes.

How the fuck should I NOT thinking of asking somebody to poison me and leave the game without giving my siblings the feeling if having kill myself.

Ohhhh yeah, you’re gonna read the most funniest thing of all this shit.

I am actually an entrepreneur, with all the capabilities etc of being really rich af and I’m helping people growing their businesses. But I’m in fact too depressed to launch any fucking business by and for myself and everyone I coach know me as a MOTIVATED and so HAPPY guy. (Oh yeah I’m a man actually you can leave it’s ok)

BITCH who’s happy here I’m nutting 5 times a day just to get a single fucking emotion to feel and simulate all of my smiles as well as Nigerian actor.

And people talk, they talk, they write to me, they wanna news, they wanna go out, they wanna help, and I’m always the dumbass who have to pick one of his multiple personalities so I can be the right person for this person or talk this way to someone who talk this way etc.....

I DON’T WISH TO DIE, BUT I WISH I’VE NEVER MET LIFE

Now I’m stuck with myselfs and my 20 coffees a day and I don’t feel neither pain, hope, neither motivated to continue anything.

Don’t feel anything but stress and sadness.

Big one, like a crying river inside my lungs when I’m breathing.

One thing’s sure. It’ll be impossible to live this way and even if I don’t have the courage to kms yet, my body will kill itself from a stroke thanks to all the stress I’m stocking inside of it without letting any possibility to let not even one old bad feeling leaving it for good.

Yes, there’s more to say.

But I said what I needed to say.

Thank you if you read

[lesbianrewrites]

The Martian Chapter 1

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of The Martian by Andy Weir.

Chapters will be posted every day at 2pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

CHAPTER I

LOG ENTRY: SOL 6

I’m pretty much fucked.

That’s my considered opinion.

Fucked.

Six days in to what should be a greatest two months of my life, and it’s turned in to a nightmare.

I don’t even know who’ll read this. I guess someone will find it eventually. Maybe a hundred years from now.

For the record… I didn’t die on Sol 6. Certainly the rest of the crew thought I did, and I can’t blame them. Maybe there’ll be a day of national mourning for me, and my Wikipedia page will say “Maia Watney is the only human being to have died on Mars.”

And it’ll be right, probably. Cause I’ll surely die here. Just not on Sol 6 when everyone thinks I did.

Let’s see… where do I begin?

The Ares program. Mankind reaching out to Mars to send people to another planet for the very first time and expand the horizons of humanity blah, blah, blah. The Ares 1 crew did their thing and came back heroes. They got the parades and fame and love of the world.

Ares 2 did the same thing, in a different location on Mars. They got a firm handshake and a hot cup of coffee when they got home.

Ares 3. Well. That was my mission. Well, not mine per se. Commander Lewis was in charge. I was just one of her crew. Actually, I was the very lowest ranked member of the crew. I would only be “in command” of the mission if I were the only remaining person.

What do you know? I’m in command.

I wonder if this log will be recovered before the rest of the crew die of old age? I presume they got back to Earth all right. Well, guys, if you’re reading this: It wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to do. In your position I would have done the same thing. I don’t blame you, and I’m glad you survived.

I guess I should explain how Mars missions work, for any layman who may be reading this. We got to earth orbit the normal way, through an ordinary ship to Hermes. All the Ares missions use Hermes to get to and from Mars. It’s really big and cost a lot so NASA only built one.

Once we got to Hermes, four additional unmanned missions brought us fuel and supplies while we prepared for our trip. Once everything was a go, we set out for Mars. But not very fast. Gone are the days of heavy chemical fuel burns and trans-Mars injection orbits.

Hermes is powered by ion engines. They throw Argon out the back of the ship really fast to get a tiny amount of acceleration. The thing is, it doesn't take much reactant mass, so a little Argon (and a nuclear reactor to power things) let us accelerate constantly the whole way there. You'd be amazed at how fast you can get going with a tiny acceleration over a long time.

I could regale you with tales of how we had great fun on the trip, but I won’t. We did have fun, but I don’t feel like reliving it right now. Suffice it to say we got to Mars 124 days later without strangling each other.

