#without feeling panicky or sick. mostly.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

one reason i'm grateful a) to have been getting into treating my meta as An Art Form as much as fanfic/art/etc, and b) that there's an import function for that on AO3, is that i write very little prose these days, and Actually Having Substantial Things to Post helps me get past the stumbling block of 'well there's nothing much worth going to the trouble for anyway, is there' to the 'alright let's address all the other baggage that makes using AO3 so emotionally fraught for you bud' step (staircase.)

[blossomwritesthings]

A fic where Felix helps reader through night paranoia?

I understand if this topic is sensitive or if you're not comfortable writing it, thank you anyway! :)

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol!felix. slight confession au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: mild thematic elements. a shit ton of angst (this includes: mentions of hallucinations at night, being scared of the dark, high amounts of anxiety/panic attacks, sleep paralysis demons, insomnia). reader deals with night paranoia. felix knows how to take care of her at night. pet names (affectionately). cute fluffy moments between reader/felix.

word count: 3.4k

summary: ever since you were a little girl, you've had to battle the shadowy demons away from the edges of your mind each and every night. and you're used to dealing with it at this point. but sometimes, you just need your boyfriend felix to help you through the bone-chilling nights.

a/n: first of all, thanks for requesting this, anon! i've never written something with this kind of topic before and i thoroughly enjoyed it (and no, this topic isn't sensitive for me 😊). actually, while researching for this, i came to the realization that i might actually suffer from night paranoia myself. like, i get all panicky when i'm alone in my room at night and i physically can't feel comfortable/fall asleep unless i check under my bed/all the rooms around me. all of the horror content i've consumed since i was young is probably catching up to me now lol! 😂 hope you enjoy this anon, thanks for requesting~ 💕

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

For most of your life, you’ve suffered from night paranoia. 

 As a little girl, it started as just small little things late at night. Like how you always needed to check in your closet for ‘monsters,’ and how you wouldn’t feel satisfied until your parents combed the entirety of your room for any bad guys. 

 Then, in middle school, it grew so that you were afraid of the dark - you physically couldn’t spend a minute in the shadows of the night without feeling panicky, so your parents had taken to instilling a nightlight in your room in hopes that that would help your fears. 

 And it was in high school that you started to see the faces - swarthy, sinister-looking things that were neither human nor fantastical. Just… unsettling in the highest of forms. They made it so that you were afraid to close your eyes late at night, for you knew what'd you see just behind your vision. 

 Finally, by the time you started university, the cumulation of all of your childhood fears morphed into that of what the doctors called ‘night paranoia.’ 

 Being diagnosed with such a thing as a young adult was both relieving and terrifying. On one hand, it felt good to finally put a name to the thing that you had been dealing with since you were a little child. But then on the other hand, it was scary to understand all that night paranoia entailed, and realize that your symptoms would probably follow you for the rest of your life. 

 But mostly, it was just depressing. 

 To know that there wasn’t much you could do about it. 

 Wasn’t much you could do to combat all of the sick, scary feelings at night. 

 You chose not to tell many people about the diagnosis, so no one - except your closest family members - knew about it. 

 You didn’t want anyone worrying when it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

 You just made sure that you were never out around the time when you would get sleepy, and that you never stayed the night over at a friend's house. 

 But then, one day, you met a boy named Lee Felix in your Humanities class at university. He was a year older than you and majoring in Dance Theory, but was taking the Humanities class as an elective. The two of you hit it off instantly, and within no time at all, spent most of your time together. 

 Things started to turn murky though- when Felix wanted to spend the night over at your place one day. To him, you were acting weird about the whole thing and blowing it way out of portion. But to you- you just wanted to avoid it all, and for him to leave so that you could face the long night alone. By yourself. With no one around to witness everything that you experienced deep in the twilight dream space. 

 That night ended in a huge argument between the two of you, but eventually, you made up and went back to your old way of things. With you never sleeping in front of him. 

 So imagine your surprise, when the two of you came back to his place one night and you practically blacked out from all of the alcohol that you had consumed at the club earlier that evening. 

 In no time at all, the paranoia started. First, it was the racing of your heart, and then when you closed your eyes, the visions skated across your eyesight. You quickly sat up from the living room sofa, frantically beginning your nightly search around the room - the one you always did to try and dissuade your fears. 

 That’s when Felix walked into the living room, fresh from a shower, and saw you hesitating to open the nearby linen-closet door. 

