#PTSD BE DAMNED MY BOY CAN WORK AN OVEN

[nottogetpoliticalbutwtfisoatmeal]

i am SICK and TIRED of MEAN FLIPPY SLANDER. he is NOT violent and intimidating he BAKES COOKIES and KNITS SWEATERS and LAUGHS AT DAD JOKES

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Three in the Morning

Prompt: May i ask for a short story of Sam and Bucky being platonic boyfriends? Bucky is having a rough day (flashbacks, or panic/anxiety attacks??) And Sam helps him? Or Sam is having a shit day and Bucky tries to help? I just one of them being hurt and them comforted by the other? Plz and thanks

Ahhh no thank you it feels good to be back in the marvel mode. Tfatws SLAPPED let’s be real. Also they didn’t have to go so hard with the bisexual energy in that last episode but they sure as hell did

Read on Ao3

Warnings: our boi sam got PTSD and it ain’t great, other than that, all fluff

Pairings: sambucky, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care

Word Count: 2597

 It’s been one of those days. Where suddenly there’s a little kid on the corner of the street and all he can think of is how much Riley would’ve loved walking around New York with him, seeing everyone living. Not trying to accomplish anything past just today. Nothing else but just existing. But then when Sam looks behind him, Riley’s not there.

Or then he wakes up in the middle of the night and all he can hear is the soldiers on the ground, telling him not to let them die. And he looks down at his hands expecting to see them covered in blood only to see them shaking in the dark.

 So he stumbles into the kitchen because God knows he won’t get back to sleep tonight and he knows he needs to get some food and liquids into his body. He stops when he sees Bucky behind the counter. He glances up when he rounds the corner and gives him a little wave.

 He’s baking. At…three in the morning. By the light of the under-cabinet bulbs, near-silent, Bucky Barnes is baking in the kitchen at three in the morning.

  Since when does Bucky know how to bake?

 Bucky motions for him to sit, which he does. He tries to open his mouth and ask what’s going on. Bucky doesn’t look away from his work and slides a full glass of water across the counter along with a bowl of pretzels.

 Huh.

 He downs the water pretty quickly, watching him roll out the dough and cut it into little circles on the tray. Is he…?

 Sam snaps out of his daze when Bucky carefully takes the empty glass and turns to the fridge. The soft click-buzz of the water dispenser begins to cut through the static in his head. The glass slides back to him. Bucky goes back to work, still quiet.

 He keeps drinking, slower this time, as he watches Bucky separate the dough, place the clean-cut circles onto a tray covered in baking paper, and re-roll the remains to be used again. In the dim light, his metal arm looks almost wet.

 It isn’t until that arm reaches out to take the empty glass again that Sam realizes he’s staring.

 Bucky keeps his glass full until the tray is covered in little round dough pats. He turns, slides the tray into the oven, sets the timer with a few beeps. Then he reaches to grab the kettle—how long has that been there?—and fills the blue beaker of a mug they bought on a whim when they walked into the new little corner shop at the end of the block and felt too awkward leaving without buying anything. He reaches into the cupboard, pulls out a tea bag from whatever herbal mess the neighbors gave them this time, and dunks it in the water.

 He reaches again, taking another mug—the big cream one Sarah practically forced into his hands—and doing the same. He pulls open the drawer and takes one of the softer dish towels and wraps it around the mug. Turning, he sets it carefully in front of Sam and raises his own mug to his lips. Damn metal arm means he doesn’t realize how hot it really is and just about burns his mouth.

 Bucky hides a smile over the rim of his own mug.

 Sam sits, Bucky stands, drinking tea in their kitchen alone at three in the morning. A car drives by outside. The breeze makes the leaf shadows dance on the wall.

 It’s quiet.

 It’s really quiet.

 None of the hectic screaming wheels, none of the chatter of thousands of voices, none of the flashing numbers in his HUD trying to tell him what to do, where to go, what calculation to make next.

 It’s just…quiet.

 Until the oven beeps. Bucky’s quick reflexes keep the volume from deafening them but goddamnit can they invent a ‘night mode’ where the microwave and the oven and the kettle understand that it’s three in the goddamn morning and so they should pipe the fuck down?