From there, we took the MDV (Mars Descent Vehicle) to the surface. The MDV is basically a big can with some light thrusters and parachutes attached. Its sole purpose is to get six humans from Mars orbit to the surface without killing any of them

And now we come to the real trick of Mars exploration: Having all our shit there in advance

A total of 14 unmanned missions deposited everything we would need for surface operations. They tried their best to land all the supply vessels in the same general area, and did a reasonably good job. Supplies aren’t nearly so fragile as humans and can hit the ground really hard. But they tended to bounce around a lot.

Naturally, they didn’t send us to Mars until they’d confirmed all the supplies had made it to the surface and their containers weren’t breached. Start to finish, including supply missions, a Mars mission takes about 3 years. In fact, there were Ares 3 supplies en route to Mars while the Ares 2 crew were on their way home.

The most important piece of the advance supplies, of course, was the MAV. The “Mars Ascent Vehicle.” That was how we would get back to Hermes after surface operations were complete. The MAV was softlanded (as opposed to the balloon bounce-fest the other supplies had). Of course, it was in constant communication with Houston, and if there were any problems with it, we would pass by Mars and go back to Earth without ever landing.

The MAV is pretty cool. Turns out, through a neat set of chemical reactions with the Martian atmosphere, for every kilogram of hydrogen you bring to Mars, you can make 13 kilograms of fuel. It’s a slow process, though. It takes 24 months to fill the tank. That’s why they sent it long before we got here.

You can imagine how disappointed I was when I discovered the MAV was gone

It was a ridiculous sequence of events that led to me almost dying. Then an even more ridiculous sequence that led to me surviving.

The mission is designed to handle sandstorm gusts up to 150 km/hr. So Houston got understandably nervous when we got whacked with 175 km/hr winds. We all got in our suits and huddled in the middle of the Hab, just in case it lost pressure. But the Hab wasn’t the problem.

The MAV is a spaceship. It has a lot of delicate parts. It can put up with storms to a certain extent but it can’t just get sandblasted forever. After an hour and a half of sustained wind, NASA gave the order to abort. Nobody wanted to stop a month-long mission after only six days but if the MAV took any more punishment we’d all get stranded down here.

We had to go out in the storm to get from the Hab to the MAV. That was going to be risky, but what choice did we have?

Everyone made it but me.

Our main communications dish, which relayed signals from the Hab to Hermes, acted like a parachute, getting torn from its foundation and carried with the torrent. Along the way, it crashed through the reception antenna array. Then one of those long thin antennae slammed into me end first. It tore through my suit like a bullet through butter and I felt the worst pain of my life as it ripped open my side. I vaguely remember suddenly having the wind knocked out of me (pulled out of me, really) and my ears popping painfully as the pressure of my suit escaped.

The last thing I remember was seeing Johanssen hopelessly reaching out toward me.

I awoke to the oxygen alarm in my suit. A steady, obnoxious beeping that eventually roused me from a deep and profound desire to just fucking die.

The storm had abated; I was face down, almost totally buried in sand. As I groggily came to, I wondered why I wasn’t more dead.

The antenna had enough force to punch through the suit and my side, but then it got stopped by my pelvis. So there was only one hole in the suit (and a hole in me, of course).

I had been knocked back quite a ways and rolled down a steep hill. Somehow I landed face down, which forced the antenna to a strongly oblique angle that put a lot of torque on the hole in the suit. It made a weak seal.

Then, the copious blood from my wound trickled down toward the hole. As the blood reached the site of the breach, the water in it quickly evaporated from the airflow and low pressure, leaving only a gunky residue behind. More blood came in behind it and was also reduced to gunk. Eventually, the blood sealed the gaps around the hole and reduced the leak to something the suit could counteract

The suit did its job admirably. Seeing the drop in pressure, it constantly flooded itself with air from my nitrogen tank to equalize. Once the leak became manageable, it only had to trickle new air in slowly the relieve the air lost.

After a while, the CO2 (carbon dioxide) absorbers in the suit were expended. That’s really the limiting factor to life support. Not the amount of oxygen you bring with you, but the amount of CO2 you can remove. In the Hab, we had the Oxygenator, a large piece of equipment that could break CO2 apart and give the oxygen back. But the spacesuits had to be portable, so they used a simple chemical absorption process with expendable filters. I’d been asleep long enough that my filters were useless.

