#(or if i die which is more likely) ill watch it...i literally just clicked somewhere on the video timeline randomly and saw this.

[rpfisfine]

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

>  I’m doomed >  paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll.  >  help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End. 

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared. 

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest. 

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth? 

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air. 

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly  from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does. 

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot. 

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge. 

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?” 

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter. 

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory. 

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle. 

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?” 

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease. 

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face. 

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts. 

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body. 

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl. 

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned. 

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.” 

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room. 

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious. 

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture. 

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue. 

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream. 

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back. 

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing. 

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye.  Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

[boneswriteswords]

Alien Boyfriend: Duxob

I wrote this over a year ago and it was on my wattpad so I decided to move it over here too. Its my first crack at an alien and a space story. Let me know what you think and if I should continue this world building. 

I reread it and I’m not a fan but I never like any of my work so eh. Its unbeta’d because we die like men here. 

Length: ~7900

Male Alien x Female Reader

~~~~~~

The sun that rose in the west was at its peak as you pretended to rummage through your backpack. It was the kind of hot that evaporated the sweat from your body before it even had a chance to drip and you could feel the skin at the back of your neck boiling. Stealing the large tub of sun cream you in preparation for your days on this hell-site of a planet was honestly one of the smartest things you had ever done in your life.

A few feet away, Duxob leaned against your bikes, tinted band hiding half his reptilian face as he scanned the area - particularly the cargo wagon by the gateway- under the guise of adjusting something on one of the handle bars.

It was a believable enough scene. Your bikes looked like they were on their last legs, barely functional and ill-maintained, what with all the scratches and chipped paint, the dangling wires and exposed gear shifts. The tires were covered in duct tape. The seats were tattered and stained. The metals looked rusted and dangerous.  

No one needed to know that they only looked that way though.

No one needed to know that you designed them to look like heaps of junk. Aside from the things that you needed to fix on them the next time you hit a decent port city, they ran smoother and faster than anything on this side of the galaxy.  But, for the purposes of keeping your head down and not getting robbed, life was easier when they didn't look appealing.

Across the clearing, you could hear the men attaching the empty wagon to the jump ship, checking over the mechanics one last time. They're yelling something  The driver of the jump ship revs the gears in quick bursts, filling the silent port with noise, and you know that you only have a few minutes before they leave.

You adjust your band down over the bridge of your nose, turning up the the tint so your eyes weren't visible. If anyone was watching, you didn't want them to have any more identifiers than necessary. It was bad enough that your roots were showing, revealing your natural hair color to the world.

Glancing up at Duxob, you nod. His scales shift colors -green to blue to purple- in silent agreement, running his hand over his pants and mounting his bike. There was no need for words when you've been working together as long as you have. There is no doubt between you and it makes picking out the best targets easier than breathing.

Like the driver. You would have approached him. He was an old Culxan, wrinkles deep in his wide face and expression set in a way that shows he has never known much other than struggle and hard labor in his long life, but he was soft around the edges. He likely had a family or at the very least, he wished he had one. You'd be able to play into that if you had the time, chipping away at him with curious glances and innocent but intrusive questions until he broke rules about stowaways and border jumping.

But time was the one thing you didn't have at the moment.

Which was why Duxob was taking the lead while you kept watch, one hand on your gun and the other on your bike handle. There were no visible security measures - the region you were in was way too poor to afford drones and bots and all the other high tech shit that smothers the galaxies - but that didn't mean much. This was an outlaw station - used more for transporting produce and drugs than intel and technology - and that meant anyone could have some sort of weapon on them at any time.

Which meant that they all did.

It also meant that you both needed to be extra careful. What you were doing was still illegal - Duxob could be arrested the moment he set foot by the gates - but there was a lawlessness about the way they dealt with criminals.  There were no questions. There were no arrests. There were no calling the authorities.

You didn't just have to watch for guard passes through the jump, you had to watch for anyone who looked at your partner for longer than 10 seconds.

It made you anxious but you knew Duxob could handle himself. He was Alzeanian after all - one of the most deadly species to exist on this side of the cosmos - and while they were rare and were hardly ever seen off their own planet, everyone knew what they were capable of.

It was an advantage you had utilized many times since you met him.

Still, you also never looked away from him as he approached the cargo wagon. Between the whirring of refueling pods and the grinding of the lines, the whole area is drowned in a sea of noise that made it damn near impossible for you to pick up what Duxob was saying. He was off his bike and if you hadn't redesigned it yourself, you would have thought it was turned off.

'Not safe yet,' you thought, watching as he adjusts his gait into a saunter as he approaches the driver. His wide smile is all sharp teeth but his flat nostrils are closed into slits as he scented the wagon. After a moment, the slits flared open again and He stretched, his lean body on display as his dirty shirt rode up.

You tried not to stare but it was difficult when your job was literally to watch his scales to see if they shifted or not.  

Duxob's toothy smile morphed into an easy grin as he reached down into his pocket and pulled out a small bag, slipping it into the driver's pointed claw in a pseudo-handshake. He flashed green and you knew you were safe for the moment.

Relieved, you hitched your backpack over your shoulders as Duxob drove back over. "We good?"

"Yeah. One bag of units and four ounces of dust," he husks, removing his own backpack from where it was hooked onto his bike, "Pretty cheap but then again, the wagon is empty, they're jumping through a moon shift, and its heading to the Triquaz region so anything more than that would have been bullshit and he knows it."

"Ew."

You hated the Triquaz region. Hated it. On your list of choices for destinations, it wouldn't even make it to the top 500 but the reality was that you didn't have a choice at the moment. They needed to get off this planet and find a port where they could stock up on their dangerously low supplies. You were human, which limited the amount of things you could consume in the galaxy apparently, and finding stations that imported Earth produce and the like took a bit of research to find.

"I know but at least the temperature doesn't fluctuate so suddenly or so dramatically."

"This is true," you sighed, adjusting your grip on your handle bars as you walked alongside the bulky alien, kicking up dust as you did so "Do you know which planet we're going to?"

"No but I do know we will be confined inside the back for a good five days before we get there."

"Well fuck," you groaned, "Do we have enough to get us through til then?"

His lips quirked up and you couldn't help be annoyed at it. You had real concerns damnit! You knew how much you had in your bag but that was it. You didn't touch your partner's bag unless it was a severe medical emergency, like the time you got bit by a Qon and needed a poison pack or when Duxob accidentally burned off an entire forearm's worth of scales and skin trying to readjust the thrusters on his bike without your supervision.  

"Don't fucking smirk at me dickhole."

His grin widened minutely before disappearing completely, "We will be fine. We have enough to last until we get off-world and find somewhere to sleep."

God you missed sleep. It felt like ages since you were able to get more than an hour here and there. The tension in your body was tight enough to choke someone to death. Your body was not made for the rough interstellar outlaw lifestyle that you found yourself in and it loved to remind you of that.

The alternative wasn't any better so you tried not to bitch too much about it.

The wagon was attached to the jump ship, the back door closing as it prepared to jump. The gatekeepers on both sides of the portal gate were bustling too and fro, making sure everything was secured for a final time before departure.

"Ready?" Duxob grunts, picking up the pace.

This part, along with literally everything else about being a stowaway, made you nervous. Jumping was a very serious, precious thing. If you fell back, it usually wasn't so bad. Depending on how far you are, you could come back unscathed. If you fell to the side.....well, it wasn't pretty thats for damn sure.

"Ready."

As one, you run forward, kicking up even more dust and shoving your bikes upwards, hopping into the wagon just as the doors close. You can hear the clicking as the metal latch seals and the overpowering light from the east sun was consumed in darkness. You quickly dropped to your knees and clutch onto the metal door handle, feeling the start-up of the initial burst of speed that is required in order to jump.

Duxob worked quickly to secure the security locks and activate the bracer shields on the bikes, knowing full well how awful it could be if the bikes remained unsteady during liftoff.  

The wagon rocks as the buildup increases. There is heavy clanging happening outside, slowly being drowned out by the familiar ghostly noises of the portal as the wagon approaches it. You brace yourself as the rocking turns into lurching, knowing full well that no matter how hard you clutch onto the door, you are going to be flung.

It always hurts and this time is no different. The bruises on your back are going to be a fucking bitch.

"Y/N?" Duxob pulls a light stick from his bag as it ends, snapping the two ends together and holding it up. The wagon illuminates and you give him a thumbs up from where you landed on the floor on the opposite side of the wagon.

"Is anything broken, you weird fragile creature?"

The thumbs up quickly turns into middle finger and he snorts, which makes you bend your arm and snap it up a few times to emphasize the level of 'fuck you' you are directing at him. You hated everything.

The wagon lurches again and flings you over to another side of the wagon yet again. Pain shoots into your side but its quickly quashed when you realize it hurled you right into Duxob's body, causing him to grunt and slam back into the wall forcefully.

Fucking aftershocks.

"Ish what you get for talking shit asshole," you mumbled, face pressed uncomfortably into his abdomen (?)- you had no idea because Duxob dropped the light stick on impact and it rolled underneath one of the bikes and died.

A solid hour goes by before either of you move, wanting to be completely sure that the jump was successful.

"Only five days to go," you grumble as you finally shift away from the chilled body of your partner, "Fuck."

Five days of sleeping on a hard floor, working in the low lights of your remaining sticks, sucking on dehydrated food packs and ignoring the grumbling in your stomachs, and trying not to go stir crazy in the darkness of space. Again.

"We'll get through it. We always do."

"I know," you sigh, "I just wish it was different sometimes."

He doesn't say anything but you can feel his clawed hands stroke the top of your head and you hum, content despite the complaints on your lips. You'd cope. You both would. Just like you always do.

Because you weren't alone and neither was he.

~~~~~

Five days was four days and 23 hours too many to be confined in the dark with nothing to do. You were ready to tear your skin off just to have something else to focus on. As awesome as it was, travelling the galaxies wasn't a luxurious process if you didn't have the money to book passage on a tourist ship or buy your own. More often than not, if you wanted to get somewhere off-planet, you either hitched a ride or you snuck your way into empty crates and bag holds, spending hours upon hours being quiet and still.

It was maddening at the worst of times but you always felt better knowing that Duxob was with you, keeping you company in the quiet.

Nevertheless, the moment the secondary engines turned off, you were up and ready for action, securing your stuff back onto your body before the clinking and clanging of the descent even stopped.  

Duxob was too by the looks of it. His face was always hard to read but you could tell he was just as anxious to escape your wooden prison as you were. You couldn't see it too well in the dark but his scales were more red than any other color and bright than normal, indicating his level of irritation. You watched as he pressed close to the wood, listening to the shouting coming from the outside through his comm chip.

You would have but yours was damaged and the parts were too small to see and repair in the total darkness of the wagon. The universe was filled with other languages and you picked up what you could but everything on the outside sounded foreign.

"Can you make anything out?" you whisper, already straddling your bike with your hand on the starter. After being confined for so long, the rush of adrenline was blinding. You wanted to go.

Duxob jerks away from the wood quickly and hops on his own bike, "We've descended. They'll be opening the door any minute now. Get ready." His long clawed hand turned his bike on before reaching over and flicking yours on too, "We have to be quick. This port is more heavily armed with border agents and just as ruthless. Be careful."

"You too."

The seconds seem to drag on and anxiety causes your grip on your handles to strengthen even as you start to sweat. Border patrol agents were nasty pieces of work, hired to check and process travellers as they come and go off planets but, because there were no uniform regulations to keep them in line, they often just did as they pleased to people, especially those that are illegally jumping.

Like you and Duxob were.

"We will be fine Y/N," Duxob mumbled quietly, his voice hoarse from disuse and oh how you loved how he said your name "They haven't caught us yet. They never will."

The darkness seems deeper in the contours of his face as you look at him, emphasizing the brightness of his golden reptilian eyes and the gold pseudo-eyes that rest above them and bleeding over the contours of his cheekbones. (He never explained to you what the 'pseudo eyes' were - you weren't even sure if they were eyes to begin with- or what they did and you couldn't bring yourself to care about you- not when he was looking at you and you had more important things to focus on).

He's all hard lines and safety, a reminder of all you've gone through the last few years to get where you are, and you relax just the slightest bit.

"No. They never fucking will."

His lips quirk up again, "Now get ready. Its almost time."

And he was right. No sooner than you had turned back to face the wagon door, did it open with a hiss, revealing several border patrol guards with scanners and tasers and all the pretty toys you wish you could get your hands on.

"Show time."

~~~~~~

The getaway was as dramatic as you would expect. The air tasted wet, the humidity of the planet already working its magic on your already beaten body as you sped away from the guards. The port was a mess - Duxob finding it absolutely necessary to snatch one of their stun bombs and let it off over the entire port. There was a pain spreading from your side and you knew without a doubt that you got hit.

But it was worth it.

Duxob was unharmed.

You glance over your shoulder and assess the chaos left in your wake. Its nothing more than a smoky ball of dirt on wet and slimy hilltop and you grin when you see that the guard patrol bikes are still hovering around the port.

"They didn't see us. I think we're good," you shout, grinning wide despite the pulsing pain in your side. You could feel the blood dripping down your back, a burning sensation crawling over your flesh. Carefully, you engage your auto-drive.

"Lets get farther away before we get comfortable," the reptilian man warned, doing nothing to stop the smirk forming on his lips but kicking his bike into the next gear. You untie and retie your jacket's belt quickly, using whats left of your clothes as a makeshift bandage to staunch the bleeding, before putting your bike into the next gear to catch up.

"Where to?" You could feel drops of water splashing up from your wheels and you pointedly do not think about how much fucking mud you are going to have to clean out of your rechargers later. Instead, you focus on how exhilarating it feels to be alive.

Alive and with Duxob.

"There is a city not far from here but I think we should head out farther. When they release we got away, they'll immediately head to it to try and smoke us out."

"Sounds good to me." It really didn't, not with the way the fire in your side spread and consumed you but auto-drive was a beautiful thing and it wouldn't be the first time you passed out and needed your bike to take you to safety. Duxob was more than capable of syncing your bike to his so you didn't get separated and he was more than used to you passing out due to your human stamina.

It would be ok.

~~~~~~

It was not ok.

You had been on the road for at least a full 12 hours before Duxob found a port city to stop in, every rock, bump, and hurdle ripping at the ever-growing wound on your side.  There was nothing special about this particular port - same lost cost rooms, dingy dive bars, questionable food marts, and horrific pleasure buildings, all the same shit that comes with being a hub for the transients and the poor - and that what made it the perfect place to lay low for a bit.

It also meant that there likely wasn't a med bay anywhere in the vicinity and you're going to have to try and fix the wound yourself when Duxob went for food.

There were plenty of buildings advertising rooms but Duxob was picky, choosing the one that had the least amount of skeevy employees and cleaner bathrooms. It had a parking lot right outside the rooms, which was good since being able to get to their bikes at a moment's notice was vital in your combined survival.

Your room was all the way in the back of the building, on the first floor, another thing Duxob insists on when you bunker down in actual rooms for a night or two.

"I got us a room for five nights," he says, flashing the card keys and slipping them into his jacket pocket.

The surprise on your face must have been obvious because he snorted, "We need a rest. And we need to restock. Shipments are due to come in all this week at this port. Better to lay low and stay than run off with half empty gas tanks and no food."

Point.

"They didn't charge me too much," he murmured, knowing how anxious you got when you ran low on units, "I bartered."

Bartered meaning threatened the clerk until he was satisfied that they wouldn't bother you both.  You smirked up at him, "Good. I'm assuming we also have an hydration pod?"

Duxob leveled you with a stern look before it broke into a small grin and a wink, almost sending you to your knees in shock.

"Oooh, whats got you all playful?" you joked, subtly adjusting so you could poke his abdomen through his thick jacket. The movement was enough to make you want to die but you could not pass up the opportunity to tease him.

"You're going to stop smelling like shit and I'm excited about it."

"Fuck you, you stoic cumstain," you cackled, knowing full well that he was right. A downside to the life is that cleanliness often had to be traded for survival. Weeks could go by with only light rinsing and scrubbing through hoses and water containers and lakes. Soap was an almost nonexistent luxury as was conditioner and lotion.

Honestly, it was one of the hardest things you had to give up when you first left Earth and the thought of slipping into the pod and being able to do a deep cleansing of your body and wound was heavenly.

The scales on his head shift to a deep violet, spreading down his neck and chest in striping patterns and you know he is just as excited as you are to bathe. He reeks just as much as you do, the skin between his scales caked with ingrained dirt that probably drove him insane.

You made a mental note to offer to swab them out for him after his initial wash. You know, if you didn't pass out from the pain.

He swipes the card through the door before walking back outside to secure the bikes. You immediately drop all your stuff onto the bed in the corner, slowly lowering your body down next to it. You side screamed in protest, sweat starting to drip down your body as the wound shifted from a spreading  pain into paralyzing infection.

Which means that it wasn't just a normal blaster the guard was wielding.

Which means that it was one of the million different kinds of biological weapons they had at their disposal.

Which means that not only did it feel like your flesh was being fried and eaten, it likely was being fried and eaten to create the ideal environment for whatever chemical or disease that was inside it to make itself at home and infect you.

Which meant you were fucked.

The world got really fuzzy.

"....hey....Y/N? Are you ok?" your partner said, voice sounding distant.

'Oh...I think I'm dying,' you thought sluggishly as Duxob's face appeared above yours, handsome reptilian face slowly fading.

"Nope," you slurred, making sure to emphasize the pop of the 'P', "I got shot at the port. Thought it was a normal blaster shot but looks like its not...."

"What?"

Oh, he sounded mad.

"Yeah. Don't be mad."

"Oh. Mad doesn't even begin to cover what I'm feeling," he growled, easing off your jacket and the majority of your shirt off as carefully as he could to inspect the damage. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"We had to get away." There were pieces of fabric melted into the wound and no matter how gentle he was being, it was not pleasant and you couldn't stop the choked noises from escaping. Something cold was sprayed on the blistering skin and you vaguely recognized the smell of antibiotic spray.

'He's so smart,' your mind supplied as it floated in dead, squishy remnants of your ability to think rational and continuous thought, 'Knows just what I need.'

"We could have stopped sooner! This needs to be dressed and treated!"

You didn't have the strength to argue, blinking to fight off the very tempting urge to just pass out and ignore the way your body was succumbing to the infection. There was an unhealthy amount of sweat pooling in your collarbones and in the small of your back but there was ice in your bones.

"Stay awake. Stay the fuck awake Y/N! Do you hear me? I'm going to wrap you up and get some help."

"Too dangerous."

"Fuck you, I swear if-"

You didn't hear what he said next. Everything went silent, like when audio is cut right in the middle of a movie. You were positive he was still talking but his lips were moving way too fast for you to read them and it wasn't like you could see them clearly anyway.

