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iphoenixrising · 4 years ago

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The Demon You Know

Day 1 Urban Fantasy AU | Magical/Supernatural Creatures | Time Travel

So, something a little off the grid for my first day of DickTim Week 2021. Special thanks to my wonderful babe @vellaphoria for the beta and the incredible peeps on the Capes and Coffee discord (looking at you @themandylion, @strawberryjei and others). Also need to show my undying love for @chippon because babe, we are making it work.

When the sun creeps up over the sky in Gotham, then it’s time to GTFO. Capes in the daytime aren’t the usual for the city, and Red Robin has been playing it too late, staying out far past O’s warning to bring it in for the night. So, really, he’s only got himself to blame.

His penthouse perch has seen more use in the last few months since, welp, Gotham and the fact he likes to get away from the team mentality sometimes, like to return to his roots and run the rooftops like when he was still that Robin. His trips to the Manor had become more frequent since B was back in the cowl and things in the family seemed to be returning to some semblance of normal.

Well, as normal as it could get, really.

But all that goodwill and positivity is literally ghost. Red’s hands are shaky and his inner calm is absolutely blown. He’s ducking into his perch to throw his suit off, grab his duffle bag full of sundries and fake idents, then he’s going to hit the airport as fast as he can get a flight the hell out of town, away from the terrifying sight.

(He should just call Bart or Kon or Cassie, tell them he needs an out faster than he can arrange it himself, he needs to get away from–)

He knows he fucked up when the slight sounds, small and metallic in nature, make it past his pulse thumping in his ears.

Like a horror flick, he slowly turns as the front door gives a groan and is pushed open by a very familiar palm.

Dick’s blue eyes fall on him like a ton of bricks, on Red Robin’s feet frozen to the floor, his suit only half on, and no way he can get far enough to throw himself out a window.

Fuck.

“So,” Dick keeps his voice soft, footsteps easy as he steps inside Tim’s penthouse and closes the door behind him, “you finally found me out.”

Keeping his mouth shut in times like this has really saved his ass before, so Red doesn’t say a word, keeps every muscle in his body ready to spring for the right second –

Watching the would-be robber struggle in Dick’s grip, watching the light show brighten overwhelmingly, seeing what had to be-had to be feeding.

“I figured it would be you if anyone, actually, so I’m not really surprised, just… disappointed.” Dick continues softly, only in jeans and a t-shirt since Nightwing was oddly missing from the patrol roster last night.

And Red is apparently the only one that knows why.

“But that doesn’t mean I can just let you go, Timmy,” Dick isn’t stopping, his whole body lax while Red is wound tight, backing away from the man he thought he knew. “I really wish you hadn’t found out like this. I...I had other plans.”

Whirlybirds and pellets aren’t going to help him here. Hand-to-hand and martial arts, aerial acrobatics, none of it is going to make a difference.

His throat goes dry when Dick’s eyes get more and more blue, when his former mentor doesn’t stop advancing, and Red Robin is running out of room to back away.

“I tried to save you, Timmy. I tried so hard to get you away, out of Gotham, even if you went because you thought you had to find Bruce, I’m the one that gave you the compulsion to leave.” The low laugh is edged with something desperate, “why the hell couldn’t you stay away?”

“This is my city, just as much as Batman’s. You taking my fucking cape wasn’t enough,” Red Robin bites out, back thumping against the kitchen counter, realizing Dick had backed him into the corner. “How did you keep it from him? Constantine, Zatanna, all the magic users he has on speed dial and he never figured you out? No one in the JLA or Titans did?”

That makes Dick pause.

“He never had to. He knew what my parents were before they ever died, Timmy. Haley’s Circus came to Gotham regularly. Bruce always knew.”

The information blast hits him painfully, that Bruce didn’t bother to tell him and look at where they are now.

“And he didn’t try to help you?” Red, Tim, gapes at the still silhouette that used to be someone he thought he knew like he knew himself. Someone that’s always had this secret. “He didn’t try to –”

“Cure me?” Dick’s mouth lifts in a semblance of a smile Tim knows. “There is no cure for this, Timmy. It’s what I am. What my parents both were, the curse of the Romain Bababiljos. It’s unfortunate for me both of them were cursed, that just makes the...the hunger two-fold.”

And it’s just a few more steps, a raised hand that makes Tim flinch back, but only a fingertip taps the edge of the domino, makes the whiteouts raise.

Automatically, with everything he’s learned, studied, experienced about supernatural creatures, he ducks his head so he isn’t looking directly into those eyes. That doesn’t stop Dick from bracketing Tim in, both hands on the counter, their bodies a breath apart.

Dick laughs softly, close enough for Tim to feel the breath on his face. “The Titans...I never had to tell them. By then, I could control myself, at least mostly. The JLA? I’m one of the Batman’s proteges. I’ve been fighting crime since I was eight. They believe in me. There was never a reason for any of them to look too deeply past the surface.”

“Wh-what do you mean mostly?” Tim’s heart slams in his chest, “how many people have you killed, Dick?”

“Do you have any idea how awful the hunger is?” And the lower Dick’s voice goes, the harder Tim’s heart starts to pound. “Surviving on hugs and family affection is tantamount to starvation for someone like me. It’s so easy to kill someone during sex because the hunger is so much I can’t control it sometimes. Anyone I’m with is in danger. That’s why I couldn’t stay with Babs, she’s too human. The one time I came close–”

Dick breathes again and all Tim looks at is the span of throat, thinking of the soft, vulnerable parts, anything he can use to get the fuck away.

“–but I didn’t. I have...willpower sometimes. I drained her so close, though. She was-was so fragile, Timmy, and I was so hungry. I’d been starving for so damn long. She was hospitalized for longer than she’d been when the Joker shot her, and I said never again. But Wally and Kory were...different. I could go further with him without killing them, I could get more full than I’d been in a long time. It was still dangerous for them, but I was so far gone by the time...”

“They’re both still alive. Babs is still alive. Does she–?”

“Remember? Of course not. None of them do. I made sure of that, Tim, so none of them would be afraid of me.” And the air changes when Dick gets closer, his eyes get brighter, and Tim almost chokes with the almost touch to his body under his suit. “But, you are going to be different, aren’t you? I’m not going to be able to convince your mind that what you saw was a dream.”

“So what? You’re going to make me “disappear”? You’ll give Bruce some sob story about how I got tired of the vigilante life and left for college or some shit? Going to bury me where no one will ever find me?” He isn’t looking at Dick’s face, can’t see his own end coming, can’t believe he’d put all his faith and belief in this man only to have it all come to this.

Tim laughs wetly, blinking rapidly, and everything suddenly comes together. “He won’t ever come looking for me anyway. You made sure of that when you made Damian your Robin. Nice plan, Dick. No one is going to give a shit if I’m never seen again anyway.”

And it’s stupid not to at least try, not to duck and kick out, trip up whatever Dick really is, to break a window and fucking run, try to get Bruce, Clark, Kon and Bart and Cassie, to get anyone to listen to him about what Dick really is, to try to save himself.

(If you’d never figured out Dick was Robin, if you never put yourself in front of him, you’d be safe now. Miserable but safe.)

Even if it’s his own brain pan spitting this out, he knows it’s bullshit.

If he’d never approached Dick Grayson with proof Batman was losing his mind, Tim Drake wouldn’t have reached twenty-one. The way his life was going, he would have probably hung himself long before getting to this stage in his life. If he’d never had Bruce or Alfred or Dick or Steph, if he’d never had Robin, never had Young Justice or The Titans, if he’d never had the Clench, never felt the rumble under his feet as Gotham had fallen, if he’d never had the agony of losing everyone in his life, if he’d never had the drive to prove his adopted father was alive…

The civilian Tim Drake wouldn’t have had the strength to make it through life alive.

So if this is the way he goes out, if Dick is the one that ends it for him–

There’re worse ways to go.

He’s not going to be the Joker’s next victim or Ra’s al Ghul’s heir with a mix of Lazarus Pit crazy. The HIVE, the Light, the mass of aliens he’s fought, any number of Rogue Gallery thugs, none of them will be the ones to take him out.

But this?

His career as Robin started out with Dick Grayson, so maybe...maybe it’s fitting this is the way it all ends.

He sucks in a breath and finally tilts his head up, looks up into those electric blue eyes, and lets his breath out so so slow.

Because Dick is looking at him with watery eyes, with a grimace, with something Tim can actually recognize.

But those eyes light up in his penthouse perch, take on a supernatural glow, Dick snatching his wrists in bigger hands, pulling Tim closer, the heat getting through layers of Kevlar and Nomex. And just like that, he can’t pull away, can’t pull back.

There’s no way to defend himself when Dick pulls him in, when he expects to get his throat ripped out, his neck snapped, something important crushed, for the darkness to take over and his heart to slow down to a sad, weak pitter patter.

He can’t defend himself when Dick kisses him, opens his mouth, and stuns him into going completely slack.

“I told you,” Dick growls softly when he pulls back, bends enough to get Tim laid out over his shoulder, “I had other plans.”

But Tim can’t reply, can’t do anything other than lay across Dick’s back as the Romani love deamon strides down the hallway and kicks open the bedroom door.

And if Tim Drake survives until morning, shocking the hell out of the both of them, staring up at Dick’s surprised face and glowing blue eyes, if the soft touch to his jaw contrasts sharply with the bruises and red marks blossoming all over his body from an intense night with his supernatural mentor and best friend, if Dick doesn’t whisper, “finally, finally, my mate,” before kissing him.

If the power Dick drains from him doesn’t kill him, doesn’t do more than give him the most amazing span of unending multiple orgasms to ever happen, if Dick isn’t fully satisfied for the first time in his life. If Dick doesn’t call them both off patrol for the next three nights, carts Tim back to his apartment, refuses him clothes and computers and tech, tells the Titans they’re taking a break from crime fighting while Tim is tied and gagged in his bed, sated enough to listen hazily with half-mast eyes.

If Dick doesn’t hand feed him while he’s getting feeling back in his legs (finally) and give him the full run-down about his parents. If the strange mark on his abdomen doesn’t get warm whenever Dick’s hand is on it, fingers tracing the edges, making those blue, blue eyes dilate in possessiveness. If Tim doesn’t eventually escape with his sanity intact and a little terrified how much his body craves only to have Dick chase after him with single-minded purposes to convince him they’re meant to be.

Then only the man with cameras all over Gotham, waiting and watching with bated breath and fear for his Robins, unmitigated relief when his theory proves true, would be able to give all the details.

#dicktimweek2021 #winter writes #dicktim #back on my shit #dick grayson #tim drake #my ficlet #my writing

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danetobelieve · 5 years ago

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Don’t Overlook The Little Things || Rio and Winston

When: the evening of 03/07/2020 Who: @3starsquinn & @danetobelieve Where: Various Summary: Winston and Rio give Ricky the house for the night. Warnings: N/A

Winston had been on a few shitty dates before. None of them memorable enough to be anything more then a speed bump in the rocky road to love. Despite that however, they were convinced that they were going to do everything that they could to make this good for Orion. After the week that they had had, plus the fact that Ricky had asked for the house that evening, well Winston was going to do what they could to keep them busy. They had it all planned down to a tee. Their old car sucked, apart from the fact that it was abnormally large. Too large to be good for driving, or even really too large to be useful. But for once this would be a good thing, so as Winston double checked everything, they turned to find Rio leaving their house. They were a bit early, but Winston was ready. Had been ready for the last hour and had been frantically checking everything over. “You ready?” they waved and quickly made their way over to him. He was healing amazingly, maybe that was his physiology but Winston was glad. They hated to see him in pain and the cuts and bruises were an uncomfortable reminder of what Orion had been through. “I’ve got everything we need for a fun night of avoiding hearing our favourite roommate have …” they looked around mockingly, “S … E … X.” Each letter was spelled as if this were taboo. Teasing Ricky was Winston’s favourite passtime, especially when he wasn’t there. “I’m kidding of course, we’re gonna have fun. I promise.”

Despite what had happened that week, or maybe because of it, there was absolutely nothing Orion would rather do tonight. Rio and Winston had not had a change to hang out alone since the kiss. Even Winston’s time in the hospital was mostly populated by a revolving door of guests coming to visit. And now… well was hanging out even the right word anymore? Or was this more of a date now? Rio wished that he was more up to date with terminology than he was. But part of taking it slow meant exactly that, not rushing into any serious labelling or expectation. This could be just like any other time that the two hung out before that party. More hand holding wouldn’t be bad though. Rio’s body still felt sore, mostly around his chest and stomach, but getting thrown into a tree would do that to a person. The swelling in his cheek had gone down at least, and his black eye had even started to fade. A tiny bit at least. As long as Winston wasn’t suggesting the two go out hiking or kickboxing tonight, Rio should be fine. “I am beyond excited! To hang out with you of course and mostly to avoid hearing Ricky’s night. My ears are way too sensitive for that.” He grinned at Winston, skipping a few steps ahead of them and resting his arm on the passenger side car door, “So, have you already picked out where we’re going? You seem pretty confident right now. Like you already have a plan in place.” Whatever that was, Rio was excited for it. It didn’t matter what it was, as long as he was with them.

Fiddling with their glasses, Winston shrugged and smiled gently. “I do have a plan for tonight, I would think that the fact that i’ve pre-packed the car but not told you anything about it would let you know that. But for this to work, you’ve got to tell me what your favourite drive thru food place to go is, doesn’t matter what it is and you can’t think about it. Just tell me what you want to eat and we’ll stop by on the way.” Winston knew that they had snacks -- they had a cool box full of literally any sort of drink that Rio could want and another full of every snack that they could think of and a few more that they had blackmailed Ricky into baking for them -- but if this was a date then they needed dinner too and since Ricky was going to potentially be busy for a while, Winston wanted to make sure that they had lots to do. “I hope that my humble plans are going to be up to the excitement and anticipation that you’re falsely experiencing. In fact, just whatever you think we’re gonna do, tone it down by one hundred.” Winston grinned. “Because it’ll probably suck, low low low expectations.” ‘

“That’s a lot of pressure on me” Orion whined, but did as instructed. No thinking. And definitely no overthinking, as Rio so often did. Just say something. “I could really go for like a ridiculously large burger right now. And fries.” He nodded. Pretty basic as far as food options go. And certainly something that Rio should be tired of by now, but he was the one that had just been traumatized by trolls in the woods. And Winston seemed eager to go with whatever Rio wanted. “I’m very intrigued by what you have in mind by the way.” Rio climbed into the car and settled in, eyeing all the different things in the back and studying them curiously, head tilting as his mind tried coming up with ideas, “This is all very suspicious.” Rio stated, glancing back over at Winston who seemed to be purposely trying to keep any emotion off of their face to avoid spoiling it. “I have way more faith in you than you seem to,” Rio flicked Winston’s arm and settled back into the passenger seat, “But regardless, I’ve never done anything like this before. So there aren’t any expectations anyways We could be driving to an empty field to just sit in your car and it would be pretty freaking awesome.” What could possibly be bad about spending time with Winston? “Do I get a hint? Or am I stuck completely in the dark? I already know the answer of course you’re keeping me in the dark. Because you love torturing me.” But Winston was really cute with that annoying grin on their face. Maybe Rio should tell him that. Ariana said that Rio should talk about it more. And despite how awkward it sounded… wasn’t this exactly what the two had spent five hours in a Ferris Wheel talking about? “In a cute way I mean. You torture me cutely. Or you’re cute and torture me. Or something flirty.” Did Rio just say flirty? Oh god.

“Al’s it is,” Winston said as a cold familiar sense of sadness at the thought of that place washed over them. Winston pushed it away. They hadn’t even really known Celeste, only by association to Ariana. She wouldn’t want that from them. “I’m definitely going to get a shake too.” Winston slipped their keys into the ignition and turned them. The engine rolled over once, then twice before roaring into life. Winston thanked whatever gods they didn’t believe in and smiled. “With this car, you can never be too sure that you’re going to actually get it started,” Winston smiled gently with fondness at the nostalgia that the car that they and their siblings had all learned to drive in, passing it from one to the other until Winston inherited it eventually. “I know that you’ll like it.” Winston had seen Rio say that they would love to do it once before, a while ago, online and it had stuck in their mind. “Okay, I am not going to make you sit in my car in a field that would be very lame,” Winston pulled out onto the main road and began the drive over to Al’s, mouth already watering a little at the thought of milkshakes. “Okay, okay, let me try and think of an appropriately cryptic clue. This is something that is kinda cliche, you can only do it at night and it’s basically a horror trope at this point, or a coming of age teenager movie trope, something like that.”

Orion was happy with Al’s. Since it was open all the time, Rio found himself stopping there on multiple occasions to grab food after a Scribe building purge. Aside from that one time that Winston’s mime clone had fireballed Rio through the window, he mostly had positive experiences with the place. Of course, he had heard about Celeste, even if he had never met her in person. She sounded like a good person. A hunter that Rio would have gotten along with. He just wished that things had not turned out the way that they had. It wasn’t fair, what had happened to her or what was taken from Ariana. “This car is fiiiiine” Rio dragged the word out as he tried to convince himself that the car really was in good shape. “The good news is, I know a great mechanic. Alain can fix anything.” So Winston was confident that Rio was going to like the surprise. “It would not be lame. Nothing with you is lame.” Rio was completely confident that they two would have a lot of fun hanging out in an empty field, but he was excited to see what Winston actually had in store for them. The hint left Rio scoffing, “A horror movie trope? That’s romantic.” Rio joked, lightly rubbing at the pain in his side that erupted anytime he laughed or breathed too heavily. “Are you taking me to a summer camp? Some old haunted mansion? The catacombs? That’s horror movie material for sure. You know one of the first horror films ever made was about a haunted mansion? It was this French silent film called Le Manoir du diable. It translates to The House of the Devil, but was released in the US as The Haunted Castle. The whole thing was like two and half minutes long. So uh- pretty short.” Winston pulled into Al’s so the two could get their food and head towards… wherever they were going. Rio settled on a double cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate milkshake. A classic. As they left the parking lot, all Rio could smell was the food. “I’m so excited to eat. I haven’t had an appetite for a few days now and uh- hunter’s need more energy than normal.”

“Alain has tried to fix this car, but it’s not really worth the money it would cost to fix it and I’m not looking for a new car right now.” Winston could’ve bought a new one with the money Lydia gave them, Deirdre had even offered to buy them one but Winston wasn’t ready for it yet. Soon they were sure that they would have no choice when Winston’s piece of shit broke down. “I think it would be pretty boring, no offence, but there’s a limit to what you can do in an open field, not when there’s other things we could be doing, but you know if the field sounds more appealing then I can change our plans.” Winston smiled gently, they had never tried to be romantic before and this was a new stroke for them. “Well, you’ll have to let me know.” Winston paused for a second and laughed. “No, none of the above. Although, I didn’t know that the french were the people to coin the original horror movie, somehow the country to invent mimes being the country to release the first horror movie seems oddly fitting. Was The House of the Devil the home to mimes by any chance?” Winston smirked gently as they approached, Winston all but copied Rio’s order before pulling off towards Overlook.

Orion nodded, happy that Winston was content with the car. “Well I love this thing.” He agreed, patting the dashboard affectionately. Winston joked with Rio, threatening to change the plans and drive them both to an empty field. “Don’t you dare. I want to do whatever you had planned. Don’t make me beg. I have no shame.” Rio crossed his arms to feign pouting. Thankfully, they weren’t going to any of those places. Which Rio would totally have pretended to enjoy if he had to. “No mimes involved, I don’t think. Just the devil. So not nearly as terrifying as this town, honestly.” Rio shrugged, unsurprised that White Crest took the award for most terrifying. Winston was driving them out of town. His mind started racing with ideas. Were they leaving White Crest altogether? Rio tapped a finger against his chin as he tried to think. The hint finally made sense about a mile from the drive in. The classic trope, a small town tradition and one of Rio’s favorite places in town. “Holy crap!” Rio perked up, swatting at Winston’s arm excitedly and bouncing in his seat, “How’d you know how much I love this place? Why are you so incredible?” Rio asked Winston curiously, finally breaking down and digging into their bag to pull out a single fry. “I- thank you. I’ve never actually been here… in a car… with someone.”

“Someone has to I guess,” Winston couldn’t help but smile. Rio gave them a warm feeling in their stomach, one that they were honestly unfamiliar with. They’d had friends before but they weren’t sure if they had ever actually felt like this about someone else. “Don’t worry, we were never going to go and sit in a field, even I am not that boring.” Winston grinned as they watched Rio’s reactions. They weren’t ever sure that they had seen him look this ecstatic for something in a while. “I have my ways, but yeah, first proper completely real and legitimate date tonight, I thought that it was probably worth making sure that it was cute and stuff, because … I know things are kind of shitty for everyone right now and I know that you and me are new at this, but, you really really matter and this is my way of showing you.” Winston took a long drink from their milkshake as they showed their tickets and pulled into their spot. “So; we’ve got dinner,” Winston twisted over, unbuckling their seatbelt and popping the lids off of the coolers; “snacks and beverages of your favourite variety. I don’t actually know what they’re showing tonight, I decided I deserved a tiny surprise.”

Orion couldn’t believe that this was the place that Winston had chosen, of all places. It had been sort of a safe haven for Rio growing up. Before he went back to the Scribe building and had nowhere to go, Rio would often come here to pass the time when he didn’t want to go home. And when he didn’t have the extra money to get in, he would hang out in the forest outside of the Overlook, listening to the movie instead of watching it. But as amazing at this was, the most exciting thing about the night by far was the fact that Winston had just used the word date. This totally was a date. That was real. “This is incredible. Really. You literally could not have picked a better place.” He didn’t care that bouncing up and down hurt his ribs, he was too excited to give in to the pain right now. “Wait have you never been here before?” Rio turned, excited that he got to be here for their first experience with it, if so. “I used to walk here, hang out by the concession stand and watch some of the movies or- sometimes I’d just listen to the movies from farther away.” They were mostly happy memories, despite how sad they may have sounded. “Friday’s are uh- romance. Ironically.” Rio laughed nervously. Rio couldn’t understand why it made him so nervous to think about the word romance. Especially after how excited he got when Winston said date. Maybe because romance sounded more serious. “But I don’t know what movies will be playing.” He readjusted to try to get more comfortable, taking a big gulp from the milkshake and grabbing their food from the takeout bag and handing Winston’s off to them. “Actually, before the movie gets started. There was something I wanted to ask you about?”