The suit saw this problem and moved in to an emergency mode the engineers call “bloodletting”. Having no way to separate out the CO2, the suit deliberately vented air to the Martian atmosphere, then back-filled with nitrogen. Between the breach and the bloodletting, it quickly ran out of nitrogen. All it had left was my oxygen tank.

So it did the only thing it could to keep me alive. It started backfilling with pure oxygen. I now risked dying from oxygen toxicity, as the excessively high amount of oxygen threatened to burn up my nervous system, lungs, and eyes. An ironic death for someone with a leaky space suit: too much oxygen

Every step of the way would have had beeping alarms, alerts, and warnings. But it was the high-oxygen warning that woke me.

The sheer volume of training for a space mission is astounding. I spent a week back on Earth practicing emergency space suit drills. I knew what to do.

The sheer volume of training for a space mission is astounding. I spent a week back on Earth practicing emergency space suit drills. I knew what to do.

Carefully reaching to the side of my helmet, I got the breach kit. It’s nothing more than a funnel with a valve at the small end, and an unbelievably sticky resin on the wide end. The idea is you have the valve open and stick the wide end over a hole. The air can escape through the valve, so it doesn’t interfere with the resin making a good seal. Then you close the valve and you’ve sealed the breach.

The tricky part was getting the antenna out of the way. I pulled it out as fast as I could, wincing as the sudden pressure drop dizzied me and made the wound in my side scream in agony.

I got the breach kit over the hole and sealed it. It held. The suit backfilled the missing air with yet more oxygen. Checking my arm readouts, I saw the suit was now at 85% oxygen. For reference, Earth’s atmosphere is about 21%. I’d be ok, so long as I didn’t spend too much time like that.

I stumbled up the hill back toward the Hab. As I crested the rise, I saw something that made me very happy and something that made me very sad: The Hab was in-tact (yay!) and the MAV was gone (boo!).

Right that moment I knew I was screwed. But I didn’t want to just die out on the surface. I limped back to the Hab and fumbled my way in to an airlock. As soon as it equalized, I threw off my helmet.

Entering the Hab, I doffed the suit and got my first good look at the injury. It would need stitches. Fortunately, all of us had been trained in basic medical procedures, and the Hab had excellent medical supplies. A quick shot of local anesthetic, irrigate the wound, 9 stitches and I was done. I’d be taking antibiotics for a couple of weeks, but other than that I’d be fine.

I knew it was hopeless, but I tried firing up the communication array. No signal, of course. The primary satellite dish had broken off, remember? And it took the reception antennae with it. The Hab had secondary and tertiary communication systems, but they were both just for talking to the MAV, which would use its much more powerful systems to relay to Hermes. Thing is, that only works if the MAV is still around.

I had no way to talk to Hermes. In time, I could locate the dish out on the surface, but it would take weeks for me to rig up any repairs, and that would be too late. In an abort, Hermes would leave orbit within 24 hours. The orbital dynamics made the trip safer and shorter the earlier you left, so why wait for no reason just to make the trip take longer?

Checking out my suit, I saw the antenna had plowed through my biomonitor computer. When on an EVA, all the crew’s suits are networked so we can see each others status. The rest of the crew would have seen the pressure in my suit drop to nearly 0, followed immediately by my biosigns going flat. Add to that I was sent tumbling down a hill with a spear through me in the middle of a sandstorm… yeah. They thought I was dead. How could they not?

They may have even had a brief discussion about recovering my body, but regulations were clear. In the event a crewman died on Mars, they stayed on Mars. Leaving their body behind reduced weight for the MAV on the trip back. That meant more disposable fuel and a larger margin of error for the return thrust. No point in giving that up for sentimentality.

So that’s the situation. I’m stranded on Mars. I have no way to communicate with Hermes or Earth. Everyone thinks I’m dead. I’m in a Hab designed to last 31 days.

If the Oxygenator breaks down, I’ll suffocate. If the Water Reclaimer breaks down, I’ll die of thirst. If the Hab breaches, I’ll just kind of explode. If none of those things happen, I’ll eventually run out of food and starve to death.