 Bucky reaches for the mitt and slides it on. He reaches down and pulls out the tray. He sets it carefully on the stove, reaches out to turn off the oven, and grabs a spatula. Sam’s eyes glued to his back as he turns back and forth, picking up something with the spatula and setting it down on a rack to cool. He could pick up the paper from the tray and move the whole thing at once, but this feels better.

 There’s something about humans really liking simple, repetitive motions. It’s why watching the waves is so calming, watching those gif things that Peter likes to send in the group chat loop over and over and over, not that they’d ever admit that. Watching Bucky turn, bend, lift, and slide the spatula back and forth, back and forth, at three in the morning.

 At last, he sets down the spatula and picks up the plate, turning around and setting it between them on the counter.

 Perfect, golden brown biscuits. Mama Wilson’s favorite comfort food.

 Sam’s stomach growls.

 Bucky’s mouth quirks up in a smile and he turns around, grabbing two little plates from the cupboard and the butter from the fridge. The butter knife makes a clatter as it decides you know what, fuck gravity, and all but jumps out of his hand. Bucky grabs it, looking at it like it just sprouted wings, before shaking his head and setting everything down. He slides his tea mug to the side and takes the top off the butter, stepping back and leaning on the counter. He indicates the plate.

 Sam tilts his head.

 They’re all so fluffy. And round. And brown. And god, they smell incredible. He looks around for the lumpy one.

 The lumpy one is another one of Mama Wilson’s traditions. There’s never really enough dough to make all the perfectly circular biscuits, so the last one just kind of gets…smushed together. It always ended up tasting the best.

 There it is.

 He nods to the biscuit third from the left. Bucky nods, picking up and buttering the top, setting it on one of the little plates. Sam just picks up the biscuit and takes a bite.

 Bucky huffs quietly and picks up the plate to catch his crumbs.

 …damn he’s missed homemade biscuits. The butter melts in his mouth and the biscuit is so, so good.

 “So?” Bucky smiles at him. “How’d I do?”

 “You steal the recipe?”

 “Sarah gave it to me,” he says, picking his own biscuit and reaching for the knife, “thought I’d let it sit in the drawer for too long.”

 “Mm.”

 “Take it that means I did a good job?”

 Sam nods, still munching. A bit of butter drops onto the plate and he shovels the rest of it into his mouth before more can fall. Bucky chuckles.

 “Good thing I made a bunch.”

 “Mhm.” Sam reaches for another one, only to pause and stare at whatever the hell Bucky thinks he’s doing.

 The man has the knife in the biscuit, cutting it in half. Bucky looks up to see why Sam’s frozen only to have the audacity to look confused while Sam’s staring at him like he’s grown another head. Which he has, basically.

 “What the hell are you doing to that poor baked good?���

 “What’re you talking about?” Bucky finishes dissecting the biscuit and cuts a slab of butter, placing it inside like a sandwich and smushing the top back on. “This is how I eat biscuits.”

 “You’re making an abomination over there, that’s what you’re doing.”

 “No, see, ‘cause this way the butter starts to melt and you don’t have as much biscuit without it.”

 “Look at how many crumbs you’re spraying everywhere, you’re letting a quarter of the biscuit escape!”

 “That’s what the plate’s for.”

 Sam shakes his head. “You disrespect the biscuit.”

 “I respect it just fine. You’re the one that refuses to let the butter melt all the way before eating it.”

 “The butter’s not supposed to melt all the way! It’s supposed to be a little cold.”

 “It’s also messier.”

 “What’s the point of eating biscuits and butter if your fingers aren’t sticky by the end of it?”

 Bucky just pops his abomination into his mouth and smirks. He wiggles his fingers.

 “No butter.”

 “Pass me the butter knife.”

 “Don’t knock it till you try it!”

 “Here’s the deal. I’ll give you a biscuit the right way—“

 “You mean your way—“

 “—and you can give me one of your Frankenstein monsters,” Sam says, “and we’ll see.”

 “You’re on.”

 Sam takes a biscuit and slathers butter over the top of it. He holds it out.

 “Thank you,” Bucky says, graciously accepting the plate, “and don’t stare at mine like it’s a piece of gum on the sidewalk.”

 “It ain’t right, Buck.”

 “Why don’t you try it first?”

 Sam bites into the biscuit. Well, the biscuit is still delicious, but…

 “Where’s the butter?”