Raising an eyebrow slightly, Winston shook their head. “My siblings love this place, this was where they would all take their various boyfriends, girlfriends and partners when they were living at home and dating people, but I never really did that and never really had anyone else to go with. If we were gonna watch a movie with Nell or someone I watched it at theirs, but this is better.” Winston reached over and took Rio’s hand in their own now that they didn’t have to use them both to drive. Their fingers slipping easily into the gaps in Orion’s hand. This was going way better then they’d thought it would already and Winston hoped nothing went wrong. “I just wanted to make sure that this was really special, cause, you matter.” Raising an eyebrow again, a smile creeped across Winston’s mouth and they couldn’t help but laugh. “Fridays are for Rio, Saturdays are for the boys or something like that?” They didn’t mind. Romance movies was something that they could stomach and if it was with Rio then it would definitely be worth it. Taking their burger off of Rio, Winston smiled and nodded. “Okay, sure, no problem at all. What’s up?” they ate a handful of fries waiting for Rio’s question.

“I used to come alone,” Orion admitted, slightly embarrassed by the fact. “I know Drive-in’s aren’t exactly like a… come by yourself sorta place. So it was a little weird. But it was something to do at least.” He wondered for a moment how life would be different if he had started making friends before graduation? What if Rio and Blanche had found a way to talk during high school? They had shared enough classes. What if Winston and Rio had met? Would things be any different than they are now? Rio didn’t think it was worth the risk. For everything that seemed to be going on around them, he wasn’t willing to trade his friendships for anything else. Those ‘what if’s’ didn’t really matter when Winston reached over to slip their hand into Rio’s. It had quickly become one of Rio’s favorite things to do, hold Winston’s hand. Without thinking, Rio’s thumb began caressing the spot where it met their hand. Who knew something as simple as this could feel so intimate? “I really don’t think you could have picked a better spot, seriously. This place is really special to me. And so are you, so it just sort of… works. Y’know? And I really, really like that analogy.” Romance was for Rio? Yeah, he really liked the sound of that. The question that Winston was now waiting for had been weighing on Rio’s mind for a while. It seemed almost moot. Rio and Winston were already doing the work. But it felt like something Rio wanted to make official, “So you’ve been helping me a lot. With the Scribe records. I was thinking… What if we tried to make it official? Like… you and me. Scribes. Trying to use all that crap to help people.” Rio didn’t know what he was saying, mostly. He didn’t know how to try to send a professional or make it seem like it was a legitimate thing. Because honestly it wasn’t. “Not that I can offer you anything. Or like make it official, since the Scribes don’t technically exist. But if we can get the place up and functioning again… we may be able to help others.”

“Rio, at least you were hanging out at Overlook. I used to hang out at quarters alone and I have a few of the high scores but not enough to really cover the amount of time and money that I spent there alone, but my point is that you can do things on your own, even if its a little weird. As long as you enjoy it that is what matters.” Winston gave Rio a warm smile. Squeezing his hand gently as they used their free hand to fish out a handful of fries and stuff them into their mouth. Winston chewed on the warm fries (amazed they hadn’t cooled on the drive over) and swallowed a mouthful of warm potato in silence. Damn this shit was good. Al’s always had been. “Can … can you do that?” Winston asked slightly confused. They would love to do that. They would love to work with Rio and restart the scribes but they were not sure that the scribes could just be restarted but if Rio thought they could then Winston would definitely follow his lead. “Ultimately, if the scribes are … well they’re not around, then I guess we can do whatever we want.” Winston chewed their food for a second more before nodding. “I’d love, love, love to do that, really I would. We can actually help people and we can use all of this knowledge and research….” Winston paused for a second, “I have a few people who might be able to help us too and we could start to bring people back into the fold, we’ve done so much work on the Scribrary anyway that we might as well get other people in there too…” Winston smiled. “Yeah, I’d, really really like that. I’m in.”

Could Orion do that? “Almost certainly not” He laughed, taking a big bite from his burger and waiting to finish chewing before talking again. “But nobody has come back there. Not a Scribe at least. That place is ours, as far as I’m concerned.” Rio had been dwelling on this for a while. He had always written off the idea. He couldn’t do something like that. Not alone. But now, maybe they actually had a chance. “I think so too. Once we get things functioning again… and once we figure out how to help we may need more help.” Rio had a couple of ideas himself on who could potentially be brought in. Maybe the two could actually help. And Rio wanted things to be different than how it used to be, back in the day. “Also, full disclosure? I hate computer science.” Rio giggled, so happy that Winston had come into his life. In all contexts. “The only reason I double majored in it was so I could learn how to digitize this place. And then you showed up that night and…” Rio trailed off, thinking about how much things in Rio’s life had changed since then. “That was probably one of the best nights of my life, y’know? And you changed everything for me. And I can’t thank you enough for helping with the scribe stuff and taking me in and being my friend and… well this” Rio raised their entangled hands to emphasize exactly what he was talking about. Rio knew it was romance night, but he had sunk himself into some super sappy territory. Was all that talk too serious for them? They were trying to take things slowly, after all. To force himself into shutting up, he inhaled a dozen fries.

“Oh good, I’m glad that we’re sure about your authority on this,” Winston replied dryly before bursting out laughing, “sorry, this is just surreal. We’re sat in my car, on a date, discussing my potential acceptance into a secret order of academics that doesn’t exist but left behind a secret magic library that we’re digitising because they were boomers.” Winston grinned ruefully. “Damn, I’d have laughed too if you’d told me that this was how it was going to go a few months ago.” Winston smirked a little and nodded. “Sure, we can totally do that, I might not be able to put as much time in as before though, I never really announced it but I kind of got a new job at the station. I’m not actually an intern anymore, I’m officially a Cyber Forensics Technician for the WCPD. Well. THE Cyber Forensics Technician. There’s only me.” Winston shrugged and nodded as Rio spoke. “I’ll do the computer science part, now that I can sort of use magic on it I’m just getting faster then I was before, I actually managed to remotely access a computer with it the other day. If I can really work it out digitising the rest of the library shouldn’t take ten years. Maybe like eight, five if we’re really lucky.” Winston smiled contentedly at Rio’s raised hand and their own. “That night was … the luckiest of my life, you know the night before that I’d woken up in an abandoned mansion out in the middle of nowhere with someone who claimed to be an aura reader, turned out I’d sleep walked and stole a bunch of leprechaun gold too. That night was much less fun then waking up to you.”

Orion attempted a stern look at Winston, but was still laughing “Ha ha. Very funny! I basically came into ownership of the place. Sorta. Kinda. Unofficially. But there’s no one to tell me I don’t have the authority either so…” Orion shrugged, letting the sentence finish itself. “Yeah it’s uh… pretty wild stuff, right? But you definitely found a way to make it sound even more insane so good job there.” Rio gave a small, celebratory clap for them as if actually congratulating them for something. “Oh no worries I don’t exp-” Rio paused, realizing what Winston had just said. A giant grin widened across Rio’s face and began bouncing up and down again. “Oh my god! You did? That’s so exciting! Holy crap!” Rio’s ribs really hate him right about now, but they could shove it. This was way more important than that. “That’s incredible. And sounds like a lot of work. And obviously I don’t expect you to devote all your time to it. I can’t pay you or anything so it’s more of a hobby than anything else.” Despite the new job and how busy Winston must have been, they were still planning on taking time to help Rio with this stupid passionate project. Could they get anymore incredible? Probably. “You- I’m sorry what?” Rio laughed again, processing all of Winston’s story about the sleep walking. “I can’t believe I’ve never heard that story before. An Aura Reader? Were they being legit? If so.. That’s super cool.” But it was so heartwarming to hear that Rio wasn’t the only one that found that night so special. Even if it was more or less a complete disaster. “I… was a complete wreck. That entire night. You were so cool when we met at Skylar’s… and without her as a buffer I barely knew how to even talk to you. And then building was still a pitch black nightmare too. It was… well I appreciate all you’ve done. For that place and me.”

“We spend so much time in that place and I always forget that you didn’t find it while sleep walking. It’s really amazing if you think about it, how many people are in the situation that we are and are able to find magic library that has the answers to most of our questions about the supernatural?” Winston smirked to themselves for a moment before grinning. “Yeah, I did, I didn’t really want to make a big deal about the new job with everything going on, it didn’t feel that important. But this has been, well this is the first step of really living out what my dream as a kid was and honestly now that I’ve started I’m not going to stop or anything, but I think I could probably do more good helping you as well, that way I can help normal people who don’t know about everything that is going on and I can help us with all of the bullshit that White Crest throws our way.” Winston frowned gently and shrugged. “I don’t know if they were bullshitting me or not, but they knew I was a spellcaster back when I barely knew what being one of those was and was incredibly far from competent at it, so I think there must at least be some truth there.” Raising an eyebrow, Winston laughed. “Honestly, don’t thank me too much, I didn’t enjoy reading all of those dusty books by torchlight.” Winston was obviously joking, but the way Rio put it made them sound like they had done it because they were a saint. It hadn’t been that. Rio had just made them want to help, they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Yeah, me too sometimes. But I know. It’s just luck that I know about it, honestly.” Honestly, Orion didn’t think about his uncle much anymore. Way less than he used to. He hadn’t seen the man in so long so that it was getting harder and harder to remember a lot of things about it. Rio wasn’t sure if he’d ever even see the man again, but he has the Scribe building at least. Those memories were safe. “It is absolutely important and a big deal! I’m so proud of you! That’s incredible.” Winston was getting everything they deserved. Rio squeezed Winston’s hand a bit tighter and finished off his shake. Rio wished he had saved it for the movie, but he had always had a bad habit of eating and drinking way too quickly. “I’m going to continue shamelessly thanking you nonstop. You can’t stop me. Plus, I can’t believe you didn’t like that super dark mood lighting?” He broke the grasp for a minute to reach behind into the back and grab a soda from the cooler. Once he popped the top open and took a long drink, he reunited his hand with theirs. “I guarantee whatever movie plays is super old and bad, fair warning. But totally worth it.”

“Well, however we want to call it, luck, fate or even divine intervention, it doesn’t really matter because it got me to meet you and I wouldn’t have had it any otherway.” Winston flashed Rio a bright smile before shrugging. “I know, but when I brought someone back from the dead, stopped the world from ending because it was eaten by a giant squid and also have been working 24/7 since mid-march, well the promotion just didn’t really feel like a priority. I haven’t told many people but the new jobs really good. It’s finally something I can help with.” The movie was starting in the background and Winston wasn’t really sure what the protocol for watching a movie on a date actually were. Was there an expectation to kiss? Did they talk all the way through it? Winston didn’t recognise the romcom that was playing in the background but it didn’t really matter when they were here with Rio. They were holding hands and for now that was enough for Winston, adjusting their position so they were more comfortable, Winston did their best to slip closer to Rio.

Orion didn’t believe in divine intervention, but he knew that Winston meant it as more of a joke anyways. The smile was proof enough, besides just being dreamy. Rio cursed himself for even thinking the word dreamy. “Okay well… you had a busy month. So that’s fair. But I want to be able to celebrate these little victories too. We spend so much time freaking out about the literal apocalypse I want to be able to enjoy the small things with people. Especially with you.” Rio couldn’t stop grinning. Everything Winston said just made him so happy, because he could tell how proud they were. Even if they were trying to remain casual about their accomplishments. “You deserved this and you’re going to do so much good now. On both sides.” Was Rio crazy, or had was Winston closer? The thought both excited and frightened him. But he wanted to be closer. Rio didn’t have any expectations for the night. For the first time, Rio was perfectly fine with not having everything planned ahead. He didn’t need to know what was going to happen. He just wanted to spend time with Winston. “I haven’t seen this one before,” Rio whispered. Overlook was known for playing the same movie multiple times, so it was a relief. Lots of first times tonight for Rio.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Winston replied with a smile. Everything in that moment was special. The feel of Rio’s fingers in between their own, the way they almost seemed to fit together like they had been made for one another, it was like they were the perfect size. Perfectly interlinking. Locking together firmly. Rio’s hand was warm against Winston’s skin and as the movie began rolling Winston couldn’t help but float there. Not literally of course. But it might as well have been. “Me neither,” Winston whispered in reply, turning their head, they gazed at Rio for a moment taking a long breath before leaning forward and kissing him. Honestly. Was it the right moment? Winston wasn’t sure. But they couldn’t help themselves. Rio was…. Something else entirely.

Orion was surprised by the kiss. Not so much that Winston had done it, but more by how it had felt. The two had already kissed before, one that had been fueled by alcohol and the general mood surrounding the party they had attended. It had been passionate and fiery. But this one felt different… better. There was deliberate care, a spark that Rio thought only existed in media portrayals of what a first kiss should feel like. It had been a light kiss, but its impact was far greater than that. And Rio couldn’t help but feel like he was some high schooler in a coming of age drama, experiencing a once in a lifetime feeling. Up to this point, Rio and Winston had talked things out and held hands. This was incredible. When the two broke away from the kiss, Rio exhaled a deep breath, not realizing how long he had been holding it in the first place. He paused for a long time, before finally smiling and breathing out words. “Damn.” His breath caught mid laugh, cutting himself short. But as soon as he could breathe again, he leaned back in for more.

This was really beyond Winston’s experience. Kissing people had always seemed like a bizarre fantasy that other people would probably achieve long before Winston would even get close to it. They weren’t a nun or anything but actually having success in a romantic context was somewhat beyond their comprehension. Swallowing, Winston kissed Rio again, and again. It set their stomach into a whirlwind of butterflies that spun up a cyclone in their stomach and yet Winston didn’t care. They forgot all about everything. About all the trouble that they’d been in and about all of the trouble they would probably find themselves in. For the first time in six months Winston was entirely occupied by one thing and one person and it was a luxury that they never considered they would experience again. “Damn.” They replied, when everything was over and they had pulled away from the kiss.

Orion lost track of time. He didn’t care how much time had passed. For all he knew, the movie could have ended and the place was an empty lot by now. All he cared about was Winston right now. Kissing them until one of them had to break to breathe. Rio didn’t know if he was doing it right or wrong, but he knew that Winston was absolutely doing it right. Once it was all over, Rio sat back against the seat, left hand still entangled with Winston’s. “I can’t believe I just said damn” was all Rio could really think to mention. As if that had any pertinence to what had just happened. Everything else just seemed too surreal. He couldn’t find the words to say to capture how he felt about how he felt about them. “Turns out I think I really like this movie? Good memories.” He was still breathing heavily, but his face was flushed and a grin surrounded his face that Rio wasn’t sure would ever go away. “It’s hot in here. I’m gonna grab another drink. And snacks. You want anything?” Rio asked before letting go of Winston’s hand to crawl into the back and secure food for round 2. If there was a round 2 tonight. Rio was in no rush.

The rest of the evening was cute. Winston couldn’t help but remember it fondly from that point onwards. They held hands, kissed, hugged or was cuddled the more appropriate word? Either way. They ate snacks, they laughed, they watched a bad romantic comedy. It couldn’t have been more perfect if Winston had planned it that way and as they drove back, Winston was almost sorry that the night was over. Not that they had to leave Rio’s side, of course that was a nice added bonus.

#don't overlook the little things #p: orion #para #wickedswriting #chatzy para #chatzy

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thegreenfairy13 · 5 years ago

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We Only Come Here To Sleep

A new Gobblepot fic cause I need to do something on the weekend.

Summary: Three infants have been murdered and their bodies have been found at various places in Gotham City. The public, as well as the mob, want to see a culprit for different reasons. After everything Jim Gordon has been through, one wouldn't think an ordinary case would take its toll on him. But it does.

Read the first chapter on Ao3 or here:

In the end, it wasn’t one of the Riddler’s elaborate schemes, or one of the Joker’s ludicrous plans. It wasn’t Bruce Wayne and his determination to become a vigilante, or even the Penguin and his golden empire of crime. In the end, it was a usual case, an ordinary crime that did James Gordon in.

Gotham City seems to know only two seasons. Through most of the year, there’s an icy wind sweeping through the city, biting into the grim faces of her inhabitants. Most of her days are dark, giving the impression of an endless night.

But then comes the summer. And for a few weeks, Gotham will be tinged with yellow. But it won’t be a bright summer showing off clear skies painting the city with gentle colors. No, it will be harsh and brutal - like everything in this godforsaken city.

The sun will be beating down, baking pavements and glass-facades until each breath in the overheated air will be painful, until each step will be a battle. And the light! It’s never a bright yellow, but a color reminiscent of piss. It suits this pain-filled place, though.

Jim Gordon curses under his breath as exists his car. When putting his feet on the ground, his soles practically fuse with the ground. A wave of hot air hits his chest, and Jim can instantly feel the sweat covering his chest, causing his shirt to cling uncomfortably to his upper-body. Reaching for his sunglasses, he gestures for Harvey to follow him.

The heavier man pulls a face when being ordered to leave the chilled cocoon of his car. Jim ignores him. Sighing heavily, he nods towards the other officers already crowding the scenery.

Despite the buzz, he feels alone. Out here, Gotham is at her worst. For miles and miles, there’s nothing to see but the grey of the concrete and colorless sand. It’s a place where people disappear in the filthy water never to return again. Jim is certain his colleagues will lay him to rest out here one day in the future - he wouldn’t blame them.

After taking a few more hesitant steps, Jim hears the sand crunching beneath his shoes. If he closed his eyes for a moment, he could easily pretend to be somewhere else. At a proper beach maybe, under a benevolent sky. Instead, he thinks how annoying it will be to get the sand out of his shoes.

“Where exactly are we?” Harvey asks with a slight growl, startling Jim.

Jim tilts his head. He contemplates giving his partner a snarky reply but thinks better of it. So instead of pointing out that he didn’t spend the car-ride blindfolded and handcuffed, he explains, “Common ground.”

Sucking in a shuddering breath, Harvey tilts his head. “That’s bad.”

Jim doesn’t reply, simply grits his teeth. ‘That’s bad’ doesn’t even start to cover how bad this could be.

One of the younger officers picks up on their conversation. Confusion written all over his face, he addresses Harvey. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Huffing out a humorless laugh, the experienced cop indulges the lad. “That’s the land between the turfs.” Pointing across the river, he elaborates, “That’s the Valeska turf.” He turns slightly to the right, “The Siren’s oasis.” Making a full turn, he points vaguely in the direction Jim is standing, “Tetch’s outdoor amusement park for the hopelessly lunatic, right beside the Scarecrow’s House of Horror.”

At last, he circles his partner fully. “The Narrows,” he says then, ignoring the slight pang of pain on Jim’s face deliberately. “None other than the Queen rules this shitty piece of the city.”

Taking a deep breath, he finishes his quick initiation to Gotham’s inofficial districts. “But they all pay their tribute to the Penguin.” Adjusting his sweat-sodden fedora, Bullock spits on the ground. “And this crap place? That’s no one’s ground. If a body is being dropped here , the rogues passed their judgment. Together.”

The young police-man gulps. He stares at Bullock and then back at the riverbank where the coroner is already busy taking samples. “So they…?”

Pushing the lad aside, Jim steps forward. “So if a body ends up here without permission here, that means the mob will interfere,” he states grimly.

Approaching the riverbank, the Commissioner finally takes a good look at the corpse before him. Despite all the horrors Jim had been through before, nothing could have been able to prepare him for the sight before him.

For a long moment, he merely stares, unmoving. He has seen corpses before, has been the cause of untimely deaths more times than he’d like to admit, but this is new.

No, in fact, it isn’t. Jim has been confronted with this kind of death before, has tried his very best to suppress that memory as best as he can, but given the context, this is new .

Looking up, he nods for the coroner to start elaborating. Never before has Jim missed the previous forensic, Edward Nygma, as much as this very second. For once, he wishes for someone to wrap up harsh truths in distracting riddles. Jim would give up his year’s salary and then some, if the forensic would give his mind an opportunity to wander off, to focus on something else than the task at hand.

What he gets, though, are simple facts. “Infant. Male. Probably not more than a couple of days old. Maybe not even that. Probably strangled. No severe trauma,” he rattles on, unfazed by the tiny body lying on the dirty ground. Maybe she hardens you to this point.

A baby. Just a little, innocent baby. Jim can hardly breathe as he stares down at what has been a living being, if only for a few hours. His skin is already peeling off due to the merciless heat, turning black and blue beneath Gotham’s sun. Jim wonders if it was rosy, once. He stares down, unable to look away, takes in the little knobs of fat on its upper arms and legs, and tries to suppress a sob.

Somebody should hold this little thing in their arms. It should still be alive, making happy noises, as one gently pinches those tiny rolls of fat. It should squeal with delight, and only cry if it’s hungry.

At last, Jim has to turn away. This is not right. Nobody should discard a child as if it was trash. Especially not here, at this godforsaken place.

His fingers itch to pick up the small body, to hold it, if only for a moment, the way it deserves. In another life, he would know exactly how to go about it. He and Lee would have awaited their child’s arrival with excitement. Would have picked out a crib, toys, rompers, and books, maybe. They would have laid in bed, Jim’s hand on Lee’s belly, waiting for their kid to move, knowing full-well it’s still shielded from this city, from her .

This reality never happened, though. Will probably never happen to Jim, for he doesn’t deserve such happiness, he knows that. But still. It’s unfair. This infant lies there on the ground, discarded like trash, and it’s everything someone like Jim has ever wished for.

He bends down, almost touches the tiny cheek before remembering he’s still a cop. Swallowing heavily, he disguises the motion by wiping the sweat from his forehead.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder. “You alright, partner?” Harvey asks quietly enough that nobody else hears them.

Jim’s chest constricts, he has trouble taking a breath, and still, his jaw is set tight. Nobody but Harvey would ever catch on, would note that anything was wrong. Jim is thankful for the warm hand, the solid weight on his shoulder. He’s grounding him in his pain, forcing him back to reality, when all he wants to do is float away and wallow in his grief.

“Of course I am,” he replies, a tad bit too quickly.

Harvey arches an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t reply. This is neither the place nor the time anyway.

“Won’t you finally pack up the evidence?” he snaps when the coroner gives them both a look that is too curious for Harvey’s taste. The coroner squints in disdain, but does what he’s told. After all, Bullock has a natural authority to him, he’s a character only Jim questioned successfully so far, and today, he’s glad for it.

They get back into their car, where it’s cold and sterile and death is but a memory at a riverbank. He blinks as he tries to wrap his head around what he just saw: an entire life, wasted in the sand. Neither of them talks as Harvey drives back to the city, back to the living.

Finally, Harvey glances over at Jim, now and then beating nervously the devil’s tattoo on the steering wheel. “That’s the third,” he whispers.

“I know,” Jim replies. He’s too exhausted to say anything else. Over the course of the last three weeks, they found three dead infants. All scattered around the city. The first two had been siblings according to their DNA-analysis. Jim wouldn’t be surprised if the third one is related to them, too.