 ‘Y/N… what’s wrong?’ He had asked in a quiet voice, but you weren’t paying attention to him at that moment. 

 You were squared off with the wooden door, your heart pounding in your ears as you psyched yourself up to grab the handle and yank it open. Really, it didn’t have to be that difficult. You had the same routine every night, check every single door to make sure nothing - or no one - was lurking behind it. But even still, you always froze up with fear just before you continued with your plan. 

 Just as you finally managed to muster up the courage and twist on the door handle, you felt a gentle hand land atop one of your shoulders. Fingers squeezed your skin, and the room dived into silence as you held your breath. You didn’t like people touching you when you were in such a state. But oddly enough, for once, you didn’t flinch away from the human contact. If anything, it helped to soothe some of your paranoia. 

 ‘Y/N, angel, what’re you doing?’ It was Felix who was talking. Felix who had a hold on your shoulder. Felix who was gradually bringing you back down to earth, unbeknownst to him. 

 And all at once, you broke down into tiny, muted sobs. They racked through your entire body, your shoulders shaking with them, your chest constricting with the pain, anxiety rushing through your veins like hot, molten lava. ‘I can’t do it, Lix… I-I just c-can’t.’ 

 Felix was turning you around then, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to his chest. You buried your face in his shirt, tears staining the thin cotton fabric. At that moment, you felt incredibly ashamed of yourself. You didn’t like the idea of other people knowing your struggles; you had taken much pride in hiding such a weak side of yourself from the people around you for a long time. The shame around the paranoia was thick and confusing and left you in a puddle of tears most nights when you were alone, laying perfectly still in your bed. 

 You melted into your best friend’s grasp, fingers clutching at the loose sweatpants positioned around his hips. He held you close to him, running his nimble digits through your hair, trying to calm you down by muttering words of assurance in your ear. 

 ‘Shh, it’s okay…’ Felix whispered, only making you cry harder into his chest. The scent of him - of warm, sweet chocolate chip cookies and chai-spiced tea - filled up your entire body with a comforting kind of feeling, helping to slow down your racing heart somewhat. ‘It’s gonna be alright… I’ve got you, baby.’ 

 That immediately stopped the tears from cascading down your cheeks. And all at once, you were yanking your form away from his warmth, staring up at him with bleary eyes and flushed cheeks. 

 He had never called you that before. 

 Angel, sure. 

 But baby?

No. 

‘W-What-’ You began, completely at a loss for words as your eyes skated across his face - passing over his messy, dripping black locks, the star-like freckles on his cheeks, and stopping at his perfect, pink, rosebud-like lips. 

 ‘Now, will you let me help and take care of you?’ He questioned, leaning into you slowly, catching your gaze once more. His pupils were dark and filled with so much adoration and concern. And it was all for you. ‘Will you let me love you? Like I’ve always wanted to?” 

 You swallowed around the ball of anxiety forming in your throat. Because seriously, you must’ve been living in a dream. Lee Felix, asking you if you’d allow him to love you? One of the most popular guys in the entire university, wanting to be yours? Your best friend, seemingly confessing his feelings for you in the most inopportune moment? 

It was all so backward and confusing. Nonetheless, you found yourself nodding rather hastily. Like his offer would be off the table if you didn't accept right that instant, ‘Yes… yes, a thousand times yes.’ 

 Then, you had no time to react - as the prettiest boy on campus, as your best friend - gently yanked you close to him and captured your lips up into a yearning, full kiss. Your mouths slotted together perfectly, like the two of you were made to be kissing one another. 

 After a few beats of silence and feeling nothing but his lips against yours - tasting nothing but his sweet scent on your tongue, the two of you pulled away to catch your breaths. 

 ‘You wanna tell me about what’s going on with you?’ He asked, reaching up and tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. 

 And surprisingly, you did. You felt ready to tell someone else - especially your newly-minted boyfriend. 

 It just felt… right. 

 ‘Yeah- yes, I do.’ You said in a faint voice, words coming out a little wobbly as you looked up into Felix’s eyes and noticed how they were shining with a newfound light of happiness. 

 A benevolent smile spread across his perfect lips just then, ‘Good, I was hoping you’d say that.’ He gave one of your cheeks a peck, before leading you over to the couch to talk about everything. 

 And the rest… was history. 

 Ever since that night in Felix’s apartment, you had been extremely open with him about your night paranoia. So, when the two of you eventually moved into your shared place after having graduated from university, it was a regular occurrence for him to help you through such dreadful experiences. 