A feeling of calm washes over you before the world goes black.

~~~~~

The first time you regain consciousness feels like something out of one of your nightmares.

There is pain.

Lots and lots of fucking pain.

And you can't move.  Your body was frozen, limbs unresponsive and weak.

And there is one - no, two - faces hovering above you covered in blood and neither of them was Duxob. You didn't recognize either of them but you knew that the blood was yours.  

The screams formed and fizzled out before they could reach your teeth.

'Please. Please let me die. Oh my God, please let me die. I can't....help me. Someone help me!'

The darkness gripped you tight and you hoped that you never woke up again.  

~~~~~~

The second time you wake up, you are in a different room and the pain is gone but it was replaced with a throbbing ache in your joints. Its dark, the only light coming from a small light stick in the corner of the room, but you can make out the shape of something moving in the room behind weighted eyelids.

"Dux?" you rasp, mouth dry and disgusting, "That you?"

The shadow figure moved closer. Right away you knew it wasn't Dux and you couldn't stop the anxious whine from escaping. It crackled painfully in your throat. The dark hid everything from you, fear slamming back into you forcefully.

"Shhh. Shhh little love," the shadow whispered, voice feminine and sweet, "Dux is nearby. Cade had to take him to the back room while R fixed you up."

A cool cloth was placed on your head and you flinched, whining again when you realized you couldn't move away from it. The ache spread throughout your body as it tried to shiver. The bed beside your hand dipped before a soft hand stroked your cheek and hair.

"Rest. You are out of danger now. I'll let Dux know you know you woke up," the shadow said, a smooth lilt to its voice as they continued to soothe you. "He worries."

As much as you want to protest, to jump up and demand answers, scream for Duxob to come in and protect you from the shadow and this strange, awful place, you couldn't help but the shadow's touch was comforting. Something beeped somewhere in the darkness followed by a burst of sweet-smelling aroma.

Before you could stop yourself, you slipped gently back into unconsciousness with the bitter knowledge of waking up alone on your tongue.

~~~~~~

The third time you woke up, you felt better. The throbbing ache was centralized to the spot where you knew your wound was. You kept your eyes closed for a few moments, cataloging your body, relieved when it seems that all your limbs seemed back online and capable of movement.

"Y/N?" a familiar voice asked and you couldn't help the grin as it formed on your mouth.

"Dux?"

"Yeah, its me," the sound of wood scraping on wood filled the room and the bed dipped a little, "I was starting to think Jazza lied."

"Who?"

"Don't worry about it right now," he murmured quietly and you didn't have to look to see that his face was next to yours on the pillow, "How do you feel?"

"Sore," you whimpered, shifting a bit on the bed, "but good. Better."

"Good. Good."

After a moment of struggle, you were able to roll your head to side and open your eyes. Duxob's face was, indeed, very close to yours on the pillow. Close enough that you could trace the green patterns in his iris's.

"Hi," you whispered.

"Hey."

"You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm ok."

"Promise?"

He chuckled at that, the sound reverberating through the pillow, "Promise. Go back to sleep. You need more rest."

As soon as the words left his lips, you yawned, sending what was probably a really nasty-smelling gust of gross-mouth into his face. His face contorted in mild disgust but stayed put. You admired his restraint.

"Sleep." There was a hint of command in his tone.

So you did, eager to fall into a place that was just Dux's cool hands and vibrant scales.

~~~~~~

Weeks had passed before you were able to stay awake for more than three hours and each time you woke up, Duxob was there with fresh blankets, soup, and a new story about what he had done while he waited for you to wake up again.

You quickly became acquainted with Jazza, a fiery little humanoid Flazian woman with artificial purple eyes and scars across her pink body who you recognized as the shadow who lulled you back to sleep, Cade, a small golden alien (you couldn't place his species for the life of you) with bright orange antennae and tattoos covering his body, and R, a tall tentacled Carcog who trained as a doctor on Pantone but left the practice to lead a rebellion after he discovered that the institution that hired him had been giving placebos to the poorer populations of beings instead of actual medicine.

You had also learned that the building you were in was where R worked to heal the disenfranchised and those injured by border agents and those they work for in the various riots and rages he leads and organizes. It was beaten down and broken, windows boarded up with wood and red tape, floors splintered and decayed, regularly infested with at least three kinds of parasites at any given moment - seven if Cade didn't parasite bomb once a week -, and the smell was enough to make you vomit. It was incredibly well-hidden - it had to be in order to fly under the radar for extended periods of time.

However, despite the shitty state of the building and most of its rooms overall, the healing rooms were immaculate and perfectly sterile. The medicine cabinets were lined up neatly along the walls and labeled with the different medicines they stored. There were neat charts and lists hanging on the walls - patient schedules, post-its with cute doodles on them, restock lists, all manner of relevant papers.

Air purifiers hung in every corner just high enough to reach and adjust if needed and you were thankful for them because without them, you could imagine it getting quite stuffy in the room.

Cade had found the building right before the last time they had been forced to run - over 3 years ago - and they still hadn't been found, which put you at ease. You wouldn't be able to fight your way out if there was a raid on the building.

Especially since you were unarmed and unable to get out of bed without risking rupturing all of R's hard work.

They were quite the trio, always on the go and doing something, getting in each other's way - sometimes on purpose just to get a rise out of the other - but, despite their strangeness, you were grateful. They saved your life and, from what Jazza had said, kept Duxob from losing his shit all over the place while you were out.

"Dinnertime!" Jazza sang as she sauntered into the room, a steaming bowl of gross mush that was supposed to promote rapid healing.

"Oh goody," you reply sarcastically, dog-earing the page you were on and putting the book off to the side so she could place the bowl on your lap table.

"Hush now," she mock-scolded, purple eyes whirring as they focused on you, "This is helping."

"But it tastes like shit," you whine loudly, exaggerating random syllables, "Its NASTY!"

"Child, I will spank you."

"Pfft, that is sooooo not a punishment," you smirked, wiggling your eyebrows at her as she cackled.

"If it makes you feel better, the rest of us are stuck on this canned garbage until we can make another run and it tastes even worse than the shit R is making for you."

"You're right, I do feel better."

"Oh fuck off."

You laughed, only stopping when your side started to throb. R had told you all about the stuff you had been shot with, and, because you waited so long before getting it treated, you would likely always have a residual pain in your side from where the nerves had been frayed and rebuilt.  Over time, the pain would fade into a more manageable level and you'd be able to resume most activities but it would likely never go away.

It bummed you out in more ways than you could ever imagine and for once, you were thankful Duxob wasn't in the room. You were 90% sure R had already told him everything a;ready, there was no way he wasn't going to get some answer from R after he had fixed you up, but you sure as hell didn't want to have a conversation about it.

"So, I have more questions," Jazza smiled and you groaned obnoxiously, causing her to shoot you a playful glare.

Jazza had grown up with very little knowledge of the worlds beyond her own, having come from a very secretive sub-community on a moon in some quadrant you hadn't even heard of, and only started experiencing other beings when she hitched a ride with Cade off her birth world. As a result, she had at least 20 new questions for you every time she came in and grilled you endlessly as she tried to understand. Most of the time, her questions were about humans and Earth but there were times when her curiosity drifted to your partner.

It was sweet, the way she lit up when something made sense to her. She's get all starry eyed and excited and you felt a pang of loss over your own loss of wonder.

"Ok. Shoot."

"What is up with Dux's scales? One minute they're green. Then they're blue. They get really bright and then dim down like a Hashi craft. I fucking turned around yesterday and he had bright red fucking elbows for no reason and I don't know dude, is he sick? Does he need a catheter too?"

If you had been drinking, you would have choked, "First of all, thank you for reminding me that I have one of those in right now. I really needed to be reminded that I can't pee on my own."

"You are welcome," she responds with all the seriousness of condolence.

" Secondly, its partially how he communicates," you said, rolling noodles onto your fork, "Alzeanian scales are a lot more complex than what people think. Probably because they don't leave their planet often and anyone who visits their planet gets killed so no one really has any data on them." You shrug, dipping your fork of noodles in the little sauce pot. "Each scale looks like its just a flat color from a distance but the closer you get, the more you can see that they are more of an iridescent duo-chrome. Alzeanians can control how muted or how bright their colors are and can make them shift from regardless of where they are standing in the light. Duxob has a green to blue-purple shift in the majority of his scales. In others, he has a gold to red shift and he has a tiny patch that shifts between purple and red but that's literally just on his elbow. Depending on where we are and what we are trying to do, he uses them to talk to me from a distance."

"That is so cool," Jazza whispers, eyes wide and whirring as she slurps down her own food with her double-tongue.

"It can be," you acknowledge, "and its always nice knowing that your partner is adept at handing any kind of situation and can alert you real fast if things get...unsavory. I lucked out big time that he took me on."

You couldn't help the twinge of sadness that came when you thought too deeply about Duxob's presence in your life and the implications of how recent events were going to change that.

"How so? I saw your Wanted reel. You are quite handy with a gun," she grinned, nudging you with a dirty hand and you couldn't help but grin back. You were extremely proud of your Wanted reel. It really captured your insanity and desperation for freedom. Other outlaws try to seem as scary as possible when they know they are being filmed to dissuade anyone from coming after them.

Not you though.

You welcomed the challenge.

'Come and get me. I dare you.'

"I try."

"You succeed."

"Its all I know how to do. Wield a gun and fix bikes," you shift your now empty bowl away from you. There is a bitterness lurking there, something you try to keep down as much as possible. Jazza seems to understand.

"Lets change your bandages," she suggests and you are grateful for the change in topic.

~~~~~~

You hate physical therapy.

Hated it.

You also hated Duxob.

Because the piece of shit loved to get you up early and do the exercises with you until you cried.

This morning was no different. The stupid lizard wouldn't stop smiling as he guided you into each stretch.

"Stop enjoying this," you grumbled as he pushes down on your torso so you get an actual stretch instead of one of the fakes ones you did before he took over because you didn't see the point of putting yourself in more pain.

"I'm not," he said, smile stretched, sharp, jagged teeth on display, even further on his usually stoic face. Fucking liar.

"You are, you - ow, ow, ow, owwwww," you screeched as he eased you into the most painful of the stretches, "Whhhhhyyyyy?"

"You need to use your muscles again. You were in a coma on and off for two weeks and you've been recovering in bed for two more. You're going to get squishy and useless."

"I already am squishy and useless though!"

"No, you aren't," he murmured, letting you come out of the stretch and falling back onto the bed, "And you need to get your body used to movement again."

"Leave me to die," you whine dramatically, turning your head and throwing your arm over your eyes like a princess.

The words formed and hit your mouth before they hit your brain and the silence that follows is deafening.

"I think recent circumstances would suggest that I wouldn't," Duxob says, soft and displeased.

"I know," you sigh.

~~~~~~

"Tell me," Jazza begins, a couple of days later, "How'd you get hurt anyway? I feel like we've talked about literally everything else since you've been here but that. You had a pretty sizable wound when you came in. R wasn't sure you were going to pull through and he's done multiple surgeries on Gorglax creatures."

"Oh um, well," you wrack your brain for a good explanation but the look on Jazza's face suggests a finger right in your side if you lie. "Ok well. We had gotten off a port wagon and the usual 'run for your lives before the space coppers get you' game ensued. Dux had managed to get a hold of one of their stun bombs and released it, paralyzing the border guards. Most of them anyway." You take a deep breath, a weird flash of emotion flowing through you as you relived it. Ew. Not going there. "There was a smaller one following close behind us as we fled from the port. I don't know if he saw me or what, maybe he completely disregarded me as being the less important catch - whatever - but he aimed at the back of Dux's bike. His recharger wasn't in the best shape - I only had duct tape with me when I rewired it - and any sort of hit would have caused an explosion. He took aim at it and I swerved in front of him, causing him to slam on the breaks and swerve away."

Your side throbbed dully at the memory of your skin splitting open as the gun went off anyway, haphazardly, hitting you just enough to burn away a chunk of your body.

"It went off anyway  and got me in the back as I was speeding away."

"It wasn't a direct hit?"

"No, thankfully."

"Then why was it so bad?"

You chuckled awkwardly, "I, um, didn't tell Dux I had gotten hurt so we, kinda, sorta...drove for 12 hours before I collapsed and he brought me to you."

The furious look on Jazza's pretty face would have been hilarious if it hadn't been for the fact it was directed at you, "You are an idiot."

"Hey, no I-"

"Yes you are! Did you have some kind of death wish?!"

"No-o...I-"

"You what? What could possibly have gone through your head that would justify you allowing yourself to burn and rot?"

It was silent for a moment as you tried to think of a reason other than the truth but, it just wasn't worth it. Not anymore. You were tired.

"I thought it was a normal hit, something minor," you whispered, unable to keep looking into the girl's pretty purple eyes, "I thought that I'd likely be okay. We'd stop, I'd patch myself up, and we'd rest. It wasn't until we got there that I realized I was fucked but even so, I was content. It hurt like a bitch but I've long accepted that I'm going to die in a shoot out or in a shitty sleep room in some shitty port," you sighed, leaning back into your lumpy pillow and rubbing your face, "And you, if I was gone....Dux would be safe. Safer, I should say."

Jazza's round face softened, the anger melting into a calm understanding.

"How so?" Her voice was soft, like the night she had soothed you to sleep in the shadows.

"I am a liability. I am no use to him, not really. I get hurt more. I eat more. I sleep more. I am more high maintenance than he is. I require things he doesn't and  that make being on the road difficult. There is a reason humans aren't an ideal partner, especially when you are running from space cops! I mean, look at where I am now? In bed! Hurt! He had to go around in a strange place and put himself at risk to try and find someone who could help. And he's waiting for me out of some misplaced whatever when we both know he could dip at any moment and he'd survive just fine!"

You didn't realize you were screaming until you stopped to catch your breath, throat hoarse and frustrated tears rolling down your face. Everything that had bottled up the last few years poured out, exploding in a tsunami of bullshit you didn't want to have to deal with. There was a throbbing in your side that you knew was from overexertion but you didn't give a fuck anymore.

"He would be fine," you reiterated, suddenly feeling sluggish. The drip in your arm had turned up on its own at the feel of your elevated heart rate and increasing level of agitation. R had set it up to monitor your activity and keep you from doing something stupid out of boredom and ripping yourself open. It was such a staple in your life that you had forgotten it was even in.

"No, I really wouldn't."

Oh shit.

He did not.

"Dux?" your mouth was slow, dripping over the syllable as he entered the room. A silent conversation took place between him and Jazza, one too fast for your slushy mind to process, before Jazza took off out of the room without another word.

The door closed and he sighed, all but collapsing on the chair next to you bed, looking more ragged than you had ever seen him before. His scales flashed and shifted uneasily as he looked at you.

"It seems we need to talk," he said, the finality of his tone telling you a talk was going to happen despite his phrasing.

"If you want."

"No but we're going to."

"Fine, you start."

Coward, you scolded yourself but hey, feelings were scary, which is why you never dealt with him.

"Fine," he growled, scooting the chair even closer and putting himself all in your personal bed space, "Things are going to change."

"I figured," you shrugged, "I can't run anymore. My side will never allow me to do all the strenuous activity of being an outlaw."

"Agreed. You can't do that anymore," he said, eyes roaming over the bandages peeking through the shredded top you were wearing before meeting your eyes again, "So I came up with a solution."

You leaned your head back, your neck unable to hold it up due to the sedation pumping through you, "Where are you going to take me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'd like for you to drop me off in a place I'll be able to get around easily enough. I liked that little blue planet we stopped at like 2 years ago."

"You aren't going anywhere."

"But you just said I can't run anymore. I can't stay here forever and we are still Wanteds. I'm going to need to be in a place where I can live and blend in without drawing suspicion."

"Who says you can't stay here?," he asked, harsh golden-green eyes boring into yours, "And who says that I'm going to ditch you on some random planet?"

"Dux, I can't," you pause, mind really blurry because he isn't making any sense and it's making you anxious, "I am very drugged. Please stop."

His gaze softens and he reaches a stubby clawed hand out to stroke your head, "Calm down, ashistoiro. You are ok. You are safe. I am here."

"Ashi-what?"

"Ashistorio, Y/N. Beloved in Alzeanian...well, the closest translation for it," he murmured, claws scraping gently along your skin, "I discussed it with R. He is letting us stay. There is a bunker attached to this building that he is going to let us have until its time for all of us to leave. I am not leaving you. I won't. I can't. You are my biggest asset."

It wasn't a normal confession of love, not by a long shot, but it was one of the most meaningful you had ever heard.

And you hated that you were passing out in the middle of it.

"Yeah?"