“You want me to drop you off at the weasel’s place?” Harvey asks, and Jim flinches.

“What am I supposed to do there?”

The other man shrugs. “We found it on Common Ground.”

Jim hums in agreement. “Doesn’t look like a mob-job, though.”

Tilting his head, Harvey acknowledges the statement. “He could still know something,” he states petulantly and both men know he’s reaching for straws there.

“This case is getting to you,” he adds after a moment. Jim rolls his eyes but can’t find it in him to disagree. “You could at least get a free drink.”

The blonde snorts. “I think I’m outta favors.”

Harvey scratches his chin. “Still. Maybe one of his goons has seen something.” He clears his throat, looks over at Jim. “And it wouldn’t hurt for you to let off some steam. You always seem to be better off after pushing the Penguin around for a while.”

Jim sputters. “That’s not true!” he protests.

Holding up his hand, Harvey interrupts him. “It is. Go there. See what he knows, rough him up, arrest one or two thugs. You’ll feel better.”

Horrified, Jim stares at his partner’s face. “You make it sound like I’m harassing an innocent citizen for nothing. You’re still aware we’re talking about the Penguin?”

Harvey snorts in response. “That’s exactly why I’m suggesting.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Not accusing , just to be clear.”

Jim falls silent as he clenches his fists. He’s so damn tired, he doesn’t even want to put up a fight.

“He’ll find out anyway,” he demurs. “And he’ll want answers. You don’t simply drop off a body at the riverbank and expect Cobblepot to keep his hooked nose outta your business.”

“This is a police investigation,” Jim snaps back, unfazed, and Harvey’s jaw drops.

“Even after becoming the Commissioner, you still sound like a petulant rookie on some days.

Leaning back against the seat, Jim closes his eyes. Even before today, he had been exhausted to the point of not being able to sleep properly for weeks. This city just won’t let him.

And now there’s a body on Common Ground.

This city doesn’t seem to rest when it comes to her sinisterness. If Gotham doesn’t want to swallow her entire population whole, she now goes for her most vulnerable inhabitants. Jim wishes he could for once simply search for stolen paintings or chase a burglar. But no, there’s always something bigger, or something more diabolical lurking in the shadows.

Jim’s shoulders slump as he gives in. “Let’s do the paperwork first,” he suggests, cause he’s still the commissioner. “And then we’ll inform the Penguin like the good, little cops we are.”

#gobblepot #fanfiction #gobblepotsummer2020

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stansbooty · 5 years ago

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been on fire (dreaming of you) // reddie

"Richie always has to watch the brunette die in his arms, he always wakes up sobbing, feeling a confession on his lips that never makes it out."

ao3 link words: 6054

Richie Tozier is a frequent victim of nightmares. For as long as he could remember, he would wake up at least four times a week in a cold sweat, his breathing heavy and his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Sometimes he could remember what had happened, other times without any memories of what his dream-self had experienced.

He tells people that it’s been happening “as long as he can remember” because, if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t quite remember if he had had them as a kid. Everything before the age of around 16 was blurry, like he had lived all those years without his glasses. He knows he grew up in Maine, but sometimes the name of the town escapes him. He thinks it started with a ‘D’ but it’s been so long he isn’t sure. He could vaguely remember what his childhood house looked like. Two stories. Blue and white. Simple. He thinks the town had some sort of body of water he liked to swim in and a railroad track that ran through it.

He knows he had friends. This he is absolutely certain of. Sometimes, when he’s calm and relaxed, hazy memories of these friends will make their way into his brain. He can hear laughter and can see smiles. He can feel the warmth of love and admiration build up in his chest. He can’t ever seem to make out any faces, just the emotions that they felt.

However, there’s one friend that is clearest out of everyone. A boy. Shorter than himself. Brown hair. Richie thinks he was funny because the emotions associated with this friend are always laughter and joy. His stomach always clenches, and his heart drops when he thinks about the laughter, but he can never figure out why. Sometimes, he’d sit in his bed, head in his hands, just trying to remember more about him.

Richie believes that these friends are the reason he has nightmares.

Well, to be fair, it’s not all the nightmares. He still gets the occasional “Oh no, I’m getting eaten by a shark” or “Oh no, I showed up to class without pants on”, which he doesn’t understand because he’s been out of school for years now. But it makes him think he’s not all the way crazy.

No, the nightmares that he thinks these friends gave him are more terrifying than the usual, they’re the kind that resonate somewhere deep in your soul, in the very back part of your brain, they manipulate your dream reality so much that you don’t know if you could every get out. Richie sometimes thinks they’re memories, they’re so vivid. But there’s no way.

He’s had many of those kinds. Almost all of them involve his long-lost friends. Sometimes they’re running away from another group of kids, and he can feel the hatred rise up in his chest. Other times there’s a clown involved. The clown is never hazy, never blurry, always front and center and clear as day, with his cracking white face and fiery hair.

One of the reoccurring ones he has involved a giant statue of a man. He can’t quite make out who it is but it’s chasing him, swinging around some sort of tool as a weapon, and he’s running as fast as he can to get away from the statue but he’s regressed into a kid in this dream and he can’t get away.

Another is one that will leave him afraid for days after, sometimes weeks. He’s in a cavern of sorts, it’s grimy and dark. There’s someone to his side and despite not being able to see who it is, he thinks it’s the short brunette kid who makes him happy. But something’s different about them. He can feel it in himself and the other person. Their hearts are heavy, like they’ve been weighed down with so much trauma and fear that they’ve aged 30 years. His body feels old in a traditional sense, too. Much older than in any of the other nightmares he’s had.

The two of them walk down the cavern before he starts sprinting. Then it’s like he’s watching himself from above, like an out of body experience. He sees himself running, picking up a rock and throwing it. When he looks to see where it lands it’s on a hideous monster with the face of the clown but the body of something out of a horror novel. He watches as the monster comes towards him and seems to put him in a trance. He’s floating.

Then the short brunette runs and screams with such fury that Richie himself is startled, he throws something at the monster, knocking it back. Richie gets to watch as he and the brunette celebrate, smiling and laughing before it stabs him in the back.

Richie always has to watch the brunette die in his arms, he always wakes up sobbing, feeling a confession on his lips that never makes it out.

When Richie gets the call from Mike Hanlon from Derry, he can’t figure out if it’s a nightmare or not. From the moment he hangs up from the moment walks into the Chinese restaurant in his hometown, he’s suspicious of everything. It’s weird, because everything is hazy, but it also feels like it’s tumbling back. He can start making out the faces he can vaguely remember. He sees two people outside the restaurant and the names Ben and Bev fall out of his mouth before he can even realize.

He knows it’s not a nightmare when he walks to their table and he sees him. The short brunette that has caused him so much pain, so much joy, so much anguish and so much laughter, all from within his mind. Memories slap him in the face so hard it stings, and he feels like he’s going to vomit again.

“Eddie Kaspbrak.” He breathes out before he can stop himself. How could he ever have forgotten?

The boy from his memories – man now – smiles at him for a half a second before crossing his arms and pressing his lips into a straight line. Richie stares at him, scanning his face as all the emotions from his memories flood through him. He realizes a lot of the dreams he has are memories as well, as he can start placing the people around him in different scenarios he can now recall happening as a kid.

They sit around the table, joking around and catching up. There’s an empty seat, someone Richie can vaguely remember as Stan is missing, but the dynamic between him and the others still flows naturally. He finds himself constantly bringing Eddie’s attention to him as he realizes that the stomach clenches and the heart drops he always remembered were associated with the fact that he was – is – deeply attracted to him. It makes his chest clench uncomfortably, coming to terms with his feelings for him. The boy who he can now remember to be his best friend and first crush has grown up into a man that Richie can’t take his eyes off of.

Richie once again feels like he’s in a nightmare when Mike mentions the clown. Pennywise, he calls it. He now realizes his nightmares, too, were all memories. Chaos ensues for the next several minutes, finding out that Stan wasn’t going to be coming, their damn fortune cookies attacking, the icy cold fear that ran in his body as he tried to get out of the restaurant as quick as possible.

He looks over to Eddie and his throat feels as if it’s closing. The nightmares he had about the clown using him to get to Richie were all real. He doesn’t know if he can face it all again.

“I’m leaving, who’s with me?” Richie announces, quickly deciding that he would rather be as far away from Derry as possible. When Eddie raises his hand, Richie tries to push down the fluttering in his heart.

Back at the inn, he finds out Bev has nightmares too. He also takes one look at Ben and realizes that he also has been sucked back into his preteen crush and is nothing but soft looks and heart eyes. Mike and Bill meet up with them and he decides that maybe they can beat this. If they’re together, they might stand a chance. After all, they are 27 years older than last time.

Richie is reminded of the fear that he felt as a child when he comes face to face with the clown that has haunted him for years. Taunting him about his feelings. Sure, he’d known he wasn’t straight but he had never came out. Not when he was in the public eye like he was. But he’d never felt afraid about it, not like this. Not the deep terror he felt now that made him want to curl up into a ball and cry. Not when the clown was reminding him that he may lose his best friend who only just got back again.

He storms back into the inn, right passed Beverly and Ben and not giving a shit that he seemed to have interrupted something between them. He needed to get out of this shithole, and he needed to get out now.

He’s gathering his things when there’s a knock on his door.

“Fuck off, I’m leaving!” He yells.

The door opens anyways.

“Hey, buddy.” Ben says and he closes the door behind him.

“I’m leaving.” He repeats.

“You can’t.” Ben replies, as if there’s no other option.

“Oh, but I can.” Richie tries to push passed Ben but the other man doesn’t even have to try to get the force to push him back. “Fuck, not all of us work out for a living, be careful with the fragile ones, man.”

“You can’t go,” Ben tugs Richie’s bag off his shoulder and throws it across the room nonchalantly. “We need to finish this together.”

“Oh, Benny boy,” Richie gives him a fake smile. “You don’t even understand what I’m going through right now.”

“I think I understand more than you realize.”

Richie stands still in his tracks as Ben continues.

“You know I liked Beverly back during that summer. After, too.”

“Well you weren’t exactly fucking subtle.” Richie snorted.

Ben just smiled. “And it’s like…being back here, just reminded me why I did. And still do.”

“Once again, not fucking subtle.”

“You know, Pennywise used her against me. Pretended to be her. Pretended to love me.”

Richie lets out an uncomfortable noise. “Shit, man, that sucks.”

“He uses our fears against us. I was, still am, afraid that she’ll find out I love her and she won’t love me back, or she’ll still be into Bill.”

“I don’t see how the hell this has anything to do with me.”

“You love Eddie.”

Well, shit, Richie thinks. Ben wasn’t going to hold anything back. Shot that out, clear as anything, with no hesitation. He must’ve seen the look of shock on his face.

Ben smiled again, he always seemed to be smiling no matter the situation. Is always a beacon of happiness in otherwise dark times. “I could tell when we were young. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You have to stop letting Pennywise use that against you.”

“How can I just stop, Ben?” He spat out, feeling exposed. “This is different.”

“It’s love.”

“It’s gay love. Me loving him is different!” It felt strange, saying it out loud. Different, that’s the word he would most often use to describe himself. No one could understand anything he was going through because he was just so different.

“It’s still love.” Ben says softly. “And you know me, I’m a sap, and I think it’s great that you love him. So please, stay. If not for any of us, then for Eddie. We all are more likely to survive with you here.”

Ben left. Richie thought about it for a second, before remembering the song the clown had sang for him, and then he quickly fled from the inn, despite Ben’s words.

In a not so extraordinary turn of events, Richie finds himself in the Neibolt house, wading through shitty water, and descending down deeper into the ground. Eddie’s face is bandaged up, having been stabbed straight through the cheek by Bowers. It made him feel good about himself, the fact that he was the one to put the axe through that motherfucker’s head.

“You’re braver than you think.” He tells Eddie, sure that his face is conveying every emotion he’s feeling. He wishes the statement was true about himself. If it was, maybe he could be brave enough to tell Eddie how he felt. But making Eddie feel good about himself is the most important task at hand. He isn’t going to go fight a murderous clown with Eddie feeling worthless, not on his watch.

“Thanks, Richie.”

Richie takes a moment to take in Eddie and everything Eddie is, was, and came to be. He turns around and begins his descent, gripping onto the side of the vertical tunnel with so much strength his knuckles turn white. He’s fucking terrified, but he’ll never admit it.

His body fills with fire when he grips hands with Eddie as they’re all chanting and he can’t tell if it’s because of the feeling of Eddie’s skin against his own or the fact that they all might be dead within minutes.

Even amongst the chaos, he can’t believe he ever forgot Eddie Kaspbrak. They’re screaming, an arm belonging to It behind them and three doors in front and them and Eddie is bickering with him. These could be there final moments and Eddie takes time out of those last breathes to bicker and Richie doesn’t know how much fonder he could be of the man.

It’s when he turns back around that his heart stops for a minute.

Richie swallows hard and looks around. He sees the cavern, the rocks on the wall and the eerie green lighting. He recognizes everything from the shape of the rocks to the distant screaming he can hear. It’s not something he could ever forget. The nightmares had slipped his mind for a moment, caught up in something of a real-life nightmare, but he realizes now that they’re all connected. The monsters in his head and the monsters in front of him all come together to make a living hell.

He’s running and he sees It with Mike, and he picks up a rock on instinct, throwing it.

“Here’s a truth, you’re a sloppy bitch!” He screams, his words seem to be on autopilot. Like someone had already decided what he should do and what he should say. He doesn’t have control over his own actions for the time being.

He forgets for a moment, what this is all about, when he stares into bright lights and feels himself slump over. He doesn’t know where he is. He wants to panic but his body doesn’t move and there isn’t any sound and he can’t see a damn thing. Like his conscious mind is hovering around in the dark cavern that is his body.

When he comes to, Eddie is leaning over him, smiling.

The world moves in slow motion. Richie takes in the scene, the shock and joy in Eddie’s voice, the brightness in his eyes. It’s all so achingly familiar, but not from this angle. He’s watched this before, but this is his first time experiencing it.

“Eddie!” He screams, his brain catching up. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s shoulder and pulling him back, twisting their bodies until they’re painfully tumbling down the rocks into another small cavern. Richie glances up and sees where the claw would have struck. He lets out a shaky breath that sounds more like a relieved sob than anything else.

He’s leaning over Eddie and he looks down to see his shocked face and he laughs. A soft, nervous laugh and he picks Eddie up and cradles him in his arms, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder. Eddie freezes for a moment, clearly confused, before he hugs back, Richie’s tears soaking his shoulder.

They can only stay like that for a handful of seconds before getting back to the matter at hand but Richie feels like he’s on top of the fucking world. He had watched this nightmare play out again and again and again and he could never do a thing about it. About the anguish he felt, about the words he needed to say, about the sheer helplessness that flowed through his body.

But right now, in this moment, in this reality, Eddie is safe.

They defeat It. They scream, they fight, they back it into a corner and make it feel like the one that’s been tormented all these years. Like it’s the one that’s been haunted by memories of people once forgotten and trauma that had been gone through much too young. Richie feels like a heavy part of his soul is free when he takes Its heart into his hands and squeezes. The blood runs through his fingers and the flesh squelches disgustingly but he can’t be bothered. Especially as It screams and he can feel Eddie’s own fingers brushing against his own.

They run as fast as they can afterwards, everything collapsing on top of them. Rocks are falling, threatening to crush them before they can get out. At some point, Eddie grabs a hold of Richie’s hand as they’re running and Richie can’t shake the deep feeling that he wasn’t supposed to be with them. Outside of the Neibolt house, they watch as the place that caused so much terror is destroyed. It falls into itself, being absorbed by the ground until the lot is flat and empty. Richie is still holding onto Eddie’s hand, gripping it so hard as if he’s grounding himself to the reality that they really did get out.

He never in a million years thought that he would be so lucky.

All of them are covered in blood and dirt and grime and tears and Richie can see Eddie started to get twitchy as it dries onto his skin.

“Quarry?” Richie suggested with a soft chuckle. Everyone smiles in agreement.

They’ve added a sign on the cliff. One that deters children from jumping off. He remembers as children they didn’t even think about the dangers of jumping into the not-so-clear water below. He can just remember the freedom he felt as he jumped, his body hurdling through the air as every worry in the world left him. He supposes that people are a lot more cautious about things now than they were in the 80’s.

As an adult, the jump feels just as freeing, but the landing feels just a bit more harsh, the pressure truly coming down on his aging body. Richie is submerged in the water, quickly swimming away so his friends don’t land on top of him. He can already feel all the disgusting sewer residue washing away as he swims to a place he can stand. He turns around and all his friends are swimming towards him and he feels so overwhelmed he might cry.

So, he does.

The tears flow out of him before he can stop himself. It’s 27 years of built up stress that he is now free of. It’s the kind of sobbing he hasn’t done in years. The kind that rips out of him painfully and causes his body to shake. He has his friends around him. The nightmare that started when he was 13 is over. The person that he has continued to love over all those years is safe. Safe from the nightmares that plagued Richie, almost as a warning from some other dimension where they weren’t so lucky, where that Richie couldn’t save that Eddie. But right now, they’re safe.

He feels his friends latch onto him. Beverly is holding onto his arm, Mike is around his shoulder, Ben grips his hand, Bill is at his side. But Eddie, he has his arms wrapped around Richie’s neck, pulling himself into Richie’s chest. His head is resting against Richie and he’s sure he can hear his heart beating fast. Richie feels loved for the first time in a long time. He gets the feeling that the last time he felt this way was the hug they had 27 years before after they thought they had defeated Pennywise the first time.

Richie lets himself cry, engulfed in his friends limbs and completely in love with the feeling of relief.

They eventually let go of each other, but Eddie stays right where he’s put himself. Richie glances down to see him with a soft and content look on his face, much different than the one normally plastered on it. He wraps an arm around the smaller man, pulling him even closer to him, and settles on the rock beneath him, Eddie practically sitting on his lap now.

He looks up to see Ben and Beverly smiling, alternating between pushing each other underwater and giving each other small kisses that are more like grins pressed against each other. Richie feels a deep joy rise up in his chest at the sight. He had known since that day in the alley, Ben cut up and blood dripping down his stomach, Bev smiling brightly at him, that they were meant to be.

Richie looks down at the man in his lap and thinks, maybe they could be meant to be as well. He experimentally presses a kiss into Eddie’s hair and Eddie just smiles. He feels those butterflies rising up in his stomach again like he’s a teenager. He’s tempted to say something, especially when he notices the gold band around Eddie’s finger is no longer there, but it feels like a conversation for later.

Because luckily, they have all the time in the world now.

Richie cries for the second time that day when they get back to the Derry Townhouse to see none other than Stan Uris sitting on the bench outside, a small bag next to him, and his head in his hands. He has bandages around his wrists but otherwise looks unharmed. Bev is the first one to move, screaming and running towards him. She pulls him into a hug that he doesn’t look prepared for, confusion evident across his face.

“What happened to you guys?” He asks.

“It’s you, right? Stan, it’s really you? What happened to you?” Bev pulls back but doesn’t let go of him.

“I can’t really remember. I was in some sort of trance. I woke up in the hospital with the bandages around my wrists. The last thing I remember was talking to Mike.” Stan answered, looking up at everyone else. “So, once I got out, I knew I had to come back.”

“But…but Patty,” Bev starts and Richie could see tears running down her face as well. In fact, everyone had red eyes and wet cheeks.

Stan scrunches up his face. “My wife? What about her?”

“I was on the phone with her. She said…well she said you died!”

“Well, I’m right here.”

Mike sits down on the bench next to him, looks him up and down. “I think it was one of Pennywise’s tricks. I think It wanted us to believe Stan was gone, maybe it thought it would weaken us enough to not beat him.”

“The clown.” Stan suddenly looks panicked. “Where is it?”

Richie smiles widely through his tears. “We killed that motherfucker.”

“You did what?”

“We killed It. We really did. Crushed his heart, sent him to hell, the whole nine yards.” Richie exclaims.

A goofy grins crosses Stan’s face, the type of smile that only ever appeared when Stan felt completely at ease and happy. “He’s gone?”

“Oh yeah, fucking dead.” Eddie says.

And then they’re all smiling and laughing, the tears long forgotten. They all go into the motel, to the bar that still doesn’t have anyone occupying it. They take turns going up to their rooms to take a proper shower, the quarry didn’t quite get the grime that stuck to their skin. The rest of them sat with Stan, gushing about their lives and in awe of the way Stan talked so happily about his wife and the life he made for himself over the past 27 years. He seemed to be the only one that managed to find a love that can make it through anything.

“No marriages for you guys then?” Stan asks, looking around as he sees there isn’t a wedding ring on anyone else’s fingers. Bev and Eddie grimace, almost simultaneously and Stan seems to realize he hit a sore spot. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry. I just-”

“No, no, don’t apologize.” Eddie cuts him off. “It’s fine, really.”

“It’s just,” Bev pauses, looking for the right words. “A weird subject.”

“I married my mom.” Eddie blurts out and Stan chokes on his drink. “Wait, no! Not like actually!”

“God, Eddie.” Stan coughs roughly.

“Just a woman that is practically my mom. Myra. We’re actually still married.” Eddie rubs the spot where his ring should be. “I took off my ring in the sewers, I realized…I mean, I knew before, but I kinda felt brave enough to realize I deserve more. I’m gonna divorce her when I get back.”

Richie tries to hide his smile.

“Also, I’m totally gay and being married to a woman was the worst.”

This time, Richie chokes on his drink.

Everyone laughs and cheers, raising their glasses in a toast to Eddie.

“I married my dad in the same way Eddie married his mom.” Beverly explained. “I left him before I got here though. Besides,” She looks up at Ben with a smile. “I found someone better.”

“My marriage just isn’t working out if I’m being honest.” Bill steps into the room, hair wet from the shower he had just taken. He still has his wedding ring on his finger. “Don’t know what I’m going to do.” He says it all very nonchalantly, causing everyone to laugh, despite the serious topic.

They all talk until they’re tired. Richie thinks he could talk to them forever. He doesn’t think he could ever get sick of the sounds of their voices, their laughter, the feeling of all seven of them being in a room together again is something he won’t ever take for granted.

As they retreat to their rooms, he watches Ben and Bev not-so-secretly go to the same room. Richie says goodnight to everyone, lingering on Eddie, and debates inviting him to his room before he decides against it.

He’s laying down on his bed, just in his pajama pants, staring up at the twirling of the ceiling fan. He can’t get his eyes to close for more than a couple of minutes, not nearly long enough to actually drift off into any sort of sleep. His body is pumping full of so much adrenaline over the events of the day he doesn’t think he can fall asleep for another couple of days. A knock of the door tells him that someone else can’t get any sleep either.

