#worked on my mental health a lot but this is still an issue

[m3lin03]

Razor's grip - part 6

A/n: Hello, hello! I put a lot of effort in trying to make the chapters longer and I still feel as if the story moves too slow, but I'm doing my best. Hope you enjoy this chapter as well, sorry for any mistakes I didn't notice! 💖💕

Summary: Getting the independence you crave proves to be more difficult than you thought, sacrifices need to be done. But, what will you do if the sacrifice is your very being?

characters: Sylus, the twins, non-mc, a slight glimpse of mc, Philip

warnings: blood, mental health issues, violence, guns, throwing up

word count: 2771

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

The tablet in his hands showed the girl fighting against the wanderers. Her moves were sharp, cool and calculated. It almost looked like she was floating around. Nothing touched her as her blows dealt so much damage in the vulnerable spots of those hideous beings that were after her. The man beside her was more of an accessory than anything, a tool for her victory, as she resonated with him, flashes of lights appearing.

Another victory for her, another day when he yearned for her presence beside him.

Even though something didn’t quite click. Something was strange, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Sylus looked at the watch on his wrist, a sigh passing his lips softly. The twins were supposed to be here with you like fifteen minutes ago. For a few moments, thoughts about accidents, ambushes cross his mind, but they are suddenly interrupted by loud laughs and bustling. He did mention them to assure that you are in a good mood, didn’t cross his mind that this will lead to the scene unfolding in front of him: the twins wearing cartoon crowns made of happy meal boxes, Luke holding two yellow balloon dogs, as Kieran was holding a pink balloon flamingo and a giraffe. Then there was you, a bag containing a fourth happy meal in one hand, three toys in the other, pink crown on your head, a sheepish smile blooming on your face.

“Sorry for being late, boss. It was crowded”, Luke says, almost preparing to be reprimanded for his lack of punctuality.

You slowly approach and hand him the happy meal. Even if you looked sorry, the smile on your face didn’t let itself be erased.

Good.

“You can go now”, is all he tells the twins.

Now that you were alone with him, the embarrassment was a little worse. After all, you were late because you wanted the three toys in your arms. The chicken burger was definitely an important bonus.

Sylus motions towards the chair next to him and you comply, setting on the coffee table the figurines. You watch his eyes analyze them in slight disbelief, before turning to you. His red gaze had a sparkle of amusement that almost spelled ‘really?’. You watch his hands grab an envelope from his jacket and offer it to you. Your fingers slightly touch his. Inside of the envelope was a card.

“What’s this?”

“A bank card, of course”, Sylus answers, almost rolling his eyes.

“Oh, thank you, never seen one in my entire life”, you exclaimed faking excitement, pressing the card to your chest. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“Because there’s your first round of money for the last week.”

“Week? I thought I was being paid monthly with 20 000.”

“Monthly?”, his eyebrows scrunch up, an incredulous look on his face. “Who do you take me for?”

“Sylus, are you giving me that much money for a week of work? Have you gone mad?”

“I never thought my employes will ever be dissatisfied about getting too much money… I must make sure no other offer beats mine, after all.”

It takes a while to get over the discussion. Sylus doesn’t wait for you, getting up and walking away, leaving you no other choice but to follow him down many halls and stairs. By the end of his little walk, your feet hurt. He opens a door.

The room he led you to was his private shooting range.

The gun in the back of your jeans still felt cold, no matter how long was stuck to your skin. Your happiness dissipated fast, making place for a chilling calm inside your chest.

“You need to know how to use that, if you want to roam around. Once I’m sure your safety isn’t a vulnerability, you’ll be free to walk wherever you want.”

“I know how to use it”, slips from you, trying to escape the inevitable.

Sylus just looks at you, waiting for an explanation.

“My grandparents live near a forest. Grandpa taught me how to shoot since I was young and took me with him to hunt a few times.”

“Then show me”, his lips pull up into his signature smirk.

A lump forms in your throat, blood starts rushing in your body. Your hand reaches for the gun, slowly walking towards the place where Sylus was staying. Even if years passed since you held a gun, your body remembers the position before your mind can. The gun feels heavy now, pointing towards the silhouette sitting a few feet from where you are. Sweat feels like it’s dripping from between your fingers.

You close your eyes, trying to calm your nerves. Memories are resurfacing – blood, bodies in mud, gunshots.

No.