He smiled as he watched you nod off, "Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

You couldn't wait to wake up.

 ~~~~~~

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #294

“maybe it’s not too late to learn how to love and forget how to hate”

Is your bed big enough for two people? Yes. What is your favorite board game? I like Battleship. Have you ever been hospitalized for more than 2 weeks? I think one stay at the psych hospital stretched over two weeks, maybe three. I don't remember. When was the last time you heard someone scream? Irl, probably at some point visiting my sister's family and my baby niece was upset. If you include via audio, a couple days ago when watching Egoraptor's Kingdom Hearts 2 stream. He's a Loud Boy. Who was the last person to call you baby? I have no clue. Why did you last go to the airport? I was going home from Sara's. Have you ever showered with another person? Not since I was a little kid with my sister. Is there something you are keeping a secret from your parents? I mean, nothing major. There are small things I don't tell them, though. Are you able to forget people easily? FUCK to the NO. What disgusts you about bathrooms? Sharing a toilet with literally anybody. Have you ever had gum stuck in your hair? I mean maybe at some point, but I don't think so. What was the shortest amount of time you’ve known someone before you’ve dated them? If you’ve never been in a relationship before, do you watch Scrubs? I knew Jason maybe two/three weeks before he asked me out. We clicked so damn fast. Don’t you hate it when people talk about their relationships constantly? It can become a bit much. I have (had?) a friend who did this profusely to the point it was pretty impossible to have an actual conversation, and then she fell off the face of the planet. Being in love is an absolutely amazing thing, but like... that's not all you can talk about. Do you enjoy old movies? Yeah, there are some great ones. Do your neighbors annoy you in any way? Someone a few houses down has a dog that NEVER shuts the fuck up. I don't know how it doesn't lose its voice. What was the last party you were invited to? A Halloween party hosted by my friend Summer a few years ago. It was a good time. Are you honestly happy with your life right now? N O P E Do you find it fun to pray for people? I don't pray, but even if I did, "fun" seems like the wrong word. Generally when you pray for someone, there's something negative going on in their life, so like... I think "fulfilling" is maybe a better word? Has your mom ever crocheted you a blanket? My mom has deadass been working on a massive blanket since she was in her 20s (maybe even a tad younger), and she's at the tail end of her 50s. She works on it less than once in a blue moon. She started with the intention of passing it onto her kids. Do you regret letting a certain guy slip away? Debatable. It's questionable if I ever would have gotten competent help without Jason leaving, and if I didn't, what if he finally had enough when we were already married with kids (that's what I wanted at the time, anyway)? That would have broken me even worse. What show did you want to be on as a kid? Whatever the Nickelodeon one was where you got slimed lol. Do you have regrets? Of course I do. Does anyone really know you? My mom and Sara, at least. What song do you want played at your wedding? It depends on my partner and songs we consider special. Are you a fan of Taylor Swift? No. I do, however, love me some "Love Story." And you are LYYYYYYINNNNNGGGG if "Picture To Burn" doesn't make you feel like a Bad Bitch. Would you ever dye your hair unicorn colors? I would DIIIIIEEEEE to do that in pastel tints. I wish my damn hair took color well... I have literally only had ONE very effective hair dyeing experience, when my friend spent hours turning it red. It stuck for MONTHS. List 3 of your pet peeves. 1.) Turning tragedy into a competition; 2.) making mental illnesses "trendy;" and 3.) elitists of pretty much anything. Do you type fast? Very. What do you like to put on your pancakes? Typically just maple syrup, but I'll put butter on them if given it at a restaurant. Have you ever accidentally drank spoiled milk? I've taken a sip and immediately realized and spat it out. Have you ever had your heart broken? More like shattered into incalcuable pieces. When you were 3, was your natural hair color the same as it is now? No, I was dirty blonde. Have you ever received a scary message from someone online? Yes, I'm pretty sure. What does your first name rhyme with? "Infamy" is close enough, ig, if we're excluding other names. Do you have freckles on your face? No. I did as a kid, though. Who is your favorite Lisa Frank character? Probably the angel kitty (I had a coloring book, even), but they're all SO pretty. I love Lisa Frank stuff. Does your family always have your back? My mom and dad do, at least. My older sister does, meanwhile it's hard to tell with my little sister. She's not very affectionate and expressive of love to the point I question a lot if she even likes me. What type of wedding do you want to have? Gothic! Are you more of a leader or a follower? A follower, within reason. I'm definitely not a blind one. Do you know anyone with a profession in law? Quite a few, actually. Have you ever Googled yourself? Yeah, at some point. Do you have a regular vacation spot, or do you always go somewhere new? We don't really go on vacations. It's not an expense Mom can really afford. Where were you working 10 years ago? Nowhere. ... 5 years ago? Still nowhere. ... 1 year ago? Nowhere. What's the shortest amount of time you've had between relationships? Like a day. I know it sounds bad, but I left Girt already knowing I loved Sara, and I didn't really have anything to heal from. As a child, what comfort foods did your parents make for you when you were sick with a cold or flu? We'd have Saltines, chicken noodle soup (which I never really liked), and ginger ale. What's your favorite art style? Probably hyperrealistic fantasy stuff. What time period is considered to be your country's 'golden age?' I don't know, I'm not a history buff. Have you ever done LSD? I've never done any drugs. Are any of your coworkers currently out on maternity/paternity leave? N/A What is your favorite parody movie? Maybe the Paranormal Activity one. I barely remember it, though. What kind of first impression do you hope others have of you? That I'm kind and friendly and really care about their feelings. Do you have a good sense of balance? NOOOOOOOOOO. I stray like a motherfucker when I walk. Have for many years. It's weird. What is your least favorite ice cream flavor? Strawberry, ugh. Does your car have heated seats? No. What's something that has been in your local news lately? I don't watch it. What's your favorite internet meme? Oh, I have no clue, I love memes lmao. What is the strangest pizza topping you've ever eaten? Nothing, really. I'm not very adventurous with pizza. Can you name any books or movies where all the main characters die? Not off the top of my head. Do you live alone? No, I live with my mother. What’s the grossest thing you’ve encountered in/at a fast food joint? *shrug* Do you swallow chewing gum? No. Do you ever get goosebumps while listening to songs? EXTREMELY easily. Like that is so, so regular, be it from the lyrics, the singer's voice, or just the music. Are there any amusement park rides you refuse to go on? Why? Most, really. I get dizzy way, way too easily and don't want to faint. What is the best roller coaster you’ve ever been on? I'm afraid of roller coasters, so I can't answer this. Never touched one. Don’t you think black jellybeans are icky? Ugh, YES. What was the last thing you measured with a ruler? I helped Mom use the long, flexible kind to measure the couch because she was gonna move some furniture around. What’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen? Oh, I'm sure the mountains when driving to Tennessee. I was too young to remember it well, but I can never forget that I marveled over them. Would you rather have a Playstation or Xbox made console? I'm a Playstation gal. What if you were watching COPS and saw your significant other on there? I'm... not gonna lie, if it was Jason for doing something stupid and not, like, murderous, I'd probably cackle. Have you ever tried to write to any celebrities? No. When was the last time you blew bubbles? I ain't got a clue. Have you ever stumbled across a beehive? More like wasp nests. What food(s) make you cringe? Quite a lot, given my extreme selectiveness with textures. More than anything, probably egg yolk. Have you ever played an automated 20 Questions game and beat it? Ha, I actually had one of those! I have, but damn was that hard. Have you been to a restaurant where they cook the food in front of you? Yup, Ichiban. Pretty cool. Do you feel that presidential campaigns make people too competitive? I mean, no. People care about who is going to be the head of their country. Do you find Family Guy hilarious or offensive? Neither. Do you still write letters to people, even though there’s e-mail now? No. Have you ever had an accident involving a microwave? Ha, I'm a travesty of a cook, so yeah. I remember on one occasion I accidentally dialed in many minutes for popcorn and entirely forgot about it. Safe to say I didn't eat it. I've split hot dogs in there, and I'm certain there's more. Do you like the movie Forrest Gump? I adore that movie. One of the best films ever imo. Can you handle heat well? I honestly doubt you'll meet someone who handles it worse than me, especially physically. I have severe hyperhidrosis, so I will literally sweat like a pig in 70* weather. I absolutely cannot handle it. Do you smoke weed? What are your opinions on its legalization? No. Legalize it for at least medicinal purposes. Have you ever had a school shooting at your school? HA, I can promise you my high school must have at some point. Are you usually the first to do something, or are you more of a follower? I don't pay attention to this. What is your favorite way to eat a potato? Fries, yum. Are roses your favorite flower? No, but they're high on the list. Have you ever been to a horse race? No. I think they're abusive anyway. Do you like lobster? No. Have you ever swam in a lake? Yeah. There's one lake I swam in that was so clear you could see pretty far and just watch the fish and turtles. Have you ever convinced someone to show you their private parts? "Convinced"????? That's fucking coercion. I've seen people naked, but not by fucking pressure. What is the greatest treasure you have ever found? My older sister found a cracked amethyst geode once. Idk where it's at now, but I hope she (or we at the house, depending on where it is) finds it at some point, though. My niece has come to love smooth rocks and pebbles, and I think crystals would blow her away, never mind one that size. Do you eat beef? Regrettably. Are you good at card games? I mean, what's the game? I'm not exceptional at any I can think of. What is your favorite musical? I don't like musicals. Did you ever play the Oregon Trail game? Omg yes!!! I LOVED playing it as a kid, especially the 3rd one, I think? Do you watch It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia? No. Who is your favorite country singer? I actually do enjoy Tim McGraw pretty consistently, but I don't actually seek out his music. Do you know anyone who is Mormon? An old best friend was. Do you like grunge? Yeah. What’s your favorite kind of cheese? American. What’s the most historic thing that has happened in your lifetime? Most likely Covid. What’s your funniest story involving a car? It's not hilarious, but once we were behind someone whose license plate said "omw" lmao. What scientific discovery would change the course of humanity overnight if it was discovered? Well, a proven Covid vaccine. Do you think that humans will ever be able to live together in harmony? Nope. What’s the scariest non-horror movie? Idk. What’s the most amazing true story you’ve heard? I'm not sure. What’s the most awkward thing that happens to you on a regular basis? Having to explain my Mark tribute tattoo lmao. What was one of the most interesting concerts you’ve been to? I've only ever seen Alice Cooper, and while it was great, "interesting" seems like the wrong word. Where are you not welcome anymore? Probably Jason's house, at least not by him. Or Colleen's, probably. Idk how she feels about me by now. What’s the most recent show you’ve binge watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender w/ Sara. What’s a common experience for many people that you’ve never experienced? Paying bills. What’s the smartest thing you’ve seen an animal do? I kid you not, our first cat would look both ways twice before crossing the street across our house. (Please do not allow your cats outside.) She'd do it even more when bringing her kittens there too to hunt. Chance was truly incredible. I could really give a lot of examples of her intelligence. I also had another childhood cat (my favorite before Roman) who would respond to a certain clap pattern I'd do if Mom let me bring him inside. Wherever Charcoal was wandering, he'd come running. What’s the dumbest thing someone has argued with you about? Oh, I'm sure it was RP-related stuff as a kid. What’s the longest rabbit hole you’ve been down? I'unno. What’s the saddest scene in a movie or TV series? Possible spoiler warning for a super old movie??? Probably when the main character of Old Yeller had to put the dog down because of rabies. But I cry like a bitch easily, so maybe there's something that tears me up even more or just as badly. What odd smell do you really enjoy? None that are "odd," really. What’s the coolest animal you’ve seen in the wild? I've seen a mink once when fishing with Dad deep in the woods. What’s the best lesson you’ve learned from a work of fiction? Oh, I don't know. I'd have to think for a while & I don't feel like it. What food do you crave most often? Probably ice cream. Who in your life has the best/worst luck? I don't know about best, but my mom absolutely has the worst luck. Which apocalyptic dystopia do you think is most likely? A meteor, maybe? If you had a HUD that showed three stats about any person you looked at, what three stats would you want it to show? I'd want to know if they were criminals or just dangerous. What’s the funniest thing you’ve seen a kid do? Oh, my niece is so funny. One of the things that gave me the biggest laugh (and was most adorable) was this time I was taking family pictures for Ash at a local lake, and Aubree went running into the gazebo, span around totally like in a princess movie, and exclaimed, "It's enormous!" She is such a darling. If people could read your mind, what would they usually find? Just how bored I am, memories of Jason bc trauma, lamenting my disappointment in myself, "why is Mark so perfect," worrying about Sara, thinking of RP character developments... What celebrity would you like to meet? Mark. 100%. I would die to just thank him (if I could get words out, oof) and hug him and try not to soak his shirt in tears lmao. Do you need money to be happy? Don't bullshit me, you wouldn't be happy homeless because you can't afford a home. So to a degree, yes. What's a good idea you've had recently? Hm. What gift would you like to receive? At this current moment, Cloak's (Mark and Jacksepticeye's clothing brand) limited edition "life after death" design for a shirt. It is so fucking pretty, and I love the nature focus. What are you most excited about right now? Honestly? Getting my laptop back. I wanna play WoW lmao. What's your favorite song from a movie? Maybe uhhhhhh was "Supermassive Black Hole" actually written for Twilight? Where would you like to volunteer? I very, very badly want to volunteer to take pictures of animals up for adoption in shelters for like their social medias and stuff. I've asked like the two local places, but no bites yet. What's the last song you listened to? Metallica's cover of "Turn The Page." What's the last YouTube video you watched? I'm watching Gab Smolders play SOMA. Fantastic game.

[rationalcashew]

The Fifth Night

Mulder’s feeling better after his stomach bug. Scully starts to panic about the relationship.

Mulder wasn’t quite sure when Scully left the night before; all he knew was that he was disappointed that she didn’t stay. Part of him wanted to look around for a note, but he knew there wouldn’t be one. They weren’t there, yet.

Everything was still new despite knowing each other for years. New and uncertain. One wrong move could send the entire thing spiraling and he couldn’t risk that. So, he played it safe.

Which bought him last night, he assumed. He was sick as all hell and she took care of him. It was very… domestic.

Not that he had any issues with domesticity. In fact, in the past, he’d pictured having a family and living a simple life. That picture, however, was meant to take place after he found Samantha.

Yet, the more he thought about last night, the more he wondered if this was his simple life. In some twisted way, that was. It was simple because he realized that he didn’t need much. Just her.

Mulder wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d fallen in love with Scully. Literally, he woke up one day, faced himself in the mirror, and admitted it. He had to admit it. He watched his own face light up when he heard her voice on the other end of the phone as he tried to brush his teeth.

Since then, he couldn’t erase it. He couldn’t hide it nor pretend. And, some days, that was torture.

But, then, things started shifting. She indulged him a little more; flirted back. She started falling for him, too.

For awhile, Mulder was okay with how things had been going. Better that than nothing all, he’d often rationalized. He took it on her terms. Not because he was raised an eastern gentleman, but because the risk was too high.

Out of the blue, she’d invited him over for dinner and a Christmas movie. In that same conversation, it became a week-long event.

Until last night. Until he’d spent the day puking up, very literally, anything he put in his body. But, she was there.

Whether as his doctor, his partner, his friend, his girlfriend—.

Whoa.

His girlfriend.

Mulder liked the sound of that.

But, Scully wasn’t his girlfriend. Not in any official capacity, anyway. They hadn’t had that conversation.

He told himself that they would one of these days but he couldn’t honestly say that he believed it.

The past week, though… God, it felt like it. And, it felt good. It was nice knowing there was someone who genuinely cared about him. It was nice to have someone cuddle close to him while watching TV. It was nice holding her in his arms. It was nice to fall asleep with her running her fingers through his hair.

He didn’t want it to end at the end of the seven day period. He didn’t want it to end a month from now. He didn’t want it to end at all.

That was the scary part: Mulder couldn’t see the end. It was exhilarating as it was terrifying. Like, skydiving. Or, so he imagined.

Even though he still wasn’t feeling a hundred percent, Mulder made his way to the bathroom to go through his morning routine: shower, shave; forego the coffee because he wasn’t completely sure his stomach could handle it, yet.

He didn’t feel like he was feverish so he was going to work. He needed to see her.

When he got there, however, he found out that she was assisting in Quantico for the day, leaving him alone in the office. If he’d known he wouldn’t see her at all, he would’ve just stayed home.

Around lunch, his phone rang.

“Mulder,” he answered.

“Mulder? Hey, it’s me.”

He smiled. “Hey, Scully.”

“You sound better.��

“I feel better.”

“Good. Good. I tried calling your home phone…”

“I’m not at home.”

“Mulder…” He smirked at the disapproval in her voice. Really, he expected nothing less.

“I’m actually at the office. And, you’re not.”

“Sorry, I’m stuck doing autopsies today,” she replied, sighing. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was disappointed. And, not just in him for going to work.

“So, I heard,” Mulder replied. “Are we still on to watch a movie later?” Scully didn’t answer for a moment and he got nervous. “Scully?”

“I’m here. Are you feeling up to it?”

He smiled at that, resisting the urge to tell her that nothing could keep him from coming over except her word.

“I feel fine. No fever. I’ve been able to keep down food today.”

She didn’t say anything again. Mulder couldn’t help but to wonder if his illness was the excuse she needed to stop with these nights. Was she running away? Or, what if he got her sick? He smirked at the thought. He’d just have to take care of her the way she did him.

“You’re welcome to come over and watch a movie with me,” Scully finally responded. “Only if you feel up to it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Mulder replied with a smile.

“Okay.” He could hear the smile in her voice and it gave him butterflies. She wanted to see him. “What have you been able to keep down? I don’t want to make something that you can’t eat.”

It was his turn to grin.

“I kept down a sandwich earlier,” he offered. “I probably could’ve eaten two, but I didn’t want to push it.”

“Okay. Well—.” He heard the muffled voice of another man and fought the urge to get jealous as Mulder told himself that it was probably just some poor lab geek returning from doing Scully’s bidding. Like any man would. “Mulder, I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

“It’s a—.” He heard the click on the other end of the phone as she disconnected the call. “Date,” Mulder finished to himself.

He exhaled deeply through the mouth.

It was going to be a long rest of the day.

At six o’clock that evening, Mulder stood outside of Scully’s apartment, waiting for her to answer the door, poinsettias in hand. He was early and hoped she didn’t mind.

“Muuulllldeeeer…” she said in that sheepish yet grateful way that she did whenever he did something particularly sweet. She gave him a peck on the cheek and thanked him for going to find a place for it. Mulder couldn’t help but chuckle at the sounds of Alvin and the Chipmunks singing about the holiday.

He’d give her crap about that later.

He noticed the Christmas tree in the corner when he took his coat off and hung it on the coat rack. He’d wondered when she’d finally put one up.

“Scully, you know I would’ve brought this up for you,” he said with a slight hint of admonishment.

Scully waved him off. “I paid the teenager next door twenty bucks to do it.” He must’ve made a face because she stiffened awkwardly and added, “You can put the lights on it while I make dinner, if you want. They’re already out.”

He nodded, forcing himself to contain his happiness at being able to share in that. Scully loved Christmas. She had since he’s known her.

“They’re in that tub over there,” she said, pointing to one of three tubs labeled ‘Christmas’. With that, she went to the kitchen and Mulder went to work.