He opens the door to see Eddie with a small, shy smile on the other side.

“Eds!” Richie nearly yells before he can stop himself. “What can I do for you?”

He sees Eddie glance at his bare chest and he feels insecure all of a sudden. “I couldn’t sleep,” He answered. “Figured you couldn’t either.”

“You thought right.” He smiles and lets Eddie into the room.

Richie starts going through his things, trying to find a clean shirt to put on.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks.

“Trying to find a shirt, so I can be modest.”

“Don’t.” Eddie says and Richie turns around quickly. “You don’t have to, it’s fine.”

Richie can’t tell if he’s seeing things or not, but he swears he can see a blush rising up on Eddie’s face. “Okay.” He swallows hard.

Eddie sits on his bed and Richie has to stop his internal freak out. He reverts back to being 13 and going crazy because “Oh, cute boy in my bed!”.

Eddie takes a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah?” Richie walks towards him but doesn’t let himself sit on the bed with him, just looks down at his sitting form.

“I said I’m gay.”

“Yeah,” Richie smiles. “That’s great that you realized that. Maybe you’ll be happier without that terrible wife of yours.”

The corner of Eddie’s lips twitch. “That’s what I’m hoping.”

He runs a hand through his hair and Richie watches and wonders how soft Eddie’s hair would feel beneath his fingers. Eddie being gay brings a whole new level to his inner crisis. Because Eddie could possibly be an option now. Before, it was hopeless pining over a man with a wife that Richie could never have a chance with. Now, it’s almost too real, too possible.

Eddie continues. “I don’t know how it took me so long. I think knew before? Like, before I left Derry, I never had crushes on girls. I always thought guys looked better. One guy in particular. But then when I left, I forgot, and got stuck with my mom.”

“Hey! Your mom’s not that bad, don’t talk about my lover that way.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rich.” Eddie snaps on instinct and they both smile at the familiarity of it all.

“You know I like guys, too.” Richie feels as if a huge burden has been lifted off his chest. He’s never said it out loud before and it feels just as good as when they had killed that clown.

“Yeah?” Eddie looks up and smiles widely.

“I knew before I left, too. Had some crushes. It…It had used it to torment me before. This time around, too. I was always afraid I was dirty.” Richie says, not even realizing that he’s crying for the third time that day. God, where were all these tears coming from.

Eddie stands up and wraps his arms around Richie’s torso, pulling him into a hug. Richie returned it, resting his chin on the top of Eddie’s head.

“I was always so afraid to touch anyone, to look at anyone. It made me hate myself.” He sniffled. “Especially because…well because there was this one boy that I couldn’t get out of my head and I couldn’t have him.”

“You’re not dirty.” Eddie tells him, his voice muffled a bit from his face being in Richie’s chest. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“You’re awfully wise for a fresh gay.” Richie jokes and he can feel Eddie laugh.

Eddie looks up, causing Richie to move his head and look down at him. They’re still hugging. Eddie has a look in his eyes that Richie doesn’t recognize. “I just know that there can’t be anything wrong with this. Love can’t be wrong. Not when it makes me feel so good.”

“Love? Who’s got Eddie Spaghetti’s heart?” Richie asks and tries to stop his throat closing up at the possibility of Eddie being in love with someone. At the possibility that he has to go on and watch Eddie and this guy have a great life together.

Eddie grimaces at the nickname but answers anyway. “He’s the only guy who had my heart for pretty much my whole life. I remember crushes here or there, but this guy…I’d die for.”

“Don’t joke about dying, Eds.” The comment hits a bit too close for Richie’s comfort, thinking about the nightmares he had in which he did watch Eddie die.

“I would though.”

Richie’s palms begin to sweat and his heart speeds up, suddenly aware that he’s still touching Eddie so closely.

“What about you?” Eddie asks, changing the topic but only slightly. “Who has Richie Tozier’s heart? Who’s the boy you could never get out of your head?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Richie shakes his head.

“But it does.”

Richie bites his lip hard before speaking up. “He’s someone that I didn’t even forget during those 27 years, not really. That’s how much of a hold he has over me. I couldn’t forget him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I used to have these dreams of him. He made me feel a way no one else could. I used to have these nightmares, too. I think one of them was a vision.”

“A vision?”

“I’d always see him dying. For me. And I could never save him.” Richie looks into Eddie’s eyes, sees that the brown hasn’t changed since they were 13 and decides to go for it. “Until I could. I could save him this time.”

“Richie?”

“What is it?”

“I’d die for you.”

Eddie doesn’t wait for Richie to answer, just surges up and kisses him. For a second, Richie doesn’t believe it’s actually happening. The feeling of Eddie’s lips against his is too much for him to handle, the unexpected roughness of his lips that’s so different than everything he’s imagined, but so much better, is almost too overwhelming.

Richie, of course, kisses back. Even if this is a dream, there’s no way he’d give up the chance to kiss Eddie. Their lips move together in a way that’s new but also oh so familiar. Like two people who grew up together and found their way back to each other. Like two people who have known so much about each other for so many years and had no use for all the information stored deep in their subconscious. Their lips move roughly, all these years of pent up feelings coming out in the form of this very kiss.

They pull away only when they need air.

“Me? Eddie, Eds, me?” Richie presses their foreheads against each other, he doesn’t want to spend another minute not breathing in the same air as Eddie.

“It’s always been you. Even when you were an insufferable teenager I wanted to strangle.” Eddie smiles, signaling that there’s no malice behind his words. “Somehow that just made me love you more.”

Richie never thought of himself as an easy crier but he really must have the record for the number of separate occasions of crying in a day. “God, Eds, I loved you so much. So goddamn much I couldn’t handle it. I was sure my body was going to explode one day.”

“Really? And here I thought it was just gonna explode from all that pent up crazy energy.”

“I carved our initials in the fucking kissing bridge.” Richie laughs out, finally being able to tell him after so many sleepless nights in high school of wanting to show him.

Eddie is now sporting similar tears on his cheeks.

“And I still love you. Shit, Eds, I could never stop loving you.”

A soft, quick kiss.

“I love you, too, Richie.”

Richie wants to scream as loud as he can from the roof top. Wants to yell about how the love of his life loves him back. Wants to brag that he really got the best person in the world to actually care about him. Wants to let the world know that they could never be as lucky as him.

They kiss again. This time with more vigor. They fall back onto Richie’s motel bed and get lost in each other. Eddie’s hand run up and down Richie’s bare chest, feeling every nook and cranny. Richie lets himself finally put his hands on the ass that was the subject of every wet dream in his teenage years. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, in fact he pushes himself into Richie’s hands harder.

They kiss and they kiss and they kiss until their lips are raw and neither of them are wearing anything but their boxers. Their bodies are pressed against each other in every way possible, not a single piece of skin is not touching another. They are wrapped up in each other so tightly that there’s no way to tell where one of them ends and the other begins. Their lips are still pressed against each other’s in a soft kiss when they drift off to sleep.

Richie doesn’t think he’ll have nightmares anymore.

#reddie #it chapter 2 #it 2019 #mine

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xathia-89 · 5 years ago

Text

From a Fire in the Woods

Introducing my new OC: Caitriona as having been showcased in @muggzc amazing stuff (go check it out). This is her beginnings, and she is a pain in the ass.

Thick black smoke was filling the air, the sound of screams and pleading of lives surrounded her. They'd fought so hard, moving every few days and making ends meet by posing as gypsies, but something had given them away as her legs were burning from her running. Her black hair was braided out of the way, but her pale amethyst eyes were full with the acrid smoke. They were destroying every part of their existence, as her survival instincts were her only thing right now.

Her parents were gone, they had been some of the first to be killed. She knew they were looking for her as she leapt over a fallen tree, desperate to find somewhere to hide.

She heard a mix of foreign languages before she ran. They were a mix of Parisian, Viennese, Florian and Roman. She knew enough to know who was after them as she squirrelled away under the fallen tree. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her arms wrapped around her body as footsteps came and went.

She knew all of the horror stories. It was all the village elders would talk about around the campfire, but she had always written it off as a story. It was designed to stop them straying too far, but now she could see it was all a watered-down story to the reality she was experiencing.

"Mademoiselle?"

She kept herself perfectly still. She didn't want to be found, she would end up dead if she was thought to be alive.

A soft hand, brushing her face in surprise and making her flinch. He gently scooped his arm around her shoulders and then under her legs, making sure not to knock her head.

"I know you are awake," his voice was soft. "I won't let them hurt you."

She didn't want to open her eyes and let him win. The Parisian was spoken fast and furiously, it soon became apparent that they didn't know each other all that well since the man sighed once they had passed the initial questioning of the camp guards. She barely knew any of the language, she knew what words to listen out for, and not one of them had been uttered in the conversation just gone. She knew what he was and he likely knew what she was, but he must have a hidden agenda.

He had someone else hold her before she was passed up to him. He had her settled in front of him on his horse and then waved himself off. The lack of resistance told her that he was an important one, possibly one of the principal families. Which only confused her.

"We are not far outside of Paris, I have a house here where you can sleep and rest up. Then you have a lot of questions for me to answer, I am certain. But you need to eat and sleep first."

True to his word, he didn't ask her anything. They arrived, and he gave her plenty of space. It was a substantial house, several bedrooms and even a private lake, which made her stare in awe. She was used to sneaking into places like this to bathe as the man gave her all the space.

"There is one other resident here," he informed her. "But he is on the top floor. I will leave you on the ground floor and instruct him to leave you be. I will get you some clean clothes, and I will have no doubt that you have already seen the lake, so I will leave you to it. I will be in the first room after the entrance when you wish to find me."

It was beyond puzzling. He should have killed her on the spot, but he was actively helping her past those who he should be calling his allies. He was living up to his word so far, but she couldn't let her guard down.

The lake was cold, but it took the dirt and ash off her. Her clothes were ruined now she had a chance to take a look at them, which made her a little sad. It was the only physical connection she had, and there was no way to salvage them before she reluctantly dragged herself back to the manor. Her stomach was complaining violently, it had been a couple of days since her last meal. The pursuit had been brutal.

She stood at the front of the house, her head tilted to the side before the sounds of Paris filtered past. It was all behind a barrier, designed to keep them out, and the residents of the house inside.

"I promise you that you will come to no harm," he was watching her. It was unsettling. "I arrived too late to help properly. For that, I apologise."

"How do I know I'm just not going to be your food supply?" She couldn't help herself. She felt like a trapped prey.

"Because I would rather end myself. Though I am certain, you know exactly how to. Besides, your blood is poisonous to us. That's part of your charm. We can't feed off you."

It made her pause and frown.

"I see that fact has slipped from memory. My mother was killed by a village elder of your clan. She fed from a witch, and it seemed to spark ruthless anger. I was away to tend to her. Do you remember anything leading up to the pursuit? The other vampires won't tell me what happened."

"We've been on the run for a few days. Stopping to change horses and drink enough to keep going, we haven't been able to get any food. I just remember seeing my parents sounding the alarm that we were under attack. All of the older adults were constantly coming and going beforehand. I was trying to get the herbs to pay for our next meal without needing to steal."

"I am sorry for your loss. I have had some bread, meat and cheese prepared for you. It is warmer insider," he gestured, his arm showing her the way.

He was pleasant enough to keep his distance as she did eat. Her magic told her it was safe before she couldn't help but delve in like a starved animal. He watched her from the doorway, a bottle of blood in hand.

"I still don't know why you are helping me," she said, pausing in her feasting.

"Because I had the means to save you all. And I didn't. I selfishly chose to spend time with my dying mother, who had no chance of being saved."

"That still doesn't mean you need to do this. You could kill me before I kill you."

"I have need of your magic, and in return, I will give you protection."

"Why my magic?"

"Your bloodline is talented. I need some help to make sure I can protect any more residents I do so happen to pick up."

"I will have a long list of requirements for you then."

"Then I believe we may be in business. May I know your name? I am Monsieur Le Comte de Saint Germain."

"Caitriona."

A smile. And it wasn't looking at her like she was food. "Then I believe you are in need of sleep after this. We will discuss the details later on."

True to his word, anything she wanted was gifted to her. She had a small apothecary on the outskirts of Paris, he furnished her out, and he would pay for anything that needed repairing. She had never known such luxury. She had someone chopping wood for her, the blacksmith would repair anything without coming to her for payment. She would also find out that Le Comte would give the butcher, fishmonger and farmers an advance for the week to supply her. She found herself mostly on her own, she worked on her magic to Comte's means. He rarely came to her, only when she had sent word.

Then she found her first patient. A woman was heavily pregnant, but the child has died in her. It was too long for her to bring him back, but the mother was in danger of death as well right now. She delivered the child and gave her all of the potions to ensure the woman would recover and even deliver a healthy baby for her next time.

Word spread quickly. Some accused her of witchcraft, but Caitriona snorted and gave them a show of the herbs she used. The loudest complainers would usually be on her doorstep in time. A relative dying she could help, she made sure to learn some incantations from the Bible, covering up her work as that of God's will. She could save the dying within reason. She knew when it was time to help someone along their journey and when they had more living to do.

The years passed into centuries.

She was stood in front of her finished product, next to Le Comte. Two intricately carved wooden doors, it had taken her decades of work, and she had been missing on more than a few occasions much to Comte's misgivings until she always returned.

"What is this?"

She was holding out something seemingly insignificant, a small charm made of silver by all appearances.

"The only thing to guarantee that you can travel freely between the two points in time. I have no way of guaranteeing where you come out on the other side, but I will promise that you will find what you are looking for. Anyone else travelling with you will need to be touching you, or they may get lost for all eternity, and even if I was to go looking for them, then I could not promise to find them."

"Where does it exit?"

It's a fixed point in La Louvre. Humans will pass the door by without a wish to use it. But I've also installed a protection feature," Caitriona paused and gestured to the large and ornate hourglass. "You can only use it once the sand has fallen through. Otherwise, you risk doing irreparable damage. Once you have passed through, you have 2 days to come back, and the door will not unlock from the other side until another turn has been completed."

"Thank you."

"Mm, I wouldn't thank me just yet. I can still kill you with my blood."

"If you do so you will be hunted until you are dead. I know my kindred know I am harbouring a witch from all that time ago. I have had demands from the Da Vinci family to pass you over."

"Caterina can suck a goose. Her son will be of more interest, I don't know entirely when he will be born, but I know the two of you will become fond of each other."

"I am sure that we will see."

#ikémen vampire #Ikemen Vampire #ikevamp le comte #le comte de saint germain #le comte #OC Caitriona

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thisislizheather · 5 years ago

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July Jiffs 2020

This was me all month.

The key word being was. We bought an air conditioner! We’ve been an A/C-free family for some time now, but since we’re spending so much time at home, we figured now was the time to be cool. In other news, everything still blows! What a shock! Here’s how I spent July.

I didn’t even know another Halloween movie was being made but of course I’ll go see it even if it turns out to be trash, you gotta support classic horror franchises, that’s just basic horror etiquette 101.

This is the most basic, boring-sounding sandwich on planet earth, but it tastes incredible I promise you (I didn’t add bacon, but I did add fresh mozzarella) and whatever bread you use, it’ll still be great. I find myself constantly forgetting about the greatness of mayo because I, my dear, am an idiot.

I ordered a bunch of new address labels on Zazzle because they were having a Christmas in July sale, so I bought some seasonally inspired labels to use over the next few months. If you’re not seasonally co-ordinating your return address labels, are you even living?

I’m still doing Nathan’s podcast on Patreon incase you’re interested. (You can find more clips on his Instagram.)

I attempted to watch the new Baby-Sitter’s Club on Netflix and it’s really not meant for me. I was never into the books or the movie or any of it, I never liked the idea of kids caring about making money, it seemed too sad to me. “Just be a kid!” I’d always thought.

Speaking of childhood nostalgia, I have started to watch reruns online of Sweet Valley High, which I loved as a kid. It’s no Breaker High, but it’s still pretty great to rewatch. God, Jessica really was an absolute bitch.

Some other things that I’ve rewatched: Con Air (practically a perfect movie, will always love, *Nic Cage forever* might be the only tattoo I’d ever get), Supermarket Sweep is on American Netflix and I was so excited (for about three episodes) then I moved on with my life, Sleepless in Seattle (still a very nice, average, reliable movie), Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure (actually a really great summer movie, will always be a fun time to watch, will forever be a huge Keanu fan, I just feel like I could trust him??), and Dick Tracy (will always love this movie even if it has eight million too many montages, the set design is gorgeous, and this one outfit that Madonna wears makes me question… everything).

Some new movies that I’ve watched: Always Be My Maybe (so, so great! How did it take me so long to see this! So many good scenes, such a good movie), The Karate Kid (insane that I hadn’t seen it before, kids were uncomfortably mean in the 80s, favourite part was when Mr. Miyagi beats up the children, great movie), The Stepfather (pretty fun time, so happy we’ve starting watching horror movies again), Eat Pray Love (ugh, I don’t know, I do love movies about women just leaving and doing fun shit alone and abandoning their lives, but this was pretty lame, I hated James Franco’s character more than life and truly didn’t understand how Julia Roberts was even briefly into him), and finally the original The Hills Have Eyes (which I loved weirdly enough despite being incredibly tense the entire movie, I just thought it was so well done and scary and incredible, the rape scene is of course awful and I shut my eyes for that part, but that was the only thing I hated, it doesn’t make sense that I liked this movie so much).

I don’t know how to word this, but something is off with the reasonably priced (and almost too cheap) parmesan sold at Trader Joe’s. It melts weird. It doesn’t taste like normal cheese. Something is afoot and I won’t buy it any longer. I’m truly dreading and equally anticipating the day that all of Trader Joe’s secrets are exposed. Be warned.

That being said, obviously I’m in love with the seasonal summer candles that TJ just released. We have a complicated relationship.

I made this gruyere mac and cheese with caramelized onions (I used almond milk and it still came out good) and can every recipe just include caramelized onions? The world is ending, let’s just put sweet, tiny, brown onions on everything and call it a day.

Ennio Morricone passed away last month and I find myself listening to the Cinema Paradiso soundtrack on repeat.

Read this great piece about summer blockbuster movies which also has just some great ideas for movies to rewatch right now.

I have to remember that Essie’s vibrant colours just f-ing suck. Only their muted/bland colours are good. They should really just stick to those. And if you’re looking for loud colours that stand out, the summer collection at Urban Outfitters is my go-to (and there’s always a 3 for $10 sale with them).

I listened to Taylor Swift’s new album and so far my favourites are definitely: the 1 and this is me trying.

Ugh, Astoriaaaaaa, DO BETTER.

I’ve been thinking about cancelling my Ipsy subscription again (because I think I don’t care about makeup at this current moment in time) and when I logged on to cancel, they let me choose one of the items being sent next month as if they knew I wanted to leave! So I chose a Sunday Riley product (because any sample I’ve tried from them, I’ve loved) so maybe I’ll cancel next month?

I tried a sample of Drunk Elephant’s shampoo & conditioner (which smelled so lovely) and my hair did seem softer the next day. There’s something about this brand though, I feel like they might be tricking us with their beautiful packaging and minimalist persona.

I bought and tried the ancient Biore Strips and I have absolutely no idea if they did what they’re supposed to do. Are you supposed to see the blackheads or whiteheads come off onto the strip? It felt like it just tried to peel my face off. No idea what’s going on with these.

I have been in love with the Peter Thomas Roth Correction Pads, I use one pad before bed each night and I think they’re doing something good because I always wake up with no new pimples. It has even started erasing all of the redness I’ve been experiencing lately from the summer heat and sweat and mask-wearing. At this point, I can definitely see myself rebuying when I run out, and if I do then I’ll definitely not get them from Sephora because you can get them way cheaper at other online retailers.

I’ve also started using this Dr. Dennis Gross All-In-One face cleanser and I think it’s a good one. It’s hard to tell because I started using it the same day at the correction pads I mentioned above (yes that was a bad idea but here we are), so maybe they’re working together to make my face good? We’ll revisit this.

I finally opened up this Belif set I bought a few months ago and it’s really nothing special. I think the face cream is probably the best item in there because you truly don’t need to use a lot to feel moisturized. But the face cleanser? Meh. I don’t think it does very much, it definitely didn’t help any redness. And the toner? Don’t get me started on how I kind of think toner might be a scam. And the “eye moisturizer”? Seems superfluous. My eye area is plenty moist, thanks.

Perfect summer soap scent: Fresh Rainfall. If I can’t travel this year, I will escape into this scent. (Send help.)

Very excited to hear about Lindy West’s new book.

So I heard that Lady M now ships their cakes to Canada and I was able to scream in excitement for approx. four seconds before looking into it and seeing that it’ll cost you over $100 to get ONE cake sent. THE GALL, I tell you. THE GALL.

I briefly looked into the app Sweatcoin after hearing good things, but it really just seems like an app where its main goal is to track you. And yes, your phone already does that whether you’re aware or not, but I think I’ll pass on the extra tracking.

I heard that the upcoming Halloween Bob’s Burgers episode will “follow the kids as they try to deliver a burger to the hotel on their street.” It’s such a sad little bit of tiny information, but I love their seasonal episodes so much that I’ll take any crumbs available.

Actually helpful tips on how to clean your home efficiently.

Christ, why do I keep forgetting that Bareburger is absolutely nothing special? Why in the good fuck is it taking so long for a Shake Shack to come to Astoria?!

I ate on the patio at Hoja Santa in Astoria and the tacos were nothing to write home about. The service, drinks and chips were outstanding though, so I may have just ordered badly.

New favourite beer alert.

Best tweets of the month over here.

I tried Thai iced coffee and it was so wildly sweet and too aromatic, I probably wouldn’t get it again. And I also tried a Vietnamese iced coffee and it was the perfect level of sweet! What’s the difference between the two, you ask?

I finally tried the katsu sandwich at Hi-Collar as takeout in the East Village and it was absolutely nothing special. No idea why people are so into it.

I haven’t been to Bite in so many months, so it was nice to get takeout earlier this week. God how I’ve missed their ciabatta bread. They use it on their sandwiches and it comes from Balthazar each morning and it’s always heavenly.

I have found the perfect, light summer blanket and I’m trying not to focus on the fact that it came from Amazon.

I tried a grapefruit shandy and holy shit, it might be my favourite new summer drink.

I ate on the patio at L’Artusi since it just reopened and good god, that carbonara will change you. So psyched to see they have the wagyu steak tartare on the menu now, too. The burger, the panzanella salad and the charred corn were all great, but that carbonara was the standout.