So yeah. I’m fucked.

[mikeyd1986]

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 111, July 2018

On Monday morning, Mum and I paid a visit to our old neighbourhood of Ashwood as it was the start of the July school holidays. But first we dropped into The Pancake Parlour (Malvern East) for brunch. We both decided to order the hot cakes winter special with fresh strawberries for $10.90 each. It was absolutely amazing and honestly looked too good to eat.

Next we walked down the main street of Ashburton with its array of cafes, florists, massage salons, newsagent, bakers and butchers. It’s become an area exclusive to the rich and well off with residents walking their dogs and driving expensive cars through the back roads. Lastly we checked out our old house and street. We used to live close to Jordanville during most of the 1990’s in a single-story commission home, my childhood home. It features cream coloured walls rendered with cement, a brown tiled roof and a glass-fronted porch.

Some of the houses in the area have been demolished and some modern townhouses and apartments have been erected in their place. It’s lovely to see that half of the run-down looking commission houses have been preserved and left alone along with features like front fences, plants and hedges. It brings back a lot of nostalgic memories of regular walks and bike rides along the street that I used to live in over 20 years ago. I also remember some of our old neighbours like Gwen and her German Shepherd named Twiggy who we used to visit from time to time.

Lately we had a drive past my past primary school and high school. There has been many additions and renovations made to both Parkhill primary school and Ashwood High School (formerly Ashwood College) but parts of them are still the same like the ovals and wetlands plus the reception and office buildings. I attended both of these schools back in the mid-late 1990’s and generally had some fond memories there. I loved hanging out by the pine trees which divides the schools right down the middle, sliding down the grassy hills and playing on the play equipment.

On Monday night, I went to a Yin-style Yoga class at Level Up Yoga in Berwick. It was taught my a young lass named Emma Ahearn who just started teaching at the studio a couple of weeks ago. I firmly believe that you’re only as old as you feel and whilst Emma does seem young and inexperienced, I could tell that she’s wise beyond her years. This was my first class with her and I’ve already learned some new things about what a Yin class is all about. It’s a case of the young teaching the old, and at 32, I don’t even feel that old. https://www.aaronpetty.com/

Emma guided us through some supported variations of classic yoga poses including Bound Angle Pose (Baddha Konasana), Bridge Pose, Child’s Pose and Fish Pose using one or two bolsters. She made several references to water and its connection to the breath. The inhalation and the exhalation can be seen as similar to the tide coming in and out. Plus water is a very cleansing substance to wash away negative emotions, fears, anxieties and doubts from the body. https://www.ekhartyoga.com/articles/the-benefits-of-yin-yoga

On Tuesday morning, I went down to YMCA Casey RACE to do some cardio exercise in the gym. I didn’t end up getting there until around 11:30am as I was struggling to get motivated and I did a few household chores beforehand. I decided to split it between two machines: the treadmill and the upright bike. I didn’t find the bike all that challenging to begin with as the resistance level was quite low but when it creeped up to level 10 and 11, I could definitely feel the difference as it was getting harder and harder to keep pedaling. After half an hour on the bike, my legs felt like jelly.

Here are my results for each workout:                                                                    1) UPRIGHT BIKE. Total Calories = 212 cal. Distance = 9.57 Km. Duration = 30 minutes. Average Speed = 19.16 Kph. Pace = 3.07 minutes / Km.

2) TREADMILL. Total Calories = 224 cal. Distance = 2.26 Km. Duration = 29 minutes. Average Speed = 4.55 Kph. Pace = 13.10 minutes / Km.

On Tuesday night, I attended my YardSTRONG (Strongman, Weight Lifting) session at The Yard Strength & Fitness in Pakenham. Tonight I was joined by Jeanette Spiteri who I used to bump into last year down at UFT PLAYgrounds in Berwick during my PT sessions with Luke. Whilst I’ve consciously cut the cord with most of the members at UFT, I certainly don’t hold any grudges or hard feelings. That’s not the way I roll. My decision to leave UFT before the end of last year was very much a personal one.

