#what an absolutely godawful sleepless night

[youweremyridehome]

cant wait to go straight to bed after work tonight (it's currently 7.56am)

[kick-me-like-a-strayy]

sigh.

Religion works for some people, sure. I'm truly happy for those who find comfort in it.

But telling a kid prayer could be the answer to their problems after being made to feel like a godawful mistake and absolute scum for who they love. Comparing people like me to pedophiles, saying we don't deserve to have rights, that we deserve abandonment. Imagine having a loved one who played a part of raising you outside of your parents say that they have a relationship to God and they see no issue with proudly joking about killing a gay man who so much as GLANCED their way. Imagine that...

Calling girls like me who were victims "sluts" or promiscuous. As if the newfound anxiety around people, the nightmares, the body aches, the sleepless nights and sleep filled afternoons aren't enough. Your opinion surely feels. needed.

I was so scared of death and punishment from something "good" since I was 12.

Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do it when it comes to religion.

[restmyheadatnightcontent]

#48 for the kiss prompts for Yennskier, please?

cw: mentions of torture, flashbacks

48. Kisses with trembling lips

The fire follows him.

He cannot seem to escape it - in moments of quiet he can still feel his fingers burning, with every mouthful of food that he eats, all he tastes is the horrid mixture of blood and smoke, and it takes everything he has to swallow it down and not empty his stomach, and he is constantly looking over his shoulder, catching glimpses for that lingering shadow, waiting for the moment when that black figure and that singular flame catch him again.

Most days, he has a handle on it.

Or at least, he does his best to convince everyone that he has a handle on it.

He knows the best make-up to cover the bruises under his eyes, hiding any evidence of yet another sleepless night, has willed his fingers to stop trembling every time he picks up his lute and plays that blasted burning song, has mastered the delivery of his excuses so he does not have to have the fire lit in the room in which he is staying, or why he is choosing to sit in the drafty seat in the corner, rather than the one closer to the fireplace.

He isn’t sure if anyone actually buys his act, whether they can see past the flimsy veneer he has carved for himself, the cover that feels like it could simply melt away if anyone were to look at him too closely for even a second. Or whether the lifetime he has spent perfecting his performance means that everyone around him is fooled, and that in time this will become just another piece of him that he will bury deep down, that will rot away and never be seen by anyone else again, no matter how much it may eat away at him.

His current crowd seem to be fooled anyhow, buying his smiles and winks as they cheerfully chuck coins his way, shouting their requests from all corners of the bar. They don’t see the tiredness set in his shoulders, the slight rasp in his voice from another night facing demons that leave him waking up with screams on his lips.

He is coming close to the end of his set, and he wants nothing more than grabbing a bowl of stew before collapsing into his bed. He strums the final notes on his lute, and the crowd erupt into shouts and cheers around him. He can hear the coins falling into his case on the table, the pats on his shoulder as he makes his way down from the makeshift stage, he takes a swig from the mug of ale that someone has pressed into his hand.

For a moment, he can almost feel the old spark light in him, a wave of emotions that he hasn’t felt whilst performing since before that godawful mountain washes over him, and he is almost knocked over by the force of it.

Perhaps, he is on the way out of it, and his heart lifts for a moment at the thought of a brighter future, one without fear and the phantom burning in his fingers.

And then someone pulls at his hands and it all comes crashing down around him.

There is the faintest touch on his hand and suddenly he is back in that dark, damp room, back in that chair, wood hard underneath him, rope rough and tight around his wrists, staring at that manic grin, those cold and calculating eyes boring into him, as he does his best to get away.

He isn’t sure how exactly he makes it out of the inn, whether or not he manages to excuse himself politely or whether he simply flees the room like a scared child. He may have said something but he has absolutely no idea what it was, but then his mouth has always been good at figuring something out whilst his mind is elsewhere.

His chest is heaving when he makes it outside, every breath he takes seems to be filled with smoke, and he is helpless to do anything but slide down the wall when he makes it into the alley, his head falling into his hands.

The only noise he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears, so he does not notice the footsteps coming towards him, does not realise he is not alone until a figure crouches down in front of him. He curses himself for falling apart somewhere so public, as he quickly reaches up to wipe his cheeks of the tears he didn’t even know had fallen.