Eyes open, body stiff enough, ready for recoil – your finger gets to the trigger and presses with no hesitation.

The first instinct to the sound is to throw away the gun as far as possible and run away. Breathing feels impossible, air burning your throat and lungs. Sweat starts to wet your palms and gun more than before, shaky hands falling beside your body.

A hand on your shoulder gets you away from your thoughts.

“Right in the head. Not bad. How about we test this talent of yours?”

At first, you didn’t know what he meant. However, now, an abandoned building sits just a few steps away. The ride here was a blur; the only thing you remember is trying not to lose your mind and throw up in Sylus’ car.

The building looked like a grey box, forgotten by everyone that used it some years before. Rain and snow must have eaten away at it’s walls, while the sun of spring and summer led to plants appearing in the cracks. There was no intact window. Looking at the sorry state of this place, you could almost picture a lighting appear on the sky behind it. The entrance was locked with heavy chains with spots of red on them.

Sylus walks in front of you, taking his time. His steps and composure were more fit for a catwalk than whatever this mission was. With no warning, the chains dissipate in a red mist, leaving you nothing short of baffled – for some reason, you can’t get used to his evol, there’s nothing like it that your eyes ever seen. Sometimes, you wished you had one, even though it would be quite useless in your life. What evol would you have? Doing quick math?

A small burp lets itself free with close to no warning, a burning feeling reaching your throat. No matter how much saliva you try to swallow, that stomach of your keeps burning you with acid from within. You try to excuse yourself quietly for the mishap and continue following him closely.

The interior looked more like an archeologic site rather than an actual former… scientific research center? You guess, of course. Papers, files, computers were scattered around, broken pieces that could not be recognized anymore. The ceiling was falling in some places, cables hanging from it. It smelled musty and old, dust filling the air.

“What are we looking for?”

“A safe”, he responds quietly.

To find a safe in a ten stories building was quite an interesting feat. It could be anywhere.

He walked around with no sound, his shoulders moving naturally with a certain power that captivated you somehow. When around him, everything felt safe and achievable, even in this hell hole.

You wandered around looking behind every desk, in every room, turning shelves – nothing. Until, a tingling in your being caught your attention. It felt as if something whispered that it was close and urged you to come to it, to come and get it. At first, it didn’t make sense, so ignoring felt like the right choice. However, the tingling, the barely whispered need to move, began to feel like an itch. Looking back at Sylus, who moved to scan the next room with something resembling a scowl of displeasure, you decide to follow the feeling.

Slowly, you made your way to a large cabinet made of steel. An idea creeps in your mind and you look behind it. The wallpaper had places where it looked like a small gap formed.

“Hey, can you help me move this?”

Sylus appeared for a brief second in the room and hearing your request he just slightly pushed the cabinet to create enough space for the two of you to see the small gap. It turned out that stairs were hidden behind this wall, stairs that led to the basement.

The darkness that welcomed you two looked like an all-consuming void, while the only sound that could be heard were water droplets falling in puddles that formed over the years.

The itch that caught your attention turned into something darker. It was still present, but something scarier and more dangerous seemed to mask it. The gun that burned your hands every time it found itself in it, now it offered a false sense of security. Your ears started ringing out of nowhere and through the corner of your eye you see Sylus get more stiff than usual. He stepped out of reflex in front of you, then stopped. Waiting. Looking in the dark. Listening.

With every second, the ringing got worse, turning into a headache that made your vision blur.

A wheezing startled you. After the wheezing, sounds of steps followed – many steps.

Blood started rushing through your veins, heart beating out of your chest. Every sound, every single thing caught your attention, but it was so dark!...

The hustling got closer and closer, and suddenly a flash of light ignited from the lamps that were hanging from the ceiling of the long hall. The light flashed red every few seconds giving you two the chance to see something that made your blood run cold – a dozen of deformed beings, covered in black crystals or with weird exoskeletons growing on them rushed towards you.

What followed was fruit of the survival instinct, your mind going numb, retreating into a safe place far away as your finger pressed the trigger as fast as it could. Bullets flew around hitting their target just right, memories of hunts with your grandfather resurfacing.

“Don’t hesitate, make it quick and efficient. A clean shot is mercy to you and the animal.” was something your grandfather would advise, making you perfect your shots, aiming at the most vulnerable spots. These words follow you even now, but you doubt he ever thought that his words could be applied in this fight for survival against such blasphemous beings that were once humans for sure – at least some of them.