 Over time, you had learned how to manage your emotions and fears. And most nights, they weren’t that bad. You just made sure you didn’t watch anything frightening or thrilling before bed, and a lot of the time, the faces wouldn’t appear. Some nights, you didn’t feel the need to check every room and look under every possible hiding surface. 

 But then on other nights, you had to go through all of the motions. 

 Check every nook and cranny in your one-bedroom apartment, 

 See the visions in your mind whenever you closed your eyes, 

 And every time you were home alone at night, you had the foreboding feeling that someone - or something - was watching you from the shadows. 

 That only heightened your paranoia even more, and each time those dark thoughts entered your mind, you’d cling to your boyfriend Felix when he’d arrive home from work. He was a choreographer for a popular entertainment agency in the city, so most nights, he’d come home fairly late. Sometimes, you’d fall asleep before he arrived. But then when things were really bad, you couldn’t drift off even when he had long arrived home. 

 You noticed how stress greatly brought on the worst of the paranoia. Usually, it originated from your work. Whenever you’d have a short deadline to meet, or a project to finish under a small timeframe, the night terrors heightened greatly. 

 And that Sunday was one of those nights. 

 All day, you had been running around doing errands. Getting groceries for the week ahead, tidying up the apartment, taking your and Felix’s tabby cat Pixie to the groomers. 

 Even still, the anxiety never left you. 

 You had a big presentation at work that next Monday, one that you had been preparing for all week. 

 The stress of it all only worsened as you arrived home for the day to an empty apartment. Felix wouldn’t be home until late that night - which was the usual on the weekend. 

 You went about the motions of cooking yourself dinner, feeding Pixie, and taking your nightly shower. All in the hopes of calming yourself down. You even tried watching your favorite reality tv show, but quickly lost interest in it when your mind wandered to work for the upcoming week. 

 So once the clock struck eleven at night, you deemed it late enough to turn off the lights. Settling back into bed, tucking yourself under the thick covers, you tried to make yourself comfortable and relax your mind. 

 But then, the bedroom that was plunged into darkness seemed to come alive right before your eyes- the shadows moving and shifting in the corners, the low hum of the central heating seeming to grow louder with each passing moment. 

 Feeling the anxiety rise ever so slowly inside of your body, you tried to dissuade your murky thoughts by turning to your side and letting your mind wander over what you’d like to do with your boyfriend in the upcoming week. You both had a day off that Wednesday, and you were planning of hiking to a nearby mountain for your date. 

 Your musings were interrupted by what looked like a ripple of movement out of the corner of your eye. 

 Body freezing up completely, 

 You sat there in utter silence, 

 Holding your breath, 

 Heart racing a mile a minute, 

 As you waited, and watched. 

 It must’ve been someone. 

 That movement- it was that of a person. 

 You had seen the figure of a human just as the thing flashed across your vision. 

 You should’ve checked all of the rooms in the apartment- even though it killed you to do it, you should’ve. Maybe, if you had, you wouldn’t be feeling so paranoid at that moment. 

Breaths coming out in shallow increments, you lay there for what felt like an eternity, having a silent stare-off contest with the unknown being hiding in the shady corner of the room. 

 It wanted you to turn your back on it, 

 Wanted you to close your eyes and think you were safe. 

 But not on your watch- 

 You weren’t about to let yourself succumb to sleep and- 

Just then, you heard the familiar jingle of the front doors keypad ring out across the apartment, momentarily breaking through your frenzy of thoughts. Then, shoes scuffed against the tiled floor, and a heavy bag landed on the ground. 

 Felix was finally home.

 But then, the shadow in the depths of the room seemed to ripple with movement, bringing your mind back to the threat at hand, seemingly forgetting all about the arrival of your boyfriend. 

 You waited, with bated breath, eyes locked on the corner that was closest to your shared walk-in closet. You kept your focus on the shadowy creature, even when the creak of the bedroom door sounded in your ears. 

 Saying nothing, you merely continued to lay completely still atop the bed, nestled into the sheets, watching in silence for where the being had gone. 

 It must’ve slipped into the closet just as Felix entered the room. It was probably waiting for the most opportune moment and then- 

“Angel?” Felix’s soft tone broke through the slurry of panic that had taken over your brain. You heard feet quietly hitting the carpeted floor, and then your boyfriend was right before your eyes, crouching down low so that he was at eye level with you. “You alright?” 