“There’s no need for that bard,” a familiar voice says and he lifts his head to see a pair of violet eyes looking back at him.

It has been a few weeks since he has seen Yennefer, last he had heard she was off training Ciri in some far flung corner of the Continent, so he isn’t sure what exactly she is doing here, with him in this dingy little alley in some backwater town.

“What–” he tries to ask, but his voice is thicker than he would like, so he clears it before trying again. “What are you doing here?”

“Heard there was a performance by a world-renowned bard happening and thought I couldn’t miss the opportunity,” she answers, before adding with a small smirk. “Seems I was misled though.”

Before, that comment would have had his hackles rising, and he would have been thinking of a viscous retort that was ready to wound. But now he can feel the warmth behind it, and he just rolls his eyes.

“Witch.”

She huffs a laugh and comes to sit beside him, and there is a rush of something he can’t quite name as she leans her shoulder into his and takes his trembling hands in hers.

“Truth is bard, I missed you,” she says simply. “It’s been hard, I thought everything would be fixed when I got my Chaos back, and no-one else seems to quite understand it. I need a friendly face.”

And her admission that she is here on purpose, she is here for him, and that she has sought him out is enough to send him spiralling all over again. Later he will blame it on the tiredness and the cold and the hangover, but now he just curls into her shoulder as her fingers brush through his hair and cries.

(And maybe he feels his own hair grow damp with her tears, but if he does, he will not mention it,)

Because underneath the fear of the mage and the fire and being so out of control again, his real fear of being forgotten, being deemed no longer useful, and the community and family he was finally starting to build being ripped away from him.

Eventually his tears run out, and he lifts his head from her shoulder to look into her face, and reflected in it he can see his own fear and worry, about no longer knowing who you are, having to carve out a new way for yourself, into the unknown whilst trying to figure out your place in the world.

And all he can do is lean in and press their lips together, both of them trembling, or perhaps it is just him but it feels right and he can feel the care and relief and togetherness that is shared in that kiss.

It is time for him to burn his own path, and he wants to do it with her by his side.

[fromcrossroadstoking]

Timid Hearts

Sisk and Roe throughout the war. Because I`m very soft for them.

(This is probably the longest thing I`ve ever written.)

Tags: @gottapenny @itisjustmethistime @indigosandviolets 

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"Right now some lucky bastard's headed for the South Pacific. He'll get billeted on some tropical island. Sitting under a palm tree with six naked native girls helping him cut up coconuts so he can hand feed them to the flamingos."

"Flamingos are mean. They bite."

"So do the naked native girls."

I wonder if Cajun boys bite too.

With that thought, Sisk stole a quick glance towards the dark haired man sitting a few cots down, reading through a small field medical manual for what Sisk thought must've been the thousandth time. A small shiver shot through his spine as he considered what it would be like to have the other man's teeth drag across his skin, nipping at all the most sensitive spots.

Unfortunately, before his imagination could get much further, a fight broke out right in front of him between Liebgott and Guarnere.

~

Roe could swear he felt a pair of eyes on him. It had become a strangely familiar feeling and he was certain that it was almost always one man. He had caught Sisk staring several times already; his eyes would be locked on Roe like he was trying to study him, figure him out, memorize him. Roe usually brushed it off, only offering a polite smile in return. If he thought about it too much he might have to admit to feelings he didn't have time for. 

He dutifully tried to ignore Sisk, tried to concentrate on the slim medic manual he had been given back in Toccoa. Roe hadn't asked to be a medic. When he joined the paratroopers he had done so expecting to jump out of a plane, gun in hand, to fight Nazis. But then the army had taken his gun and handed him a crisp white armband adorned with a blood red cross. And just like that he was a medic, responsible for saving lives, not taking them. A small bubble of fear that he wouldn't be good enough, that he would let his company down, that men would die because of mistakes he made, began to rise and Roe did his best to swallow it back down.

A commotion a couple bunks down near Sisk (of course it had to be in that direction) forced Roe's eyes away from his book and his thoughts. Liebgott and Guarnere brawling, what a surprise. Roe rolled his eyes and tried to refocus. He had a feeling Easy Company wasn't going to make his job as a medic easy and he wanted to be as prepared as possible when they finally met the enemy face to face.