A sharp claw gets to you, kicking the gun out of your hands. You fall to the ground trying to get away as the humanoid figure with sharp claws stabs the ground around you. The next second it nearly falls on you, but your reflexes kick fast, getting you out of the way. With your back slick against a wall your eyes search for Sylus who was holding a knife – most likely the weapon who killed the more or less wanderer that was after you. His eyes hold an undecipherable weight that dissipates fast, leaving only a cold shadow in place.

Walking through the bodies, you feel absent, cold within, until a warm, acidic liquid fills your mouth and you kneel on the side letting it all out. Your stomach pushes everything you ate today out in a fury and the sight of it mixing with the black liquid that was similar to blood, makes it even worse. Sylus is beside you in a heartbeat holding your hair in silence, helping you stand upright when you are done.

You turn to him, apologizing, shame and weakness stinging in your eyes, but his face shows the most emotion you ever saw in the man in the past two weeks – worry and almost-guilt are etched on his features.

“Let’s get the safe and get out of here”, is the only thing he whispered.

Back at the base, after drinking so much water that you felt like a balloon, and exhausting every way to open the safe, you laid on the couch.

Sylus was typing on his tablet, glasses on his nose. He looked like a statue in the low light, not moving, his face staying the same. His eyes were averting yours even now, but you liked looking at him. It brought some kind of peace.

Sleep was starting to grip your eyelids, dragging them down, until an idea flashed in your tired brain.

The code!

You jump of the couch, kneeling besides the coffee table where the safe was placed. Your fingers press fast on the numbered keys the code you dreamt some time ago and like a miracle – it opens. Your lips form a tired smile as you turn towards Sylus whose eyes were wide, mouth slightly open.

“Ta-dah!”

When you finally get back at the shop it’s close to morning. The streets are surprisingly calm, your steps making the only sound. You get inside and head to your room. Exhaustion makes you fall in your bed still dressed, sweaty and smelling like gunpowder and blood, but you are too tired to care right now. Sleep finds you easily, drowning you in its suffocating arms that bring you no comfort.

The hallway was longer than usual, with dimmer light and the smell of bleach was replaced by a metallic smell of iron. Screams were getting louder as you got closer to the back door of the facility. The sound of gunshots was also getting closer.

In a flash you end up in the backyard. Nothing could prepare you for the image that you would witness. The rain was pouring. The backyard was full of ‘patients’, as they called them, either on the ground in weird positions, either running, trying to escape. Black crystals were on their skin, some didn’t look human at all, while others had deformed bodies. None survived. The blood was staining the ground a crimson color, mud and blood mixing together. There was so much that it looked like it was spreading to you.

You ran. You ran like hell. It didn’t matter that your lungs were burning, or that you were hitting doors full force, bruising yourself. The priority was to get away.

In front of you a girl appears. Her blonde hair was stained by blood. It was dripping from her hair.

You try to tug at her while yelling, hoping she would just move and come with you.

“They are dead! They are all dead! Move, come on! They’ll find you, just… COME ON!”

You wake up crying, breathing hard. Hands seem to grab you and you just slap at them.

“Get your hands off of me!”, you yell and move away trembling.

Philip stands there. His hands are up. He looks completely terrified and shocked.

“Oh God, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”, you cry smoothening your hair.

You look around. That’s not your room. You are in what the two of you claim to be the living room.

After getting in control of your emotions, the two of you decided that it was far too late to get anymore sleep. Sitting at the table in the kitchen, a cup of tea in your hands, the tension was palpable.

“What happened? Like what did I do when I was asleep?”

“At first, I heard you walking around and thought you needed something from downstairs. Then I heard bumping and you starting to cry. I tried to talk to you, but you just screamed that ‘they are all dead’. I realized you were sleepwalking and tried to wake you up and you did, eventually.”

All you could do was sigh and mumble that you’re sorry.

“There’s no need.”, he says while stirring honey in his tea. “We all have our own problems and things that haunt us. Want to talk about it?”

Trying to catch your breath you ponder the idea of laying your soul bare. The weight of what happened hangs on your shoulders and chokes you when you think about talking about it.

“No, it’s alright. I’m good”, it sounded more like you are trying to convince yourself.

You get up and go prepare for a new day since sleeping would be impossible right now.