By six thirty, Mulder found himself tangled in Christmas lights and Scully laughing at him but doing nothing to help free him of his multi-colored bondage.

“A little help?” He asked and she finally made her way over to unwrap him.

There was a euphemism in there somewhere, he thought but chose not to say that aloud.

When he was free of the cords, Scully went back to the kitchen to check on dinner and came back, declaring that it would be ready in a few minutes.

He got the lights on the tree in time for the oven’s timer to go off.

Scully loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and made her way back to the living room to help Mulder decorate the tree. When she got into the living room, she caught sight of the poinsettias on the table behind the couch. It was thoughtful of him and she appreciated the gesture, but the look on his face when he gave them to her gave her butterflies.

Even now, when she saw them in passing.

“So, what first?” He asked.

She pointed to the tub containing ornaments and told him they’d start there.

As they decorated the tree, Scully stole glances at him. This particular step of their relationship, while still undefinable, was exciting and nerve-racking at the same time. On the one hand, it was just Mulder. Her best friend. Her partner. On the other hand, it was Mulder. Her best friend and partner.

She’d been in love with him for longer than she cared to admit and knew he felt the same. So, why was this so hard; so… Scary?

“The Grinch,” she smiled. “Followed by Holiday Inn, if you want to stick around for that.”

“No White Christmas? No Charlie Brown? I’m disappointed.”

Scully smirked in response, desperately trying not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. “Those are Christmas Eve movies.”

“Ah,” he replied with a self-satisfied smirk. They stared at each other for a moment and she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “I’ll get the fire started.”

He was already in the living room before she could process what he’d said.

Mulder sat anxiously through most of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Scully was acting differently than she had all week. She was… hesitant. Part of him wondered if he’d done something wrong. Another part of him wondered if he’d gotten her sick.

He glanced at her, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. They should’ve been cuddled together by now. But, they weren’t.

“Scully?” He blurted. She looked at him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Mulder nodded his response. “Why?” She added.

“You just seem… I don’t know. I didn’t give you that bug I had, did I?”

She chuffed a laugh. “No, I’m fine.”

“Famous last words.” Mulder tried to sound playful, but the look she gave him said he’d failed. Miserably. He winced at returned his gaze to the TV.

A solid while went by before the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes, causing Mulder to blurt, “Wouldn’t he die if that happened?”

He glanced to Scully who was shooting him the most adorably confused expression he’d ever seen on her perfect face.

“It’s a cardiomyopathy, right?” He continued. It took a moment, but a grin formed on her face. “See, I pay attention when you say words I don’t quite understand.”

“Oh, Mulder,” she said in that way that made his insides knot up.

“I’m just saying,” he continued playfully, “it’s not natural. It’s bound to lead to heart failure.”

She laughed at that and he felt like he could breathe again.

There was a moment of silence, as the credits rolled, before Mulder asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mm,” she replied. “I’m just tired. Long day.”

“Oh, okay.” Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his disappointment. “I’ll get out of your hair, then. Let you get some sleep.”

She looked at him curiously before getting up to rewind the tape.

“I’m still going to watch Holiday Inn,” she announced quietly. “You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”

Mulder’s gaze jerked to Scully, whose back was still to him and a small smile quirked on his lips.

“Only if you’re sure…”

“Mulder, it’s totally up to you,” she said, pausing briefly before adding, “I’d like to watch it with you, but I’m not going to be offended if you don’t want to stay.”

As a response, he settled back into the couch, hoping desperately that she’d sit closer for this movie.

To his delight, she did.

[yievie]

whew! what’s up everyone! my name is crissy and yes, i am the clown who sent my account ask on anonymous last night. luv that for me! I GOT A COOL FAMILY ICON IM CRYING!!! now this is yi eun hye, better known as evelyn yi or evie, paging dr. sexy md don’t call her that though, she’ll kill you omg the second eldest princess of the four neglected korean princess sisters aka the mom friend sister or the buzzkill responsible sister. 

~`click anywhere here for a link to my app ~

under the cut i’m gonna throw some important personality and background stuff along with maybe? half-formed plot ideas? if not i’ll make a follow up post later, but pls like this plot if you wish to plot, i’ll try to come bother u. my ims are open hmu anytime (also bc im anxious af to b first message bc im BABY) and I ALSO have a discord located at quarantine queen#2918 where i’m usually v v v active. (lmk if u cant add me shoot me a message on here and ill fix it) ok imma shut up here is cranky daughter! ITS LONG SRRY

( pS: also if my blog is too hard to read just stick /mobile on the end of the url xx )

background 

the empress and emperor of korea had 5 kids, 4 daughters, 1 pampered son and evie was the second oldest daughter after dianna but like, she’s bossy and high strung and acts like the oldest anywayS so it doesn’t matter!

woo! however, korean tradition is rooted deeply in patriarchy and other backwards thinking,  >:(((( so evie’s parents basically pretended like their son was the only kid they had and sent evie and her 3 sisters off to swedish boarding school to ROT as they each turned 10 and forgot abt them while they groomed their son for the throne! thx mom n dad! luv u too! sdjlaksjd

during her time at boarding school evie was expected to not learn much of anything, not do anything spectacular, she wasn’t expected very good grades or to be smart or successful or anything bc that was Men’s Work and so evie did . . . THE EXACT OPPOSITE.

evie EXCELLED in school, straight a’s, top of her class, honors, ap valedictorian, which meant all nighters, nose bleeds at 2am from studying too hard, looking dead walking through the hallways, eating ramen 25/8, falling asleep w her face in her textbooks, getting bullied a lot for being a nerd and Not looking like her sisters and like...the creature from the black lagoon.

her parents, understandably, were not very happy with this but it wasn’t until she wanted to go to medical school that her parents were like FURIOUS. to them, women, esp the princesses, were only supposed to get married, have kids, THAT WAS IT. so evie wanting to be a doctor enraged them. STAY MAD!

they tried to have her engaged SO. MANY. TIMES. but she has a really repellent personality, she’s very kat stratford from 10 things i hate about you. and is rude and states her very liberal very socialist opinions often, dresses sloppy and hurts mens feelings a lot just for fun so they all went rUNNING from those match appointments! her parents literally are losing their minds they don’t know what to do w her theyre like god why did we give birth to the aNTICHRIST!?!?!?

not wanting anything to do with her parents, evie got into college and medical student on scholarship based on her own merit and skill. evie went to the seoul national university for 4 years then did a 2 year residency at the country’s top hospital, becoming one of the best on call heart surgeons there.

the korean media likes to clown on her A LOT! bc shes scary and angry and cares very little abt her appreance is A DOCTOR and not a princess really for the opposite reason they clown on dianna but evie does not really care she doesn’t care abt impressing people, just saving lives and proving people wrong. finger guns

but yes! thats what u missed on glee. evie was a heart surgeon in korea before being shipped off to thailand! shes v salty by the way ... even more than usual.

fun facts?

evie wears massive grandma glasses to see bc shes BLIND when shes in line with her sister people do not think she’s related and are like “OMG OMG THE PRINCESSES!!! BUY WHATEVER U WANT ON THE HOUSE I--oh? maam? uh? can we help u, ahjumma?” HELP

very dry, mean, will call you out on ur shit and hurt ur feelings probably. doesn’t really know how to Chill or have fun, stays out of drama and parties for the most part literally that old man that tells u to get off their lawn

LOVES HER SISTERS!!!! LOVES THEM!!! moms them and nags the FUCK out of them tho abt everything. wear a sweater its cold, drink water, dONT DO THAT GET DOWN FROM THERE, i told u to eat before u drank all that soju pabo!!!! skhaslkfh BUT SHE LOVES THEM VERY MUCH HER WOOOORLD the only people shes kind of nice to

as stated, has tried to been matched up before but has basically scared away all her matches by being A Lot and not polite or dainty and burping probably

her mom calls her all the time to talk abt how shes having a heart attack bc her second daughter is an unmarried, childless, spinster with a cat who is embarrassing her by being a doctor and being loud and obnoxious and outspoken against the royal heirarchy and right wing politics. evie just puts her on mute and lets her keeping yelling at no one for the next hour

loves beer, loves fried chicken, very unladylike, wears oversized sweaters and her hair messy and watches love island australia and the bachelor just to make fun of the people being in love and stupid i think secretly she kind of wants it but...thinks shes unlovable and will die before she says that shh

bisexual legend! cue mr and mrs yi screaming somewhere

not that it matters bc she cares little abt romance and sex and always put work and school before everything so everything touchy like that she either ends abruptly or stays the hell away from

never parties or goes out but when she does get really drunk gets very cute and touchy and happy there is one video on the internet of her like on a table ashdkh yikes 

is soft deep down just like *shrek voice* donkey, orges are like onions they have layers and u gotta get past a lot of them for her to get past her level 4 tragic backstory and into the soft, vulnerable part of her personality its nice i promise she is SQUISHY

weird plots???

best friend? im sure she has one somewhere. or friends at all? people who arent scared of her who shes nice to....mostly

enemies woo! hate her its very easy to hate her so do it

u want to do a daredevil thing like when matt shows up bleeding and dying or after a fight or something and she patches u up

just anyone need a doctor bc paging dr sexy md~

past loves? boyfriend? girlfriend? weird flings? weird tension unresolved stuff WOOO

ANYONE who broke her heart for the angst and drama

hit on her itll b funny

anyone who she was previously matched w who she scared off

someone shes currently trying to be matched or betrothed to GOOD LUCK

someone she has a crush on YIKES or vice versa

any of the college kids need a tutor? 

roommates? 

ANYTHING PLS HMU <333

[comicsnas]

showtime

WARNING: eye gore!!, violence Disclaimer: this is..... an au where guy fieri isnt a cool and chill dude that just likes food. i am very sorry for what i do to him in this. i dont mean it and if the cops knock at my door i will blame it on hussie word count: about 3.7k. i am so sorry

context john gets kidnapped by his mom dave doesnt panic

Los Angeles, CA, Wednesday

“No matter what happens, nobody cancels the premiere,” you say. “Okay? No matter what’s in the news. No matter how bad it gets. The movie drops on Thursday, and people are gonna watch it. Got it? This is a scare tactic and we’re not falling for it. Even if the world is ending, we are premiering this movie and going through with the promo. With or without me.”

Catalena, your manager, has been with you for too long to think that you’re joking. She was who flew you in from Houston to LA back when you were twenty, who let you sleep on your couch until you made enough money to get an apartment, who thought that the message you had for the world was one worthy of her help. She knows that all of this is real, and that she can’t stop you.

Her face says, Dave, you’re scaring me. Her mouth says, “You got it. Could you at least tell me… what you think is going to be in the news that would make us not premiere it?”

“Something bad,” you say. “Hopefully, anyway.”

She tilts her head. “Are you faking your death?”

“Lalonde and I are gonna disappear for a sec,” you say. “How people interpret that is gonna be up to them.”

“Not like you to leave things up to chance,” Catalena says. “Some will think it’s elaborate PR.”

“That’s why I’m only telling you. Lalonde and I are gonna frame this to look serious, and no one else is gonna know what’s going on. You keep your cool, but don’t let anyone know that you’re in on it.”

“I mean, I barely am.” She gives you a Look, a capital L Look, then sighs and nods. “Fine. So if I hear about your presumed death tomorrow, I won’t freak out. At what point am I allowed to assume you are actually dead, and freak out a little bit?”

“If you don’t hear from me in a week,” you say, “then Lalonde and I have been killed by Betty Crocker.”

Houston, TX, twelve years ago

You’re blind.

That’s not true. You’re not blind. You don’t think you are going to be blind. There is no way that you’re fully blind, because the assassin only got your right eye, so it doesn’t make sense for you to be blind, but you’re blind.

The pain might originate from your right eye, but it’s engulfing your entire head by now, and there is something sticky in your left eye and you can’t open it anymore and it burns, and you’re going to go blind, and then you’re going to die in a ditch, in a pool of your own blood, and this is it. It’s over. You and your half sister fucked around on the internet a bunch, got really deep into some conspiracy theories, and barely two weeks after you made the discovery that Betty Crocker definitely, undoubtedly, literally is an actual alien, someone was sent to kill you.

They didn’t manage, so far. They got your eye, and they broke your glasses, leaving a cut on your nose, and a bunch of cuts everywhere else, and you think you cracked your head open when you fell. But you cut their knife hand off, good and clean off, watched it fall to the ground right in front of you. By the time it hit the pavement, the assassin had already turned around and ran away, leaving you to crumple and suffer here by yourself.

This is it.

“Strider?” Rose says. Before the blood trickling into your good eye ruined your vision, you managed to dial her number and call her up, and now you’re lying on your side with your phone pressed to your ear, imagining her in her college dorm room in New York. You were going to visit her there, years ago, after you ran away from your parents. It never worked out. Neither of you has the money. You really wish you could have seen her at least once.

“Yeah,” you croak. “You at home?”

“At the dorm, yes. What’s going on?”

“You gotta go. She sent someone after me, she’s gonna come for you too. If she knows that I know, she’ll know that you know.”

One of the most comfortable parts of friendship with Rose, you’ve found, is that she never asks you to clarify what the fuck you’re talking about. Either she just lets you ramble, or she knows exactly what you mean. “Shit,” she hisses, and you can hear rustling on her side of the line, hopefully from her getting ready. She probably has a getaway bag somewhere, you think. You have one, but not on you right now. It’s too late for that.

“They’ve already hit me, so whoever she sent to you can’t be far,” you say. You try to blink your eye open, but then it hurts the other more, and it burns. You can’t even tell where exactly. It just burns. “Hurry up, Lalonde.”

“They’ve hit you?” she echoes, still rustling, breathing into the phone. On the move. Good. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you say. “Gonna call an ambulance after this. Just get the fuck out and text me later, yeah?”

Rose pauses. You can hear her pause, you can hear everything go very silent for a second. She says, “You called me before you called for help?”

“Yeah,” you say. She told you, once, that there is a quick and easy way out the window of her second-storey dorm room, that lets her balance over to her girlfriend’s room only a few windows ahead. She can’t hide there, it’s too close, but it’s a start. She’ll figure it out, she always will. She was the first person to ever have your back. “Of course I did.”

On a plane, Thursday morning

“What’s on your mind?” Rose asks.

You’re leaned back, staring out the window, listening to the clicking of her knitting needles next to you. The pilot here doesn’t know who he’s dealing with, just that he is flying two rich people and their car to Washington, DC. Your Mustang is in the cargo part of the plane, a vital part of the plan. You’ll torch it later. It was the first car you bought with your own money, after SBaHJ had become big and you had finally paid off your hospital debt.

Rose’s apartment isn’t that old, she got it after Roxy was born and she decided to move to Los Angeles, so you could help each other babysit. Trashing it still felt wrong. A home is a home, but you wanted it to look broken into, to make sure that people put two and two together. This isn’t a Dave Strider marketing scheme, you both got hit. After all the work that you’ve done, at least some of the public should understand what that means.

“Us,” you say.

“That’s very sentimental,” she says. “Are you sure you aren’t mourning your car again?”

“Shut up,” you say, and blindly swat at her, hitting her elbow. She hits you back, hand slapping your shoulder. “It’s a good car.”

Rose hums. When you look at her, she’s already back to knitting. You have no idea what she’s making, but it looks like a onesie for an octopus. “We will be fine,” she says. “We have to.”

You nod, and go back to staring out the window, thinking about what Alma said. “It’s just,” you say quietly. “We gotta start thinking about the endgame, here, don’t we.”

“Start?” Rose echoes. “Dave, we know the endgame to this. We’ve known for a while. The second you landed in the hospital with a cut inside your eyeball, you and I both knew that this would end in death.”

You don’t say anything. She’s right, of course she is. You knew then, and she knew, as soon as you texted her from your hospital bed, and she texted you back from a Greyhound bus. And you tried to forget, you both did, for a very long time. You almost managed, for a whole decade, until last year, someone made you scared and angry enough to ram a sword through his throat. Until Rose came and disassembled the body on your rooftop, and then helped you burn it. Reality has caught up with you, and someone is going to die.

The clicking of her needles has stopped again. You turn your head to look at her, and she’s looking back at you, and her face seems younger than it should be. She is just as scared as you are. Neither of you ever wanted it to go this far. Neither of you wanted to kill.

“I don’t like it either,” Rose says. “But someone is going to wind up dead, and it sure as shit isn’t gonna be us.”

Washington, DC, now

)(IC: u comin or what TG: yeah about that

You’re on the hood of your car. The children -- and Sally, John’s pet hedgehog -- are with the one sitter you still trust. Rose is in position, which means she is at a remote location outside the city holding Guy Fieri hostage. She has sent you a picture of him tied to a chair and gagged, which means that it’s go time.

All according to plan.

TG: how about you come kill me somewhere else instead of home sweet home )(IC: why would i do that TG: dying mans last request? )(IC: stfu lol this is so obviously a trap TG: wow ok so is yours )(IC: fair TG: just thought that you know TG: john means something to both of us and dont try to tell me no because i know he does TG: so like can we maybe duke it out somewhere where i wont accidentally blow him to smithereens TG: innuendo intended )(IC: UG)( )(IC: gross TG: lmao TG: anyway bethany you know me and you know im comin with c4 in my backpack if im comin TG: do you really want that around your son or can you just get off your ass and meet me here so john stays safe )(IC: u reely think ya have a fighting chance to even get that far )(IC: buoy you set one foot in my house and ya get spearfished TG: yeah not really making a great point for me to come there rn TG: just thought maybe youd wanna be with your guy guy )(IC: who TG: you know TG: guy the guy )(IC: tf

You text her the picture that Rose sent, just Guy Fieri looking miserable, no indication of whether or not you or Rose are with him.

)(IC: )(-EY )(IC: motherglubber what do u think yoar doin TG: yoar??? TG: thats literally not a word. wym you oar?? what TG: anyway im gonna dismember this asshole if you dont agree to keep john safe and come here and im gonna start with the frosted tips )(IC: FIN--E )(IC: cant effin wait to be done with you )(IC: ill come krill ya if its so shrimportant just gimme the location TG: ok shrimportant is actually pretty funny TG: [coordinates] TG: see you soon

She drives a fuchsia Jaguar that looks like Xzibit threw up all over it, because of course she does. You watch it leave from your perch on your Mustang, then slide off the hood. shes gone, you text Rose. get ready to bounce

Before you leave, you turn back toward you car, and gently pat the roof. “See you soon,” you repeat, “for one last ride.”

Look, it’s a good car, alright.

Later on in the plan, once you’ve convinced John to come with you, and Rose has joined you in the no doubt brutal course out of the house littered with security guards, the three of you will pack into this car, and you will drive. You will be tailed, you know you will. Rose and you estimate two to three SUVs with more security personnel that will follow you, and sooner or later, you won’t stand a chance against them.

So, you’ll call the cops. You don’t usually do this -- even during all these years, neither you nor Crocker ever called the police on each other, and technically, you still won’t, today. You will just anonymously call authorities, and tell them about a burning car by the side of the road. Then you will hang up, and you and Rose and John will hop out of a moving vehicle as you crash your beloved Mustang and have it go up in flames. Authorities will come and find Dave Strider’s infamous car, and hopefully that’ll get people talking.

Crocker’s guys will hopefully exit their cars and go looking for you, or at least for John. It’s an easy con from there -- while they look, you will steal their SUVs and drive off toward your safehouses. Simple. No sweat.

“This better work,” you mutter to yourself, then leave your car behind and start climbing the fence around Crocker manor.