~

Most men enjoyed their time in England and the small bits of freedom and fun they had exploring a new country. Roe, however, seemed indifferent to the whole thing. Or at least that's the impression that Sisk got as he watched Roe do almost nothing but continue to study that damn book every chance he got. I bet I could distract him from that goddamn book real good. If I had the guts to actually do anything.

While he harbored some secret fantasy of ripping the book out of Roe's hands and dragging him in to a quiet dark corner where he could show Roe just what he was missing out on, it was never going to happen and Sisk knew it. Truth be told, Sisk had hardly managed to get beyond the occasional "Hi Doc". Oh, he had come up with a thousand ideas of different ways to get Roe's attention, or start a conversation. But in all this time, he had only implemented one, admittedly lame, plan: place himself in Roe's line of sight frequently enough that Roe might actually notice him.

The plan was dumb as dirt, but Sisk stuck to it. After all, he hadn't managed to gather up enough courage to do anything else yet. Part of him liked to think he was getting very good at his ridiculous plan, almost making an art out of it. He always made sure to never be more than one or two people away from Roe during formations, always found a way to snag a seat at a table in front of Roe during meals, always happened to find an excuse to be in the same area as Roe. Still he had been unable to hold Roe's attention or induce him to start a conversation and with their impending jump in to the war looming ever closer, Sisk worried he was running out of time. 

He was right.

~

In some ways, Roe was glad to finally be jumping in to Normandy. The waiting had been its own kind of torture. It gave him too much time to think. It seemed all he did in England was think about what was coming - the blood, the screams, the deaths, the men relying on him to keep them alive. Now that they were finally on the plane, flying over the cold, dark blue of the ocean, Roe found that his mind was miraculously only occupied with the thought of his chute, silently praying for no malfunctions.

As the plane began to soar over Normandy, the sounds of war became very real and very loud. The plane shook as antiaircraft fire exploded all around them. Roe squeezed his eyes shut and begged his mind to think of something else, anything else. His mind complied by offering up, of all things, Skinny Sisk. Sisk, who always seemed to be where Roe was, who always offered up a "Hi Doc" full of enough warmth to seem like he was genuinely pleased to see him every time. Handsome, quiet Sisk who Roe had been so careful to keep his distance from, who now sat in another plane somewhere in the explosion filled skies of Normandy. An ugly ball of fear and regret began to form in his gut and Roe's eyes snapped open. Just in time to see the light flick on, signaling for them to get ready to jump.

~

With the adrenaline of the jump and the initial fighting wearing off, Sisk found he was exhausted in a way he had never been before. It had been several sleepless days battling his way through Normandy`s hedgerows and Sisk was now so tired that even his fingers and toes hurt. Curled in a shallow trench between Liebgott and Smokey, Sisk was just barely conscious of his eyes slowly drifting closed.

~

Roe finally found the rest of Easy. After stumbling around fields and forests with nothing but a prayer and a small pair of scissors to defend himself, he had made his way to a small aid station set up in a church by a couple of other medics. He had stayed there for a couple of days, diligently helping the wounded, before the itch to find his own company had become downright overwhelming. He had set out immediatley and reached Easy Company not long after. He could feel the flood of relief as soon as he set his eyes on his company. They were scattered about a makeshift camp, exhausted and dirty looking. He quietly took a visual inventory of everyone, those who were there and their injuries, and made a mental note of those who weren't there. As his eyes scanned the company, they fell on Sisk and a second, unexpected, wave of relief hit Roe. Sisk was fast asleep, head leaning on Liebgott's shoulder, seemingly uninjured. Roe couldn't help the small smile that flicked across his face.

~

Sisk was pretty sure the last time he had seen a genuine, full of honest-to-goodness happiness, smile on Roe's face must have been at the very beginning of the Holland operation. He was having a hard time pinpointing a single time he had seen that brighter-than-the sun smile since then, as he sat there in his cold dirt hole in the woods of Bastogne.

Oh wait. Spina.