Some things I’d like to do this month: I’d love to try this tomato toast with blue cheese mayo, I’m going to start using a new clothes steamer I just bought with the hopes of getting rid of my iron & ironing board, I rebought a tube of Revitalash because of how great my lashes were looking when I used it a few years ago so I’ll start using it on August 1st and track my progress to prove how great this product is, I can’t wait for Moesha to be coming to Netflix this month, and I am waiting waiting waiting until I can find time to return to Lilia (on the patio) to eat this incredible tomato focaccia & garlic butter (shown below).

If you’ve got any interest in reading last month’s roundup, you can see what went down in June over here.

#monthly post #this is liz heather #Liz Heather #July 2020

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kariachi · 5 years ago

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Turns out this fic from this morning wanted a part II. More Argit, more Mike, more Erinaen necromancy.

The Ra- Argit, if he’s staying in his home he should use his name- Argit’s apartment isn’t anything impressive. Past the loading bays, up the stairs, first door on the right. Only door on the right. There’s a livingroom immediately when you get through the door, a kitchenette on the other side of it. First door on the left down the hallway is a bathroom that Mike’s tempted to go for as soon as he knows where it is. The Bellwood base isn’t nearly as worried about prisoner hygiene as he would like. But, he doesn’t want to give the impression that he needs anything. At all. In an ideal world he would have complete control over this situation and he wants it to looks like he does.

The place smells like flowers.

“Kev’s room is the second door on the right,” Argit says as he beelines for the kitchenette, “you can use it if you want, just stay out the chest in the closet. Or you can just have the couch if you’d rather.” Mike settles down on the far end of the couch, forcing himself to relax and lounge against the arm.

“I think I’ll take the open bed.” The forbidden chest has him curious.

“A’ight.” He takes something out of the freezer and fiddles with the oven. “You want some tea? Not like, tea-tea, but honestly better in my opinion.” Fuck it, in for a penny in for a pound.

“Sure.” Chewing his inner lip, Mike glances around the place, taking in the knickknacks, machine parts, and loose fabric lying around. That was something he’d need to look into, new clothes. His outfit is wearing heavily in places he really doesn’t want it to. “What’s in the first room to the right?” He can see it from the couch, a sign on the door that he can’t read but seems suspiciously like a ‘do not enter’ sign.

“Weapons I doubt you know how to use, potion and spell components I doubt you know how to use, and books I know you can’t read.” That last bit gets Mike’s hackles up. He can read more languages than he can speak- though that’s not too difficult, it’s only two and a half.

“Try me.” Argit chuckles again, leaning over the counter that separates the two rooms with a toothy smile.

“Like the enthusiasm, kid, but it’s not a judgement thing. They’re in Erinaen, and given they’re the only things in Erinaen on this planet odds are you can’t read them.” It was a logical argument. The bastard. “I’m not gonna put anything in your tea, if that’s good with you. Just straight soggy bark water.” This time Mike is the one chuckling.

“I didn’t realize I was quite that evil.”

“Better to try something alone for the first taste. It’d suck to find out you would’ve liked something better without milk and sugar and shit.”

“It’d suck worse to not get the necessary calories in.” Which, alongside his stomach, reminds him- “What’s for dinner?”

“Lasagna,” Argit replies. “Honestly forgot all about dinner until you showed up, but you’re wasting away at least as bad as me so, food it is.” Mike nods as both the kettle and oven go off, Argit handling the latter before filling a mug and small bowl. When he returns to the kitchen, he places the mug on the coffeetable rather than hand it to Mike directly, watching carefully as he picks it up, and settles in on the opposite arm of the couch. “How many calories you need?”

Fuck, why did he mention calories? Mike shrugs.

“I get hungry,” he says, knowing as the words come out his mouth that it’s not going to slide. In an attempt to give himself a moment to think of an proper answer, he takes a sip of the golden liquid in his mug and about dies. “Holy shit, what is this?” Argit looks too amused.

“It’s good for you, aids in healing.” It’s like he just tried to drink the world’s citrus supply, and that must show on his face because Argit stands with a chuckle and brings him a pot of sugar. He manages to only dump half of it into the mug. “Now, just how hungry are we talking?”

“That really isn’t your business.” Argit leans back, gazing down his muzzle at him. It’s fairly impressive, how somebody who can’t even be five foot and who Mike is near certain he could turn inside out if he had to can make him feel like a little kid being interrogated for stealing books from the library.

“Oh, so you have a healthcare provider I can send you to?” Mike does not, and apparently this shows on his face too. “Until tomorrow morning I am your healthcare provider, and as long as people are going around expecting to be able to get care from me I am gonna do a damn good job. That means knowing how much I need to feed you so you don’t starve while in my care.”

Mike glares at him. Argit glares back.

It burns to break first.

“I don’t have exact numbers anymore,” Mike says, “but I used to be able to knock down a lasagna on my own easy.” Argit nods.

“Then we’ll start there. I’ll get the leftovers reheating after the lasagna comes out, hopefully between the two you’ll be good for the night.”

Mike, honestly doesn’t know how to respond. That’s about the sort’ve response he’d generally gotten from the better doctors, or from his father and uncle. Not people. Argit snorts and pats his arms, so clearly he’s just being incredibly expressive tonight. He’s going to have to work on that. Clearly been wearing that helmet too long.

…fuck, he forgot his helmet.

He was just falling right to pieces, wasn’t he?

“You’re not the only mutant around here,” Argit explains. “Fuck, you’re not the only mutant in the building. I know plenty about how much we can put away.” Oh. Okay. Mike never really bothered to research Levin’s little friend more than learning he existed and what he is. Still, it’s always nice to have other mutants around. Argit laps up some of his own tea. “Any other health shit you want handled, since you’re already here?”

He shouldn’t say any more. This is already a precarious situation and Mike doesn’t like other people being in control of things. But, he’s about eighty percent sure Argit isn’t going to turn out like Charmcaster- for one thing he hasn’t even flirted a little with him yet- and the lack of healthcare these past several years hasn’t been good to him he knows. If Argit could help with one thing, well, maybe it’s worth seeing if he can help with the others?

“You know about the seizures,” he starts, just to make sure he covers everything.

“Kevin gets those too, so I should be able to set you up with some preventative measures and some stuff for recovery.” Mike nods.

“I need, so many calories-” he’d started eating people half because of the calories “-I can’t really taste things, talking hurts. Mostly things along those lines.” Argit makes a concerned chirping noise and scoots closer.

“That’s fucked up,” he says, “mind if I take a look?” Mike already knows what he’ll see, he’s got more teeth hidden around than any horror movie monster. “You don’t gotta.”

He opens his mouth.

Argit whistles when he looks inside.

“Damn, Mike-” he tenses “-some of these things needed to come out yesterday.” And relaxes again. He’s used to getting teeth pulled, with how difficult it is to keep them clean at the best of times given their layout. They grow back in a week or two anyway. Argit backs away, and muscle memory alone has him presenting the mouths on his palms for inspection as well.

Teething had not been pleasant in the Morningstar household.

Argit takes it in stride though, tutting over the state of them with the same calmness he’d tutted over the ones in his proper mouth. He’s all seriousness when he backs away, visibly turning the situation over in his head.

“Okay,” he says, “I can’t do anything about the tasting thing. There’s just, not room on most of the surfaces of that mouth for tastebuds. I have never before seen a person with teeth on their tongue and I can almost understand you draining the energy from people given how much of a bitch it has to be eating with those chompers.” Mike nods. It is a bitch. He stopped eating popsicles at five, when one stick got stuck and Elena and Cooper had to help him work it free. Plus, though Argit isn’t necessarily being tactful, he’s still being nicer about the matter than the vast majority of people who experienced that array in any capacity.

“A lot of them need pulled though, from mouth and palms, they’re just in too bad of shape. Either you can go to a specialist for that, or I could probably get Kevin to do it. None of them are in such bad shape it should be anything more than a good yank each.” Mike raises an eyebrow.

“You’re suggesting I let Levin pull my teeth.” Argit shrugs.

“You don’t gotta. Just saying he probably could, as long as I was there to numb the pain and speed the healing. Or I could recommend you to somebody with more experience in the matter.” Mike rasps his tongue against the teeth on his palate.

“I’ll consider the matter.”

“Good, just leaving those is asking for more health complications down the road, and you’ll probably have a better time eating proper food once they’re gone.” Probably.

“And the calorie needs?” He’s just been living with those his entire life. ‘Hyper-accelerated metabolism’ is in big bold letters on multiple pages of his medical files. Nobody’s been able to do anything before but now there’s a little voice in the back of his head whispering that hey, Argit is magic, and he’s trying to help, just maybe

Argit shrugs.

“I can’t know if it’s abnormal unless I see your appetite and powers both in action. And even if it is, I’d have to do research to see if it’s a mutant thing or an Anodite thing.” The hackles go up again.

“I’m fairly certain Gwen doesn’t have this problem.”

“No,” Argit says easily, pausing for more tea. Mike also takes another sip. It’s much nicer with the sugar. “But the problem might be Anodite-specific. Knowing details like that can give me a baseline to figure out and fix the core problem, or at least work out a way you can manage it better.”

Mike hates that that makes sense. He nods anyway.

“But you could help me manage it,” he asks. Argit shrugs again.

“If I can’t figure it out myself, there’s enough necromancers out there it’s likely somebody has a clue and I can get the information from them, adjust it to fit your needs.” He looks at Mike over his bowl. “Listen, I have been managing all of Kevin’s chronic shit since we were kids. This?” He gestures at Mike’s everything. “Is nothing compared to that walking disaster area.” He smirks a little. “Swear he’s more cancer than man some days.” It shouldn’t be funny, but the offhanded way Argit says it, like this is in no way special or dangerous, makes Mike chuckle. The idea that he can do enough with magic that cancer is hardly worth more than an offhanded comment is, nice. That little bit of hope gets bigger.

He’d really like to stop being so hungry.

“I would appreciate the help,” he finds himself saying. On the other end of the couch, Argit sighs into his bowl, then raises it in acknowledgement, giving Mike a smile.

“Then you’ll get it,” he says, then breaks into a small smirk, “as long as you don’t go punching my familiar anymore.” Mike pauses.

Blinks.

Then laughs.

“It’s a deal.”

#fanfic #mike morningstar #argit

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comicteaparty · 5 years ago

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June 29th-July 5th, 2020 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from June 29th, 2020 to July 5th, 2020. The chat focused on Without Moonlight by Tantz Aerine.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Without Moonlight by Tantz Aerine~! (https://withoutmoonlightcomic.com/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace until July 5th, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Discussions are freeform, but we do offer discussion prompts in the pins for those who’d like to have them. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic! Whether you finish the comic or can only read a few pages, everyone is welcome to join and chat with us!

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 1

1. What did you like about the beginning of the comic?

2. What has been your favorite moment in the comic (so far)?

3. Who is your favorite character?

4. Which characters do like seeing interact the most?

5. What is something you like about the art? If you have a favorite illustration, please share it!

6. What is a theme you like that the comic explores?

7. What do you like about the comic’s story or overall related content?

8. Overall, what do you think the comic’s strengths are?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

I really like the flash forward aspect of the beginning - keeping the scene in the back of your mind really helps keep things tense as you see the story build towards the scene we see at the start.

(it also helps with the tone - it would be pretty jarring to go from kids stealing food from trucks to the scenes where bodies start dropping if we hadn't established that dark tone early on)

One thing I like about the comic is how the text colors switch based off languages - blue is greek, black is german, red is english, and i believe green is italian. Really makes the language switches easier to keep track of in the back of your head.

I like the comic's theme of... "your actions have consequences", essentially. There are dozens of moments where something bad happened because of one character's action or lack of action, and it's a matter of... when there are so many factors, who should be held responsible for these bad events?

RebelVampire

I like that the beginning of the comic is...more light-hearted despite the situation? I mean it's tragic and I don't mean to paint the situation lightly, but it's also kids and kids are like beacons of hope. So despite it all there were happy smiling faces. Before the chaos descended. My favorite moment in the comic so far was probably when Basil was rescuing Fotis and Wolff decides to let them go. It was a rare moment of humanity where there was no whose side is whose. Just two people doing a bro favor because neither thought a child deserved to be tortured. My favorite character is Basil. Basil really is just the down-to-earth dude he kind of finds that balance between doing what's right but with principle. And he also gets going when the going gets tough. And I'm sure nothing ever bad happened to him in this comic. My favorite characters interacting are probably Fotis and Martha right now. I like this dynamic that they're brought together by tragedy. So it's kind of interesting to see that bond, while also kind of experiencing this weird age gap where even though Fotis is much younger, he grew up almost instantly cause of tragedy. Something I like about the art is just kind of the grim color palettes. The comic is not overly bright, and I think this choice really enhances the grim situation of the comic. It also adds more of a sense of realism because WWII is serious business and was not fun at all for anybody. For themes, I love that the comic kind of explores demonization vs. humanity, especially through Wolff. It is always extremely to demonize the side you're not on, and we see Wolff both do this himself and be a recipient of it. And the comic really wants us to ask are they monsters, or are they still, unfortunately, humans doing really shitty things.

As for the comic's overall story, I love that not only is it historical in its setting, but just that the comic really throws no punches. You have people dying in gruesome ways, torture, espionage, double agents, greed, etc. Just like everything you'd expect regarding war. In regards to strengths, honestly, what I just said above. So many stories are really, really terrified to actually go deep into that grim reality that is war. And even fewer are willing to show that war very rarely has heroes since at the end, it's people killing people which is not cool. And I think this really makes the comic stand out since there are parts that are gonna stick with me for years.

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 2

9. What is your takeaway in regards to the comic’s themes about war and the horrors and tragedy that happen because of it? In regards to these themes, how do you feel about Arthur Wolff, and do you think it’s possible for him to be redeemed and/or at least forgiven?

10. What do you think the comic has to say about survival and hope, especially when humans are faced with the most horrid of circumstances? What moment stood out to you the most regarding this? Also, who do you think will survive the story?

11. Do you think anything will actually happen to Orestes in regards to his actions so far? If so, what unintended affects might occur because of whatever does happen? Additionally, what do you think will happen to his contact, Iris?

12. How do you think the events of the story will continue to change Fotis, and will it be for better or for worse? What about the other children? Given the historical base, what do you think they’ll even do once the occupation ends?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

RebelVampire

My takeaway from the comic is that war sucks, nobody wins, everyone suffers, and that even good people do some terrible stuff in the name of survival. However, within all that, we're all essentially human and have the capacity for good. Which is why I feel Wolff is an important character, since he's that shining beacon that reminds us that people on the worst side of history possible can still take a step back and go, "Wait a second." As for redemption and forgiveness, I think this is a yes an no. Can he redeem and forgive himself as far as he's personally concerned? Maybe someday. Will others? Probably not in a million years. In contrast to the above, I think that the comic also has strong messages that, even in the face of desperation, humans, as a whole, have a tendency to fight and that, much like everybody in Star Wars, will always have hope. As for the moment that stood out to me the most, I think it was actually the beginning when the kids are risking everything to get supplies. They know it's dangerous, and yet they persevere and don't give up despite being who'd you think would give up first. As for who will survive, maybe Alex cause Alex is toeing the line of safety and staying out of the spy drama. I think Orestes still won't be dealt with for a while, and if anything, will be the victim of vigilante justice because someone didn't want to wait for even a sham trial. I think that they won't realize in his traitorous ways though he really did help out, and will find themselves more at odd with the Nazis. As for Iris, she probably gonna die. Cause that's what happens when you play double agent. I think the events of the story really aren't gonna do good for Fotis, and, at the very least (and assuming he's not dead), he's going to be bitter and have a ton of PTSD. Probably the same for all the children, and I think overall they'll just feel lost once the occupation ends cause normalcy forms fast.

Tantz Aerine (Without Moonlight)

Thank you so much for all the thoughtful analysis and commentary @RebelVampire ! I'm so glad that you have found all these themes in my story

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 3

13. What are you most looking forward to seeing in regards to the comic?

14. Any final words of encouragement for the comic?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

RebelVampire

I am most looking forward to seeing if Fotis has some epiphany about the horrors of the path he's on. Right now I kind of think he's just kind of...going through the motions and acting mostly on anger. And so I'm interested to see if this will be the case throughout the rest of the story or if at some point his brain stops for a moment and goes "Hey wait a minute these are some pretty serious implications." I think either could change how his character development proceeds. My final words are that I admire this comic's bravery and risks. A lot of creators don't want to write about things like WWII because it's still a little too close to home and painful. But I think these topics are important to show with historical fiction cause not only is it an opportunity to teach about lesser known history in greater detail, but an opportunity to otherwise humanize an event that comes off different when you're just reading facts in a book. So bravo to this comic for doing that.

Tantz Aerine (Without Moonlight)

@RebelVampire Thank you so much! You honour me. Researching this comic has been both a revelation and a painful affair. As for Fotis, you're very right he IS very angry and very grieved at this point in time. We'll see how he will be soon! I can't begin to say how much your words warm my heart thank you again.

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Without Moonlight this week! Please also give a special thank you to Tantz Aerine for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Without Moonlight, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: https://withoutmoonlightcomic.com/

Tantz’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/withoutmoonlight

Tantz’s Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/tantzaerine'

Tantz’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/TantzAerine

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #book club #bookclub #webcomic bookclub #webcomic book club #comic tea party #ctp #without moonlight #tantz aerine

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evanora-coven · 5 years ago

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My Summer Reading

Over the summer, I took my kids and enrolled them in the summer reading program at our library. While they excitedly grabbed a basket full of books from the many shelves, I strolled the aisles looking for books I would want to read to them. As my basket was becoming full, I came across the teen section and found they had a selection of manga. I hadn’t read manga in years. It was a childhood pleasure of mine that I thought I had outgrown at one point. I became even more excited when I realized that they had one of my favorite anime series, InuYasha.

I had never actually read any of the Inuyasha manga and had only watched the first couple seasons of the anime. The series was on my never-ending reading list, but as a kid I knew that I could not afford the entire series. So, I figured I would wait to start until I could read them all. A day came where I moved them to the very bottom of my reading list, they were for children and I was much too mature for them. Seeing the books there, I checked to see if they had all of the volumes. They had all fifty-six and just like that they were bumped to the very top of my list.

I packed so many of them into my basket that very first day, that the rest of the books on the shelf were having a hard time standing up. The other people in the library looked at me oddly as I went to check out with three baskets of books children's books. Many were for my children, but there was a basket just for me. Once I was home, I started reading them, glad that I had taken so many as I was reading through in them in a half hour.

I traveled back in time with Kagome. I watched as she met InuYasha and pull that arrow from his chest. The jewel shattered and the adventure was really beginning. One of my favorite characters, Shippo showed up. He was heartbroken over his father's death but he soon found companionship in his new friends. I wondered how Kagome was going to actually make it through her school year as she rarely went to class and was hardly seen studying. I was annoyed with Miroku and his perversions towards the females he encountered. Sango came into the story and I was impressed with how she was able to conquer the horrors that had happened to her. Through Sango, I learned to tolerate and eventually like Miroku. I even learned to enjoy Sesshomaru once I saw the kindness he showed to little Rin.

Every time I went to the library this summer I grabbed more and more of the manga. Each time I told my husband how excited I was to be so far into the story. It felt like I was completing some small goal that I didn’t realize I had given myself. Somehow it had awoken a part of me that I had even hidden from myself. That part of me that loved manga's and comic books.

This last week I started the final five in the series. I couldn’t wait to see the group of hero's finally take down Naraku. I spaced the books out with one a day so I would be able to hang to those final moments a little longer. I kept bringing it up to my husband, who finally told me that he could no longer express excitement over me reading the series as I had been talking about it since that first day in June/

During the evening last night, I put my children to bed. I started on the second to last book and was done in a half hour. I couldn't contain myself and began to read the last one. It was the end of the series, it couldn’t possibly wait one more day, even though I had told myself that I would wait to read the ending. I tore through the pages and I got the ending that I wanted. The ending I had hoped for since I first watched the anime all those years ago with my best friend.

I turned the last page and read the final words. The last picture that Rumiko Takahashi had put at the end of the series was amazing. It was the perfect way to wrap up the series.

Once I closed the books, the excitement I felt over the series all summer was replaced with despair. The story I had loved so much had now ended. There will never be a day that I am able to read this series and not know what is coming next. I won’t see what continues to happen to character's because their story has been told. I enjoyed every moment of the manga.

I’ve experienced this before with reading. I occasionally come across the right story with the right characters and I’m sucked into the world completely. I get lost with them and when their story is over, I am left coming back to reality. While I feel saddened that this story ended, I am grateful that I found it. There are other stories out there that will enchant me this way. They just have to be found. For now, I am going to go read Ranma ½.

#reading #inuyasha #goals #books #booklist #reader #stories #anime #manga #ilovereading

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surveys-at-your-service · 6 years ago

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Survey #207

“it’s late, and you’re still staring at the light; to call it an addiction’s impolite.”