Philip doesn’t try to stop you, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes lost. He sighs and heads for the lab.

Another day starts as what happened is ignored, though not forgotten.

---

tags: @m00njinnie @allura-miss @phisen @96jnie @blue-serendipity

[gigiwritess]

MY JACK ABBOT'S WORKS IN PROGRESS

[gifs by @merz-8 and @ho-ii]

it's saturday night, i'm high, and my obsession with jack abbot only grows more by the minute. to be honest, I thought that it'd have weaned off by now, but instead i have a thousand new ideas :) so, here's my list of works in progress.

writing:

TRAITOR | jack x f!resident!reader x frank | angsty, fluff, smut | love triangle fic that i don't even recall where it came from. currently at 2,8k words and it's nowhere near the end lol [spoiler alert: she ends with jack]. based a lot off 'traitor' and 'delirium' by elley duhé, 'body talk' by annaca. BRIGHTER 4TH | jack x vega!f!reader | untitled for now. really short at the moment

gonna write:

WILDFIRE | jack x firefighter!f!reader | jack falling in love with a feisty firefighter who matches his freak. probably a 2-parter [maybe more]. kinda angsty, smut. they're gonna have a toxic relationship at first MISTAKEN | jack x f!resident!reader | established but secret relationship; reader is having a hard time fighting off the ghost of his dead wife (she was a horrible person for him in this fic) and feels insecure. based off 'mistaken' by tove lo.

might write:

ELEVATOR EYES | jack x f!resident!reader | yes, another idea based off a song, again by tove lo. maybe enemies-to-lovers. still not sure.

REMEMBER: i write for myself, mostly, and for a mature audience. my works might include sensitive themes such as sex & mental health issues (the two most likely to appear).

ABOUT REQUESTS

i take some time to write things because i like to write full stories that i develop a lot, but i'd like to challenge myself to write shorter things, without putting much thought into it (like blurbs, i think?). so feel free to send me any jack abbot requests!!! i'd love to try to exercise my creativity with it.

bye!!!

[demial4]

I'd write much faster if my anxiety didn't make it difficult. It feels like every potential reader is looking over my shoulder, asking, "You sure you wanna that word?"

Stream of consciousness WHOMST?

[dukeofthomas]

Not "Robin Jason was just an angry, violent, aggressive brat", not "Robin Jason was a perfect, innocent, complete sunshine child" but a secret third thing (Robin Jason was a child who'd suffered abuse and trauma his whole life and never got the proper tools to heal from it; he was happy and silly, and he got angry and could be difficult)

[icewindandboringhorror]

It's always interesting to hear about people's weird/unexpected "alternate life paths". Like, something that you could have done with your life, a job you almost took, a school you almost went to, etc - that was still actually realistic enough that it could have happened, but NOW it seems to not suit your current personality.

Like for example, I currently hate advertising (how manipulative it is, brands trying to be 'relatable', social media amplifying it to an obnoxious extreme, etc.) so much that even seeing a little ad before a youtube video is grating to even witness, but there was a point in time where I was genuinely seriously considering going into marketing/making commercials as a career lol. Or like, I have a relative who was very inclined to be a pastor when they were younger, even though today they're a super strong atheist, etc. etc.

[wild-at-mind]

I had several days last week where I felt good about my appearance, even if I don't pass as male in public, I didn't care and I liked what I saw in the mirror. The person that I am.

I also felt able to draw and come up with ideas. Instead of procrastinating things I needed to do by doom scrolling, I was just getting on with the things and then once the dishes or whatever were done I'd be drawing something and feeling good about the result.

I didn't feel like I needed to look at things that upset me online for hours to be a good person. I was able to read about other people's experiences without immediately stressing out that I should do everything the same as them. It was like I had a fixed sense of my own identity suddenly. I didn't feel insecure at all. I felt good!

It was the best. But its gone now. I need to find the precise conditions that made this happen. I want to get back there. :(

[maudlin-scribbler]

WHYYY did my mother have kids with my father if she can barely stand his ass (i can't stand him much either) and whenever she's insulting and berating us she finds a way to compare us to him in a negative way. I mean I get that at first he was nice and whatever but MAYBE she should have thought about it more before having me considering she had only known my father for a few months (like. not even a year and she's like "i wanna have a baby!!!")

[moping-hours]

My friends don't hate me, they're just busy.