Roe’s face had lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree when Spina had joined the company. And although he understood why Roe had been so excited to finally have another medic around, that knowledge did nothing to smooth out the knot of jealousy suddenly lodged in Sisk's heart. The knot grew tighter every time he saw Spina effortlessly command Roe's attention, every time he saw them chatting like old friends, every time he saw Roe settle in to Spina's foxhole for the night. He was being an idiot and he knew it. He had no reason to be jealous, it wasn't like he and Roe were together. Hell, they had never even really talked to each other beyond polite conversation. And besides, Roe more than deserved to finally have a friend in this godawful war. Sisk just really wished it had been him.

It's my own damn fault. I coulda just talked to him when I had a chance. Coulda been friends.

Sisk crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. He was cranky, hungry, cold, and absolutely miserable. He was also damn tired of Perconte's never-ending teeth brushing. His eyes darted over to his foxhole companion, who was vigorously brushing away. Again.

Swear to God, I`m gonna steal that damn toothbrush while he`s not looking and smash it into a million goddamn pieces.

His thoughts were interrupted by a third man suddenly jumping in to their hole, half landing on top of Sisk's legs. Sisk watched, speechless, as Roe upended Perconte's things and stole the pair of scissors Perconte had squirreled away. Perconte's feathers were incredibly ruffled by the proceedings and he made no attempt to hide it. It was one of the most satisfying things Sisk had witnessed in a while. He attempted to say something clever to that effect but before he could get a single word out, Roe had already leaped out of the hole and headed back on his way.

~

Roe raced towards the call for a medic. As he neared the source, his heart stopped as his eyes took in the sight of a bloody Sisk writhing in pain. He jumped down next to him and, calmly as he could, examined Sisk's wounded leg. It didn't appear to be all that bad and he tried to reassure Sisk of that fact as Perconte called for a jeep. He must have done a half decent job of being reassuring, because Sisk seemed to relax a bit and even refused morphine. The briefest of pauses followed Sisk's refusal where Roe had to fight back the sudden overwhelming urge to plant a kiss on Sisk's forehead and wrap his arms tightly around the other man. 

He quickly blinked and refocused on the task at hand.

~

The aid station was far more crowded than Sisk had imagined it to be. But it was relatively warm and there was alcohol. So, not all bad. He even managed to make a joke about it that pulled a brief smile from Doc. Sisk felt a small bubble of pride and satisfaction at his small accomplishment, that was quickly, viciously, popped as Roe walked away without a single word.

~

With the war in Europe over, Roe found he unfortunately had plenty of time to think again. But instead of being preoccupied by thoughts of war like he had been before Easy had entered the fray and during the subsequent months, Roe was now unable to turn his mind away from one particular man. As he sat in the sunshine next to Spina, who was babbling away about something or other, Roe quietly tried to shove down another wave of remorse.

Guilt had been chewing at Roe's conscience for weeks now. It had plagued the back of his mind through the rest of Bastogne, straight through Hagenau, right on through to their present position near Hitler's beloved Eagle's Nest.

I didn't say a word. Not even a goodbye. Just left him there. Goddammit.

The puddle of regret Roe had felt when he first wordlessly left Sisk at the aid station, had deepened into an ocean when Sisk rejoined the company. He had returned only a few days later but nothing had been right after that.

Roe had noticed it immediately. Sisk, who had always been in the peripheral of Roe`s vision, was suddenly nowhere to be found. He was no longer simply popping up wherever Roe went. The warm "Hi Doc"s were replaced by quiet nods of acknowledgment whenever they happened to pass. Roe's world suddenly felt empty in a way he hadn't expected and it hurt in a way he couldn't describe in words.

Without being fully conscious of it, he began to mimic Sisk's former behavior. He kept trying to catch Sisk's eye, he sat across from him at meals, attempted to start conversations but never really got past "Hey Sisk? Doing alright?". Roe began to feel desperate.

~

Sisk had resolved to give up that day at the aid station as he watched Roe walk away. The resolution was painful but necessary. He couldn't be lovesick forever over someone who clearly had no interest. And now here he was, heartbroken and stuck in a jeep with a bickering Liebgott and Webster.  How he wished Webster would just shut up and get over it. One way or another, the Nazi that had been holed up in the little house was dead and there was nothing Webster could do about it now. Besides, there was no arguing with a pissed off Liebgott. Webster really should know that by now.