Nevermind what gender you ARE, what gender do you WANT to be? Happy being a girl. Do you ever feel ashamed revealing your age? When it's to people who are aware of how behind I am in the adult world in any context, yes. Very. If they know nothing about me, then I don't care. Are you confident enough to reveal your height and weight? Height, I don't care. Weight, fuck no. What do your parents call you? Both usually say "Britt," but Dad's more likely to use terms of endearment like "sweetie" and such. Well, Mom does use "hunny" a lot too. How old were you when you first got to go on the computer? Idr. About the "normal" age for little kids that played Neopets, probably. Would you say you’re an emotional person? Way too emotional. What’s a color that suits you the best? Black. And a color you just can’t pull off/don’t want to? Probably most... I wouldn't know, almost every single thing I wear is black. I have literally one light purple shirt, and I think that's the only non-black shirt I own. Describe yourself when you were 6 years old? Very talkative, extremely imaginative, outgoing, I was definitely weird, tomboyish, very happy... Man, I miss being that kid sometimes. A type of personality you just can't stand? The older and older I get, the more I cannot STAND a closed mind. I like people who accept they're far from always right, and sometimes, your "right" isn't such for someone else, and that is fine. You don't have to see the same way to still get along perfectly (though of course, there's no need to respect an opinion that spits upon, invalidates, or is just plain hateful towards another person/group). Like just as an example 'cuz I feel like I explained that poorly; I'm really not into the idea of polygamy at all, but I'm not against it for people it works with. You do you. Your appearance in one word would be? "Abilify." :^) City type of person or country? I like the live in a more country-ish area, but I found through Chicago I LOVE /visiting/ cities. What’s something you’re obsessed about right now? When am I not obsessed with Mark, meerkats, Silent Hill, opossums (a newer addition), WoW, etc. etc.? My whole life runs on obsessing over something, fren. Your reaction if someone told you you look 10 years older than your age? ZOINKS that would suck ass. Do you really badly want anything right now? For the past couple weeks, I've become more and more antsy to get up to Sara's again. When I land a job, fancyin' up my tattoo just because as I've said again and again it is SO important to me and must be perfect, then I'm saving up to go back up there. What’s something that makes you really stressed out? With all this job searching and such going on, it's like all I can think about, so why not mention what fucked me up at my previous ones: Putting me in a position of responsibility and expected knowledge. Ex., when I was a sales associate and was asked "Oh, do you have this?"/"Where is this?", it was CONSTANT PANIC MODE because I never knew and had to ask somebody, when I was expected to be a knowledgeable employee to the customer, and then comes the horror of feeling like I'm inconveniencing and annoying them. Have any particular standard look you look for in a significant other? I don't have a "standard look," no, but I am more likely to be drawn to a gothic appearance. But I don't actively search for someone that meets that criteria or anything. Do you listen to Wiz Khalifa? No. What are your opinions on marijuana legalization? Please legalize medicinal use already. Recreationally, idk. Do you date outside your own race? I'd have no reservations against it. I dated a Hispanic... less than a day, but still, you get the point that I don't have a problem with it. What are some of your turn-offs? SEXIST/MISOGYNISTIC, too old-fashioned, racist and/or homophobic, raunchy, arrogant/self-centered, lack of sincere interest and enthusiasm in conversation, poor hygiene, I'm gonna get SHIT ON for saying "too slutty," not taking dating seriously... that kinda stuff. I'm so picky. Are you gay, straight, bi, or trans? Bisexual. Are you vegetarian? If not, would you ever consider becoming one? I'm not now, but I hope to return to it after I get to my goal weight... In my few months of vegetarianism, it was proven that my immense pickiness with food was making the diet unhealthy for me, as I was strongly lacking in certain vitamins and such. I'm going to have to somehow overcome that if I want to return to it, which I REALLY do want to do the more and more I get into animal welfare and care. Are you in love? Yes. Are you more of a pessimist or an optimist? Pessimist, I think, out of the two. But I like to see myself as a realist. How much money is in your wallet? Literally just $11 lmao. What’s your favorite sex position? Only experienced in these with a man, so answering with that in mind. I like sitting on his lap, facing him, with my legs around his back. What do you ultimately wish for in life? Happiness and peace. Have you ever been pregnant? No. What do you think about tipping at restaurants? Tip your goddamn waiter/waitress, assholes. I do believe in tipping based on the quality of service, BUT at least give them SOMETHING for working. Do you have your driver’s license? No jkajdsklfaj;wer. I haaaave to practice more. Whenever I'm in the car, I always strongly prefer to listen to my music, controlling it from the passenger's seat, and at least right now, I can't drive with loud music, barely any at all really, so I have a hard time giving up blaring my music while Mom drives lmao. Have you ever passed out from drinking? No. What’s your favorite carnival food? Idk, I don't go nearly enough. Who did you last kiss? Romantically, Sara. Platonically, either my niece or nephew when leaving. Have you seen the final Harry Potter movie? I haven't even see one. Ever been called a slut? No. Would you ever have sex with someone not of your preferred sex? I'm bisexual so like- Would you ever get back together with any of your exes? No. Do you take any meds on a daily basis? Yep. What did you do today? Watched LPs as always; did some job searching; played WoW, way shorter than usual though; took a nap; made a new icon; took a shower; listened to music; did some social media scrolling. The usual stuff. What do you wear to bed at home? A tank top and pj pants. What do you wear to bed when you're somewhere else? The same, but with a bra. Is there a place you keep any prized/secret things whilst you’re away? No. Do you have any phobias? What? Why do you think you have this/them? I'll just talk about the unordinary ones, 'cuz I have a lot. The ones I'd consider "weird" are vomiting, whale sharks, and pregnancy. Vomiting is because it's just incredibly unpleasant, but also because I know what goes down is not supposed to come back up. Like no one likes puking, no shit, but I'm legit afraid of it and lock up on what to do when I feel it coming, like I don't know what to do. Whale sharks... ahaha. It literally came from World of Warcraft. The design of their mouths is fucking horrifying, and I hate hate hate how they sometimes phase in-and-out of the Vashj'ir map so just like pOP UP. NAH, SON. It's just their damn mouths, even though I know their esophagus is far too small to swallow a human. As for pregnancy, just... ew. I'm afraid of parasites, and it's a parasitic relationship. Something should NOT be growing inside of you. What skill do you possess that you are most proud of? I'm very compassionate, especially when it comes to others enduring emotional struggles. I really feel for hurting people. What is your greatest strength (e.g. honest, loyal, brave)? I have strong morals and stick to them. I'll always stand up for what I feel is right. What’s your greatest shortcoming or flaw (e.g. cowardly, alcoholic)? Ah jeez, there's a lot... but probably my anxiety. It's held me back and manipulated my actions since middle school. I struggle not followings its rules, but I'm sure trying. Who do you most admire? Mark, my mom, Sara, Sara's dad, Steve Irwin... man, there's too many great people. Who do you most love? Sara, my mom, and my pets, Teddy especially. What three things do you look for most in a partner? EXPRESSING OF THEIR EMOTIONS/TRULY FEELING!!!!!!!!, compassion, and a cool head. If you could ask God (to atheists - IF there was one) one question, what? Hm. Good question... There's a lot, but mostly little wonders; I feel like I have a decent understanding of the god I personally see, so don't have any magnificent questions. Perhaps regarding why they created our world. That'd be interesting. Rate yourself on these traits from 0 to 10: 0 - do not possess this trait. 10 - you have great amounts of this trait. Calm temper: 7. Charm: *big shrug* Cheerfulness: 3-4. Confidence: 0-3. Courtesy: 8-10. Curiosity: 6-10. Forgiveness: 9-10. Generosity: 8-10. Greed: 0-3. Helpfulness: Well, I like to try to help, but I don't feel I'm very successful at that, so idk. Honesty: 5-9, depending on who I'm talking to and what the subject is, I guess. Loyalty: This is very flexible, and I don't feel like I can put a number on it. It depends on how deserving you are of the trait, and yes, you can lose my loyalty in a heartbeat if you give me reason to take it away. Optimism: 0-4. Patience: This can go from a whopping 0 to a 10, lmao. Very dependent on the situation. Self-sacrifice: 8-9. Wit: -10. Briefly describe your family. Kinda broken. Tight bonds scattered between certain people, no bonds with others. What is the worst thing that has ever happened to you? The breakup. I wouldn't wish that night upon Satan himself. How did it affect you? We know. Have you ever had any recurring nightmares or themes in nightmares? Speaking of that... Jason is in most nightmares I remember. The common theme is it's either after the breakup and we have an awkward running in with each other, or it's long before when everything was "perfect." All things considered, I'd call even that a nightmare. Those fuck with me the most. Do you currently have a boyfriend/girlfriend? Yeah. Do you have any close friends? I can count those on maybe two fingers. Of what are you most proud? Letting Jason go. Of what are you most ashamed? I've talked about the Joel situation multiple times. What is your religion? Theist. Where do you stand on abortion? Mostly pro-choice. Where do you stand on the death penalty? Sometimes justifiable and one's deserving end. Felons are lucky enough it's done humanely. Where do you stand on wearing fur? If you're not surviving out in the arctic, fuck you and all you stand for. Could you kill somebody? I'm perfectly aware I could in defense situations. For what reason would you kill somebody? Defending myself or loved ones. Hell, probably even strangers. I'd kill a rapist with zero fucking hesitation, even if they were assaulting someone I'd never seen before. Would you SERIOUSLY CONSIDER killing anybody right now? No. Do you trust easily, or not? NOPE. What, if anything, would you sacrifice your life for? Defending peace, gay rights, or if it was to protect most of those I love. What are your dreams/ambitions/goals? Be a successful photographer, reach financial stability, come to a point where I'm actually proud of what I've done, play a roll in wildlife conservation, be happily married, and just overall be content and satisfied with my life. How do you plan to reach them? Working my goddamn ass off and not taking "no" for an answer (not about the marriage part tho lmao). Do you ever want to have a family someday? With children? No. Who would you want to start this family with, or do you not yet know? I just want a pet family with Sara. What do you see yourself doing next year? Man, I don't have a clue... What do you see yourself doing in twenty years? I don't want to think of that. That's too far ahead. I'll be 43... I've gotta work on too many things now. Would you ever have an affair? I'm very curious as to who would actually answer "yes" to this. Would you ever have a one night stand? No. Lmaoooo actually this is sad as fuck, but I think I've said in a previous survey just knowing myself, if we were both single and clicked, I'd be doomed if it was Markiplier. My morals would sadly go out the window. If you had a month of nothing (no work, no obligations) what would you do? That's literally been the story of my life for years now, especially the past two. And it's torture. Would you ever choose a career or job where your life was at risk? No. Well, actually, I do want to do wildlife photography, and it can be pretty dangerous. Were you present at any major historical events (e.g. 9/11)? No. Do you have any famous relatives? No. Ancestors, yeah, but not close relatives. Are you a loyal member of any organizations? No. What type of criminal would you be? With how forgetful I am, I'm certain I'd be a very clumsy one that gets caught very quickly, lol. What are you listening to right now? "Voices" by Motionless In White. If you had to choose a stripper name, what would it be? Um idk. If your phone started ringing, who would you hope is calling? Someone for a job interview. Do you drink? Rarely and/or for some special occasions. Never enough to get drunk. Do you smoke? No. What is the first thing you notice in someone? I guess posture? How they carry themselves? Do you get attached easily? BOY! DO I!!!!!!!!!!! Do you like your eye color? I wish they were more blue. Would you go bungee jumping/sky diving if given the chance? Definitely not bungee jumping, I know how I react to that kind of up/down movement, and probably not skydiving, either. Have you ever been to a psychiatrist/therapist? Both regularly since middle school. Are looks important in a relationship? Not very. What is your favorite thing to do? Binge a new song I fell in love with for like days lmao. What was the last thing you downloaded onto your computer? PhotoScape. It's easier to move watermarks for photos on there, and I was working on the ones I took a few days back. Do you like to gossip? No, I feel super guilty. What kind of computer do you have? An Acer. Do you know all the words to your national anthem? I think? Have you ever failed a grade? No. Have you ever made the opposite sex cry? Yes. Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? Nah. Have you ever slapped someone in the face? No. Do you own a designer purse? Hell no. Waste of money for a goddamn purse that's just gonna get dirty and scratched. What’s the weirdest rumor you’ve ever heard about yourself? Jason and I magically had a baby over summer vacation when I was very obviously never pregnant. Do you say the "h" in the word “herb”? No, though I did for a super long time 'cuz I had no idea it was wrong. Do you speak any languages besides English? Not fluently. Can you run in high heels? I wouldn't really know, but boy do I doubt it. Do you have to take stairs or an elevator to get to your house? No. What do you usually order at Subway? Ummm I think white bread, ham, American cheese, bacon, jalapenos, banana peppers, and Chipotle sauce. I think that's it. Did an alarm wake you up this morning? No. How long is your mother’s hair? Past her shoulderblades, near the middle of her back. Is there any particular place you’d like to vacation to next? Surprisingly, I'd love to go somewhere tropical, like Hawaii or some shit like that. Somewhere with clear water and unique, beautiful wildlife and nature. What is your beer of choice, if any? Never tried beer, never want to. The smell is bad enough. That and I associate it with when Dad was an alcoholic. Did you share a bed with anyone last night? No. Well, other than with my cat. Do you know anyone who volunteers regularly? Yes. Have you ever ruined a nice pair of shoes, and how? Maybe, playing in puddles or biking through them and mud as a kid or something. Who were the last friends you went to hang out with? Sara. How many chairs are in the room you’re currently in? None. Have you texted a relative in the past week? Not besides immediate family. Are you doing anything important today? No. If I were to bring you any type of food right now, what would you pick? If I was actually hungry, I have been craving hotdogs on the grill like CRAZY lately. No clue why. When did you move into the house you’re currently living in? April-ish 2017. Do you ever sleep with the light on? No, I can't. Do you pray to Jesus? 20+ years of that did nothing. No. What was the last thing you ordered at Starbucks? N/A Do you have a bonfire pit in your yard? No. Would you consider being homeless if it meant you could travel the world? I don't know; there's lots of factors to consider. Would I be willing to leave my pets (but Teddy, probably; I'd want him with me) with my mom? Would I have something like a camper? Where am I getting this money to travel and provide for myself? Do you know your next-door neighbor? Mom knows one, but I personally don't. What’s something you have never done? Lots of things? As an example, uhhh... I've never done a cartwheel, despite childhood efforts? Name someone you know who is a true risk-taker, adventurer, and free spirit. Do you admire that person? Idk. Do you wish you were more of a free spirit? I think I already am, but it'd be cool to be more of one. Are you allergic to any medications? No. How do you feel when someone says something you’ve experienced doesn’t exist? Tell me depression isn't real, my PTSD isn't genuine, I can "get over" my anxiety if I want to hard enough, stuff like that, and I will not fucking associate with you. These are things that have massively affected my life; I dare someone to tell me these experiences aren't real issues. What worldview do you have? A realistic one, I think. I'm positive in some areas, negative in others. Hm... I'm probably more pessimistic about the world's future, though. Do you have friends who have different religious beliefs than you? Duh? If applicable, who was the first person you “came out” to? Sara. What’s one thing you’d like to do more? Travel. What was your style in high school? Some emo/metalhead hybrid that wished with all her heart to be capable of affording a goth wardrobe and bitch I still do. What’s one thing you are jealous that other people got to do but you didn’t? Have a healthy teenage experience. Have you ever taken birth control pills continuously? I have for years for my cycle. I had just about debilitating cramps and sometimes periods that lasted over a week. Who is your personality twin? Sara is probably the closest. What’s a common name that you hate? Edward, above all. Not a big fan of William, Robert, or Allen, either. Who do you wish you were best friends with? If you don't count my girlfriend as "best friend," maybeeee... Alon still? Or Baylee. I need to talk more to her, she's awesome. Do you own a camera tripod? Yes. Did you ever believe in mermaids? I don't believe so. …in fairies? I believed in the Tooth Fairy. …in Santa? Yes. Have you ever purchased alcohol? Yes. What is your newest hobby? Hm, I don't think I've found a new one for a long while... What gives your life meaning? I don't know. What motivates you to do what you do? The pursuit of happiness. What was the weather like the last time you went out? Too fucking hot. Do you go for walks often? No, though I really want to around a lake at a local, small park. Problems consist of no way to get there myself, it's WAY too fucking hot with my sweating issue, and my knees just wouldn't have it; I know I couldn't walk the full lap around it. Also expect some art installations around the path and probably the gazebo are PokeStops for Pokemon Go and really wish I could play it, so that's bait to do it lmao. What color shirt are you wearing? Pink. What is your favorite type of YouTube video to watch? It really depends on who I'm watching. Favorite on the face of the planet are Mark's ego projects, then my second fave are probably Shane's conspiracy videos, then I love let's plays. Do you need any new clothes right now? I seriously need more pants. And new bras. Do you collect anything? If so, what? Silent Hill merch and meerkat stuff. ^and if not, what would you like to collect? When I can buy shit myself, ya girl is gonna have way too much Markiplier merch. YouTuber stuff in general, actually. Too shy to ask for that kinda stuff now lol. Have you ever experienced a miracle? I don't think so. What was the last thing you ate? A burger. Do you ever eat food that’s intended for kids? ...? Like, baby food? No. Or maybe you mean shit like Lunchables? In cases like that, sometimes? What was the last stupid thing you did? Oh boy, who knows. Do you get embarrassed easily? You. Have. No. Idea. What are your top three names you like for a daughter? Alessandra, then uhhhh... I like Chloe and Adrian. Would you ever film a vlog of yourself giving birth? Hell no. I'd never wanna see it, I'd never want my hypothetical child to have to witness that, etc. Do you like getting caught in the rain? No. Wet clothes are no. Do you think your hair looks best straight, wavy, or curly? Straight, I guess? Though my hair does swoop to the right, so it's kinda a wave? What was the last craft project you completed? Oh, yeesh. I don't do crafts. The closest thing was I guess Sara's Valentine's Day gift for last year? Name 3 YouTubers you would like to meet in person: Markiplier is literally the only one that matters lmao and it's not "would like to meet in person," he will be forced to endure meeting me ok. Meeting Shane Dawson would be amazing, he's such a relatable sweetie, aaaaand #3 would probably be Rhett and/or Link, as similar to Mark, they deserve a tear-filled thanks as well as back-breaking hugs for seriously helping in keeping me alive through my suicidal year. I mean it when I say they genuinely helped me keep going. What color are your nails painted currently? They’re never painted. Do you use a pill box? No. List 3 people you know who were loving and then turned cold: Jason, Jason, and Jason. Have you ever felt threatened for your life? No. Which did you like better: high school or college? My college experience was horrid. High school had great memories, but of course negative ones, too. Which year of your life stands out to you as the most significant so far? 2017. …and why? It was my year of recovery from the breakup. What was the last store you shopped at? I went to Wal-Mart with Mom. I think that was the most recent, anyway. Do you have a favorite pharmacist? No. Do you have a favorite cashier at the grocery store? No. What’s something you discovered recently? I'm a Billie Eilish fan. What makes you more creative? Music. What’s the last magical thing you experienced? YO okay so when my brother and nephew were here, we went to the science museum and into a 360 VR-esque show about astronauts. I got SO nauseous and dizzy, but it was nevertheless extremely cool. What is the theme of your bedroom? It doesn't have a theme. Have you ever lived in a dorm? No. When was the last time you stepped outside of your comfort zone? Just tonight! I ordered at a drive-thru myself. Would you rather ride a camel or an elephant? An elephant! Do you want to lose weight? You have no fucking idea. Which insects scare you, if any? Lmao most. Especially rhinoceros beetles, big beetles in general honestly, cockroaches, earwigs, centipedes... like a lot okay. I like observing praying mantises, but I would probably have a fucking heart attack if one was on me. Do you think it’s silly to be afraid of a tiny insect? Well, yeah, though I get the likely survival reason, that being we know many are venomous, so we're naturally averse to them, especially if we don't recognize the type. Were you raised religious? Yes. Have you ever been abused? No, thankfully. Is there a coffee shop you like better than Starbucks? N/A If you could afford to get your hair professionally done, what would you get? Man, I have SO many color combination ideas. If I could get it done in the safest manageable way by a pro, I saw this look once with totally bleached/pure white hair that fades to blood-red tips, and BOY would I get that in a heartbeat. If you had a lot of money, do you think you would use it wisely? I hope so. I think so. The only thing I imagine myself being weak with are tattoos. Do you know any rich people who are very irresponsible? I don't think so... List five careers that you’d like to have: Meerkat biologist, paleontologist, artist, poet, something in wildlife conservation/protection. List five far-out things that you’d like to do before you die: Scuba-dive, I'd LIKE to ride a rollercoaster (far-out for me, trust me), but I know I never will, and uh... idk. Riding a motorcycle would be cool, but that's another thing I hiiighly doubt I'll do. What was your first imaginary friend’s name? I never had one. What was the name of the first pet that you loved? Chance, a cat my mom rescued. She was our very first family pet. She was absolutely incredible. Do you like to go barefoot? Unless I'm in a house, no. Do you like the same colors now that you did as a kid? Yeah. Do you have a YouTube channel? Yeah. Is there someone who stopped talking to you for no reason? Oh, who to begin with? Did you ever get called horrible names like whore, skank or bitch? "Bitch" more than once. Where did you sleep last night? My bed. Have you ever slow danced with anyone? With Jason, yeah. And I don't think so, but maybe Sara briefly? Have you ever cried in public? Yeah. What would you do if you were pregnant? I don't have a fucking clue. Do you like cuddling? With someone I love. Have you ever cried in school? Yes, but I think I kept it private. Who’s the last person to send you a message on Facebook? A woman whose wedding I'm shooting this Saturday. Have you ever witnessed someone else engaging in a sexual act? Just making out. Where did you get drunk last? N/A What’s your relationship with the last person you texted? She's my girlfriend. If someone went through your pictures, would they find a dirty one? No. How did you do on the last test you took? I haven't been in school for a long time. How come you’re not going out with the person you love? I am.

#survey #quiz #questions #random #bored

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maevefiction · 6 years ago

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 36

The call came four weeks into the Skull Island shoot, just prior to Tom’s short Thanksgiving break.

It was Monday, and I was out on the deck of the waterfront cottage we’d rented at the Paradise Bay Resort, about six miles or so from Kualoa Ranch. They’d been filming there in addition to other locations in the Waikane Valley, and though Legendary provided housing, Tom spent as many nights and weekends with me as possible. I’d passed on meeting any of the cast or team so far, wanting to allow him to work as he was accustomed, as well as preventing myself from interfering and/or becoming a distraction. That, of course, meant super late nights and group activities on some weekends, but I was so buried with Prosper work, Manageall development, fulfilling my maid of honor duties for Simon and starting to plan my own wedding that any time we spent apart went by incredibly quickly.

I reached for my phone where it rested to the left of my laptop and tablet, smiling when I unlocked it and saw the picture of Tom I’d chosen, him laughing, fresh out of the shower, wearing only a towel as he lunged toward me.

“Wow, Maude. Such professionalism.”

The cast, director and producers were scheduled for a lunch meeting today wherein they’d be discussing schedule and script changes, so I hadn’t expected him to call at all, though he normally did when they broke for lunch on set. My phone time read 3:17 PM as I tapped the answer button.

“Hey, you…how was the meeting?”

Silence greeted me, followed by the sound of a woman clearing her throat, then speaking.

“Maude?”

My brain raced through a hundred scenarios as to why a woman would be calling me from his phone, and I not only had to force myself to answer, but it took every ounce of rationality I possessed to not flip the fuck out.

“Yes…who’s this?”

“It’s Brie, Maude…I’m sorry to bother you, and oh god it’s totally weird that I’m calling from Tom’s phone, I know, but I was afraid if I used my own you wouldn’t pick up and I didn’t want to leave a message and risk not hearing from you right away…”

As I realized it was his co-star, a coldness began to work its way from my chest to my extremities. “Did something happen? Is he all right? Where is he?”