My friends don't hate me, they're just busy.

My-

[doodlingwren]

Hiatus

I am going on hiatus for a bit more. I really really hoped the stuff that have been going on lately were already "sorted out" but, uhm... they aren't. I need to take a bit more time offline once again, and try to work things out.

Thank you for your patience ❤

Wren

[dreamwinged]

there comes a time when it’s like omg im not talented at anything… everyone i love thinks im a loser…. i kinda AM a loser.. everyone my age is far more successful than i am… i dont even have any drive to be professionally successful whats my problem? i dont want to work… im not pretty…. what is the point to my life at all 🫥

[steampoweredskeleton]

.

Ignore

[duskerot]

i just put together my year in review art summary for the year and its interesting because compared to last year i think my technical skills improved but it feels a little bittersweet overall because as soon as i got my job all of that ambition just vanished LOL

[fireinmoonshot]

unreal | robert reynolds x reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader Summary: Bob offers for you to share his room while your room in the Watch Tower gets renovated... there's just one problem – he didn't think about the fact that he'd have to share a bed with you. Warnings: General mentions of mental health issues (nothing specific) Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Okay, so it's been over a week since I last wrote for Bob and the response on my last Bob fic is insane. I cannot believe how much love it's gotten 🥹 I have since seen Thunderbolts three more times and I love Bob even more. This was the fic idea that won in the poll I posted earlier today and it was so enjoyable to write. I am really looking forward to writing more for him (including the other ideas that I had in the poll). I hope you all enjoy this one as well. Requests are always open! 💗

“You can share my room” are five words that Bob regrets the second that they’re out of his mouth. Not because he doesn’t want you to share his room, but just because now that it’s out in the open, the prospect of you saying yes is terrifying.

When you’d all moved into the Watch Tower, you hadn’t considered the fact that most of the building was still a work in progress. There were so many rooms that still needed to be built and while there had been bedrooms, there weren’t many and Valentina had insisted on building you all your own. Nothing but the best for my New Avengers, she’d said.

Your bedroom was the last one to be renovated. Every other member of the team had gone through the room-sharing phase while their rooms were completed. Yelena and Ava had always shared, though they’d hated every second of it – both girls loved their personal space. Both Bucky and John refused to share with Alexei. Bob had managed to come out the other end without sharing a room at all. 

Until his offer to you, that is.

“Seriously?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you look around at the others. “None of you are offering to share with me so you’re making Bob offer?”

Walker scoffs. “You think we put him up to it? Please.”

“No one put me up to it,” Bob shakes his head. “I just thought I’d ask you since… y’know… none of the others have… and you probably don’t wanna sleep on the couch out here.”

He’s not really sure why he’d offered, actually. The words had been out of his mouth before he’d had a chance to think them over, which was strange for him. He supposes it might have something to do with the fact that he’s been crushing on you for a solid few months. It would be fine, though. He didn’t have a couch in his room, but he’s slept on his fair share of floors before and this one would be no different. Sharing a bedroom with someone he was slowly falling head over heels with was definitely going to end well.

You cross the room and put a hand down on Bob’s shoulder. “Are you really sure you want me to share with you? I know you haven’t had to share before and I really don’t want to intrude on your space.” Your voice is soft, for Bob’s ears only.

He nods once. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

You don’t completely believe him. He’s undoubtedly the most independent out of all of you, but it’s been proven that he really does love being around other people. The last thing you want is to get in his way or make him uncomfortable.

“Bob,” you meet his eyes. 

His lips turn up into a small smile at the tone of your voice. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to share with you.”

That seems to do the trick, because you nod your head and step away from Bob after that before announcing that you’re going to go and start getting all your things together. 

That afternoon, you move your things into his room so that the renovations can start on your own. Bob makes some space for you – not that he has a lot of things himself – but he wants to make you feel comfortable. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re living in his room. He wants it to feel like it’s yours too.

It only starts to feel real once it’s gotten dark outside and everyone has started to retire to bed. Once he’s in his room again, sitting on a bean bag in the corner, a book in his hand and he sees you walk into his room, hair a little bit wet from your shower. 

“I just realised,” you say, stopping in the centre of the room and looking around, “that you don’t have a couch.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bob nods, closing the book and sitting up a little straighter. “I just sit here. I, uh, I changed the sheets on the bed earlier so that you don’t have to sleep in dirty ones.”