Silence fell between the men as they reached Easy Company. Webster jumped out of the jeep before it had even come to a full stop and Sisk moved to follow him.

"Hey!"

A hand grabbed Sisk`s sleeve just as he was jumping out of the vehicle, almost knocking him off balance. He shot an irritated look towards Liebgott who maintained a firm hold on his shirt.

"I wanna talk to you. Come on."

Sisk let out an irritated sigh and rolled his eyes for the millionth time that day but obediently followed the older man as he walked over to a quiet garden area behind one of the houses.

"What's your deal?"

"What?"

"Don't be an asshole. Something's wrong with you. Has been for a while. You went from a bouncy little puppy to a puppy that looks like it's been kicked around. So what is it?"

"Nothing. The war. You know how it is."

"Fuck you. Don't lie to me. You're fucking bad at it." There was a brief pause before Liebgott added, "It's Roe, ain't it?"

Terror filled Sisk and he froze like a deer caught in headlights.

"Fuck. Calm down. I'm your best goddamn friend. You think I wouldn't fucking notice? Fuck. Sit your ass down. We're gonna talk."

Sisk sat, his mind still trying to catch up with what was happening. Before he knew it, he was telling Liebgott everything, every last detail. Because Liebgott was right. He was his best friend and if Sisk couldn't tell him, then he couldn't tell anyone. And it felt good too, to finally let someone in on his years long secret. 

By the end of it, Liebgott was close to kicking Sisk's ass.

"Of course, nothing fucking happened between the two of you! Doc ain't a fucking mind reader! You can't stare him into having a fucking crush! Fuck!"

~

Roe was quietly organizing supplies in a small room he had claimed as his own. The war was over and Roe finally had enough medical supplies. Hell, he was damn near drowning in medical supplies! Anger flared up as he thought about just what he would have done to have these supplies only months earlier. Roe took a deep breath and tried to calm down. What had happened, had happened, and there was nothing to be done about it now. Just as his emotions were starting to smooth back out, a familiar voice filled the room, and Roe's heart was back to doing somersaults.

"Hey, uh, Doc? You have a second?"

Roe's words escaped him for a moment as he looked at Sisk shifting nervously on his feet in the doorway.

"'Course. You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm alright. I just need to talk to you about something."

"I'm sorry." Roe blurted out the words before he could stop himself. Sisk stared at him for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by the sudden apology. "I didn't say goodbye or anything back at the aid station and I should've. I should've said something. And I didn't. I mean, there was a lot I wanted to say but I didn't know how so I didn't say anything and that ain't an excuse but I`m sorry." 

Roe could feel himself starting to ramble, nerves getting the better of him, and managed to stop talking.

"Oh. Well. I have a lot I've wanted to say too. For a long time. Just didn't know how either."

The two men stood in a silence that seemed to stretch on for too long. Roe had never been good at expressing himself with words and after everything that happened during the war, he had only become worse at it.

"Fuck. Okay. Look, Gene, I like you. A lot. More than a lot. Fuck. I just, fuck... I want to be more than friends and I'm really hoping you feel the same. And well, I don't know, that's it I guess. Jesus. Fuck."

~

Roe was staring at him, eyes wide. 

When did I start saying fuck so much? Maybe I`ve been spending too much time with Lieb. Dammit.

An odd mix of panic and relief began to set in after his less than smooth confession. Relief that it was finally over with, panic that his feelings wouldn't be reciprocated.

His alarm slowly melted away as he watched Roe's face soften and the corners of his mouth turn up.

~

An honest to God smile spread across Roe's face as a weight he didn't realize he had been carrying for so very long lifted off of his shoulders. He covered the space between himself and Sisk in only a couple of steps. Grabbing the front of Sisk's jacket, he pulled the other man in to an intense, hungry kiss. He broke off the kiss only long enough to get out a soft "me too". He gently lead Sisk in to the room, closing the door behind him. Leaning forward to press his lips against Sisk's once more, he could feel the other man smile into the kiss, as the two stumbled further in to the room. They had three years to catch up on and both men wordlessly decided they had no more time to waste.