“We’re at the house, cast housing. He’s not hurt, sorry, damn, I knew I’d scare the heck out of you no matter how I tried to explain it…anyway, we had lunch at a restaurant and, well, as it turns out the special was grilled chicken Caesar salad and like three-quarters of us had it and whoever ate it now has food poisoning. There’s a doctor coming in just to check on everyone, and Tom’s in pretty bad shape and you’re close by so I figured you might want to come here because there’s no way he can travel right now. He didn’t want anyone to call you but…”

Able to breathe again, I silently thanked the universe for keeping him at least relatively safe. Food poisoning. Okay. I could handle that. Probably. “Of course he didn’t. Brie, thank you, so much. Do you know the address of the house? I have no clue where it is, but I’m guessing I can be there in like twenty minutes or so.”

She gave me the details, and I mapped the route on my phone straight away, then set to packing up some spare clothing for both of us, as well as some water, a twelve pack of Coke, and some straws. I had no idea what to expect, as I’d managed to live on the planet for nearly four decades without experiencing the true horror of food borne illness, other than some occasional diarrhea. Which, frankly, was fucking bad enough. But I’d had the stomach flu enough times to know that what he was currently enduring in all likelihood sucked giant monkey balls. Kong-sized, even.

Traffic was light, which both surprised me and made me realize that I didn’t leave the cottage very often because driving the Jeep was, like, challenging. It was yet another Wrangler, but this time bright yellow. Which I didn’t care for, but the discount at the rental company was awesome and that was all they’d had left. I was, of course, too lazy to check back and change it out for another one…and also aware that such a thing was just shy of totally petty.

As I pulled into the driveway I whistled…it was a huge, beautiful, modern house with SO many windows, and like the beach rental we’d stayed in during the summer, I could see clear through to the ocean. I parked off to the side as to not block anyone in, then got out, grabbed my bag and headed for the door. An adorable woman with dirty blonde hair flung it open, waving.

“Hi, Maude. That was fast. I’m so glad you came…he’s a mess. And so is everyone else. Just him and four other guys here, Tom has his own suite.” She smiled and held out her hand. “So happy to finally meet you, though I’m sorry it’s under such…erm, unpleasant circumstances.”

I accepted her hand shook it briefly. “Happy to meet you too, and thanks again for reaching out.”

“Not a problem. Follow me, I’ll take you to his room.”

The faint scent of vomit assaulted my nostrils as we walked across the tilted open-concept living and kitchen area, then up a flight of steps to our left, the planks made of native wood, the rest stainless steel and glass. She knocked on the first white door to our right, and when there was no answer she turned to me, whispering.

“Maybe he’s in the bathroom…you should probably just go on inside.”

Left brow rising, I whispered as well. “Does he know I’m coming?”

She shook her head, smiling timidly. “No. Sorry. I didn’t…”

I nodded, right hand up, palm extended toward her. “I understand. Totally cool. Far better that I just appear so he doesn’t waste his energy arguing.”

“Yeah, that’s how I felt about it. Oh, his phone…” She pulled it out of her back pocket and passed it to me. “I snagged it last time I knocked and got no answer. Man, I feel really bad for all of them…and I’m really, really glad I had a vegan wrap. Good luck, Maude. I’m going to head out as soon as the doctor gets here, which should be soon. I hope. The smell is making me feel…not so good.”

“It’s…pungent, that’s for sure. Thanks again for calling me, Brie.”

“You’re very welcome.” She gave me a quick squeeze, then headed back downstairs as I turned the knob and opened the door to Tom’s room. The floors were white tile, the walls a pale blue, with a gorgeous view of the ocean out the floor to ceiling windows…and it smelled like I’d stepped into a parmesan cheese factory, which is what puke had always smelled like to me. Mixed in for fun was and acrid sweat and other unmentionables. The furniture was native wood, and the light-blue bedding was all askew…with no sign of Tom. To the right of the bed was another door, and as I approached I heard retching.

For several minutes, I remained silent, waiting for a break in his torment, and when it finally came I knocked gently and spoke his name.

“Tom?”

A groan, followed by another retch, then a reply. His voice was raspy, weak, and I immediately wanted to barge in to…to do…something, anything.

“Maude? Is that…is that you? Or am I hallucinating? Oh god. Somebody make it stop.” More retching, and I swung the door inward. He was completely naked on the bowl with a small bucket, most likely the bathroom garbage can, resting on his knees. His face was ashen, hair flattened with sweat, and the dark circles under his eyes made me flinch when he looked up at me. I walked to his side, placing the back of my hand on his forehead…he was blazing hot, and shivering wildly. His hand reached up, shakily grabbing my wrist. “Is it you? Are you real?”

Nodding, I bent to kiss his forehead. “It’s me. I’m real. What can I do to help you, babe?”

His teeth had begun to chatter. “I…I don’t know…every time I go back to the bed, I have to get up again and I’m so tired but I can’t sleep and I’m sorry that you’re seeing me like this and that you had to come here…” A tear ran down his left cheek and I brushed it away with my thumb.

“Thomas William Hiddleston, there is no other place I would rather be right now. Okay, that might not be entirely truthful. How about there’s no one I’d rather be WITH…”

He smiled wanly, then retched again, eyes glassy when he finished and turned them up to me. “Sorry. I’m just dry heaving at this point…there’s nothing left to come out. Not at this end anyway. Can you…will you step out for a minute?”

I exited, closed the door behind me, and walked over to the windows to allow him as much privacy as possible, waiting until the flushing stopped before going back in. He’d put the bucket on the floor next to him, and was holding on to the sink vanity to his right, attempting to rise. I slipped one arm around his waist.

“Want to go lie down?” He nodded slowly. “Okay. Lean on me. Let’s get you there.”

Our height difference was an obstacle, but we managed to reach the bed without me letting him fall to the floor. He was so feeble it was frightening. I tucked him in, blankets up around his chin, then sat beside him on the mattress, legs crossed in front of me, knees touching his ribs, my sandals cast off onto the tile haphazardly.

Another tiny smile appeared on his so-very-pale face. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry you feel like…like…”

The smile widened. “Death?”

I took his hand in mine and began rubbing his wrist with my thumb. “That bad, eh?”

“Well, maybe more like wishing for death, I guess.” He reached across and placed his other hand on my bare knee. “How did you know to come?”

“Brie called me.”

He frowned. “I didn’t want anyone to call you.” The frown faded quickly. “But I’m very glad someone did.”

I smoothed back his hair. “Me too.” His eyelids fluttered. “Try and get some rest, babe. I’ll be right here if you need me, okay?”

“Oh. Kay.”

Twenty minutes later he woke up moaning and clutching his stomach, racing to the bathroom on his own, powered purely by adrenaline. I helped him back to bed once he’d finished, and every twenty minutes for the next two hours the cycle continued, leaving him more and more frustrated and exhausted. At around ten after six the doctor popped his head into the room after three short, sharp knocks. He was my height, chubby and bald, with dark framed glasses. After examining Tom thoroughly, his official diagnosis was indeed food poisoning, the likely culprit Staphylococcus aureus based on the time between ingestion and onset of symptoms. I was left with a 24/7 contact number, a six pack of adult Pedialyte, and a handout listing signs of dehydration. If any of said signs appeared, I was to take him to the nearest ER right away. The good news was that his symptoms would likely improve by morning, and introducing the Pedialyte whenever Tom expressed an interest was permissible since he was no longer vomiting. One teaspoon every fifteen minutes until he kept it down for at least an hour, then after that, it was fine to follow the instructions on the bottle. Nothing solid for at least another day, and then bland foods until the diarrhea ceased. I took a deep breath, hoping he’d just sail through, but still the worry threatened to overwhelm me and I knew I’d be obsessively checking him for dry mouth and heart palpitations. The sound of his voice pulled me back from the edge of an anxiety attack, and I put the pamphlet on the bed next to me as I felt his hand on my arm.

“Maude? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Totally fine. How are you doing?” Deflect and divert. Go Maude.

“You went rather pale there. This isn’t contagious, is it? I thought I heard…”

I shook my head. “Yep. The doctor said the type of food poisoning you have isn’t contagious.”

“But what if he’s wrong about the type? I don’t…”

Taking his hand in mine, I brought it up to my lips and kissed it. “You should SO not be worrying about me. You shouldn’t be worrying about ANYTHING. Okay?”

He shifted toward me, groaning with the effort. “You’re worried.”

The man knew me entirely too well. I sighed. “Sorry. Yes. I’m worried, mainly about my ability to take care of you properly. I’ve never done anything like this before, other than maybe an after party make sure no one chokes and dies session. And never for anyone I actually, you know, cared about. I apologize in advance for sucking.”

A soft snort escaped him, and I knew there was a suggestive comment on the tip of his tongue, but he dozed off again prior to making it.

Four hours later the stomach cramps had gotten so bad he was no longer able to sleep at all, instead shivering next to me while curled into a fetal position while I rubbed his back lightly. That was followed by another bout of throwing up….this go round consisting of a yellowish substance that the internet told me was likely bile. Afterward, the cramping subsided significantly and he managed to sleep for an entire hour, during which I cleaned the bathroom. It was a challenge to say the least, as I all I had was toilet paper, antibacterial soap, hand sanitizer and some towels, but by the time he woke up every surface had been scoured and most offensive odors eradicated. It was my hope that doing so would help with the nausea, but, truthfully, I had no fucking clue if anything I was doing helped at all.

He’d called my name, and I approached the bed anticipating another bathroom assistance mission. Instead, he pointed at the Pedialyte.

“I’m thirsty…may I have some of that, please?”

My head tilted to the right, seemingly of its own volition. “Do you need me to walk you to the bathroom first?”

“I don’t think so, no. But I am very, very thirsty.”

Perhaps a corner had been turned. I removed one of the bottles from the shrink wrap, then set it back down on the nightstand when realized I didn’t have a teaspoon.

“Okay. I need to find a teaspoon. The kitchen here’s fully equipped, right?” He nodded, and I kissed his forehead. “Be right back.”

I walked down the steps, turned around and headed for the kitchen. The cabinets were white with glass inserts, stainless hardware and quartz countertops. The silverware was in the top drawer of the island, and I grabbed two teaspoons and washed them off in the sink, just in case. As I reached the steps to return to Tom’s room, the eerie quiet of the house totally creeped me out and I half jogged to my destination. When I opened the door, there he was, sitting up, bottle to his lips and head tilted back as he took three huge gulps right in front of me.

“THOMAS. WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?”

His eyes widened as he lowered the bottle to chest height. “Drinking. Should I not be drinking? I was thirsty. I’m sorry. Is it going to start all over again now? I don’t think I can take any more. I don’t…” His lower lip began to tremble, and I ran over to the bed, gently taking the bottle from him and setting in on the nightstand once again, then wrapped my arms around him.

“Honey, honey…it’s okay. I’m sorry for being loud. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right here, you’re going to be fine. Please don’t cry.” Not only did I not want him to cry because it would make me feel like the biggest piece of shit to ever walk the planet, I didn’t want it to happen because it could impact his hydration level.

He nestled his head in the crook of my neck, and I straddled him, keeping all my weight on my knees. His skin was still warm, but not as blazing hot as it had been earlier. I lifted him off me slowly, hands pushing on his shoulders, and was surprised by his hand suddenly touching my face.

“Maude…I…love you. Tired. Lie with me?”

“I love you too. I’m not sure you should lie flat, though…” I climbed off him, and as soon as I let go of his shoulders he began to slump backward. “Can you sit up just a little longer? I have an idea.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs with his head in his hands. I figured if he remained upright there’d be less of a chance of him throwing up, which I was probably totally pulling out of my ass, but I was hopeful that some sort of instinct was responsible for my thought process. First I piled all the pillows near the wooden headboard on his side of the bed, then grabbed our phones from my pocket and set it on the nightstand. Lastly, I took my shorts off and positioned myself behind him, legs open, back against the pillows.

“Okay, all you need to is slide back. Can you do that?”

Instead, he turned himself to the side, legs flung over my right thigh with his ass centered between my own legs. His right arm slipped around me and he again nestled his head in the crook of my neck, the side of his torso pressed up against my front, left hand resting on my right shoulder. As I began to embrace him, he pulled back and tugged at my shirt, his voice barely audible.

“Off. Skin.”

I removed it as requested, then wiggled out of my bra. He snuggled back into me, a small smile upon his lips. In that moment I was struck by the fragility of this life, how quickly things change, and how loving so deeply was both a blessing and a curse. A terror began to grip me as I realized that one of us would more than likely leave this earth before the other, and I just couldn’t imagine not wanting to die myself right then and there if I was the one left behind. He kissed my neck, and I reminded myself to try to be grateful for every moment. Every single one. All the time.

“Maude?”

I took a deep breath before replying, afraid I might burst into tears. “Yeah babe?”

“Sing to me?”

“Absolutely. Did you have anything particular in mind?”

“A song.”

After running through my repertoire, I decided on “You’ve Got the Love”, the Florence + the Machine version. Doing the whole thing acapella was going to be interesting, and never before had I wished that a magical harp and band would appear out of thin air to rescue me. The song had religious undertones and was essentially about God, but in my head I always un-capitalized everything to make it, you know, NOT. I took a deep breath and began, lowering my normal volume considerably, singing as if it were a lullaby.

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air I know I can count on you Sometimes I feel like saying, "lord, I just don't care." But you've got the love I need to see me through Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough And things go wrong no matter what I do Now and then it seems that life is just too much But you've got the love I need to see me through When food is gone you are my daily meal When friends are gone I know my saviour's love is real You know it's real You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love Time after time I think, "Oh, lord, what's the use?" Time after time I think it's just no good 'Cause sooner or later in life, the things you love you lose But you got the love I need to see me through. You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air 'Cause I know I can count on you Sometimes I feel like saying, "lord, I just don't care." But you've got the love I need to see me through

Midway through I felt his breathing change and his body relax, and sure enough, by the time I’d finished he was out cold. I placed a gentle kiss on his temple, then eased back into the pillows and stared at the room around me…I’d neglected to turn out the light, but there was no way I was disturbing him to rectify the situation. The contents paled in comparison to what I held in my arms, so I opted to gaze upon that instead. He was so peaceful in sleep, and the way he was curled up against me made him appear almost childlike, delicate and ethereal. I counted freckles, still one of my favorite pastimes, and it was exceedingly difficult to not trace them with my fingers. The worry reared its ugly head again, and I pushed it back by telling myself that he’d kept down liquids for at least a little while, and that he seemed to be resting comfortably. He stirred briefly, and I wondered if perhaps he was chilly in the air-conditioned room, so I used my right arm to reach the blankets and pull them over him. That seemed to do the trick, and I must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing I knew it was morning.

“Maude?” A hand on my shoulder. The sound of someone drinking and swallowing. My eyelids felt as if they were made of lead, and opening them seemed an almost insurmountable task. I squinted, waiting for my contacts to clear enough for me to actually see, and once they did there he was, face inches from mine, still paler than normal, but his eyes had light in them once again, despite the huge dark circles beneath. His rear end was still between my legs, but he was sitting fully upright, the bottle of Pedialyte in his right hand three quarters of the way gone. He smiled, that adorable adoring smile. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself. How long have you been awake? How do you feel? Do you need help getting to the bathroom or anything…”

“About twenty minutes, like I might actually survive, and I’m not sure yet. What I do know is I’ve never been this thirsty in my entire life.” He finished off the bottle. “Can I have another, do you think?”

I placed the back of my hand on his forehead…no fever as far as I could tell. “Um, probably? But maybe you should wait a few minutes…”

He swung his legs and spun around so they were now resting over my left thigh, his arm reaching out to tug another Pedialyte from the shrink wrap. After grabbing it, he simply said ‘shit’ then leaned into me again.

“What’s up? Nausea? Are you dizzy? Do you feel like you’re going to pass out? Bathroom?”

His voice was mildly muffled, his breath on my neck. “Just a little light headed. Perhaps I moved too quickly.”

I snorted. “Ya think? Take it easy, Thomas. Let me do stuff, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you for the song last night.” He fumbled for my hand, gripping loosely when he found it. “I love that one. Hearing you sing it just for me was…and you taking care of me…I feel so...”

“Light headed and thirsty?”

He laughed softly as I helped ease him back into a sitting position. “Loved, actually. But that too.”

After another full bottle of Pedialyte, I escorted him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth and then served as his official shower aide, shampooing, soaping and rinsing. He sat on the wall bench within the enclosure while I cleaned myself up, watching me and smiling when I met his gaze, but when I snuck a peek now and again the fact that he was far from well was glaringly apparent. Once dried and dressed, he stretched out on the bed, sighing heavily.

“Maude, I’m knackered. Completely. I don’t think I can be Captain Conrad today.”

I’d just latched my bra and turned to him, mouth hanging open. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I need to call Jordan. I hate to hold everyone up but I just…well, maybe some coffee will get me going?”

“Dude. No. Just because you seem to be done puking and stuff doesn’t mean you’re, like, BETTER. You need to rest, drink lots of clear liquids and maybe have some chicken broth. You’re not supposed to even eat solid food until tomorrow. Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one who’ll be MIA.” I retrieved his phone from the nightstand and handed it to him. “Here. Call.”

I finished dressing as they spoke, wrestling my hair into an elastic, coming in on the tail end of the conversation.

“Okay, man. Thanks. No, no, it’s cool. You can’t tell about these things. It was a really nice place. It happens. I’ll see you next Tuesday. Happy Thanksgiving. I will. Thanks again.” He ended the call and looked up at me. “Jordan decided to shut down early, so we’re done until next week. He also said to say thank you for coming down and helping out. And Happy Thanksgiving.” He grimaced.

“Babe?”

“Just gas, I think. Doesn’t seem possible that there’s anything else left.” A few minutes later, he exhaled with a whoosh. “Okay. Better. I don’t suppose I could convince you to drive me back to our cottage, my love?”

“No convincing required. I have to stop and pick up a few things for you, though…cool?”

He nodded, and I gathered our stuff, brought it out to the Jeep, then came back for him. The steps were rough, but once he was belted in the vehicle and able to rest again I determined the trip was possible. He smiled.

“Would you mind, you know…”

I laughed. “Going slow? Yeah, I guess. But just this once.”

He laughed in return, took my hand and kissed it, and I felt as if another corner had been turned.

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

We spent the rest of the day in bed, binge watching Mozart in the Jungle on my laptop. He’d told me he didn’t mind at all if I needed to work, to which I replied with a ‘fuck that shit, it can wait’. The Pedialyte stayed down, and around five PM I microwaved some chicken broth for him to try. That, as well as the two cans of Coke he guzzled down, in part, I suspected, because he was experiencing some serious caffeine withdrawals, stayed where they belonged too. After he crashed out at nine, I managed to get two Prosper client sites up and running before crawling in beside him at two AM.

Wednesday found me in bed alone, and I’d slept so soundly that I hadn’t felt him depart. I leapt up and half-jogged the eight steps into the bathroom, expecting to find him there, sick all over again…but it was empty. I padded back into the bedroom, opened the folding door and, just as I was about to freak out for the millionth time, spotted him sitting out on the deck, stuffing his face, clad only in a pair of shorts. I slipped into a robe as I walked to join him.

He grinned, chewing messily, cracker crumbs landing and sticking in his scruff. I grinned in return, taking note that his color had returned to normal and his dark circles were much improved.

“Well, someone’s feeling chipper today.”

He swallowed, then wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I’m not certain about chipper, but starving, yes.”

I moved closer, resting my left hand on the back of his neck as I inspected his feast. “Let’s see…chicken noodle soup, saltine crackers, toast – which had better be sans butter, by the way- three banana peels, and two Cokes. Gourmet breakfast if I’ve ever seen one.”

He slurped another spoonful of soup. “Lunch, actually.”

“Lunch? What time is it?”

“One or so.”

“Well, shit…sorry. Why didn’t you wake me up? Did you have breakfast? Are you okay? Any…issues?”

Motioning to the chair to his left, he snorted as I walked around the table and sat down. “No issues. All digestive system components seem to be fully functional. Breakfast was identical to lunch, and I devoured that at around six this morning. And, I didn’t wake you because I figured you might be in need of some solid rest. I’m tired still, but the ocean air seems to be doing wonders for me. I’ve just been sitting out here, watching, listening, thinking…sometimes not thinking, which is a rarity for me, but decidedly peaceful.”

It was my turn to snort. “Yeah, I think they call that ‘relaxing’. But it’s an activity I’m unfamiliar with so I can’t be, you know, SURE.” My gaze turned to the water in front of us and the mountains in the distance. “This is right here, every day, and I swear, most times I don’t even notice because I’m so busy adulting. Embarrassing. Shameful, even.”

His hand found mine, our fingers entwining. “We have today, and ahead of us five more glorious days off. Together. Let’s make a pact right now to not do a single shred of work. Sound good?”

I nodded. “It sounds fucking exceptionally good. If you see me working, stop me, and I’ll do the same. Deal?”

“Deal.” He kissed my cheek. “Thanks again for taking care of me. You…you’re just…amazing.”

“You’re welcome. It scared the crap out of me, man, how sick you were.” He chortled. “Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. Anyway. I’m just thankful you’re all right. So I did okay? I had no fucking idea what I was doing, dude.”

He kissed me again, this time on the lips, his tongue tentatively seeking entrance into my mouth. I opened to him, connecting, tasting the odd mixture of chicken broth and bananas, then forgetting about it quickly as he began gnawing on my lower lip. Our contact was severed as we came up for air, and I realized immediately that his panting wasn’t completely rooted in desire. I grasped his chin gently with my right hand, staring into his eyes.

“You okay?”

He nodded as I released him, taking another several seconds to catch his breath. “Yes. Though I’m mortified to admit I may not be quite well enough to take advantage of you at the moment. Forgive me?”

My eyes rolled. Twice. “Thomas. Please. You’re supposed to be resting. I’ll clean all this up, you go lie down.” His mouth opened, and I cut him off before he could begin. “NO. GO.”

He smiled. “All I was going to say is that I was planning on taking a shower first.”

“Oh. Fine. Carry on. If you need help, holler.”

We both stood, and he pulled me into a huge, warm embrace. “I love you, woman.”

“And I love you, man.”

“I know you just got up, but I don’t suppose you’d join me in bed again after I’m done washing?”

“Absofuckingloutely I will. I just need some fuel…the chocolate pie in the fridge should do the trick.” A sheepish half-smile from him. “Thomas. Tell me you did NOT eat the pie.”

He laughed. “I didn’t. I wanted to, but thought better of it. Though I wasn’t sure which would be worse…my stomach acting up again, or your wrath upon discovering it gone.”

I poked his shoulder. “Get off my deck, you cheeky bastard. GO.”

He let me go, turned and headed back into the cottage, moving at human speed instead of Tom speed. Every day at some point, I fell in love with him all over again. This was today’s moment, watching him walk away, feeling grateful that he was able to do so under his own power, and that he was…mine.