You’ve been here once before, while she was out and John was showing you around. You weren’t actively trying to case the place back then, just spending time with your boyfriend and checking out where he grew up, but you couldn’t help how curious you were. You still remember the most important spots, and you did your best to paint a proper picture of them to Rose (you drew a map in MS Paint), so now you have a pretty good idea of where you need to go.

The guard posts, of course, are randomized. You’ll have to take these as they come, and you feel prepared enough, with just your sword and a handful of knives. You’re wearing the kevlar you wore to the Oscars. You’re gonna be fine.

It’s a race against time now, knowing that there is no guarantee when Crocker will be catching on and returning to her house, and knowing that you stand no chance actually fighting her face to face. You climbed in toward the side of the house, because it’s the shortest distance between fence and wall. The front and back yards are ridiculously huge and opulent, and while you would have plenty of gaudy statues to hide behind, you’re not looking to make your way through there.

The first guard spots you right as you hop down off the fence, and your knife is in his shoulder before he even finishes drawing his gun on you. He’s also wearing a vest, but those don’t stop blades, and you take offense in knowing that she made them dress up like that. As if either you or Rose were going to show up with guns. She really doesn’t know you at all. You knock out the guard with a hit of the knife grip against his temple. Maybe you can get through this without deaths.

One of them you comfortably take out from behind a useless fountain placed in this part of the garden for some reason, appreciating how quiet and low-key you can be about it so far. The bigger the ruckus, the sooner she’ll return, so having them all go down in silence is your best case scenario.

It’s the third guard that ruins your track record. You’re almost at the house wall, and you know you’re under the right window, which means all you have to do is scale it and climb right into John’s room, but for that to work you need to have a clean path behind you. Which you don’t, you realize the second a bullet hits your back.

Your vest catches it, but the momentum still knocks you down, and you scrape both of your palms open on the weird break between lawn and pavement. You hate this fucking garden. Who lives like this? You’re gasping for breath and trying not to inhale any grass, dealing with the reality that this is the first time someone has shot at you and actually hit you, and the bullet might not have penetrated skin at all, but Jesus Fucking Christ it still feels awful. Like someone kicked you in the spine, only with a bullet instead of a foot.

Onward. You hear footsteps behind you, and now it’s your turn to kick, hitting them in the face with your boot in the same motion that you’re pushing yourself up from the ground. As they curse and stumble, you draw your sword, but they catch their footing quickly, and you know you only have a split second to act. That gun is pointing at you, again, or still, and they’re going for your head this time, and if you don’t fight now, the journey ends for you here. Someone is going to die, and it sure as shit can’t be you. Your arm darts forward.

The sword goes through their vest, their ribs, and their heart -- you wouldn’t call it smoothly, you really wouldn’t. You can feel resistance with every inch, you feel it right up to your shoulder, and you hate it, and it makes you want to throw up, but you can’t, now. You shove them off your blade and watch them crumple to the ground, and turn right back toward the wall. They are not getting up again. That’s on you, and you can deal with that later. You have to get moving.

Your phone vibrates.

You manage to pull yourself up on a balcony and crouch there, hiding from whatever is going on in the yard now. Other guards must have heard the shot being fired, so you really need to get the fuck out of sight, but this has to do, for now. If Crocker is messaging you, you have to respond, so she doesn’t think you’re in her goddamn garden.

)(IC: yo )(IC: send me proof yoar still with him )(IC: almost there this betta be worth it TG: one sec

As expected. All according to plan, so far. You hope the blood on your sword won’t make the sheath sticky. You’ll have to clean it, later. You don’t want to.

TG: shes asking for proof TG: go ahead. sorry TT: No worries. TT: I know we don’t endorse violence, but honestly, Dawon, after being in a room with him for this long, I am quite happy to do this.

She sends you a picture, and you grimace at your phone. It takes a lot to make you grimace, as a Strider born and raised -- at the same time, you’re not easily shocked or grossed out, but this isn’t great to look at. Fieri’s eye has been pulled from its socket, dangling down his cheek suspended from the nerve, a hole in the eyeball. You hope Crocker won’t be able to tell that this was done with a knitting needle, and forward the photo to her.

TG: hows this )(IC: )(--EY FUCK OFF )(IC: stop i reely like guy 38( TG: yeah well i really like john TG: eye for an eye TG: hurry it up im waiting and theres a second eye to gauge out )(IC: ten minutes )(IC: ur gonna be so sorry buoy

TG: 10 mins TT: On my way.

Okay. Crocker is on her way to a location where there will only be Guy Fieri and a set of elaborate boobytraps which you know won’t kill her, but hopefully slow her down. Rose is on her way here, to help you and John get out of here. That’s plenty of time you still have. Things are going suspiciously well, you think, before you remember the ache in your back and the fact that you killed someone.

You have to get to John.

He’s another two floors up, but you are right in front of a balcony door. For a second, you wonder if you could get into the house from here and do the rest from inside, so you don’t present yourself to the mob of people with guns in the garden. Unfortunately, before you can do that, another person with a gun appears on the other side of that door, mouths an angry what the fuck at you, and draws an assault rifle. Alright, well.

The thing that has mostly kept you from becoming too violent in the past is the fact that you’re fast, and you’re a great climber, so when you hop backward onto the banister of the balcony and pull yourself up to the next one above you, it happens so fast that nobody in the garden reacts. It’s after you’re already crouching behind the balcony, thankfully made of robust concrete, that the shots start hitting it. You do nothing, count the bullets, wait for them to get rid of half of their magazines down there. Then you pull a knife, peek over the balcony, and throw it right into someone’s bicep.

More shots. More ducking and counting. You have two more knives to throw, and you do, rinse and repeat. The people down there are very angry with you now, and very much still able to shoot, but you figure at least their aim will be off, and they’ll be slower. You hope. You haven’t held a gun yourself in fucking forever.

You take a breath, and jump up to grab the balcony you know belongs to John.

As soon as you’re in the open, another bullet hits your back, further toward your side this time, and you almost let go. You let out an undignified noise instead, and hold on harder, focusing all you have into your arms to pull yourself up. Shots are ringing in your ears, and one hits the concrete right next to your head at almost the same time that another one grazes your leg. You hiss in pain, grunt in exertion, pull, pull, and roll yourself onto John’s balcony.

Someone in the garden yells, “Motherfucker!”

You sit, curled up, and pull apart the tear in your pants with your aching fingers to check the wound. It’s not deep, certainly not as bad as the chunk of missing flesh you have in your arm from being shot at last year. It’s fine. You’ll forget about it in a second, when your newest problem will be telling your amnesiac boyfriend that he needs to come with you.

You pull yourself up into a crouch, not more. You don’t want to risk getting shot in the head as you finally face him, so you just do it like this. Hunkered down, disheveled and bloody, you lean forward and knock on John’s window.

[brownsugarrilakkuma]

50 questions tag~

tagged by @neochamomiletea

1. what takes up too much of your time? Scrolling through Tumblr, playing Pocket Camp, and watching YouTube videos.

2. what makes your day better? Sushi and talking to my best friends. 

3. what’s the best thing that happened to you today? The Pizza Hut by my house finally got our order right. 

4. what fictional place would you like to go?  Right now? My camp in Animal Crossing Pocket Camp.

5. are you good at giving advice? I guess so because everyone always comes to me lmaoo.

6. do you have any mental illness? Not professionally diagnosed but I do have family history for a few.

7. have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? I don’t think so. 

8. what musician inspired you the most? This answer changes based on who I’m obsessed with at the moment typically. I’d say the most consistent would be Rihanna. Once I became Navy my loyalty has never swayed. I love her idgaf I’m here to have fun and get paid attitude. She’s also so ride or die for her friends and family and like same. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t mention I literally call my closet the ‘SHINee closet’ due to my posters of Jonghyun and Taemin hanging up in their. Eventually I plan to put more SHINee centric posters up as long as I have space. They’ve inspired me to continue to push through hard times when I’d much rather give up. 

9. have you ever fallen in love? Romantically? Not yet *Baekho voice* WHERE U AT??!!

10. what’s your dream date? I want to go somewhere with good food where we either get to either walk around and talk or be able to sit in the same place until the place is ready to close. 

11. what do others notice about you? My skin and hair. I’ve had so many random women either complement my skin (usually wearing makeup but I guess that means I do know how to apply foundation) or my hair (colored or when I was natural).

12. what is the annoying habit you have? I don’t ask for help.

13. do you still talk to you first love? Nope. 

14. how many ex’s do you have? None. 

15. how many songs are on your playlist? My Cheer Up playlist has 122 song but that’s in progress. 

16. what instruments can you play? None because I got impatient and gave up. 

17. who do you have the most pictures of? As of today I have 272 pictures and gifs and counting of Johnny on my phone and I’m not ashamed of it (cause that’s my mans). But uhhh I also have 100 pictures and videos of my cat Penelope saved on my phone too. It’s up to you to decide which is sadder lmao. 

18. where would you like to go before you die? Too many to list. Definitely Tokyo, Seoul, and Shanghai.  

19. what is your zodiac? Gemini sun, Aquarius moon.

20. do you relate to it? Too well. 

21. what is happiness to you? Being able to be yourself unapologetically around people you love.

22. are you going through anything right now? I should have a royal title by now for all the years I’ve been going through it. 

23. what’s the worst decision you’ve ever made? Anytime I decided against  listening to my gut knowing she’s right 99.999% of the time.

24. what’s your favourite store? At first I was thinking either Nordstrom Rack or TJ MAXX but TJ MAXX has a good mix of  skincare, makeup, bras, furniture, and food stuff like teas and cookies from brands you’ve never heard of along with interesting designer pieces. I like the hunt. 

25. what’s your opinion on abortion? I’m 100000000000% on board. As many as that person wants/needs to have. 

26. do you keep a bucket list? I have a mental list of shit I would like to get done if I was more disciplined. 

27. do you have a favourite album at the moment? Not really. I have some favorite songs I listen to off of some of my favorite albums released this year. I listen to playlist more than full length albums. Or all 1000+ songs on shuffle. 

28. what do you want for your birthday?  I like money gifts from family. My friends always get me perfect gifts. I think they get what my interest are better than my family members do.  

29. what are most peoples first impression of you? I don’t know I never ask.

30. what age do you seem according to most people? I always get aged down 4-5 years. Most recently a neighbor asked me what my plans were after I graduate high school this year. I’m 24.

31. where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping? Next to the wall where my charger is. 

32. what word do you say the most? What, wow, and whack are my top three reactions to most things.

33. what’s the oldest age you would date?  Ideally I wouldn’t want to go older than 4 years. Like at least at some point we’d been in high school at the same time so we’d have some life experiences we’d have in common. But like if we click we click. 

34. what’s the youngest age you would date? Idk like 3 or 4 years? My response is about the same as the last one. I couldn’t image dating someone that much younger but life be like that sometimes. As long as they’re of age. 

35. what job/career do most people say would suit you? A writer or designer. 

36. what’s your favourite music genre? Deep house has become a recent fave of mine over the last like 4 years. I like having music I could vibe to or dance to at any moment. I’m here to have a good time.

37. if you could live in any country in the world, where would it be? I want to retire to the Tuscany region of Italy. Pretty much all of the countries I would want to live in are just as expensive as the US. 

38. what is your current favourite song? Puzzle Moon by GWSN

39. how long have you had this blog for? May of 2012 although I think I deleted some of my earlier posts. I’ve switched names and themes a lot.

40. what are you excited for? WayV!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And other new music in 2019. 

41. are you a better talker or listener? Listener. I have good ideas but sometime I struggle articulating them and once I get it, it’s too late. 

42. what is the last productive thing you did? i got some sewing done.

43. what do you want for christmas? I had a long list like every year. My mom did get me this Fashionary book I wanted. No Airpods yet. 

44. what class do you get the best grades in? English, History, and Art

45. on a scale from 1-10, how are you feeling right now? 10, I just had pizza

46. what can you see yourself doing in 10 years? Still being on my bullshit 

47. when did you get your first heartbreak? When Fall Out Boy went on hiatus in like 2008/2009

48. at what age do you want to get married? Uhh idk. I’m indifferent 

49. what career did you want to have as a child? i wanted to be in a girl group, an actress, and a fashion designer....so Beyonce, I wanted to be Beyonce 

50. what do you crave right now? ...more pizza. I’m hungry again. 

I’m gonna tag: @agust-ds, @thejoong, @itslovingjungkookoclock, @yerim-5hinee, and @aqsun (idk if you’ve done this one but I know you’ve done some other tags so I didn’t tag you in those and you don’t have to do this either but I do like you so I want to include you in things like this too but I’m shy so sorry for the long explanation lmao) 

[boshawsharky]

Made It This Far

This fic contains references to self-harm, mental illness, delusions, and torture. It details a night of Pratt’s life after the end of the game. What happens in this fic is a work of my imagination and by continuing to read, you are consenting to read what could be potentially triggering.

Staci Pratt, T/W, 1,964 words.

This is my first Far Cry fanfic, so if it is inaccurate I apologise.

It’s official: Staci Pratt is an alcoholic.

Growing up with an alcoholic father, he swore he would never be in this position. He remembers his dad yelling at him for waking him up, or his mum trying to push him out of the house to protect them both. He remembers shamefully going to school and seeing his dad passed out on a park bench.

He swore this would never happen. He swore he would never turn out like his dad, yet here he is. Covered in beer cans and bottles, protecting him as if they were blankets. Almost as comforting, too.

His hand reaches to the nearest can and he lifts it to his lips, tilting his head back and keeping his mouth open to collect the few droplets that pour from inside, even if he can barely taste them. Anything helps, especially if it helps him forget Jacob, even if just for a few hours.

He always comes back in the morning, though. He always sits there at the end of his bed, or by the door, or by the sink- wherever it was that he passed out- smirking, looking down his nose, chuckling at him. Sometimes he is so close, Pratt can smell the coffee on his breath.

Fuck, the man is dead. You are going crazy.

He doesn’t understand how all this happened, he could have never expected to be this way. Then again, it was only two days before he was broken that he was joking about taking fuckin’ Nancy instead of Rookie. He didn’t see that happening, or Rookie saving his ass from Jacob.

Loud music pumps from down the road in Fall’s End, presumably from the bar that he sometimes meets Hudson in. They’re celebrating the New Year- that’s coming in a few minutes. Sharky Boshaw had invited everybody to a party in his trailer park- literally everybody, Rookie, Whitehorse, Hudson, everybody. Even Pratt. But Pratt couldn’t bear to go and see their sympathetic faces and the way they inched around him as if he was a bomb waiting to explode.

Well, frankly, he could. It can only take one little thing to trigger him, sometimes even the sight of his own face can do it. The scar across his nose, or if he has a nosebleed it feels like the world is ending.

The man moves and knocks all the cans off of himself, brushing them from his legs with a great clatter. The glass bottles smash on the floor, but the cans just bounce and roll. He pulls himself up and collapses on the sofa, tears threatening his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He thought he was getting better. He thought he wasn’t as weak any more.

You’ll always be weak, Peaches. Always.

He really thought the alcohol would take Jacob away from him. He thought it would help him, make him at least the slightest bit better. Why is it not helping this time?

He can see him stood in the doorway to the living room, judging eyes watching his every move, and that same bloody smirk on his features. Staci catches his eye, and immediately feels all the anger, all the upset, everything he has ever felt, fill him again.

The last full can on the side becomes his tool as he grabs it from its place on the table, throwing it out of the open window with a mighty roar and listening to it explode outside, covering the porch with beer. He feels like a prisoner in his own mind, and he wants out.

He continues to scream as he paces around the room, grabbing at his hair and pulling it before eyeing the phone sitting on the unit by the wall. He stumbles over to it, feeling like a dummy numb with emotions. He feels empty, he feels lost, he feels like he isn’t human.

The crowd down the street erupt into cheers and celebration, which tells him it is now midnight, it is now 2019. He has the phone in hand, but he stares at it. Who is going to answer him now? Fuck, who is he going to ring?

He slams it down with force, letting out another scream. He’s twenty-six, and he can’t even take care of himself. He can’t find the key to free himself from his own mind.

When he was seventeen, he was trying to impress his friends at a skate park. Something went wrong, he snapped his board, it flew up and hit him in the forehead, creating a gash. There was so much blood and he passed out. He thought when he came to two minutes later, he thought that was the worst feeling.

It was stupid, really. Just nine years later, he would be being tortured, he would be ruined, he would be broken.

At least he had his friends there, then. And a family to go home to- well, his mum. When Jacob had him strapped down to that chair, he was alone. He had never felt so isolated yet so exposed in his life.

He thought he would die there. He thought that his corpse would rot there until he was nothing.

That, that was the worst feeling.

And you’ve still not escaped.

He can feel Jacob’s rough hands grabbing one of his wrists, and he pulls it away from him.

“D-don’t touch me… You’re, you’re not real,” Staci whispers, closing his eyes and rubbing his wrist. He can’t calm his racing heart or his choking breaths. He can’t even stop the tears from flowing any more. “You- you can’t con, control me like this...”

But you’re wrong.

“Ple-please,”

Tears are streaming down his face and he uses his hand to numbly wipe them away. He’s choking on his own breathing and everything feels too much, too overwhelming.

Peaches, you’re-

“Shut up!” Pratt roars, picking up the phone from the receiver and dialling Sharky’s number- everyone is at Sharky’s place. Hopefully, someone can help.

“Happy new year!”

It’s Nick Rye’s voice that comes through the phone, drunk and happy.

Happy.

When was the last time Staci was happy?

Don’t do it, Peaches. You think you’re strong, handle this on your own. You can do that, can’t you?

“N-Nick,” Pratt whispers down the phone, praying Nick will hear him.

“Hello?” Nick says, and Pratt can imagine him looking at the phone with confusion on his face. Staci repeats himself. “Staci! How are you?”

“I, I need Ro-Rook,” he can barely make sense of his words as they come out of his mouth, nevermind nick trying to listen over the phone. “Please, Nick,”

“Sure, bud.” Nick’s tone goes soft, the same way that he hates people doing, “ROOKIE!”

Their voice is soft and comforting, like a soft, bright hand reaching through the darkness.

“Staci!” They are cheerful, happy, tipsy. Honestly, Staci would have loved to be there, but he would’ve had a panic attack, or he would have got slaughtered and passed out somewhere he cannot get home from. “Happy new year, dude! You okay?”

“I-I-I need you,” Staci puts his head in his hands as he sinks to the floor, somewhat restricted by the cord. It’s just turned 2019- why do people still insist on corded phones? “I need you, Dep. He’s back...”

“Jacob?” They ask carefully, listening to Pratt’s cry and taking it as an answer. “Fuck- I’ll be there soon. I need to find a designated driver, though- give me twenty minutes and I’m with you,”

You’re weak, Pratt. You’re nothing. When the collapse comes, what then? Who are you fighting for? What is the point in your existence if you can’t protect and serve? I mean- that is your job.

It’s been five minutes since the phone call and Staci is sat on the toilet seat in the bathroom, holding a smashed bottle in hand. He’s not coping well with this. He’s not coping at all.

“S-stop. I know you’re not real,” he can’t tell if it’s the alcohol in his system or the trauma that is making him speak funny, but he hates it. It makes him look even stupider than he feels. “I know you’re made up by m’ mind...”