You frown and look over at him. “Me? I’m not sleeping in your bed, Bob. I assumed I’d sleep on the couch. But I can just sleep on your beanbag. I’ll go and find some blankets…”

You turn to go and leave the room when you see Bob standing up in the corner of your eye. He stumbles a little, the blanket on the ground in front of him briefly catching his feet, and then rights himself. 

“No, you don’t have to do that,” he says. “You take the bed. I’m fine with sleeping on the floor. I’ve done it more often than you think.”

“Bob… you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s really okay.”

He really doesn’t mind. As long as you’re comfortable, he will be too. He’s slept in worse places. Plus, he doubts he’d even be able to sleep soundly knowing you were uncomfortable on the cold, hard floor. How could he let the person he likes sleep there rather than on his perfectly comfortable bed?

You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head, slowly starting to walk towards him. This is a losing battle, you can see that. There’s no way that Bob is going to relent and let you sleep on the floor or the bean bag, and there’s no way you’re going to let him sleep there either. You couldn’t live with yourself if he did.

“Why don’t we both take the bed?” You suggest.

Bob’s eyes widen a little and he opens his mouth and then closes it again without saying anything. That’s the last thing he’d expected you to say. Sharing a bed? Had any of the others shared beds when they’d shared rooms? He highly doubted that. The members of the New Avengers weren’t particularly comfortable when it came to physical contact. 

“I don’t think we have to do that,” he mutters.

“Why not? I don’t mind it. That way, we both get to sleep on the bed and neither of us have to be uncomfortable on the floor. I promise I’ll stick to my side.”

Bob stares at you for a moment. You’re really suggesting this. You really want to share a bed with him. But how is he supposed to share a bed with you? This is not going to be beneficial towards his crush at all. It’s definitely not going to help him in his mission to get over you… he hadn’t started on that mission yet but he was definitely going to start soon… oh, he really shouldn’t have suggested this…

“All right, then,” he hums, and then squeezes his eyes shut as he winces. What the hell is he doing? Why are the words he’s speaking and the thoughts he’s having so out of sync?

You smile at him – one of the beautiful smiles that always sets his heart alight – and then move towards the bed. “Which side do you usually sleep on?” 

“Closest to the door,” he says, starting to walk towards it.

“A man after my own heart,” you grin, voice teasing as you pull the sheets back to the other side of the bed and slip underneath them. “Can you get the lights?” 

Bob tries his best to ignore your words, thinking about how he is actually after your heart, and slowly walks towards the light switch. He turns them off, then makes his way towards the bed in the dark. His heart is racing in his chest. It’s not until he’s sitting on the bed, hands fisted in the sheets, that he realises he’s sweating bullets.

He’d forgotten. How could he forget something like this? He’s always run hot. He’s been known to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, especially after a nightmare.

Maybe, once you’re asleep, he can slip out of the bed and go back to the bean bag without waking you up… surely that would be okay. He could make up some excuse in the morning about not being able to sleep in the bed…

“Everything all right?” You ask from beside him.

The room is so dark that he can’t see you to tell how far away from him you are, but your voice is close. He trusts that you’ve stuck to your word, though, and that you haven’t crept over to his side of the bed.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea actually.”

He hears the sheets rustling and can somehow tell that you’re sitting up now. 

“Why not?”

Bob sighs and tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. He doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed about this. It’s not like you don’t know. You were there in the vault. You heard him admit it to Yelena. You’ve seen so many parts of him that he hates and you’ve never judged him for any of them, so why would you judge him for this now?

“Hey,” your voice is gentle. “You can tell me. If you don’t want me here, I can go.”

“No,” Bob shakes his head, quick to respond. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re not welcome here when truthfully, all he wants is to have you here with him. He just wishes he wasn’t so awkward about it. “It’s not that. It’s just…”

“There’s no rush.” 

He turns to look at where you’re sitting, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness so he can see you just barely. “I run hot,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if I sweat a lot during the night. I should just sleep on the floor by myself.”

There’s silence for a moment and Bob takes that as your answer. He swings his legs off the bed and is just about to stand up when he feels the mattress shift underneath him, and then he feels your warmth pressed against his side.

“Hey, no,” you hum, leaning your arm against his. “Don’t do that. You don’t have to worry about things like that with me. If you sleep on the floor, I’m sleeping on the floor too. You’re not giving up your comforts for me.”