 “It’s in there.”

 “Where? I can’t taste it!”

 “I put it in there!”

 “Well no wonder it don’t taste right, there’s no butter in here.”

 “I put butter in there!”

 “It just tastes like you cut a biscuit in half and tried to put it back together, there is no butter in here.”

 He looks up to see Bucky pouting—yes, the man pouts—at his metal arm. He looks up at Sam with the most woebegone puppy-dog expression and holds out his hand.

 “I got butter in my fingers.”

 “That’s the point, Buck.”

 “You put so much butter on it!”

 “If you aren’t licking butter off your fingers by the end of it,” he repeats, “you’re doing it wrong.”

 Bucky gives him a look before bringing his hand to his mouth and trying to lick off the butter. It, uh, doesn’t go well.

 “At least it’s not like salt,” he mutters as he wets a rag to try and clean it properly, “you can’t just tell me to add more in this case.”

 “Salt’s a natural flavor enhancer, man, that’s why you put it in the biscuits to begin with.”

 Bucky looks up at him with a smirk. “That sounds like something you’d say when Sarah calls you out for being too sassy.”

 “It’s a natural flavor enhancer,” he defends.

 Bucky chuckles. After a moment, Sam feels his own mouth turn up too.

 It’s the first time all day he’s managed to smile.

 Judging by the way Bucky softens a moment later, setting aside the rag, he’s caught that much too.

 “When I was younger,” he says quietly, leaning against the counter again, “my mamma used to keep a wooden box of recipes in the drawer with the false bottom.”

 He smiles and taps the counter.

 “It was the last drawer on the right, second from the bottom. No one would ever think to look in there if they didn’t know what they were looking for.” He shakes his head. “Just a little wooden box, ‘bout—“ he holds his hands six inches apart— “that big.”

 Sam nods.

 “Just scraps in it,” Bucky continues, picking up his mug of tea again, waiting for Sam to do the same, “magazine clippings, newspaper bits, letters from relatives I couldn’t remember, lids from food containers that went straight into the ‘chuck at assholes box’—“ Sam huffs— “and notebook pages, scribbled down in my horrible six-year-old handwriting.”

 “Oh, I’m sure it was just fine.”

 “I could never get the ‘g’ to look right, it always looked like I was trying to write a nine with a limp.”

 “A limp?”

 “Yeah, like it tried to hop along and sprained its ankle.”

 “Nines are supposed to be curly at the end.”

 “What? No, they aren’t.”

 “You ever looked at your phone? The nine is curly at the end.”

 “Yeah but no one ever writes ‘em like that.”

 “It’s supposed to be like that!”

 “So that’s how you write ‘em?”

“Hell yeah, that’s how I write ‘em.”

 “Well, good for you.” Bucky chuckles. “My ‘g’s looked more like a nine with its tail broken, how’s that?”

 “What’d you do to the ‘g’s, man?”

 “Apparently, six-year-old me decided they were too hard to draw. But Mama never had a hard time deciphering my handwriting.”

 Bucky’s voice goes back to that quiet nostalgia as Sam cups the mug of tea between his palms.

 “She’d pick a scrap from the box and decide that’s what she was gonna bake. A surprise when I came to see what she was doing. Sometimes she’d have me stick my hand in there and grab one instead. Then I’d stick around to help.”

 Bucky huffs a laugh, letting his head drop for a second.

 “But she always had one recipe memorized.”

 Sam shifts. “Which one was that?”

 “Mama Barnes’s chocolate chip cookies,” Bucky murmurs, looking back up, “her favorite thing to bake because she could do it with her eyes closed.”

 He looks up at Sam.

 “Or in the dark, when it was too dangerous to have the lights on.”

 Oh.

  Oh.

 Sam swallows. “Thank you, Buck.”

 Bucky waves him off, shaking his head. “Actually, it’s, uh, kinda selfish of me.”

 Sam frowns as Bucky turns, walking over to another cupboard and taking two bags down from the shelf.

 “Couldn’t decide which one to use,” he says, holding up a bag of name-brand chocolate chips and a fancy chocolate chunk bag from the last big fancy thing they were invited to, “needed your input before I started.”

 Sam blinks. “You’re having cookies and biscuits on the same night?”

 “Well, I’m not going to sleep anytime soon,” he says easily, “and I figured you still owe me from that bet you won.”