But you hated me, Peaches. Why would your mind think of me if you hate me?

“Ruined my life...”

Your life is pointless anyway.

Pratt takes a deep breath and pulls his legs to his chest, putting his head back and bringing the sharp glass to his wrists.

The Deputy pulls up outside Pratt’s house, asking Kim Rye- the designated driver- to wait there for them, then makes their way inside.

There is an exploded can outside, and all the porch is wet from what they presume to be beer.

“Staci?” They call when they get inside the house, looking around. The empty living room is covered in beer bottles and cans, and the very phone that Pratt had used to call Deputy is hanging by its cord. They furrow their brows in confusion and head up the stairs, to the muffled sobbing. “Staci-”

“I fucked up, Rook,” he says, washing his arm under the tap of the sink, pinkish water running down the drain.”I-I couldn’t help it, ‘n Jacob was tellin’ me I’m worthless, ‘n-”

Rookie takes Pratt’s arm from under the water and presses a towel to it- for the most part, it has stopped bleeding, but they look sore. “We can fix this,” they say quietly, kneeling down in front of him and looking him in the eyes.

They reach for a med kid under the sink and use the bandages to wrap around his forearm, covering the mess he made.

After a short period of silence, Pratt looks to Dep. “How was Sharky’s party?” He asks, trying to fill the stuffy silence.

Deputy laughs, raising their eyebrows. “It was… Er… Explosive...” He says, shaking his head. “I mean, fun, but… A lot of fire. Lotta fireworks.”

Staci smiles, though it is lacking all emotion.

“I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have called you. I should man up and deal with it- I’m weak and-”

“Shh. I don’t mind.” Dep says, shaking his head. “Honestly. You call me whatever time you need,”

“I’m a fuck up.”

“We’re all fucked up, Pratt. That’s what they do, they play mind games with you.”

Pratt feels all the alcohol from earlier in his stomach, and suddenly, he is throwing up into the sink. When Rook first rescued him, they got back to the Wolf’s Den and ate some actual food. This caused him to be sick because when he was with Jacob, his diet was purely raw meat and rainwater. The good food made him sicker than a dog.

“I owe you my life,” Pratt then says, as Rookie helps him stand and guides him into the bedroom. “You don’t even understand, Dep. We would be nothing without you, and I’m so stupid because you helped me survive literal Hell, and now I’m out of there and I can’t even think right-”

“You need to sleep,” they say, not undressing him but helping him into the bed. “Come on, you’ve had a rough night. You don’t know what you’re saying,”

Staci closes his eyes, feeling worn, feeling defeated, feeling nothing but everything.

“I’ll come over in the morning, okay?” They say, holding his hand for a minute. “Rest. Call me when you wake up.”

“Is he okay?” Kim asks when the Rookie gets back into the car, putting on their seatbelt. Quietly, they nod. “Good. Wanna go back to the party or home?”

“Home, I guess.” They answer quietly.

“You know, you really have saved everyone’s ass. We would be nowhere without you. Pratt, Hudson, Whitehorse- everyone. We all owe you everything and we could never pay you back.”

[agapeeternal]

I’m

Chester Bennington’s suicide has made me think a lot about my own attempts in the past.

Like a lot of people who gravitated to Linkin Park, and Chester in particular, I suffered from undiagnosed depression and suicidal ideation as a child. I had abuse in my childhood from a family member (though not to Chester’s degree). I never told anyone, because I was scared no one would believe me, so I held it in.

School was a hell I had to endure every day until the middle of 8th grade, when my depression spiraled. Years of bullying and not understanding why things were so hard for me study wise, I lost it. That was my first serious suicide attempt. I took a whole bottle of prescription strength ibuprofen and waited. I’m not sure if I passed out or if I just fell asleep, but I woke up and projectile vomited all over my bed. I didn’t feel that shame or the thankfulness that I had survived. I was pissed. I was pissed because not only did this not work, but now I had to completely strip my bed and throw everything into the tub until I could put it in the washer later. I ended up staying home from school that day, I mean, I was “sick”. It took an assembly about bullying and mental illness that happened at our school, a skit performed by a traveling anti-bullying project, to admit to my parents that I was depressed. But there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t think at the time.

My depression didn’t get any better, it just got worse. Some odd happenings went on in school which included an absolutely outrageous suspension and a teacher who hated the shit out of me because she got caught in a lie. And that was the point that I left public school and went into independent study. I actually loved it; for once school wasn’t hell, it was just challenging. But the help I got there as well as the help I got from my family, it worked great. Sure, I still had to do summer school every year, but it wasn’t that bad. I thought, “I can do this now, I’m ready.” So, I tried high school, but three months later I was back in independent study.

I thought I was prepared to handle the demands of a 6 period day, and maybe actually make friend’s, or at least catch up with the people I had hung out with since first grade. But I wasn’t. The reaction I got after returning was less like “girl where have you been?! We kinda missed you.” and was more like “oh you’re back? Wow. Okay. Hi. I guess.” That combined with the depression that never really left, and how exhausting going to class was, I couldn’t do it. I failed at trying to come back and experience high school. People who I had known called a few times, offering to take me to football games or other things, since being in independent study allowed me to have a parent school and all activities and classes were open to me. But somehow they neglected to tell me that they couldn’t go or changed plans until minutes before the events happened. And those were the times I wished I hadn’t survived. I hated feeling disposable, I hated feeling like no one cared about me. And they didn’t. I meant absolutely nothing to them, at least nothing more than birthday cupcakes and valentines cards and field trips when we were in grade school that my mom would help give kids that couldn’t afford it. But after grade school, I wasn’t worth anything, and it stung. But I tried to shove that down, along with everything else, and just concentrate on school. I managed to graduate on time with a 4.0 and walk with my class. It was bittersweet, but at least that was done.

All that was okay, I even managed to hold a job until after I graduated. I took a semester off and when I started college, things went sideways on me, as it usually does when mental illness rears its ugly head, and that led, eventually, to more self-harm and finally, to therapy. By the end of my first semester, I realized I couldn’t do this anymore, without help. It was hard to say, “look, I can’t handle this anymore. I can’t do this on my own, I’m crumbling.” But I did. When I made my first appointment, I didn’t experience the embarrassment at first, that came later. I was like, “fuck it, it’s either this or…it’s this.” I saw my first psychiatrist and after a couple of meetings, he dropped the bomb I was hoping to hear; a diagnosis.

I was bipolar. II to be exact.

After all these years, it had a name. Bipolar Disorder. It was scary but also a big relief, to know that all that inner turmoil I was going through wasn’t just my imagination, it was REAL.

It turns out, all this time, I had been exhibiting symptoms, even as a child. It all made sense, all the ups and downs and tantrums then crying spells, all the trouble concentrating and daydreaming in school. Everything clicked. And now I had to figure out what the fuck to do with this.

I started medication and went through every possible cocktail. I lost my first two psychiatrists to retirement and went through one therapist. Somewhere in there, a breakup happened that disturbed both the process and my recovery, and I went through another therapist until I found my current one. They say you should click with a therapist, that, even though it isn’t easy, that your relationship should help you work through whatever you need to work on. Easier said than done, but I’m more than happy with her.

I was still feeling the depression more than the hypomania, that visited every once in a while, the mixed episodes that visited far too often. But I was doing okay. My baseline wasn’t great, but I knew where it was, and I was doing as well as I usually did. Until everything went sideways again. In late 2015, I went through a horrible breakup. It was messy and painful and I lost it. Again. My therapist had suggested group therapy for me for years, but I didn’t like the idea of having to talk to a room full of strangers. But I finally went to group, and later, to IOP. The little bit of work I had been doing seemed to slide completely backwards. I was actively suicidal, and I tried.

I literally couldn’t take it anymore. I was so depressed and dealing with the breakup combined with other messy things going on and my down cycle, it just snowballed. I didn’t want to die, I don’t think most people to commit suicide do. I wanted to end all the pain and depression and just be able to BREATHE. I wanted to get away from my own head. So I took a mix of my meds and just passed out. It left me mostly drugged out but semi-conscious, hardly able to do anything other than just lay there. I couldn’t walk in a straight line if you paid me. But I was alive. Fortunately, or unfortunately. I was still around.

So when does Linkin Park come in? 7th grade. I saw “One Step Closer” on CMC (California Music Channel) before MTV or VH1 had picked them up. The DJ was a friend of a friend of Mike’s I believe, and played it even though CMC was mostly–almost entirely–hip-hop and r&b. At that time, the only thing outside of hip-hop and r&b that I was listening to was pop music that was playing everywhere else. Papa Roach slipped into the mix shortly, but that was it. Linkin Park wasn’t something I would’ve been interested in. At all. But I didn’t change the channel, I just watched that ridiculous video, and as weird as it was, I found myself really hearing the lyrics. I liked them. They were different.

Then ‘Crawling” and “In The End” came out, and I had never connected with lyrics on that level. Even though I was only 12-13, they still hit home. Hard. I didn’t know how to address what happened to me when I was younger, I still hadn’t told anyone. It haunted me, especially having to see the person. It was only once in a while, but it brought everything back like a freight train. Dealing with that and the painful reality of not having friends, of being constantly bullied, I was confused and hurt. I felt like I didn’t have a voice.

But “Crawling” became my voice. I knew what it felt like to literally be crawling in your skin, to hate seeing your reflection, to despise everything. I felt the endless discomfort and insecurity that was all consuming. Every single line in that song, I felt.

Linkin Park became the outlet I needed. I needed to be heard, I needed to be understood. I needed someone to LISTEN. But I didn’t have to explain anything, everything was there for me, in black and white. I saw my feelings, I saw what I needed. I saw it all. And I was grateful.

Unfortunately, I lost touch with them for a while. Somewhere after Meteora, I strayed. There was no reason other than new songs and artists came out and my musical interests shifted some. But when I found myself in a hole, they were there. They were always there.

In 2017, my musical taste still hadn’t shifted back to them, not completely. I hadn’t heard most of their recent things. But I got into Kiiara. And when I watched her video for “Gold”, on the side it recommended a Facebook live with Linkin Park and Kiiara which threw me a bit. That didn’t seem like a combination that would go well together. But I also saw the video for “Heavy” and I clicked on it. It was hard to watch and I cried the whole time, because 2017 had, up to that point, fucking sucked (and would, inevitably end up being one of the worst years of my life). My head was a mess, everything was heavy, and I wanted to let go. The paranoia and heaviness was everything I was feeling. Once again, they became my voice, and I fell back into them for a bit before drifting away again. I still held onto “Heavy”.

On July 20, 2017, I was packing for my family reunion. I saw that “Talking To Myself” had gone up and watched it, dancing to it as I tried to remember everything I needed with me.

A few hours later my mom called me into her room and asked if I remembered Linkin Park. Of course I did. Then she dropped my worst fear; Chester was gone.

I couldn’t speak for a minute. It literally felt like someone had punched a hole in me. I felt that in my soul, like something was ripped away from me. It was like I lost my breathe (and still haven’t caught it). Chester had brought me so much comfort and peace. He had helped me through times when I was actively suicidal. He helped me when I just needed to put words to my feelings. He did that. He made everything less heavy and helped soothe the hurt. Without him, I don’t know if I would be here, I truly don’t.

I immediately downloaded the new album and listened to it, crying the entire time. The person who had been my voice for so long was suddenly silenced. There was hurt and pain in listening to the music, but at the same time, it was strange comfort. Because, even though he wasn’t here, he would always be.

There was never anger on my side. I understood that feeling, I understood how being in that moment was. It’s horrible. But there was a strange sense of pride. A pride in that he was still here, he made it as far as he did. Most people would’ve completely given up years ago. But he kept going, he kept finding a way. A lot of it was obviously the support system he had, but a lot of it was support that we didn’t see.

We didn’t see every aspect of his life, but what we did see was someone who was both strong and vulnerable, someone who kept going, even when he didn’t want too. He didn’t give up. He was going to fuse his armor back together, he was going to pick himself up if he fell. And he did, he picked himself up until he couldn’t. We’ll never know what happened, what that final catalyst was, what those last moments were like. All we know is that our hearts are a little heavier and the world a little dimmer without him.

There’s now a tattoo on my arm of the Suicide prevention ribbon, and at the bottom are the flames that Chester had on his wrists, along with the words “One More Light”. It’s both to honor and remember Chester, but also to acknowledge my own struggles and remind myself to keep going, to remind myself that my journey isn’t over, that I still have growing and changing to do. It’s hard, when mental illness is there to tell you “NO”, to try and keep you from living, to keep you from enjoying life until you think you only have one choice. But I can’t do that. I owe it to myself and to Chester to keep trying. To hear my Battle Symphony, to not give up, fuse my armor back together and pick myself up.

You’ll always be missed and always be loved Chester. I hope you’ve found the peace you’ve always deserved.

(This is my journey. It’s not over, not by a long shot. I’m still growing and changing, I’m still trying to figure everything out. I have a lot of work to do, but I’m trying, and that’s all I can do.)

[thesarcastictree]

Chapter 1 - Play of the game

Hey, everyone! 

Author’s note: I did it! The first, however a shorter, part is out. I hope you’re gonna enjoy it. Remember - sharing is caring. ^-^

For my lovely best friend Susan, because she loves when I mention her.

Words: 3063

You have 1 new message.

I rolled my eyes as I heard the painfully familiar vibration coming off from under the pillow. My eyes hurt and my face felt disgusting, blaming the fact I again didn't take off my make­-up before taking an obligatory nap. The yawn was long, making me feel dizzy. I put my hand under the cushion, palpating a rectangularly shaped object, taking it out. 

Unlocking the screen of my phone, I sighed. Had I really been sleeping for only thirty minutes? I quickly tapped in the passcode, internally satisfying my clumsy self, since I hadn't made any mistake in the four meaningless numbers. 

Another message popped up, as my eyes met with the bright white chat.

forever alone bitch: YOU SLEPT ENOUGH COME PLAY noodle mommy: what  noodle mommy: did you seriously wake me up because of stupid ow forever alone bitch: yes now come  forever alone bitch: i wanna play compets noodle mommy: geez, ok noodle mommy: gimme five minutes forever alone bitch: gg noodle mommy: ??? forever alone bitch: you and your five minutes

I chuckled, shaking my head. Somehow, I managed to get off my bed in a record time. The procedure of undoing the paint I had stuffed onto my skin was, as well, quite quick. In a while, I sat down onto a spinning chair, putting on the headphones, giving up on the ball of cables that fell into my lap. As I waited for the Blizzard app to start, I swiftly found the playlist that had been my companion for a few months now. The brisk tones of one of my favorite songs hit my ears, and I laughed at myself and at my poor attempts of singing in Korean. "Geu bojogaen illegal, ille~~gal," I sang quietly, tapping the tips of my fingers in the rhytm, "but I want it anyway, anyway, anywa-" The invite to the group hit my screen, as soon as I got to the loaded menu. I, of course, accepted, joining the voice chat right after.

uncleREYES has joined the voice chat.

"Yo, nibblet, what's up?" I asked with a hoarse vocal, caused by the lack of usage. I got literally no response. Letting out a quiet sigh, the sudden hyped sound made me jump in my seat. "HELLO, HELLO, IT'S YOUR GIIIIR-" The microphone cut off.  "Yeah, hi," laughing, I started the queue for competitives. "-lright, you should totally see the video I sent you, because I'm fucking crying again. Why is MCCree so perfect? Why does Hanzo have to die in every fanfiction? Why can't they just be happy?!" Sometimes, I wondered how she was able to be hysterical over two characters from a game, but then again, I wasn't different. 

Well, okay, I agree. My obsession had gone perhaps too far, being it a few Korean idols, which made it even more difficult. They were real. They existed. They breathed the same air like I did, and their faces were literally everywhere I looked; printed on my phone case, set on my wallpapers - I even had a goddamn pillow case with Taehyung's face, biting his lip in the most seductive way ever. "You need help," I responded to her autistic screeching, glancing at the timer passing by the second minute.  "... and you are the one to say that." Susan barked back with ease. "Yeah, you're right. We both need help."

Susan and I, we had been friends since... pretty much forever. I met her during the start of the first year, as my kind of crazy classmate, also being an idiot into games. We'd argued for a few times, even stopped talking for another few months, but at the end of the day, noone could ever split our brotherhood, as we called it, apart. And there we were, the partners in any crime. However, little did we both know that the upcoming minutes were going to completely change our lives, for good. 

GAME FOUND! Joining the game...

Both of us went silent, as the map of Volskaya Industries showed, together with the name and rank lists of both teams. I briefly went through the players, and... something seemed off. 

"Susan?" I asked, frowning. She responded with a silent, almost unhearable: "Hm?"  "Don't panic, okay? We have a fallen diamond Widowmaker main against us, low plat, in premade with two other platinums," I began, taking a deep breath. It wouldn't be a big deal, if I wasn't a borderline golden rank, and my comrade a bit higher gold. Was our elo getting bigger, or did we just get randomly filled into the missing places of a long-buffering game? I cracked my knuckles, checking out the others' mains, even more confused. "How the hell am I not supposed to panic? I'll just play goddamn D.va, I'm not feeling the Ryu ga wagateki go-fuck yourself tonight." I let out a desperate laugh. "Yeah, enjoy it. One of the... well, the GucciBoy has about 100 hours on D.va. They have a 120 hours MCCree main too, what the fuck?" I whined, comparing the composition of our teams together. We seemingly stood no chance, yet I didn't feel like giving up.  I chose Mercy, even though I wasn't a big fan of her pick. I decided to go for certain, stable decisions, instead of a Hanzo or Widow, and it seemed like I perfectly fullfilled the expectations of our teamcomp. 

My attention, while we waited for the doors on attack to open, got caught by the allchat, as I smiled cheekily.

[ALL] Bunny: sugacheonjae? my ass... [ALL] GucciB0i: LMAO  [ALL] TuandonJuan: IT'S HIGH NOON SOMEWHERE IN THE WORLD

Susan's next yak reminded me of a dying whale, but I decided to ignore it. 

[ALL] uncleREYES: YES IN MY BED [ALL] TuandonJuan: GIVE ME YOUR ADDRESS HUCKLEBERRY

"I'm so adding him!" she hissed happily, as I heard the furious clicks of a mouse. We had about twenty seconds towards the beginning, and for some reason, I felt nervous. 

[ALL] Bunny: what is it, suga, you scared? [ALL] SugaCheonjae: Excuse me?  [ALL] Bunny: ;) 

That was the last hit my ego could take. I filled in with my Odile Widowmaker instead, ignoring the desperate cries for a switch back, as I just simply muted the teamchat. 

[ALL] xHeroO: can u pls report widow shes trolling [ALL] uncleREYES: can you please stfu and play, she's good  [ALL] Bunny: we will see about that [ALL] TuandonJuan: uuu [ALL] GucciB0i: spicy, I like that

"It's fine, yo, I muted them, anyway." I whispered to the microphone, to prevent Susy from distracting herself on pointless arguments with some kids. Wrapping my fingers tightly around the mouse, I covered the red light with my palm. The three of the enemy premades started to slowly dip over the edge of the cup of patience, that had already been pretty full.  The last seconds disappeared, and we rushed out of the building, with Reinhardt's shield leading us towards the point we were supposed to capture. I hooked myself at the edge of another house, dragging myself up in a long jump. Seeing the Symmetra's sentry turrets in the scope, I sighed, knowing already that it'd be pretty difficult to get over the arc, and then my point of view disappeared.  "Shit..." I cursed under my breath, waiting for the respawn. The first kill of the game was shining in the corner, as Bunny eliminated my courageous positioning. 