We started the session by doing some Yoga Sun Salutations to WARM-UP with (Forward Fold, Plank, Cobra, Diver’s Pose, Extended Child’s Pose). Next I was doing some Pilates movements to work into the quads, glutes and hips including Side Hip Raise, Glute Bridges with Leg Lift and Side Leg Lifts. Next I did some Walking Lunges with dumbbell weights, lifting them up on a diagonal and slicing across the body into the side hips. https://www.livestrong.com/article/424147-benefits-of-dumbbell-lunges/

For the DEVELOPMENT part, I had to do some Strongman carries with a variety of deadball weights ranging from 6kg to 40kg. It was pretty challenging especially trying to support myself, place it up on my shoulder and keep my form. By the heaviest weight, I literally felt like I was a pregnant lady! Lifting the deadballs onto the wooden box was also pretty tough because it required the correct squating technique to place it up there. https://www.ironedge.com.au/blog/heavy-dead-ball-training/

For tonight’s WOD dubbed “The Dixonator”, I had to do as many rounds as possible of the following exercises: 15kg Keg Carry, 10 Tire Flips, 5 Medball Cleans, 15 Deadlifts @ 35kg, 20 Sandbag Lunges and 25 Weighted Sit-Ups (5kg plate). Easily the hardest part of this workout for me was the lunges as the fatigue sets in very quickly and I find it hard keeping my head up the whole time. However, I was smashing the keg carries, tire flips, cleans and sit-ups. Felt really good to finish 3 rounds in under 20 minutes given how intense this WOD is. Thank goodness for Mandi and Jeanette for their encouragement plus cranking some hits from Christina Aguilera.

On Friday morning, Mum and I dropped into Toll Group to apply for a job there in Dandenong South. I didn’t feel like I was ready or prepared enough for this and with my poor quality of sleep and lack of energy, this really didn’t help matter. But still I made the effort to at least print a resume out and hand it in to the reception girls. What I wasn’t expecting was a phone call about 2-3 hours later from Toll giving me an interview opportunity.

It’s a lot to process for me right now as I’m not exactly in the most ideal headspace. I should be excited about the news but instead I’m dreading it. My brain flooded with so many “What if?” questions: What if I can’t make this work? What if I have to give up my other commitments like going to the gym, counselling, going out to local gigs, lunch, coffee etc? Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. I just hate the uncertainty so much.

So I’ve locked in a time for next Monday morning to have this interview at Toll but before that I’ve gotta get an online induction and police check completed. I just hope that I’m cut out for both of these. One step at a time as always. https://www.tollgroup.com/about/working-toll

I was also feeling physically exhausted and emotionally flat today. Beating myself up for not going to my Body Combat class this morning, I was getting myself upset about being stuck at 93kg and wishing that I could somehow feel good about body, overweight or not. I’ve been reaching out for the comfort foods again and I’m feeling really guilty about that, knowing that I’m consuming excess calories and not doing anything to burn them off. Hopefully things turn around for me next week but right now I feel like shit.

“Cause it makes me that much stronger. Makes me work a little bit harder. It makes me that much wiser. So thanks for making me a fighter. Made me learn a little bit faster. Made my skin a little bit thicker. Makes me that much smarter. So thanks for making me a fighter.” Christina Aguilera - Fighter (2002)

“I am beautiful. No matter what they say. Words can't bring me down. I am beautiful. In every single way. Yes words can't bring me down. Oh no. So don't you bring me down today.” Christina Aguilera - Beautiful (2002)

“Life is a journey. It can take you anywhere you choose to go. As long as you’re learning. You’ll find all you’ll ever need to know. Be strong. Break it. Hold on. You’ll make it.” Christina Aguilera - The Voice Within (2002)

[jomjjeoro]

darkling tag (kms)

i was tagged by: no one im just rlly bored so im doing a bunch of tags rn lol i tag: if u wanna do it feel free to say i tagged u !!