Bob turns to look at you through the darkness. “I’d just make you uncomfortable.”

“No,” you reach down and find his hand, entwining your fingers together. It’s true that the members of your team are bad when it comes to physical contact, but you don’t mind it. Bob’s always been a little concerned about touch ever since the incident that had happened a few months back but you can tell by the way he doesn’t tense up at your touch that he doesn’t mind it. You’re surprised to find you can actually feel him relax a little. “You won’t.” 

“I won’t?” 

“No,” you repeat. “I’m really glad you offered for me to share your room, Bob. I don’t care if you run so hot that the whole bed feels like a giant inferno. I’m not going to leave unless you ask me to.”

“I won’t. ” 

You give his hand a squeeze. “Okay, so should we get back into bed and try and get some sleep then?”

Bob nods and then remembers it’s dark and you probably can’t see him. “Yeah, all right.”

He hates the feeling of emptiness when you let go of his hand. He can feel the mattress shifting as you move back to your side of the bed. It takes every part of him to swing his legs back up and to lay down. It’s only once his head hits the pillow that he feels truly relaxed. It’s strange, even just knowing that you’re right beside him puts him a little bit at ease.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” You say, voice so close to him that he almost jumps.

“Okay,” he murmurs, staring up at the dark ceiling above him. 

He’s so certain he’s going to wake up in the morning and all of this will have just been a dream. Not a good dream, not a bad dream. Just an unreal one. One where you hold his hand and sleep beside him. One where, as he’s drifting off to sleep he can feel the warmth of your body inches away. One where he can remember the feeling of your arm pressed against his with such clarity it almost feels real. 

But when he wakes up in the morning, the first thing he sees is you sleeping soundly beside him and he knows it wasn’t a dream. A small smile makes its way onto his face. He can’t remember the last time he slept through the night without waking up… not until right now. 

[thedevotionaltour]

in terms of art alone im sorry. im a jrjr defender to my last breath you be fucking nice to him. i dont wanna hear shit❗️❗️❗️

[dduane]

Just checking in

Because some of y'all are worrying about me, I know.

(Inserting a cut here. TW, as you might expect, for mentions of death and after-death issues. Also of crap beds, noisy clueless tourists, and giant koi.)

The "Trip Away From Home To Try To Get A Grip On Things" is proceeding as well as it can when the one element it would need to be perfect, and truly enjoyable, is missing. (sighing) If Peter was along in corporeal form, he would be lapping this up.

...Well, everything except the current weather. I'm in Interlaken, and it's raining. And not just some little passing episodic rain, either. This is more, even, than the Irish definition of "soft weather". It's coming down in the steady persistent way that would make Peter say "Well, that's on for the day..." And so it may be. So for the time being, I get to sit in the hotel and watch it rain, and consider the odds of actually getting up the Jungfrau to see the Aletsch Glacier before any more of it melts. (And those odds seem poor: but more of that later.)

So here's where I've been:

Dublin—overnight in U2's hotel. Which is very nice. And which has come down in price, astonishingly, on their singles. (Though I nonetheless thank, yet again, the folks who have made this difficult transitional people so much less problematic for me via Ko-Fi.) As Peter had been telling me I really should try this place some time when I had to be going somewhere else, I took him at his word.

Zürich, just briefly. (Shopping will wait until the run back.) On the way to:

Basel, for one night before the Eurovision finals. I don't know for sure, but it seems likely to me that Basel may have broken the record for biggest Eurovision venue (the St. Jakob's Stadion had 49K people in it on Saturday night). Also: one of my cabbies told me that the city had nearly half a million tourists in it... which, for a little-ish city like Basel, is a whole lot. I can tell you that about half them seemed to be walking around in the streets when we were trying to drive in them, and it was a nightmare, and my cabbies were saying terrible things in Baslerdeutsch.

Freiburg im Breisgau for two nights out of a planned three. ...I had to go early, as the bed in the [otherwise lovely] room the hotel had put me in was not good for my back. Fortunately I had enough funds on hand to simply kiss off that third night and return to the hotel in Basel, which not only had way better beds, but the most comfortable pillows I've ever slept on in a central-European hotel. I would go back to the Maerthof (money allowing: it ain't cheap...) for just the pillows alone. (And also the shower in the room was terrific, and I very much noticed and appreciated the numerous solid and well-placed accessibility aids. Ask for room 402, and don't freak out when the anti-sun glare blinds automatically come down at 0900.)