[ALL] Bunny: :) 

"Motherfucker."  Susy cleared out her throat with a loud cough, and before I tried to shut her up, her words pierced my ears: "Calm down, Natalie, you got this."  I nodded, not quite sure of myself, but I did. I truly also didn't feel like losing against a bunch of pricky platinum asses. Susy flew behind the entrance through the arc, destroying the sentry turrets, and losing her Mecha in exchange. Low on health, she jumped behind the corner, meeting up with Reinhardt's half-destroyed shield and Zenyatta's healing orb. I took a deep breath. It was my time to shine. I dediced to not make the same mistake twice. Instead of jumping on a visible place, I slowly looked out from behind one of the slopes, with my rifle scoped into the enemy team. At first, I couldn't quite spot a single thing not hidden behind Orisa's barrier, but then Symmetra made a simple, greedy mistake. I found the weak spot, quickly eliminating one of their major defense mechanism, dying to a bullet of the enemy Widowmaker again, afterwards. 

[ALL] Bunny: nice try :) [ALL] SugaCheonjae: Are you always this annoying? 

The beeping of a movement around the point assured me that I made a great move. Symmetra was down, and after the death recap, their Mercy too. Roadhog's hook wasn't something she could just simply survive. I bit my lip. The only proper problem on their team was Widowmaker, killing our squishy damage dealers without a fuss.  "She's on the rooftop-" I grinned, victoriously, pinning down Bunny's killing spree with a precise headshot. Reinhardt's shield protected us in front of the enemy's D.va ultimate and mister High noon got a bullet back, thanks to Genji's deflection. I got to kill Orisa on low health, before she placed the barrier, as we successfully captured the first point.

[ALL] SugaCheonjae: Everything's alright down there? 

I mocked at the cockiness the enemy Widowmaker showed before, Susy's 'ooooh' giving me the courage I didn't even know I had. 

[ALL] Bunny: you're just lucky

Yeah, of course, I thought to myself, hitting one head after another. Not even three minutes into the end of our timer we'd captured the second point, setting the score to 2:0 for our team.  "Good job, they don't even know what hit 'em."  I loved the enthusiasm in my friend's voice. And she was right - after a bad start, we didn't even let them move from their attack spawn, as Susan's arrow hit every spotted movement, and I finished off the rest. We won, almost effortlessly claiming the clear score. The victory poses triked through my screen and Susy, all proud, screamed, watching the animation of Widowmaker swinging, with my name underneath.

Play of the game SUGACHEONJAE as WIDOWMAKER. 

I quickly recognized the one last seconds before we captured the last point of the objective.  "Now, watch this." I grinned, biting the side of my index finger. TuandonJuan fell first. D.va's mech disappeared in Susy's scattered arrows and I quickly dragged my mouse over, finding Widow's peaking head, shutting down even the Mercy's desperate try to resurrect their last hope. 

[ALL] GucciB0i: GG [ALL] TuandonJuan: I'll find you in another life, unclereyes [ALL] uncleREYES: ;-; [ALL] Bunny: I could really use a hug right now... 

"Tsk..." I snapped. Disrespectful idiot, no wonder he fell to such low elo. We returned back into the menu. "Let me just go grab a coffee, and we can continue," I announced, taking off the headphones, heading to the kitchen. It felt good, really. I'd always liked to prove my skill, especially to such douchebags. 

Returning back to my room, I silently closed the door, placing the cup next to my laptop. What caught my attention were the extra three icons next to ours, and the names shining bright in the groupchat. 

[GROUP] TuandonJuan: howdy [GROUP] GucciB0i: HOW ON EARTH DID YOU TWO GOT ONLY GOLD FROM PLACEMENTS, I DON'T GET IT [GROUP] uncleREYES: its called skill, something you dont have [GROUP] GucciB0i: that doesn't make any sense [GROUP] uncleREYES: jeff hates us [GROUP] GucciB0i: touché [GROUP] uncleREYES: :^) [GROUP] Bunny: what are we waiting for? [GROUP] uncleREYES: coffeegirl [GROUP] GucciB0i: why did I read cowgirl [GROUP] uncleREYES: I almost wrote cowboy tbh [GROUP] TuandonJuan: what do you mean cowboy, im here all the time darlin [GROUP] uncleREYES: >.> [GROUP] uncleREYES: voice? [GROUP] Bunny: I'll pass [GROUP] GucciB0i: YA BOIIIIIIIIIIII [GROUP] TuandonJuan: anything for you

I slammed the M key, muting my microphone, hearing the honest laugh of my bestfriend and two as loud voices. 

TO: uncleREYES: WHAT THE HELL, SUSAN?!  FROM: uncleREYES: come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn he mains mccree i love him  TO: uncleREYES: i'm not playing with the bitchass widow  FROM: uncleREYES: he isnt even talking FROM: uncleREYES: please FROM: uncleREYES: i'll buy you cigs TO: uncleREYES: ...

"Hey, you can start, I'm back." I jumped into their conversation, which madly whirled around the best MCCree skin. TuandonJuan's voice made me chuckle, because he'd just found out that Susy also loved the Lifesaver skin the most.  "Is it the best Widowmaker under the sun?" I sort of cringed at the weird accent of the GucciB0i, but I took the compliment, proudly.  "Well, I'm definitely not Bunny, so it has to be me?" I grinned, as Susy started the quickplay queue, relieved that we weren't going to tryhard, because honestly, I felt like I gave everything skillful I had left in the competive game. However, that didn't mean I was going to be an easy prey to make jokes of, still visibly hurt by the offensive humor from the game before.   "Oh, shit, you're my new best friend," GucciB0i's oddly famous deep voice responded. Susy almost immediately grunted back: "Fuck off, would you? The spot is already taken!"  "I hope the spot of your boyfriend isn't taken, uncleREYES, because I'd definitely want to nominate myself." I choked on the sip of coffee, clapping as soon as I placed the cup back at its spot. "Alright, that was just too fucking smooth," I hissed, shaking my head. I felt utterly happy, because Susan deserved an equally disabled person in her life, to weight off all the bad events from the past. 

FROM: uncleREYES: im FROM: uncleREYES: fucking FROM: uncleREYES: in FROM: uncleREYES: love FROM: uncleREYES: who is that guy TO: uncleREYES: XDDDD idk

"Talking behind our backs, much?" GucciB0i seemed to have ears everywhere.  "Maybe...?" I teasily asked, laughing it off. The silence got quickly filled by TuadonJuan's adoration towards Susy's McHanzo kink. 

It... somehow felt right, yet stupid. Bunny still hadn't spoken and I felt guilty for making fun of him, but the again, he was the same in the competitive. I shrugged it off, mindlessly skipping the songs, finally getting to a slower cover of Adam Levine's Lost Stars from Jungkook.

"Please, don't see, just a boy caught up in dreams and fanta~sies-" I quietly hummed to the rhytm, as we finally joined the Dorado map. I didn't make a big deal about them hearing me sing, because honestly, in the talk of those two it occured to be as effective as hearing of a deaf person. I remained silent for next few seconds, until Jungkook's soft voice reached the refrain.  "Damn, I love that boy." I scoffed. "Who? Who?!" I rolled my eyes for a hunderth time that evening. "Jungkook, who else could I mean?" The only response in suddenly quiet voicechat was careless Susy and her laughing voice. "Girl, you love everyone. You have a pillow with Taehyung's face, Suga in name, Jin on hoodie, you want to rap like Namjoon and dance like Hobi. And now you say you love Jungkook, I'm confused."  "It's not my fault, okay, they are all perfect, shut up!" I whined, covering my blushing face, even though noone could see me, both in the darkness and through the screen.  "Sure, whatever," she chuckled back, paying all of her attention to damage-boosting of TuandonJuan's ass, playing, surprisingly, McCree, again. I picked Ana, thoughtlessly shooting my darts at everything that moved, either reducing or adding up on health. 

The final push seemed to be endless, as we either died or killed during the overtime. Finally finishing charging up my ultimate, I nanoboosed Reaper, who completely cleared out the point of the enemies, scoring a precise teamkill. Briefly realizing it was Bunny, I coughed, trying to somehow sound friendlier than before.

"Good job, bunny boy," I cheered, watching the scenario all over again from his point of view in the play of the game. He seemed to unmute himself, because the icon of him talking showed. I was expecting everything but not what I heard. Listening to the cover of Lost Stars on replay still, I gasped, as Bunny murmured a modest, yet elated: "Thank you very much for your ultimate, Sugasuga." 

For a brief second I couldn't quite believe what I heard.

"Why do you sound exactly like Jungkook?" I said more to myself, than to him, completely amazed by the discovery. "Nah, he doesn't." Susy opposed, visibly still annoyed by his previous behavior.  "I agree, he sounds nothing like the korean dude," TuandonJuan's voice interfered, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "You know BTS?"  I caught him off guard, visibly.  He laughed, embrarassed: "Yeah, my-my little sister won't shut up about them."  I smiled. "That's... well, understandable." 

"Aight, I agree with Sugasuga, though, he has something that makes him sound like Jungkook, but not quit-"  "Can you not compare me to that gaypop shit? Thank you." Bunny's voice went off again, and I scowled. "Did I say something wrong?" 

"Nah, he is... acting like an ass, tonight. You know, periods-" I held back my laughter. Guccib0i was cool, I could give Susy that. "Don't even fucking get me started about the periods, dude," she hissed, and I just legitimately bursted out, together with the others.

[GROUP] Bunny: fuck you too, T

We managed to play a few more games, before we said all the goodnights, and thanks for playing. I turned off the laptop, wiping my eyes, sliding under the cold bedsheets with the phone in my hand. 

forever alone bitch: told you they are not so bad noodle mommy: yeah, BUT im lowkey crushing on Bunny's voice forever alone bitch: wtf noodle mommy: fuck him though, GucciB0i is the S H I T  forever alone bitch: yeah we ship you two noodle mommy: "we"?  forever alone bitch: mark and me noodle mommy: ???? forever alone bitch: last seen a minute ago

Susan was right, though. They didn't seem like bad people. We had some decent laughs and giggles, plus, the GucciB0i turned out to be a pretty huge fanboy of Taehyung. 

Somehow, I couldn't wait for the next night, because that was the time we estabilished as another gaming session. I closed my eyes, hugging Taehyung's stuffed face, with a dorky smile, first time in a while feeling upon satisfied with how the day had ended,

[panda-noosh]

I woke up sick today 😕 can I also request headcanons for the Paladins taking care of s/o while they're sick??

Enjoy! I hope youfeel better soon x

  Shiro:

 -Okay,but you would be his main priority until the moment you're completelybetter.

  -he wouldn't even need to think about it. he would literally dropeverything justto make sure you're okay.

  -sure, his work is important to him. but you're the most importantthing to him, and he isn't about to let you be ill on your own.

 - all of a sudden he has phd and he's a medically trained doctor witha degree and bachellors and he's invented Paracetomol or something.

  -because he just knows what to do. he's giving you all the rightdrugs, making sure you drink plenty of orange juice and water andstay hydrated. he's giving you warm blankets but light clothes,making sure you're the perfect temperature.

  -he knows of every little action you do up until the moment whereyou're better.

  -and then even after that he's still looking over you, making sure youdon't do anything which could get you sick again.

   Keith:

 -wouldn'tknow what to do, so he just doesn't really do anything.

 - he cuts work off, though. he definitely wants to spend the day withyou, watching over you to make sure you're okay. but that's about it.

 - he brings home a pileofgames and you two genuinely just sit up in his room for hoursplayingthese games, even though they're them awful games where the controlsdon't even work and you have to click the screen a pile of times toget your player to move.

 - he lets Shiro deal with the actual medical stuff. he sits andwatches as Shiro spoon-feeds you Calpol or something.

 - and then as soon as Shiro leaves, it's another round of a stupid70's game.

 - snack central. he read somewhere that eating was a good thing to dowhen you're ill, so he just goes out and buys the entire shop.

 - but then he finds out that you're appetite has been wiped out sinceyou got sick, so he just eats it all by himself.

 - “you owe me £30. this was expensive.”

 - cuddles all the time. but that's just the usual.

   Lance:

  -unlikeShiro, who genuinely knows what he's doing, Lance likes to pretend hehas a phd.

  -as soon as you started even showing signs of being ill, he's doingeverything he can to make you feel better, even if the remedies don'texactly work.

 - he doesn't let you wear anything but his clothes, since his clothesare always warm and they're oversized, so you'll be comfortable.

 - you think you're just gonna get up and get your hot beverage onyour own??? noton Lance's watch you're not.

 - he wouldn't kiss you during this entire time. he may be worriedabout you, but his health is important to.

  -“i want to kiss you. but like. later.”

  -stays up all night googling quick fix remedies for colds, and hetries out every single one. he makes these smoothies which areapparently meant to help your immune system grow stronger, but theyend up clumpy.

 - you and him drink them anyway, because you're dorks who don't wantprecious resources going to waste like that.

   Hunk:

 - thenatural remedy king, I think.

  -unlike Lance, he just naturally knows how to make people feel betterwithout medication.

  -he makes incredible remedies, as well. he really isn't here to playgames when it comes to your cold.

 - but I also feel like he'd be worried, because he googles yoursymptoms and read somewhere that you have the Late Black Plague orsomething and now he thinks you're going to die.

 - checks up on you every two seconds, asking if you have a symptom ofagoraphobia .

 - “Hunk, I just have a cold.”

 - “but have you been outside? have you tested it?”

 - tells all the other Paladins to be careful when they're around you,just in case you're suddenly allergic to the material of their suits.

 - he's literally just being such a careful mochi and it's adorable.

  Pidge:

 -okaybut how could you even get a cold when you have a girlfriend likePidge?

  -she doesn't even let you develop one. it gets cold and she'simmediately wrapping you up in blankets and making you drink hotchocolate and stuff like that.

  -and if there is the odd chance that her remedies aren't working, sheimmediately knows what to do for afterwards.

 - she has a cupboard filled with remedies for sicknesses. all types ofsicknesses. not just colds.

 -“have you had experience with hay fever? could it be hay fever?”

 - “it's the middle of winter.”

 - kind of like Hunk in the aspect of asking you different symptoms fordifferent illnesses, but hers make more sense. she knows what she'stalking about.

  -would let you sleep through the entire day and then she stays up withyou when you're up all night.

  -takes you out for fresh air all the time.

 -cooks for you really late at night. like, you two genuinely have afull course meal at 2am.

[got7-texts]

Fate - Mark (Day 71/100)

You can find my post explaining the 100 Day Drabble Challenge here

To view the masterlist of drabbles for the challenge, click here

Prompt: Fate Member: Mark x Reader AU: Soulmate!AU - Everyone is born with a timer on their left wrist that tells them how much time their soulmate has left to live and a compass on their right wrist that tells them the direction their soulmate is currently in and how many miles away they are

Word Count: 3,903

TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DEATH . This one is rather angsty and it got crazy long crazy fast~

How had this happened?

You stared down at the clock tattooed on your wrist in disbelief. Your chest tightened and you suddenly felt the air in the room leave completely.

00:02:21:17:49:12

Two months, twenty-one days, seventeen hours, forty-nine minutes, and twelve seconds. That’s how long your soulmate had to live.

You paced around the living room, trying to decide what to do. The compass on your other wrist still pointed southeast and was shining the number 2,076. He hadn’t moved, so what had happened? Was he in an accident? Did he have an illness? He had 62 years just yesterday, so why was it suddenly so low?

You fumbled with your phone and immediately called your best friend. When she picked up, you frantically told her your situation and she told you to calm down.

“Look, you wanted my opinion, right? That’s why you called?” she said, her voice a bit fuzzy through the phone. Your hand tightened around your chest and you held back your tears.

“I mean…I wanted you to comfort me and tell me everything was going to be okay, but yea your opinion would be nice too,” you mumbled, sinking into the couch of your apartment, trying not to think about your soulmate.

“I think you should get on a plane, take it somewhere southeast, get a car and drive until that sucker hits zero,” she said casually. You sat on your couch staring at your TV that wasn’t on. You sighed heavily and brought your legs up on the couch, wrapping an arm around them.

“I can’t just leave, Sooyoung. I have a job and…responsibilities…” you said, knowing how stupid your words sounded even as you said them.

“None of that matters! Listen. This is your soulmate. You don’t have another one. This guy…or girl…is literally the person made for you in this world. You have to go and see them before it’s too late. I swear, you’ll regret it if you don’t,” she said, her words strong and emotional.

You felt your heart sink into your chest. You knew the real reason you didn’t want to go and meet your soulmate and it had nothing to do with your job.

They only had two months left.

Would you be able to look at them and love them in two months? Sure, you were made for each other, but you never really believed in the soulmate thing to begin with. How could you love someone you didn’t even know?

And now that there was so little time left…you were more afraid that you would fall in love with them. What would you do if you did? You would be with your love for all of two months and then your heart would be shattered when they left you.

“Are you still there?” your friend asked through the phone. You sighed and wiped away a tear that you hadn’t known had fallen.

“Yea, I’m here,” you said, your voice betraying how vulnerable you felt.

“Sweetie,” your friend said, her voice changing to a soft, gently one. “Just go and find him. I promise, you’ll be happy you did. I have to go, but we’re definitely talking about this later, okay?” she said.

“Okay,” you said, your voice breaking as you hung up the phone. You curled back up into a ball and felt your eyes water once more.

Why were you like this? How could you feel so much pain and sadness for someone that you didn’t even know? You blew your nose and then took a deep breath, pulling back the sleeve of your sweater and staring at the number that was ticking down slowly.

00:02:21:15:18:46

You sat on the couch for a few moments before running to grab your laptop. For the next few hours you ran through possible places he could be in your head. You drew up a map with a 2,076 mile radius and eliminated anything past immediate south and immediate east.

“This is crazy,” you voiced to yourself as you looked at the map. The area was massive. There was no way you would be able to find one person in such a short time.

You shook your negative thoughts away and began to look at plane tickets. You figured that going 2,076 miles directly southeast was a good place to start. Your soulmate was probable not exactly southeast, and you’re sure that the compass would change, but at least you would be in range and able to get drive.

Before you knew it, you had taken a few weeks off of work due to a ‘family emergency’ and were on a plane heading southeast. The flight had been awful and you struggled to maintain a normal disposition while your brain was frizzling out from all the stress and your heart was hurting for someone you had never even met. You continuously looked at your clock and smiled with satisfaction as you watched the numbers go down.

2,076 1,675 1,141

When you finally landed, however, you were disheartened to see that you still had 804 southeast left. You resisted the urge to stay on the plane and fly back home, and instead got your bag and headed towards the rental car services.

“Where is your destination?” the man behind the counter asked. You gave him a blank stare and shook your head, trying to think of somewhere that you could go but nothing came to mind. After a few moments you spurted out a random city that was southeast of where you were now, and although the man looked at you curiously, he gave you keys and directions.

Things were a little better once you were on the road.

You hadn’t been able to sleep at all the night before so you had made some mixtapes for the drive, but you hadn’t expected it to be this long. You estimated that it would take a few days if you took into account stopping for food, sleep, gas, and to redirect yourself. All you were going off right now was a map and your wrist. You glanced at your other wrist and clutched the steering wheel harder as you took a deep breath.

00:02:17:19:33:14

“Hey. Are you…I mean…how do you…feel?” Jackson asked. Mark didn’t respond and continued to stare out of the hospital window. There was a moment of silence between the best friends but then Jackson rolled his chair closer to Mark’s bed.

“Mark. You have to talk to someone. Please. Don’t shut us out,” Jackson said, dropping his voice down to a whisper. Mark’s eyes flickered over to Jackson but he quickly moved them back to the window. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He didn’t want to be around anyone. All he wanted was peace and quiet.

“Look, I talked to Maria and she said the doctors only wanted to keep you here for another few days. Then you’ll be fine to leave and get out of here!” Jackson said, trying to stay positive. Mark snapped his head towards Jackson and narrowed his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I only have a few months to live, Jackson. I don’t care if I spend it in here or out there. I’m going to die anyways,” Mark stated, shooting daggers at his friend with his eyes. Jackson looked guilty and Mark felt a pang in his stomach as he turned back towards the window.