 His gaze raked over your stiff form - he always knew the signs when you were awake, when you were dealing with a particularly bad spell of paranoia. Your entire body would get all tensed up, breathing turning shallow, and you couldn’t focus on anything else until your mind was eased of the panicky thoughts. 

 “T-There’s someone in the closet, over there,” you said in a low whisper, pointing to the door that you had seen the shadow slip through. 

 Felix didn’t even flinch at your confession. He just tilted into you, placing a soft kiss atop the crown of your head. “Okay,” he signed against your hair, breath warming a chilly part inside of you. “I’ll go take a look, hmm?” 

 You watched in silence, as he strode over to the walk-in closet. One part of you wanted to see what was just behind the door. While the other part of you wanted to squeeze your eyes tightly shut in fear of what you would find there. 

 Heart pounding uncomfortably against your ribcage, you waited in tense silence as your boyfriend carefully opened the door to the closet. Your palms grew sweaty as you clutched onto the bedsheets around you, and for a few seconds, you stopped breathing altogether. As Felix leaned in to turn the light on, throwing the small room into an amiable pool of light. 

 But there was nothing there. 

“See, baby? It’s safe. Nothing to worry about…” Felix began, already moving to turn off the closet light. 

 You were shooting out of bed in a flash of limbs and blankets. Frantically, you stumbled into the closet, kneeling on the ground and beginning to check every dark corner that lay behind the curtained clothes. 

  Because no, 

 No- you had seen something. 

 Something dark and ominous had loomed in the shadow near the closet, 

 It must’ve been hiding somewhere in here and it would- 

Your hands tore at the clothes, searching, and searching, and searching. 

 When finally, you felt two familiar arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against a toned chest. 

 “Baby,” Felix said in a deep voice, the sound of it cascading across the shell of your ears and reaching down into you, touching a warm place in your soul. “It’s alright, darling, nothing’s in here.” 

 “But Lix, I saw-” You whined desperately, hands trying - and failing - to grab ahold of a pile of clothes on the floor and push them away so that you could look behind them. 

 Felix was turning you around, ripping your focus off of the garments and the shadowy figure and forcing you to hone in on his face. On the way that his eyes were soft with concern, the way his jaw clenched and unclenched in the uneasy moment. The way his midnight-black hair swept across his forehead messily. “You have to trust me, yeah?” He began, reaching towards you and brushing away a loose strand of your hair that had fallen in front of your eyes. “You know that I’d never let anyone hurt you, right?” 

 Already, you could feel the paranoia slowly leaking out of you. Like a hole poked into a balloon full of water, the anxiety began to trickle out of your system through the tears that suddenly cascaded down either of your cheeks. “Y-Yeah, I know…” 

 “That I’d never let anyone step even one foot into this apartment without my knowing?” 

 Your gaze was locked on his loose-fitting black hoodie, which you were clutching in either palm. The two of you sat on the carpeted floor in the walk-in closet, with your breaths beginning to come out slower than before. “I know, Lix.” You suddenly whined out, feeling the way your muscles began to relax at his words. 

 His presence alone always helped to console you. 

 But the things he said to you? 

 The promises he made? 

 That he’d always keep you safe, no matter what? 

 Well, those words always sent you down a spiral of softness and love. 

A delicate finger fit underneath your chin then, as your boyfriend gradually tilted your head up until your gazes met. 

 “Okay, good. I just wanna be sure…” His voice trailed off, as his mouth neared yours, and he placed a tentative kiss against your lips. “Now, are you ready to sleep?” 

 A beat of silence passed between the two of you, as you contemplated his words. You knew that the worst of it had already passed. The hallucinations were always the height of your paranoia. And even though there was a good chance that the anxiety wouldn’t completely leave you that night, you found yourself nodding anyways. 

 Felix was hoisting you up in the next breath, carrying you bridal-style over to the bed with a fit of giggles erupting out of you at his sudden actions. 

 He bent over your form, carefully tucking you underneath the thick duvet coverlet, smoothing down some of your hair atop the crown of your head. He stared down at you, a fond smile broadening his mouth on either side. 

 “I’ll always be here, angel.” He whispered, kissing you sweetly for what felt like the millionth time that night. “I love you so much… just wanna protect you.”

 As soon as he pulled away from your mouth, you felt the exhaustion wash over you like a vicious tidal wave. Dealing with such a bad case of paranoia always left you feeling wiped out as soon as it was over with. 