And now, Interlaken (already famous to some of you for this craziness, in which we found soup ads in Terry Pratchett's German editions). I'll be here tonight and tomorrow night, and then (probably, not decided yet) in Bern the night after. Zürich again the night after that, as I fly back to Dublin the next day, see people on the Dublin 2029 planning committee, and then... head back home to get on with gettin' on. ...Whatever that looks like.

Mental state: I miss him. Oh gods I miss him! Every fifth minute. Or third. And I always will! That's not a conditional. But I'm watching my moods (and physical health) with great care. If I start suspecting that I need antidepressents, or some other kind of specialized care, I'll go get it. There's lots of it around. (I note in passing that my appetite has slowly come back. My sleep patterns are still stupid, but I'm getting more sleep than earlier in this ten-day period.)

Be clear, too, that this isn't just me Being Tough because it's expected of me. I now have even more work-related responsibilities than I had earlier... as soon enough the copyrights on Peter's books will pass to my guardianship, and I have to make sure they're properly cared for. (In particular, his contract with his current e-book publisher is about to run out, and I think I'll be reclaiming those for publication at Ebooks Direct, as the other guys haven't been doing that stellar a job with them.)

And then I have to figure out: what do I need to do to write, now? Because there's a whole lot of that work that needs doing. Can I ever do it again in that house that's so quiet without him? And if not, how do I make this work? Peter has been the not-so-silent foundation of my life for forty years. (We missed that fortieth wedding anniversary by so little...) My most constant reader is now no longer in condition to read and report back...

(sighing) We shall see. Everything, now, is an adventure. Just nowhere near as cool a one as it was when he was here.

...Meanwhile, I'm enjoying the hotel in Interlaken, which has a charmingly modernized yes-this-is-the-Swiss-countryside-but-we-have-heard-of-modern-life-thank-you-very-fucking-much quality to it. And in particular: it's next to a feature called "The Japanese Garden" that features a pond with some of the BIGGEST damn koi I've ever seen. The damn things are like zeppelins. I'll post pics of them tomorrow: I want to see if there might be better lighting in the morning. They remind me of the ones at this hotel in Santa Monica that used to come up to the poolside bar seats and make adorable irresistible Fishy Faces at you until you fed them salted peanuts from the bar snacks. Which apparently they knew they were not allowed to have, but loved anyway, and they would make faces at you until you broke and appeased them.)

Meanwhile, here is this evening's wine. "Lucifer"? What's not to like? It's a light Valisan quaffing red.

("When you're drinking Swiss reds," says the Voice In My Head, "get the whole damn bottle. It's cheaper than by the glass. And if you don't finish it, or we don't finish it, you can always take it up to the room with you and have it tomorrow.")

(...You see what I put up with.) :)

Hugs to you all.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

the devil’s whispers:

you can do it tomorrow (if you don’t do it now you’ll never do it ever)

you have a lot of time left (life is actually pretty short and we don’t have that much time)

you can skip this one little thing today (you are functioning solely due to the fact that you have a routine)

i must respond to this one thing that is bothering me immediately (you don’t have to do anything, it’s all in ur head)

I must check my phone (u don’t have to do anything, it’s all in ur head)

panicking is productive (panicking never makes a situation better, but in fact exacerbates it)

I must listen to music while doing the most minute task (u don’t have to do anything, it’s all in ur head. and I like music as much as the next person but moments of sheer silence are crucial)

I must befriend everyone (some people just don’t mesh together and that is ok)

I can skip working out for the day (working out does so much for ur physical AND mental health)

If misfortune happens to me it’s because I am uniquely unlucky (misfortune has nothing to do with preordained circumstances and everything to do with random odds)

If I am mistreated it’s because I am a horrible person and I deserve it (most times people are projecting their issues onto u and it has nothing to do with u)

if I make a mistake I am uniquely horrible (we are all human and we all make mistakes. the important thing is to hold ourselves accountable and learn from them)

I must have this one thing I really want now (u don’t have to do anything, it’s all in ur head. also whatever u want will still be here tomorrow so this sense of urgency is false)

I am uniquely hated/disliked/ostracized (most people are busy w their own lives and don’t have the time to be hating on u. and if they really are then their life is pretty empty and their opinion should not be held in high regard to begin with)