 “Oh ho, I see,” Sam says, sliding off the stool, “you think you’re gonna get out of this by making me choose and not me telling you what to do?”

 “I think you’re either gonna sit there and drink that cup of tea while I do this or you’re gonna get your ass over here and help me.”

 “Well then move your ass,” Sam says, bumping lightly into Bucky’s shoulder, “and get to cleaning off that pan.”

 “You haven’t picked yet!”

 “We’re not using those chunks, man, we’re saving those.”

 Bucky shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

 “And put these outta harm’s way,” he calls, passing Bucky the plate of biscuits, “I ain’t risking you getting butter and flour all over ‘em.”

 Bucky just chuckles and sets the plate on the far end of the counter. He turns around to pass Sam the chocolate chips when Sam takes his hand and just holds it.

 Holds it and breathes.

 Bucky lets him, shifting slightly into guard dog mode, his shoulders dropping as Sam lets his eyes close for a moment.

 In.

 Out.

 “Thanks.”

 Bucky squeezes. “You want the plastic mixing bowl or the ceramic one?”

 “Gimme the ceramic one, these are gonna come out right.”

 “I take it you want the good tray as well, then.”

 “Of course I do, what do you think this is?”

 Baking, together, in the dark, where it’s safe and quiet, at three in the morning.

[cdfreak]

deaf signing girl, jeans, cactus, soup, basketball, train, broom, teddy bear, pride flag, virgo, cherries + dynamite for all of them lol

🧏‍♀️ DEAF SIGNING GIRL - do they have any disabilities? (if so) what are they?

MARA: yes <3 girlie has sooo much ptsd and autism. she doesn't have any physical disabilities aside from like the general chronic pain issues that living in a nuclear wasteland brings, although some nerves in her face are damaged and she deals with some minor facial paralysis

RED: also ptsd and autism #slay she also has psychosis although it kind of varies in severity, it's pretty low level and doesnt affect her life a ton for the most part but she will kind of occasionally slip into periods of debilitating paranoid delusions with hallucinations sprinkled in for extra flavor. its initially caused by all the trauma but her little months-long drug bender during fnv definitely uhh made that worse lol. her hearings also impaired later in life (gradually gets worse the longer shes been living in the wasteland)

NIX: another autistic girlie omg <3 as for physical disabilities i am not sure!! i have been thinking about making her chronically ill but i have yet to settle on if she is/if so which specific illness

👖 JEANS - what is their most iconic outfit?

MARA: i think her most instantly recognizable outfit like to other wastelanders is the minutemen general uniform but i like her retiree outfit which is a pink plaid button up and some grey slacks

RED: the merc veteran outfit OH OR the tunnel snakes jacket!!!

NIX: not a full outfit ig but DEFINITELY her gecko skin jacket

🌵 CACTUS - what is a sore subject for them?

MARA: her exes tbh ... talking about cait has been unofficially banned by nick for everyones sake. also she hates talking about her husband outside of like. opening up about trauma associated with him/her old life. but he doesnt come up as much because he fawking died before anyone could meet him lol whereas cait was like in the besties companion group before the breakup

RED: her dad oh my god. pretty much anything about the vault tbh she is coping by pretending none of it exists and ignoring it

NIX: theres no sore subjects for her really like. she will get sad talking about bad things that happened to her obviously but she never gets angry at people for bringing something up and she tries her best to stay positive - like if the bighorners come up in conversation shell try and talk about like things they taught her or good times she had with them instead of getting upset thinking about howthey umm Died

🍲 SOUP - do they like to cook? are they good at it?

MARA: she LOVES cooking omg. that post thats like fallout 4 shouldve let the sole survivor make all those weird gross 50's foods she does that 100%. she is good at it too!! she has her little besties group over for dinner every week and she cooks almost every time :)

RED: red doesnt really like cooking for the most part BUT she is so good at grilling meat or veggies over a fire. autism be damned my kid can work a grill

NIX: nix is so fucking good at cooking but ONLY on a campfire. if you tried to teach her how to use an oven or a stove she would start crying. she loves making weird meals out of random parts of animals and plants!! it doesnt always come out great but she gets so excited thinking up new recipes<3 arcade is so scared about it hes like someday you are going to suck the venom out of a radscorpion venom gland and die and shes like ok sunburn boy

🏀 BASKETBALL - do they know any pre-war sports? do they like to play any?