 A lazy smile cracked on your face, as you stared up at him with the hint of pink gradually creeping up into your cheeks. “I love you too, babe.” You reached out to him, grabbing his free hand that wasn’t playing with your hair and squeezing his fingers slightly. 

 “Sleep now, darling… I've got you…” Your boyfriend continued to card his digits through your locks, effortlessly lulling you to a dream-like state. 

 And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes - before the darkness took over the whole of your body - was the tiny, delicate smile that bloomed across Felix’s face; as he watched you in silence, guiding you into dreamland with gentle hands and sweet words. 

 Fin. 

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© ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[cultofsnowfall]

Kallamar, The Pestilence Bishop of The Blue Crown in Anchordeep!

Here’s some Kallamar Headcanons!

Before Being Indoctrinated:

🦑 • Kallamar knows how to expertly wield all weapons. It’s concerning how many he owns at his temple

🦑 • Tends to throw his followers and the other Bishops under the bus and judges every one of their actions

🦑 • His temple is extremely tidy, crystals lined up everywhere and very decorative

🦑 • Kallamar rewards his loyal followers more than just the promise of long and healthy lives, he actually listens to their input during sermons and takes their advice, having more respect for them

🦑 • In the presence of his other siblings he is less inclined to speak, afraid of causing his siblings distress

🦑 • He’s a hoarder and loves shiny things, wanting his cultists to offer him crystals, coins, pearls and anything glimmering at his temple

🦑 • When facing mortals he has extreme confidence but anyone that’s stronger and more powerful than him besides the Bishops this god complex shatters

🦑 • If Kallamar is in Fight or Flight mode god forbid he realizes flight won’t work. If he has no other options he has a sword, a staff and a holy grenade at his disposal to use against the threat

🦑 • Kallamar can find fault in anyone. Not taking the blame for anything he’s done

🦑 • Being the Ex-Bishop of Anchordeep his society is responsible for the production and harvest of the crystals and coins that The Old Faith uses for currency

After Being Indoctrinated:

🦑 • He is the most cautious and considerate Ex-Bishop. He care about everyone’s feelings much more than his fellow siblings

🦑 • At first The Lamb couldn’t even talk to him without Kallamar bursting into tears. Eventually he became less and less panicky and learned to get used to the cult

🦑 • With Kallamar’s ears gone he has a difficult time hearing and understanding sounds and other member’s voices. So if someone quietly comes up behind him he will shriek and freak out, thinking he’s being attacked: usually with a panic attack following afterwards

🦑 • Kallamar has exceptionally good lip reading skills being deaf. He also uses sign language and taught The Lamb and other cult members to use it if he’s having trouble lip reading

🦑 • He is a pescatarian and prefer’s to eat fish mostly. He will even accompany The Lamb when visiting Pilgrim’s Passage so he may fish for more salmon, being his favorite type of seafood

🦑 • Kallamar is the shortest Ex-Bishop being 5’4 ft tall. He suffered a huge stunt in growth due to the constant diseases he suffered from before

🦑 • He is very lithe and underweight. His tentacles making him seem heavier then he is

🦑 • His voice is either extremely loud or soft, having no volume control due to not being able to hear his own or others tone

🦑 • Kallamar has always been shy and uncomfortable with the spotlight. Even so, he can be a major drama queen

🦑 • Kallamar swears to never dissent against The Lamb as he is still extremely afraid of The Red Crown

🦑 • Kallamar is a perfectionist at everything. Since he is the cult architect he makes sure that the place looks clean and pretty. He’s extremely strict with decorating and placement of new buildings

🦑 • Whenever someone gets sick, he panics and immediately apologizes thinking he caused them to attract a disease

🦑 • Very timid around anyone except his fellow siblings, having a very meek nature

🦑 • His hobbies include jewelry making and weapon smithing, using his 2 pairs of arms to efficiently craft it

🦑 • With being indoctrinated his immune system has weakened severely as the blue crown helped strengthen his system. Now he frequently gets sick over the littlest of things

🦑 • He is very wary around Narinder and The Lamb, still having fear over The Red Crown

🦑 • Kallamar is the only Poly Ex-Bishop, building relationships with a few special cult members and treasuring them

[rothjuje]

I’m finally feeling back to my normal self and it’s so. nice. Around Thanksgiving my mental health took a nosedive. It started with a small existential crisis and then a bunch of small things snowballed (kids being sick since mid October, Justin traveling a lot, no Thanksgiving plans, my friend keeping me sane went back to work, Alyssa struggling behaviorally and academically, George struggling with public outings, anxiety flare up, and a bad period). Whew.