☥ Questions: 1. What is your favorite candle scent? ok tbh idk if they still make it but “kitchen spice” from yankee candle smells fuckin fire bruh  2.Do you have a favorite book? my friend’s novel if i’m being honest lol,,,,  3.Are you a tea or coffee person? i enjoy both!!! but, i guess i’m more of a coffee person bc,,, duh  4.What is your favorite brand and color of lipstick? im a guy lol i dont wear lipstick,,,, if i do its usually just a TINY bit of red drugstore lipstick on the “crease” of my lips to give them that bitten look (i only wear this for like. an event or something),,, and if i had to wear black lipstick (which. i rlly dont like wearing lipstick so no) i’d just use eyeliner so,,,, ya  5.What is your favorite perfume/cologne? deodorant??? lol 6.Do you have a celebrity crush? all of bts lol next question  7.If you had to give up the color black, what color would you choose instead? can i say grey ??? lol  8.If you could change your name to a stereotypical 90s/2000s gothy name, what would it be? i wouldnt ,,,, lol 9.What are your top three tips for surviving hot weather while black clad? tip one: just dont go out in the daytime. ever. like going out at night will keep you cool and also it doesnt fucking suck like daytime does,,, those r all of my tips  10.What song will always make you happy (doesn’t have to be a goth band)? idk sometimes its different,,,,, ig rn ill say “i was all over her” by salvia plath,,, it doesnt make me feel happy so much as it makes me feel content and comfortable which is better than happiness in my opinion  11.Are you active in the arts (ex. Play an instrument, paint, write, etc)? ye,,,, i play bass and i draw despite the fact that i suck at both  12.If you had a teacup or mug made inscribed just for you, what would you have it say? idfk dude next question  13.What is your number one non-gothy hobby? im. this question is,,,, what the fuck is a “gothy hobby” in the first place??? idk dude i dont have any hobbies so  14.If you could be a supernatural creature, what would it be & why? i’d be a ghost probably,,,, idk if i can say why for sure it just. seems like me idk  15.What horror monster-based super power would you have? this is a good question,,,hm.,,,, honestly  have no idea??? there r too many cool ones  16.Do you feel confident or comfortable interacting with other Goths or gothy people (online or IRL)? Why or why not? HELL NO lol,,,, first of all,,,, i dont like interacting with anyone,,, second of all,,, everyone is so elitist,, the fact that there was a question that said “what is your number one non-gothy hobby” should show u,,,, idk,,, 17. Which is more important for a look: Great hair or great makeup? great hair tbh,,,, like makeup is cool but if u dont do shit with ur hair its like ????? 18.Is there something you wish there was more of in your subculture? i wish there were more casual goth outfits i could wear,,, everything i find for men is either for emo ppl or for romantic/victorian goths and im??? thats not the type of goth i am dude,,,  19.Care to share an embarrassing story related to your “darkliness“? me doing this tag is an embarrassing story  20.How are you at DIY? pretty decent tbh  Quickly describe your ideal wedding. ew Confessional (aka True or False): I love watching cheesy romance films. false I ALWAYS remember to wash off my makeup at night. false,,, ill always do it if i have the energy to bc i dont wanna break out but,,, i dont always have the energy u feel  I sleep with plushies. true ( i need more tbh) I wear non-black pajamas most nights. true,,, idk i usually just wear a hoodie and some sweatpants to bed so  I still listen to a boy band that had disbanded years ago. TRUE!!!!!! true,,,, i love the jonas brothers dude,,,, I think Andrew Eldritch is overrated. in a way, true??? like i dont think he has a good personality like at all so in that sense i think he is hella overrated but. as far as the music itself goes idt he’s overrated if we’re looking at it that way,,, idk i guess ill say true  I don’t like vampires. true I don’t like clubs. it really depends on how im feeling but 90% of the time id answer true to this  I’m dating a goth/darkly-inclined person. ,,,,,, idk???? false ig  I don’t enjoy graveyards. false  Blood makes me queasy.  it really depends on the context but 99.9% of the time its fine so. false  I’d sooner faint than pet a spider. TR U E I don’t like haunted houses. which kind of haunted house??? if its the halloween attraction kind then i’d answer true bc fuck that lol  I still browse Hot Topic’s clearance racks. false  I’ve never read Dracula. true,,, i dont read ever lol  I think “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” is a long & boring song. FALSE ??? WTF??? i fucking love that song dude smh