I’d just finished doing the miniscule amount of dishes his lunch and my breakfast had created when he came around the corner and into the kitchen, totally starkers.

“Oh my…Thomas, I had no idea there’d be a SHOW before we retire to the boudoir.” He grabbed me from behind, arms around my waist, lips on my neck. “And I’m sure our neighbors didn’t, either.”

He glanced to our left and saw that the curtains and the blinds were wide open, releasing me to go close them with a flourish. “My apologies, dearest neighbors…this show is by invitation only.”

When he turned around to face me, I was not in the least surprised to see that his cock was hard and at half-mast. I raised a brow, pointing.

“Well, I guess what they say is true…you really can’t keep a good man down.”

He blushed adorably, shrugging slightly, hands outstretched. “I thought maybe, just maybe, that if I didn’t have to move very much we could…”

“So you want me to ride you like a pony, is that it?”

At that, his cock twitched and grew fully erect. The blush deepened, turning from baby pink to nearly magenta, and I roared with laughter. “Oh my GOD you are so CUTE I can’t EVEN.” He covered his face with his hands, and I laughed louder, bent over with my hands on my thighs, my words sporadic and between chuckles. “If you…if you’re not…on that bed…in the next thirty…thirty seconds…I’m going to have to…SPANK YOU…”

Once I composed myself, I washed my hands, dropped my robe on the floor, and joined him in the bedroom, closing the folding door behind me. He was waiting, lying in the middle of the mattress, still red as a beet. I straddled his hips, leaning down to kiss him briefly as I took his cock in my left hand.

“Just lie back, relax, and enjoy, my love. If it’s too much and you need me to stop, just say so, okay?”

He nodded, and I ran the tip of him up and down my slit and against my clit a few times before sinking down onto his full length.

“God, Maude…you feel so good. So, so good. I love being inside you. I wish I could be inside you, every second of every day. Just like this, all the time. Divinity. All mine.”

I began rocking, slowly at first, upping my tempo as his moans grew louder, finally resting my hands on either side of his head, angling forward to ride him in earnest, our eyes locking.

“How’s that, baby? Am I your cowgirl? Riding my wild stallion, taming him, teaching him how to please me, how to behave?”

“Oh yes. Yes. YES. Please don’t stop.” His hips began bucking up into me, and I paused.

“Ah, ah…there will be none of that. This is MY rodeo, sunshine.”

He ceased, and I moved faster, the head of his cock pressing into my G-spot with every tilt of my hips. “That’s a good boy. You do as your cowgirl says and let her have her fun, and maybe you’ll earn yourself a treat, too. Would you like that?”

More nodding, his eyes closing as he forced himself to remain still, though I could feel the tension in his thighs, the desire to pound into me nearly overwhelming him. It pushed me over the edge, and I came, my own muscles tensing and releasing, squeezing him, pinning him in place inside me as my hips jerked wildly.

“There it is. Oh yeah. FUCK YEAH. Your cock is so fucking HARD, it feels so fucking GOOD my god OH MY GOD…”

He let himself go then, fucking up into me, thrusting no more than five times before he came as well, warm cum shooting up inside me, his head thrown back on the pillow, eyes still closed, mouth open, silent. The sight made me come again, my own eyelids falling shut, then snapping open in concern at the sound of him whimpering.

“Babe, you okay?”

His hand reached up to cup my jaw, slightly-unfocused gaze meeting mine. “I’m perfect, thank you. Sorry I came so quickly, love. It’s been since Sunday…how I am I ever going to manage when I’m in Australia and you’re in London for two weeks in January? I need you. I need to have you…”

I lifted myself off his softening cock and rolled onto my back beside him, his hand slipping off my chin in the process. “Skypesex. Lots of Skypesex.”

He shifted, turning his head toward me, and when I did the same the look on his face made me melt…the sweet, gentle smile, eyes wide open and full of light and love, blinking slowly, those damn lashes brushing his cheeks…I inhaled sharply at the beauty of it all, and his hand reached out again, this time to tuck my hair behind my ear.

“I’d be remiss to not mention that I’ll miss your company most of all. Your physical presence in my sphere, your laugh, your voice, your scent…you. You’re just as much a part of me as my own heart is, and living without either is impossible.”

“Well, I was going to say it’s just two weeks, it’ll go fast and we’ll be fine but now I’m going to have to quit my job and hide in your suitcase instead.”

He grinned. “I fully support that decision.” The grin faded, countenance growing serious. “I know it will be fine, and we’ve been apart a few nights here, but we’ll be halfway across the globe from each other and I’m going to miss you, Maude. Like I’ve never missed anything else before in my life. And, I have to be honest…I’m frightened, even if it’s just a little.”

I rolled over fully and propped my head up with my arm, elbow resting on the bed. “Frightened of what?”

He rolled as well. “Distance. I’ve never been good at it. I think I’m better now, but…what if you discover that you don’t want to deal with it? Or me? What if you realize while I’m gone that you liked your life better without me in it? I…”

I kissed him, sucking his tongue into my mouth, the released him quickly. “There is NO life for me without you in it, Tom. Don’t be afraid. It’s going to suck, but we’ll handle it. Just like we’ll handle anything else that comes our way…together.”

“You’re right, Maude. I know that.” A sigh escaped him, followed by a deep inhalation. “I just have remember that past experiences are exactly that…the past. I need only focus on now, and the future. Our future.” His left hand first cupped my left breast, then worked its way down to rest on my lower belly. His gaze followed, remaining there for ten seconds, then returned to my face, his eyes questioning. “Speaking of which…I’ve been meaning to ask but you have far too much on your plate already and I don’t want to add to your stress but I guess I’m going to anyway, aren’t I? Sorry, but you singing to me Monday night, it was so like a lullaby and…” His hand began to caress me gently, and I suddenly understood what it was he wanted to discuss.

“You want to know if I’ve thought about when we should start the whole let’s-try-to-knock-up-Maude business?”

He chuckled, then sobered. “Yes. So, you have, then?”

“Oh yeah. A lot, actually. Let’s face it, I’m no spring chicken, which means time is of the essence. So, I want to say, like NOW, but…and this is going to sound utterly ridiculous because I’ve been married before, much to my horror, and in this day and age no one really gives a remote shit about such things, but I am totally not comfortable with the idea of being visibly pregnant at our wedding. I’m sorry, it’s stupid…”

He kissed me then, deeply, moving the hand that was on by belly to my backside, propelling me toward him, then pulling back to reply.

“Maude, it’s not stupid, not one single bit. It’s actually rather adorable, honestly. And hilariously contradictory and god, how I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m perfectly fine with fucking your brains out constantly but visible, tangible proof of said fucking in the form of a preggo belly? Oh, no, not THAT. I’m insane. But you knew that going in, right?” He snorted, and I pinched his nipple. “So. I’m thinking if I wait and go off the pill in February, that should do the trick.” I frowned.

“What is it?”

“Well, there’s another conversation we need to have.”

“Which is?”

I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Since I AM older, it might not be easy for me to get pregnant. I might not be able to get pregnant without fertility drugs, or other assistance. And there’s a possibility I might not be able to get pregnant at all. Or, since the only time I was pregnant I had a miscarriage, I might not be able to maintain a pregnancy. You need to be sure you’re okay with those things before we get married. I know you want a family, and if I can’t give that to you…”

He placed his hand over my mouth, gently silencing me. “You’ve been worrying about this.” I nodded, his hand remaining in place. “Don’t. Not ever again. We’re very fortunate that if things aren’t easy, we’re financially able to pursue any and all options available to us. And yes, I DO want a family…but Maude, there are all kinds of families. My gut tells me it won’t ever be necessary, but I’m open to anything, including adoption. Or, no children at all. YOU are what’s most important to me. It’s all I need in this life…everything else, it’s gravy. Like you just said…we’ll handle anything that comes our way, together. Right?”

I nodded again, and he removed his hand. His stomach gurgled, and he smiled at me. “Could I, do you think, possibly get away with having a teeny, tiny piece of that chocolate pie?”

“By get away, do you mean outrun me? Because that’s what it’s going to require, dude. PIE. MY PIE.”

He leapt up off the bed, opened the door just enough to squeeze through, then closed it behind him to slow me down. I didn’t bother to get up, shouting from the bed.

“Fucker. If you eat all that I’m never sleeping with you again.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah. I totally am. Bring my piece in here please, Sir Asshat.”

“As you wish, my love. As you wish.”

#your light in the mist #chapter 36

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braindamageforbeginners · 7 years ago

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Prequel: Day -35

So, thanks to some recent introductions and meetings, there may (or may not) be some new folks looking a this project. I started a blog shortly before Brain Tumor #2 back in 2013-ish. You can go back and read that, if you like, but the bigger, scarier reason for this blog’s existence is based on a social worker after my (terminal) diagnosis, who mentioned that I should probably record things for future generations of brain cancer (I have glioblastoma, after a bout with neurocytoma and astrocytoma) patients. I originally wrote this on Facebook, because I knew I needed to express that sense of shock and horror while I was still experiencing it. To everyone reading this to update the “Is Pat Dead, Yet,” pool, no, there was nothing terribly interesting about today (July 20, 2018) for me, other than that it’s far to warm in southern California. I’m just tired (probably a side-effect of all these damned chemo drugs resetting my internal clock to Tokyo time)(you can read about that in previous entries); I’m just feeling tired and warm, and realized I hadn’t posted this on Tumblr, yet. This was on Nov. 10, just after I’d had a grand mal seizure (probably a side-effect of tapering off steroids too quickly), gotten a really bad phone call, and realized I was neck-deep in shit. My current situation has changed considerably, but I try to keep in mind at all times that I’m just one bad scan away from relapse.

At the end of the day, I still can't get over how unfair the biological concept of individuality is. I don't know if I have the grasp of both English and science necessary to convey how mind-boggingly unique you are - and why that kind of sucks - but I'm in a bad mood, so I'll try to mansplain it. You are made up of billions of cells, billions of genes, and trillions of proteins, along with a complete set of neural pathways that is unique to you. You are the most complete and complex ecosystem that our species will ever encounter, and, here's the cool bit - even if we could completely rewind the universe to the moment of your conception and replay your entire existence - things would, biologically, play out slightly differently. You - as you are right now - are completely one of a kind throughout every form of reality we could even begin to conceive of. When Fred Rogers told you that you were unique and special, he was actually mathematically understating his case. You are the final result of incalculable chemical and physical interactions, each as unique as the brushstroke of a master painter on a canvas. Which kind of sucks, because after decades of this amazing life-sculpture experiment, the whole project gets recalled because the sub-cellular math doesn't quite add up. I am an agnostic, and I will freely admit to being stumped by the vast majority of metaphysical and theological questions, and, rest assured, I'll work tirelessly to track down some answers, but, even the most pious out there will admit that there is not a great deal of evidence to suggest there's some sort of preservation system, or proposed series of sequels. I'm not trying to be mean about it, just noting that the same system of discovery that exalts your individuality amongst the cosmos doesn't allow a great deal of wiggle room regarding most religious beliefs. But, like I said, I do not have any definitive answers on that, and I will get back to you the moment I do. Although my demise is by no means guaranteed at this point, it's worth noting that I've successfully evaded this particular fate for 15 years, and even the best gambler will run afoul of the odds if they stay at the table long enough, so you can understand why I'm not exactly hopeful. And if I am checking out, I'm doing it with a fucking walker. You wouldn't expect that a bad left limp would bug me that much, especially as it isn't even the biggest physical hurdle I've faced in the last 96 hours. I'm now thwarted by stairs and showers, and, like the rest of my life, it seems a little excessively cruel. Still, if, at the end of the vast Technicolor Menu of Nightmares that will avail themselves to me over the next 6-8 weeks, the worst of the damage is, "Slightly fucked up left side," I'll take it. But we're nowhere near that point, and, in the meantime, things are not improving fast enough. Not that a little bit of insight and stoicism is going to turn me into Morrie Schwartz. Which brings me to my next point, let's ditch the BS about courage and grace. I fully intend to carry the minoer-yet-persistent cowardice and misanthropy with me to the grave, should the worst come to pass. Speaking of cowardice, you have absolutely no idea how unbelievably terrified I am right now. No human being, in the history of our species', has ever been half as frightened as I am right now. I do not want to die - you can not begin to calculate how very little interest i have in that activity - but, if it happens, I know - with the sort of Stephen King-esque certainty only medical textbooks can provide - what it'll look like, and that scares the shit out of me. There will be constant seizures, nausea, pain, memory loss, personality changes, and speech pathology. If you are a member of a religious group that believes in a vast system to punish the unworthy, you're going to have to put in a lot of hours to convince me that your version of Hell is worse than the death I'm facing. In the meantime, I'm getting a complete course of chemotherapy and radiation treatment; so I'm going to need you lot to drink every single beer you can get your mitts on, and lift every barbell you encounter, because Lord knows I'm not going to be doing either of those things in the near future.

#stupidcancer

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lotusawareshare · 7 years ago

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The Medication Roulette Debacle

As a person who has experienced the ins and outs of the mental illness systems, I can confidently say that the issue of mental illness and how medication applies is one that is rooted in deep systemic dysfunction. This is not so farfetched when you consider the main motivation of those running the mental health industry. It is important to analyze the intent of anything (be it person, industry, etc.) when trying to determine The Why of the way things are. As will become apparent if not already, I am a huge advocate for understanding the why in order to begin implementing desired changes.

In the case of the mental illness industry (yes, it is an industry), we first need to examine the intent of what they’re trying to accomplish - which in the case of most industries, is to generate profit. Why is this problematic for those of us trying to improve our mental health? Let’s look at the different cogs of the mental illness industry machine and how they fit together.

Who Runs The Game

When we consider who “the Boss” is in any given scenario of this wonderful biased-market-competition-impersonating-as-capitalist country we have, it is usually the person/people with the most resources and subsequently, power. In the case of mental health, we’ve got our market powerhouses - the Pharmaceutical Companies and the Healthcare Industry - here we will be focusing on the mental health end of healthcare, so this means inpatient/outpatient facilities and the people who run them.

For the next attraction we have your average ride on the mental health systems tour of horrors carousel. (For those who are not so interested in participating in my whimsical backdrop-painted story telling, feel free to skip to the next paragraph for the cut-to-the chase points.) It consists of spending 72 hours in a hospital psych ward. During these 72 hours, patients are isolated from family/loved ones so they’re alone and easier to harvest. Once the rounding psychiatrist has had a two to seven minute interview with the patient, it is then determined whether they will be released with the plan of follow-up at an outpatient program or psychiatrist or transferred to an inpatient facility for further harvesting. Those who do not have health insurance are more likely to be released home after the 72 hour period than those who do. (You connect the dots with that one, it’s not rocket science). Stays at your average inpatient clinic range from four days to two weeks, depending on how much shit your insurance is willing to cover. During your stay at this lovely negative-four star blood-sucking facility, you will meet a plethora of doctors and social workers, all the while, being heavily medicated to distract you from the organs they’re funneling into their pockets. As soon as they’ve got every last drop of money - I mean, blood, milked from you, you’re passed on to an outpatient facility for a longer, extended program (read: further harvesting) or what ever psychiatrist has got connections with the facility. The purpose here is to get as much as you can from every patient (read: victim) as quickly as possible. Oh, and you’ll be billed for this later.

The primary goal of the Pharma companies and inpatient/outpatient mental health facilities is, again, to turn a profit. As a business how do you ensure that occurs?

The number one way to guarantee the continuous influx of money is demand - there have to be consumers that want the product - in this case, medication and healthcare services. The mental illness market is a bit dicey to navigate because individuals who live with these mental health challenges are often vulnerable and struggling. Most of us don’t have in-depth, applicable knowledge of mental health simply because it is not something we are taught. The help we need is then outsourced to people in power who we believe can and want to help us “get better” - this would be our Psychiatrists. (Therapy is a part of the system as well but it does not directly influence the medication aspects, we will get to that at another time.) We give our trust to doctors in power to hold our well-being and healing as a priority. Now I am not saying by any means that all doctors are corrupt, profit-driven, money-mongers, but we do have to acknowledge that this field is their career-path and their livelihood.

The problem occurs when the motivation of these pseudo-psychiatrists is rooted in money rather than the well-being and recovery of patients.

Why Big Pharma & Pseudo-psychiatrists Control The Medication Market

Let’s examine this issue logically. If a company wants to make money, it is imperative to have a large consumer base and to make sure those consumers keep coming back for your services/products. Understanding this rationale shows us why the pharmaceutical and healthcare industries never address the underlying problems of mental illness. Medications are not a cure to any mental health issue - don’t get me wrong, it can help to treat the symptoms, but medication is not the quick-fix cure that it is strategically advertised and marketed to be. It is simply a bandaid. The key is to keep the patients coming back for more.

Before we go any further, let me first state that I am not a mental health professional and that my views are based on my experiences and personal research - what worked for me may not necessary work for another person. That being said, take from this any aspects that may be relative to you and leave the rest.

At one point in my journey with mental health, I was on a cocktail of eight different medications. This was after trying countless different brands, various types of medications - SSRIs, SNRIs, benzodiazepines, antipsychotics, SARIs, mood stabilizers. After three hospitalizations, completing numerous outpatient programs, 15 rounds of electroconvulsive therapy, and several years of playing medication roulette, I was struck with the realization that none of these things were actually helping the state of my mental wellbeing.

Every time I would attempt to discuss this with my psychiatrist, the answer was to switch up the meds. The medication was no longer helping, nor was it an effective bandaid for wounds that had been festering for years. I decided I wanted to get off my medication cocktail, and I was determined not be cajoled into another round of trying new medications. As with any new subject matter, my approach was to research the shit out of it. I did my research on how to safely taper off the various medications I was taking, and went to my biweekly scheduled appointment to present my plan and findings.

At this point I had already made up my mind that the medications’ adverse effects far outweighed its limited (and that’s being generous) benefits. What I wanted from my psychiatrist was her healthcare provider stamp of approval and her expertise and supervision of my decision. I had done my research, had a sound plan in place - all I needed now was the support to help me achieve my goal. My psychiatrist made it very clear that she did not agree with my decision (as is her right as a medical health professional). She even went so far as refusing to help me, stating that if I no longer wanted to be on medication, I would have to see another doctor.

That was the last appointment I had with a psychiatrist.

This interaction with my psychiatrist (and numerous others) is an exemplary portrait of how the mental illness industry seeks to keep consumers within their grasp. The thought process behind her refusal to advise me was likely - if this patient wants to stop taking medication, I will lose this patient (read: profit) anyway, may as well nip the problem in the bud, because then there is also plausible deniability if the patient gets off the medication and ends up hospitalized again or worse yet, dead. While I understand the covering-your-own-ass logic behind that action, refusing help to patients who want to get off their medications safely and responsibly is its own special kind of malpractice in my book.

Psychiatry’s Love Affair With Happy Pills Gone Wrong

In this country, we rely heavily on pharmaceuticals to treat various health conditions. There are many benefits to life-saving medications - I am not disputing that.

BUT, where it applies to mental health, medications more often than not, only mask the symptoms of the deeper issues in play.

Medications can be useful, IF used in conjunction with a combination of other therapies. The problem occurs when medication is used as a one-size-fits-all blanket solution to be “happy". Until we get to the point of medication therapy that is tailored to each individual’s biochemistry, it is incredibly inane to think that the medications we have now are suitable treatment for mental health conditions, especially because the nature of these conditions is highly variable from person to person.

The Problem With Diagnoses-Centered Treatment

Take an individual diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and major depressive disorder for example, we’ll call her Jane. Jane has a history of childhood trauma and abuse, suffers panic attacks on a daily basis, and has a career she finds detestable and monotonous. Jane sees several healthcare professionals and is advised to try an antidepressant. Another individual, we’ll call him Dave, receives the same diagnoses and is put on the same antidepressant. Dave has a history of rheumatoid arthritis that negatively impacts his quality of life, a toxic marriage, and Dave’s mother has recently passed away.

Different events, especially those that cause stress and are closely tied to emotional response, will alter a person’s brain chemistry. No two people have the same brain chemistry, including identical twins. All the experiences we have continuously shape and change our brain development and all the complex biochemistry going on in there. When we look at the individual nature of each person’s experience and biology, it is impossible not to recognize the expectation that medications are going to work the same across the board as absolutely ludicrous and ineffective. We can go further and say that it is incredibly dangerous and possibly detrimental to prescribe medications like candy when we don’t know how they will effect each person.

In the case of Dave and Jane, it is sound logic to assume their issues are vastly different even though they have received the same diagnoses and medication. The medication may help Jane, but affect Dave in a negative manner. Jane may benefit greatly from medication used in conjunction with ongoing cognitive behavioral therapy. Dave however may find that therapy short-term to deal with the grieving process and a healthier lifestyle to help with his autoimmune disorder may be more effective.

The take-away from our imaginary case-study is that treatment that is tailored to the individual must be prioritized, rather than expecting a universal happy pill (or class of medications) to sufficiently heal a person’s mental state.

The Medication Trap

What does medication do? It alters the brain chemistry and the way our brains process these chemicals we have floating around.

The idea of taking medication can trick us into thinking “this will fix me/my problems/how I am feeling”. We then don’t take any further action to address the root cause of the problem because we are relying on medication to do the heavy lifting - when the medication is simply a tool to manage the symptoms, NOT a solution addressing the cause. That last bit, my friend, would be your responsibility to yourself.

We as a society too often outsource the responsibility for our well-being, physical and emotional, to other people and things. Of course there will be the need to consult professionals who specialize in certain fields, but it is important not to trust blindly and to be informed. If it is an area that you have limited knowledge in, then GET INFORMED. With the ease of obtaining information just one click, one finger-tap away, there are no more excuses people!

Mental health professionals can be crucial allies to have along the journey, but your discernment in what is right for you is crucial.

Illness Industry Over Culture of Health

The mental illness industry is a system that was supposedly designed to help people heal and yet, it has become so heavily corrupted with dysfunction and greed. Close friends who I hold near and dear to my heart who have gone through similar experiences are also baffled and outraged at the incongruence of the broadcasted intent, to heal, and the actual motivation, to capitalize and profit. There is nothing wrong with individuals in the field trying to be successful and make a living. However, we must acknowledge that there is something direly wrong with the system in place when a person/industry places their monetary success over the wellbeing of millions, and proceeds to masquerade as supporters of mental health, while capitalizing on our “illness” behind the scenes.

#mental health #mental health awareness #mental health support #awareshare #positive mental attitude #positive mental health #spreading awareness #mentally ill #lotusawareshare #mental illness #writers on tumblr #writers community #writing blog #mental disorder #depression #anxiety #bipolar #psychology

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