MARA: mara never played sports but she liked to watch baseball and hockey sometimes!!

RED: red is #1 baseball fan of ever she loved playing it in vault 101 she was so good at batting. she sucked at like every other part of it though lol

NIX: nix does not know what a sport is and the concept confuses her. "how is that different from a game?? why does it get a different name thats dumb"

🚆 TRAIN - what is their answer to the trolley problem?

MARA: mara would kill the one person to save the 5 but she would get so like fucked up about it. every night when she closes her eyes she sees the face of that one person as the trolley grows closer and closer. she falls back into alcoholism

RED: red would walk away from the lever. "thats none of my business i dont even know these people"

NIX: nix would somehow like reprogram the trolley in those 15 seconds before it runs a bunch of people over and save everyone involved because shes a genius

🧹 BROOM - how clean or messy are they usually? do their cleaning habits (or the opposite) annoy the people around them?

MARA: mara is very messy and clumsy but she does her best to like clean up after herself after shes done doing whatever she was doing

RED: red is kind of a slob tbh. when she was a kid she would have to get like all her comics taken away and banned from hanging out with amata and cyan or playing baseball to be motivated to clean up her room

NIX: nix is neat but only because like. the way she was raised 1) she never really had a ton of stuff in the first place? so it was hard to be messy when there wasnt a ton of stuff to make a mess with. 2) her family was nomadic so there wasnt a lot of time to make a mess wherever she was, and if she did make a mess around camp she always helped clean it up before they packed up and moved again because a lot of emphasis was placed on not messing up the land and leaving it how they found it (this was partially for safety reasons as they were pretty much constantly being tracked by bounty hunters or the ncr, and partially just because respect for the environment was important to the bighorners) and 3) not wasting supplies was important, wastefulness was frowned upon and supplies were never really in great abundance so every time you cooked or sewed or tinkered or anything you took those scraps and turned them into something else useful instead of just tossing them aside

🧸 TEDDY BEAR - what are their thoughts on children? do they have any / would they ever have any and home many?

MARA: mara LOVES kids so much, she used to be a middle + elementary school art teacher before the war and she was so excited about having shaun. she brought synth shaun with her when she left the institute, and she is raising him with her wife (curie). i think one kid is more than enough for her right now when shes still dealing with a bunch of minutemen and railroad responsibilities but once she retired if there were like orphans that needed adopting she would 100% be down to have more kids!! she is not getting pregnant ever again though. she didnt even really want to when she had shaun before the war, and the idea of being pregnant in the wasteland is a million times less appealing

RED: red loves kids she thinks theyre so funny and cute and she is like uncharacteristically kind to them compared to adults. i dont think shed be a good parent though lol and she knows that so while i think when shes older shed love to be like an aunt or something she does not want to have kids of her own. she kind of does anyway though um LOL in my fo4 playthrough i know 100% she would never leave synth shaun behind to die so she brings him to sanctuary and asks jun and marcy to look after him but he still like is programmed to believe shes his mother so she visits and hangs out with him whenever she can. i think she likes him even if being called mom is soooo uncomfortable 2 her

NIX: nix thinks kids are cooler than adults <3 but its definitely hard for her to make friends her age since shes like #weird :( she has not thought much about having kids

🏳️‍🌈 PRIDE FLAG - what is their sexuality?

breaking format for this but mara + red are both lesbians and nix umm idk she hasnt really thought about it

♍️ VIRGO - what is their zodiac?

breaking format again oops but red is the only one with a canon birthday (july 13, so shes a cancer) lol idk enough abt astrology to assign mara and nix zodiacs

🍒 CHERRIES - a random sweet headcanon.

MARA: i think mara and the vault tec rep guy have little lunches when shes in sanctuary!! they are friends :)

RED: she lets bittercup give her a little makeover one time and i think it sparks a love for nail polish <33

NIX: stories from arcade, the medical supplies shes donated & help shes offered, and just her generally likeable personality have all made nix really well-liked around the old mormon fort and at least one of the Followers always has some sort of little present for her when she comes around to visit

🧨 DYNAMITE - a random angsty headcanon.