He didn’t want to hurt his best friend. They were practically brothers. He loved Jackson. But the surgery and the complications and the sickness were just too much to deal with at the same time. He was never going to be the same and he didn’t quite know how to deal with that.

“I’ll just leave you to your thoughts, then,” Jackson stated sadly, getting up from the chair and grabbing his wallet from the bedside table. Mark turned to his friend and saw the hurt look on his face which made him feel even more terrible about himself.

“Jackson, wait,” he said, reaching out to grab his friend’s arm. Jackson turned back around with genuine concern on his face. “I…I’m sorry. It’s just….a lot to process right now,” Mark stuttered, staring down at his hands which were now folded in his lap. Jackson nodded and then leaned on the chair near the bed.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Mark. None of this was your fault,” he said, gently, making Mark feel a little better. “But you also don’t have to fight this alone. I can help you. We can help you. We all care about you, Mark,” Jackson said, once more, unafraid to be emotional around his friend. Mark simply nodded and mumbled a ‘thanks’ as Jackson clapped his shoulder and took his leave.

Mark sat on the bed and looked around the room, trying to clear his head. He didn’t want anyone else to share the pain he was feeling, but it was just too much for him to handle on his own. He made up his mind and slowly reached up to beep the little red button on the side of his bed.

You gave a small cheer as you drove down the empty highway. Your compass had finally moved and was now pointing directly east. You were ecstatic to say the least, and the face that the number of miles was dropping by the minute made you even happier.

You were going to meet your soulmate.

All of the negative feelings of his lifespan and the complications that could come up flew out the open window as you let a small smile rise to your face. The one person in all of the world that was perfectly made for you was within your grasp.

You had never really been in a long relationship before. You had been on dates and had met people here and there, but you had never fallen in love before. What would it be like when you met your soulmate? Would it be love at first sight? Would it be like all the stories and movies predicted it would?

You couldn’t contain the school girl giggle that was bursting at your lips. You had made up your mind on the long drive and refused to change it.

You were going to make your soulmate have the best 2 months of his life.

162

00:02:16:14:32:45

“You’re doing a lot better today, I swear!” Maria said, smiling at Mark and pointing to one of the charts on the wall. “Look, your metabolism is good, blood sugar is good…you might even have more than a few months at this point!” she exclaimed, squealing happily.

Mark smiled but shook his head.

“I don’t think the doctors would lie about my lifespan, Maria,” he said, chuckling lightly. The nurse frowned but then sat down in the chair next to him.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, giving him a gently smile. Mark glanced over at her and shook his head once more.

“Nothing. I just…thanks for taking such good care of me,” he said, slowly. “I know it’s hard when you’re trying to do your job and you have a lot of other patients that actually need your help,” he added. Maria laughed lightly but patted his hand softly.

“You’re a patient now, just like everyone else. I’m going to treat you the same way, Mark,” she said, smiling down at him as she got up to write down his vitals. Mark watched her and then gave her a small smirk.

“Your bedside manner is exceptional. Tell the doctor I think you’re the best nurse here,” he said, biting his lip lightly. Maria laughed loudly and put her hands on her hips.

“Are you saying that because I’m a good nurse? Or because I – ” Maria was cut off by a shout in the hallway and the words “Excuse me, you can’t go in there!”.

Mark looked at the nurse curiously, but he didn’t look long because the door was suddenly opened and a stranger walked in.

It was fairly easy to find the town your soulmate was in, but it was a lot more difficult to pinpoint where in the town they were.

You had been elated watching the compass count down from 10 to 2 but then there was the main hassle of trying to get it down to 1 and then to 0. You had spent hours driving around in circles at 1 mile, trying to make it go down to zero. When it was clear that was not the case, you spent a few minutes crying to yourself before calming down once more.

You thought about everything that had led you to this point and decided that if his lifespan had dropped so suddenly, he was most likely in some sort of accident. Which meant he would probably be in a hospital or medical center. Within the mile that your wrist showed, there was indeed a hospital and you decided to start there.

Even then, you still had problems finding where he was. Your compass still read 1 as you ran around to each section of the hospital, following nothing but the arrow on your compass. You bumped into people now and then, but you were too exhausted to care.

Then only thing that mattered was your soulmate.

Finding them. Making sure that they were okay. Being with them. It was as if all of the moments in your life had brought you to this one point and you weren’t going to let anything stop you now.

When you pushed your way into a nearby hall, you were surprised to see the compass still pointing ahead of you. Usually it would tell you to turn back but not this time. Your eyes were glued to your wrist as you pushed passed the people in the lobby and turned the corner into a hall lined with rooms.You faintly heard someone telling you you couldn’t enter that area, but you brushed the voice aside and entered anyways.

Your compass suddenly turned east and you gasped, reading the number 0.

This was it.

This was the moment you had been waiting for. You let out an exhale before pushing the door open and preparing yourself to meet your soulmate.

You were surprised to see two people in the room but one glance at your wrist told you it was the man on the bed, not the woman standing off to the side. He looked different than you had expected, but there was no doubt that he was one of the most beautiful people you had ever met. Soft brown hair that framed his face nicely. His eyes, however were dark and seemed to hold sadness that wasn’t supposed to be there, but found it’s way in regardless.

You breathed sharply but continued to stare at him in shock. He was looking up at you from the bed with a confused face but when he saw you looking at your wrist he did the same and then he froze.

“Um…hi,” the woman said, standing up and walking over to you. “I’m the nurse, Maria. Can I help you with something?” she asked, looking at you with curious eyes that looked wary. You tried to speak but you couldn’t seem to put words together. You took a step towards the man on the bed but then paused as he looked up to you with big eyes and a gaping mouth.

“She’s…my soulmate,” the man whispered. He met your eyes and you could see understanding begin to take over in them. You let a grin come up to your face and you covered your mouth with one hand to keep from crying as you nodded.

The nurse spun around to face him and then looked back and forth between the two of you before letting out a small ‘oh’. You walked around her and over to the man, sitting down on the chair next to the bed.

“Hi. I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Your soulmate,” you said reaching your hand out and chuckling lightly as you felt tears brim your eyes. Mark was now sitting up in his bed and was staring at you with a mixture of curiosity, happiness, and confusion.

“Hi. I’m Mark Tuan,” he said, taking your hand in his own. “How are you…I mean why…how did you get here?” he asked, genuine shock in his voice. You debated showing him the clock on your arm but then pulled your sleeve down so as to hide it.

“Your clock…it changed...so I wanted to come and see you. And make sure that you were alright,” you stuttered, feeling the heat rise to your face as you looked away in embarrassment.

“It changed?” he asked, his smiling face turning into one of disbelief. He shook his head and you saw him shoot a quick glance to the nurse that looked like a ‘I told you so’. He turned back to you, covering his own arm so that you couldn’t see it and frowned.

“How long did it take you to get here? Weren’t you like two thousand miles away from me?” he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“Well, your clock changed dramatically. I thought there would still be some time for us to maybe meet one day, but it dropped so quickly. I just wanted to make sure I got to meet you before…you know…” you said, trailing off. Mark nodded slowly and mumbled a ‘yea’ before letting an awkward silence fill the air.

You had to admit that the reunion was not what you had been expecting. You had planned to run in and hug him and kiss him and tell him that everything was going to be okay because you were there and nothing would ever come between you. You wondered why he was acting so hesitant.

“Well, I’m sorry to make you come all this way for nothing,” Mark said, chuckling lightly. “It’s nothing big, I just have a disease and…well…long story short, I don’t have that long to live,” he said. “But you know that already,” he added, chuckling once more.

You nodded and gave him a small smile, reaching for his hand. He instinctively pulled away and you felt a stab in your heart. You immediately wondered what you were doing here and why you had bothered to come at all.

You didn’t know this man at all. It didn’t matter if you were fated to be together, or perfectly compatible, or beautiful together, the fact of the matter was that you were still a stranger to him.

“Sorry, I just…honestly I never thought I would meet you,” Mark said, giving you a polite smile. You shot him a confused look.

“I never thought I would meet you either,” you said, slowly. “But I’m here now and I know you only have a little while left but I want to be there for you,” you said, smiling at him lovingly. Mark bit his lip and looked once more at the nurse in the corner.

You turned towards her and figured that Mark didn’t want to talk when she was there. You were about to ask her if she could leave so you could talk to Mark alone when she walked over and stood next to you, grabbing Mark’s hand and sitting on the stool next to you.

“Thank you for coming to see Mark,” she said, turning to you with a genuinely nice smile. “You made a long trip and it’s incredibly sweet of you to think about him at a time like this,” she added, leaning over to give Mark a quickl kiss on the lips and an encouraging smile before turning to you once more. “We’ve all been worried for him, so it really means something to have you here.”

“I…” you began, but then fell short as you realized that she was holding Mark’s left hand with her own left hand. What drew your attention wasn’t the fact that you could clearly see your time on Mark’s wrist. It wasn’t even the fact that the timer on her wrist was sitting still at 0.

What made you see clearly was the sparkling diamond on her finger that matched his.

“Oh…,” you drawled out, letting the realization sink into your stomach.

They were married. They were in love with each other. They had a life and it had nothing to do with you. Your friend was completely and entirely wrong: you had come all this way for nothing.

“Are you alright?” Mark asked from the bed. You felt your face blanche and you tried to hold back tears from pouring out of your eyes as you nodded and gave him a small, sad smile.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” you said, with as much integrity as you could. You glanced over to Maria and smiled sadly. “It looks like you’re in good hands so I’ll just take my leave,” you added, staring down at your shoes as you picked up your bag and stood up.

“Wait, you don’t have to leave just yet. We can all go out to dinner later this week! The doctor said that Mark would be able to leave soon and it would be lovely if you came,” Maria said, standing up along with you.

You could see that she was being genuine, and that was what made you even sadder. You wanted to be angry with her for taking your soulmate. You were meant to be together so why did she think she could take him from you?

But she was so sweet. She was so genuine. They were so in love. You could see it in their eyes when they glanced at each other – the understanding, the support…the love. You didn’t have that with anyone and you had thought that Mark would be your last chance, but you were wrong.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get back home,” you said, quickly. You took one last look at Mark and he gave you a small, smile and a look that meant he was sorry for the way things turned out. You were about to leave when you suddenly had a thought. You turned around and looked at Maria who had her eyebrows raised at your sudden movement.

You reached into your purse and pulled out one of your business cards, jotting something down on the back of it and handing it to Maria, your sight getting more and more blurry by the second.

“Thank you for the hospitality. Both of you. And I hope you feel better soon, Mark,” you said, smiling lightly at him, still trying to fend off your tears. “He really loves you. So please. Take care of him,” you said, softly so that only Maria could hear you. “You two deserve each other,” you said, as genuinely as you could, giving her a sad smile.

You immediately left the room and headed to your car outside, wanting nothing more than to cry in peace and prepare the flight back home.

Back in the room, Maria closed the door behind you and flipped your card in her fingers. She bit back an audible gasp but then quickly tucked the number away in her pocket as she shot Mark a smile and kissed his head lovingly.

00:02:16:03:14:22

[wutthebec]

Liberation

I have a mental illness.

Not what you were expecting, I know. Clearly I wanted to get to the point. This whole thing is kind of new to me, so please, bare with me here. Forewarning, this is not a fluff piece, this is not a “It gets better” piece. It’s a “I don’t fucking know what’s happening to my mind but I want to share my experience so maybe I can get better” piece.

I always thought announcing this to the world would be some brave and poetic grand gesture. It was something I would do In like 10 years from now, when I was all “cured” and better”. Ha. I sat here for 10 minutes trying to write some deep bullshit about graduating high school and suddenly my world felt like it was crashing down around me. I went for the over dramatic guessing game intro but in the nature of trying to stay true to myself, I went right into it.

To be really real with you, I am no better and maybe perhaps worse than when I first realized what all my “episodes” were. It did not add up to me, I just assumed I was a crazy person and that it is what I did. No, Becca, it is not normal that you are always nervous, feel like something bad is going to happen, etc.  It is also not normal that you want to die constantly and the thought of death actually arouses you. Kidding, but not really.

I am sorry, the way I cope is with dark humor. I can’t help it.

Anyways, here is my grand announcement to the world. I cannot wait to be the talk of this years Holiday parties. I am so hype. Maybe my relatives will stop asking me about boyfriends and college, was getting pretty boring.

I have anxiety and depression. Did you read that correctly? I HAVE. Not I am. Let us also get that straight first.

Here is the stigma that gets me, people assume/think because you have these things you are incapable of being a functioning human being. See, what I am is a full-time student. What I AM is a proud Publix employee of three years almost on her way to a promotion, busting my ass at my first job since I was sixteen. What I AM is a friend, a daughter, a want to be comedian, a writer, and many other things. I am not my mental illness. Cliche? Yes, but I stand strongly behind this one.

I do all these things but I do it with this constant cloud. God, I wish I could actually convey the words to you better. It is what it feels like. This giant, asshole cloud who just looms over you and taps you on your shoulder, it says mean things about you and makes you think things that you would never dare to utter aloud.

The hardest thing for me has been self-love. It physically hurts me to actually love myself. It makes me choke up and my stomach hurt. This has been a hard thing for me to swallow, most of my whole life I have been confident in myself. (Shout out to my parents for being awesome and giving my an awesome foundation to which made me that way.) It breaks my heart, somewhere along the way I lost it. Maybe it was between my mom’s cancer diagnosis, losing some of my closest friends and having just a f*cked up time in high school in general.

I KNOW, these things are not so big when you zoom out and examine the whole picture but to a high schooler these things are devastating. I spent most of my mom’s cancer diagnosis pretending it wasn’t happening. I did notice her pain and I did know what was happening but I was a a tweenager who just desperately wanted things to go back to normal.

I tend to do that A LOT. (I know my vocabulary is amazing, I am sure I am impressing all of my former English teachers.) This is my coping mechanism, I will literally ignore things, not talk about my feelings and hope they go away. I am currently working on this and will be giving you updates on how it is coming along. My mom’s cancer after three months of chemo, thank GOD, went into remission. After that, I never thought about it again. It was until years later, what had happened hit me. It hit me really hard. I feel like from 13-17 for me was just a black out. I was just in my own world of selfishness. I felt gross thinking about how I should have held my moms hand while she was writhing in pain from the chemo. How I should have offered to maybe cook more dinners or clean the house.

I KNOW, this is a lot of guilt for a nineteen year-old to carry around on her shoulders and I was just a kid and blah blah blah. I don’t care. That is my mom. I could have lost her forever.

I do not know what happened but when eighteen came around, all the trauma I had suppressed literally hit me like a truck. I felt every single thing. To get to the point, I began HATING myself. I made lists on my phone of everything that was wrong with me, I would literally RUIN opportunities and amazing experiences because I loathed myself so much. I still do, I am better but it is still a struggle.

I began having episodes out of nowhere, without being provoked, of just violently shaking. I could not breathe and I couldn’t do anything but sit there and wait it out. My best friend witnessed me having what I referred to as my episodes and he said “Bec, you are having a panic attack.” It shook me to my core. “WHAT?! ME? Are you serious?” I know you aren’t supposed to make a self-diagnosis but it was pretty obvious. (Side note: my doctor, yes, a real live breathing doctor, confirmed my worst fears)

But like really, holy shit I could not believe I had anxiety and from the super neat quiz I took at the doctor’s office, said I also had mild depression. Put a real doozy on my day.

The hardest part about having anxiety, depression, or any mental illness is accepting it. God, is it hard. I did not accept it, like I said earlier, one of my favorite things to do is to pretend it will go away. It didn’t. I fought and fought. One day it just clicked, I sat myself down and said, “Listen girl, you have this thing but this isn’t who you are. You will have to deal with this for the rest of your life but you will figure out how. You will be okay.” I repeat this to myself constantly.

Like we humans do, we adapt to our surroundings and circumstances. I now have ways to cope with these things and I work on it everyday. Most of the reason I wanted to write this was to give myself a push to go to therapy. It feels so dirty to say “I need to go to therapy.” Like it is some horrible secret to be kept. Ya know what, it isn’t. We should all go to therapy, maybe we wouldn’t be so screwed if we all did. I also felt like keeping this to myself was making everything worse. I would hide panic attacks from coworkers and my parents. I have completely stopped talking and or hanging out with many former really good friends and people in my life because I felt like I needed to keep this a secret.

One thing I wish people understood is that I AM NOT the one pushing you away, this is NOT ME. It is my mental illness, it takes over your brain like a parasite and starts doing everything for you. So please, always give a friend or a family member a benefit of the doubt. I beg whatever being there is to let myself feel love, to let myself feel worthy of having people who care about me. Some days I feel like I do not deserve to have a single person care about me or to have friends or to have anything. I actually think that low of myself. It’s sad and pathetic, but like I said to be continued, I am working on it everyday.

A bright side, not really but kind of, to mental illness is you see what true people in your life are made of. I have had an amazing support system. My best friend is an actual angel baby. He has been nothing but there for me in every amazing supportive way he could be. I have screamed at him to stop being my friend and to go away and that amazing angel baby told me to shut up and let him be there for me. I have an amazing mother, who makes me feel not so crazy because she too has this thing. She never made me feel wrong or invalid. I love her endlessly and she is my #1. I also am grateful for my coworkers and one manager in particular. Thank you for letting me take my five minute walks before I actually burst into a thousand million pieces. Thank you for talking me down and just listening. Everyone should work for Publix, it’s another family that you like slightly more than your real family. (Just kidding?) I just love you all and thank you for loving me through this. I promise I will fight for you and never succumb to this.

I might lose friends, family members or social media friends positive thoughts or respect about who I am as a person for writing this. I don’t care. I didn’t do this for anyone but myself. As I am finishing this I feel better. I know I said this wouldn’t be an “It gets better” piece, I will be writing that one later. For now I am airing my secret and owning it. I don’t care what people think about me and if people think I’m crazy. Guess what? I am and watch ya’ back. I hope maybe someone reading this felt/feels the same way. I wanted to write something addressing anxiety and depression that wasn’t total fairy dust BS. I also wanted to write something that stuck to my narrative and I feel like I totally accomplished that. I hope reading this maybe makes you feel less alone, less afraid, maybe educates you. I hope this evoked something from you. Thanks for reading, love and hugs.- Becca