Anyway. Existential crisis is still alive and well, but it’s mostly situational. Our goal, for our entire 10 years together, has been to move to a desirable location. We have been working on relocating somewhere where we both can be happy and put down roots. And now we’re here, and I am deeply grateful for that, but also I am left without A Goal and it’s made me panicky.

I have so many small goals, but my story arc is gone. I think it’s the ADHD in me that is attracted to bright and shiny goals. It is challenging to emotionally invest myself into just regular life stuff. Adderall has helped me get regular life stuff done, but when they wear off the consuming panic of why does consciousness exist/why am I here/what should I be doing? sets in.

I’m hoping eating more vegetables and daily exercise and my sun therapy lamp will quiet it.

Anyway. Our 6 month (!!!) anniversary of moving to MA was Dec 19. I cannot believe we’ve been here for 6 months. Well, I can, it feels like a lifetime. Jan 15 will be 6 months at home in Georgetown.

We walked the property for the first time recently (yeah I don’t know why it took 5 months, but also couldn’t take twins to the top of the mountain with no trail so needed a babysitter) and discovered property that we thought was ours is not and property we thought wasn’t ours is. Which is very surprising after living here for almost half a year haha.

Apparently from the edge of our front lawn and all the way back to the top of the hill is two thirds of our 1.84 acres. We thought the hill went further up and that most of our land was unusable. But to the right there is a whole other part that we couldn’t even see before the leaves fell, and then we just assumed it was the neighbor’s. But it’s ours and it’s one third of our total land, which is a lot. And there are several flat spots! Lots of trees though. But definitely room for a fire pit and kids’ play area.

I’ve worked a lot with Alyssa recently, academically and behaviorally (she’s waitlisted for behavioral therapy) and she’s in a much better place and is able to complete assignments with minimal direction. She has a bit of a wild side, but I think it’s more ADHD related than from behavioral issues. We have a lot of similarities (very creative and perpetually bored) but my anxiety always kept my behavior in check. Alyssa is the opposite of a people pleaser, and I love her free spirit, but it makes cooperating in the classroom more of a challenge for her.

George is also in a better place with public outings. He got dragged on so many holiday errands and was a champ. I think if we don’t do errands for a while he’ll panic in public but if it’s regularly he knows what to expect and will actually scream less than Gen. But that’s no surprise, she’s still the feistiest three year old I know.

I need to go back to work. Or at least have the goal of going back to work to keep me sane. I’m going to pursue real estate for a year and if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Classes here are only 40 hours and courses are currently on sale. I just need to jump.

What else? We’re getting an inexpensive treadmill as soon as we decide on if we’re doing the basement floors or not. I am going to run to the loudest music possible at 8 pm every night. I am going to DIY stairs to make the newfound property more easily accessible. Goats and bees are a go, but I’m not sure when. Chickens I’m still undecided for this year just because the amount of work (making and managing an incubator) and money (nice coops are pricey and wood is crazy expensive right now). So I do have some goals to keep me from going completely insane.

[uglypastels]

My friend, I’ve had the worst day eating wise. Just nothing was sitting right and so mostly meal shakes and panicky cause I couldn’t eat without feeling sick. But I slept a little better the last couple of days.

Have you been eating and resting?

Oh no :( i'm so sorry. Hope you feel better soon. I had been doing pretty well except yesterday i only had 2 hours of sleep and then spend the entire day either napping or on the brim of it so only had a small breakfast and dinner haha. But im back on it again today, not sleep deprived (but dont really have anything to eat at home lol)

[veliseraptor]

CQL Characters Rated by Their Stress Levels

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being “Lan Wangji smiling at Wei Wuxian” and 10 being “Lan Xichen at Guanyin Temple.”

Lan Wangji: Varies wildly over the course of the series; see @howpeacefulislwj for detailed rundown. The roundup post averages his peacefulness at 4.2/10. Generally speaking, stress levels middling, between 3/10 and 5/10 with some extreme highs, pretty much all Wei Wuxian related.