MARA: most of mara's family is essentially immortal, and its hard for her to deal with. her son, her wife, and two of her closest friends will all stay the same as she ages and eventually dies and it scares her

RED: red finds it really hard to work with robotics after the events of fallout 3. tinkering with machinery and robots was a favorite hobby of hers, one of the first things about the wasteland that she truly enjoyed and that let her start to let go of her vault life and accept living in the wasteland, but her tremor makes the more delicate work almost impossible and some of the tech is just too reminiscent of the enclave for her

NIX: even by the end of fnv nix still doesnt remember her family in its entirety, although by this point she knows she has amnesia and she knows there are several people who were in her life but she cant remember. she feels really guilty about it, thinks if she really had cared about them then she'd remember

[daycollins]

{ zendaya ☁ twenty six ☁ she/her }  among the whispers around peach hollow, have you heard of daysia collins? no? well, let’s catch you up to speed. rumor has it, she’s been seen strolling around blueberry boulevard & have lived in peach hollow for six years. it’s good to have her around because i hear she’s a crisis counselor for a living. recent events must have her trembling because it hasn’t be long since everyone found out she flunked school. let’s hope they learned their lesson that the truth always catches up to you.

yall know me. i’m kim, i play winnie, and i’m one of the admins!!  this is my damaged but optimistic baby, daysia. ITS PRONOUNCED LIKE DEJA VU :’) i just created her in november but she so quickly became my favorite muse to write. so buckle up! and pls plot w me. i am fragile and if i don’t get any plots i will hide in a dumpster, where i belong.

TW FOR DEATH, DRUG USE, ALCOHOLISM, CAR ACCIDENT

here is her pinterest and a spotify playlist if you wanna check those out ~

daysia jade, day, dj, deej – anything goes. she’s 23 and will turn her head to just about anything. she’s a spring baby born march, 1996.

her childhood was pretty good. she and her brother grew up a year apart, and her parents divorced early. early enough that daysia can barely remember a time where the family was hole, and likes it that way.

however, her father did not take the divorce well and turned to drugs – meth to be specific. he only saw the kids on weekends and even then, daysia and marcus absolutely knew what was happening. perhaps they didn’t know his choice of poison, but they knew that it was just that: poison.

he was never abusive and always took care of the kids, even if he was tweaking out of his mind. there were a few instances that were touch and go, like when he forgot to take dinner out of the oven and it caught fire, or when he forgot to change the sheets – little things that added up.

when daysia was 16 and marcus was 15, they were involved in a car accident. her dad was high behind the wheel, lost control of the car, and they hit the guard rail. they went over an embankment and down a short hill before the vehicle came to a complete stop, flipped over. she watched the life drain from her brother’s face, and never got into a car again.

a good deal of resentment built up for her father, but she remained stoic, even when he went to prison for drug charges and the dui he’d racked up that ultimately killed her brother. she didn’t let anyone know that she was hurting, because she numbed it all. she threw herself into her school work and her artwork, painting constantly. melting colors together somehow helped her cope. she could get her emotions out on paper. in fact, that still rings true today. in her bedroom of the apartment she lives in, she has covered one of the walls in canvas and paints over and over.

in an effort to start life over, daysia left detroit when she graduated high school. she transferred to peach hollow where she went to winchester university, not wanting a lot of attention. this is where she really came to life.

daysia was able to push michigan to the back of her mind entirely, because peach hollow had so much to offer. the people were better. the music was better. the parties were better. the education was better. there wasn’t a single thing she missed from home aside from her mother, who she kept in regular contact with and still does. they’re always texting and facetime before bed every night.

she came alive. college changed her. she was studying a subject that interested her and meeting people who didn’t have to know about her past. she did, and does everything to keep michigan her dirty little secret. she liked the party scene, but only drank or smoked weed. she refuses to touch anything that might turn her into her father. she was even hired on as a crisis counselor for a local hotline, contractual to her graduation.

in the past month, daysia has plummeted, however. nobody would ever be able to tell. she is the queen of poker face, an absolute delight to be around. she can be a little aloof, and is constantly stoned, but it’s how she gets through the day. she is an absolute goof, loves to crack jokes and make people laugh. she loves to laugh herself. these are all traits that show and cover the inner turmoil constantly trying to bubble to the surface.

daysia received word that her father passed away in jail. he overdosed, and she wasn’t sure how to feel. so she didn’t. she did, however, stop doing school work and started drinking more. she flunked out of school and lost her job.

at the same time, she got into her first serious relationship. day fell hard and fast for her best friend, mac. their relationship started out much like a fairy tale. she wanted to keep it like that forever, but her addiction and ptsd took over. she tried her very hardest to hold onto mac, but he moved back to nyc with their best friend, dom, in tow. she still misses them to this day and finds it hard to keep friends like she kept them close. the littlest things will remind her of mac and she’ll start to spiral. two years later and she’s still hung up, but she’ll deny it to the very end.

it’s safe to say that when this happened, daysia crumbled. she realized just how many people she’d lost and how many she had -- and she didn’t have anyone at that point, or so she thought. she continued to isolate and stopped answering her phone, and within the week, her mother was there to drag her home to detroit for detox. 

she spent the next few weeks laying in the bathroom, going through withdrawal from alcohol and the various benzos she’d started eating like candy. things were bad. her mother never left her side, and after many na and aa meetings, after snatching pill bottles and miniatures out of her room for months, daysia cleaned up her act. she put on a healthy amount of weight, started working out, went to aa or na two or three times a day until she was comfortable enough to skirt by a day or two without one. she finished up her degree that summer and started waiting tables. she saved up every cent, finally having enough money and credit built up to buy a house where she really wanted to be: peach hollow.

after talking to her old boss, they agreed to take her back on as a crisis counselor when she moved back

so the newly clean and sober (aside from weed lol) daysia is living in a house on blueberry boulevard with @dawsonsawyer​

as for her personality and relationships, daysia excels. she is nurturing, so when a friend, or even a stranger is hurting, she tends to go to their side and comfort them. as long as she can make them laugh, then everything will be okay. she makes friends pretty easily, and keeps them for the most part. she is fiercely loyal and will absolutely scrap to defend her loved ones.

she loves love. there is no gender she isn’t curious about and absolutely loves romance, though she also tries to hide that. her walls are ten feet tall. she’s in to hook ups, flings, and polyamory. she’s very open in that sense!!

FUN FACTS

she has an english bull dog named frank!! he is her pride and joy. she dresses him up in outfits, has regular photo shoots with him and loves going to the dog park. he isn’t legally an emotional support animal, but that’s definitely what he is to her. if he doesn’t like you, she won’t either tbh

she has this lil purple pen looking thing that is always on her. it’s her weed vape and she will hit it anywhere. her dumb head is always in the mfing clouds

she has a spotify family plan that is currently only her, mac, and dom and she will absolutely invite anyone she meets bc spotify premium is something everyone should enjoy

wears a lot of graphic tees and jeans, kinda a tom boy. doesn’t love dressing up but will occasionally. also doesn’t rly like make up but DOES know how to beat her face

1000% unable to be alone for like any period of time?? like if she gets off work and no one is in her apartment she just leaves. she goes next door to mac, goes to the peach pit, anywhere she can socialize. being left to her own thoughts will always turn out poorly.

really loves poetry. cannot write it to save her life, but loves going to slam readings or checking out poetry books from the library. her adhd brain can’t handle novels – poetry is just the right length to keep her attention and dig into her soul.

oh yeah, she’s got some pretty intense untreated adhd lol

OK SO WANTED CONNECTIONS IF UR STILL HERE LMAO

ex-roommate: something happened between daysia and this person, whether it was a relationship gone wrong, a friendship with tension, or just the other person being a damn slob – and daysia removed them from the house and moved someone new in. they are probably on shitty terms.

current flings: a few people are probably on her list of suitors right now. people she spends time with romantically, but hasn’t committed to. she absolutely cannot be alone, at any point… ever! so, she has someone with her at all times. m/f/nb, all good.

party friends:  this one is pretty self explanatory!! these are friends that daysia may or may not talk to outside of a party, but will always cling to at one.

close friends: she lets very few people all the way in, but those that make it are generally taken care of by day. she makes sure that they are as comfortable with life as possible and spends a lot of time with them

exes: as daysia is a ticking time bomb, there have been many people she’s blown off. whether they once hooked up, were together, or what have you, daysia has a lot of exes. she never means to hurt anyone. it just sort of happens and she has accepted it.