Wei Wuxian: One of those people where you’re like “god I hate him, everything’s so easy for him and he can do everything better than me, it’s the worst, how the fuck does he do it” and then years later you find out that he had an epic burnout and dropped off the face of the earth for sixteen years because actually it wasn’t that easy he just made it look that way. 

I mean, he starts the series at about a 5/10 general state (he’s managing a lot but handling it okay) and basically escalates to a relatively consistent 9 or 10/10 for most of the stretch from the Burial Mounds through to his dying. Someone should make a @howpeacefuliswwx chart, I’d be curious to see his average.

Jiang Cheng: Has been existing in a constant low-level state of stress since late childhood and only grows over time. The calmest I think we ever see him is when he’s holding a bunny and other than that it’s mostly downhill. I worry about him getting ulcers sometimes. 8/10.

Jiang Yanli: Jiang Yanli is so used to being stressed that she barely even registers it any more. What do you mean, most people don’t raise two other children when they are also a child? What do you mean, most people take breaks from supporting others to help themselves? Weird. If she was thinking about it she’d be at a 8 or 9/10 but since she’s so accustomed to this way of life that it just feels totally normal she’s more like a 4 or a 5. 

Jiang Fengmian: Avoids being more stressed by generally avoiding his problems, which is one way to deal with it but doesn’t really end up working out most of the time. 3/10.

Yu Ziyuan: Resides somewhere in the vicinity of 5/10 stress levels, 11/10 rage levels, and when the stress levels get above 5 then everyone else’s stress levels better be hitting the roof.

Lan Xichen: Lan Xichen would probably be relatively unstressed if life didn’t consistently come crashing through his relatively chill vibes. Lan Xichen on a good day is, like, 3/10, handling pretty well, but when things start going wrong around him then he pretty quickly hits critical stress levels and will do drastic things to resolve that, such as convincing Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao to set aside their near-murder differences and swear brotherhood, which will definitely work out absolutely fine. Ends up averaging closer to 8/10 because things keep going wrong around him.

Lan Qiren: He’d be fine if his entire family didn’t insist on causing him problems, constantly. Handling it surprisingly well, all things considered. Still 6/10 though.

Nie Mingjue: I mean, does spend a large chunk of time steadily inching toward a qi deviation? That on its own is pretty stressful and also he just seems like generally a high blood pressure sort of person. But the qi deviation inducing saber is definitely not, like, helping. Putting him at a roughly 6 or 7/10 with a median level that just keeps inching slowly upward.

Nie Huaisang: Actually less stressed than you’d expect given how flighty he seems to be! Even when plotting revenge is less “stressed” than “determined.” Pretty good at keeping himself calm most of the time. Generally sits at a stress level of 4/10 or so with a few significant exceptions.

Jin Guangyao: Very stressed all of the time. He has a lot to be stressed about! Between the various complexes and the tendency toward paranoia, Jin Guangyao is definitely among the most stressed in a room at any given time, while doing his best to convey otherwise. But seriously, look at this smile. Does that look like the smile of a serene man to you? 10/10.

Jin Zixuan: You know those high-strung racehorses that sometimes get spooked by, like, a shadow on the ground? That’s Jin Zixuan. Mostly manages to mask his constant low-level “AHHHHH” with a layer of arrogance and/or social awkwardness that looks like arrogance, but it’s there, in the background. 7/10.

Jin Zixun: Shielded from the general Jin neuroses by being an asshole. It’s not fair, but there you are. 3/10 because he does seem to have some inferiority complex issues going on, but that’s not the same thing as stress.

Jin Guangshan: Deserves to be a lot more stressed than he is. Alas, is confident enough to not be terribly stressed. 2/10.

Mianmian: So you know how cheetahs are very panicky animals and so they often in zoos get paired with dogs who will help them figure out that this situation is safe and they don’t need to panic? I feel like Mianmian is Jin Zixuan’s stress meter in their friendship. She will let him know when to be stressed! Because she is not going to spook at her own shadow. Has a sense of reasonable responses to stressors and knows how to remove herself from a bad situation when necessary. Generally a 5/10 because the inherent stress of existing in the Jin Sect is a real thing. 

Wen Qing: It’s hard to be the most competent person in the room most of the time who spends most of her time in very politically precarious positions and with her or her brother’s life at least sort of in danger! Pretty up there for “most stressed” candidates. She’s really having a time of it. Generally hovers around an 8/10.

Wen Ning: Generally not stressed, at least not in the traditional way. Is distressed a lot, but not so much stressed. Ends up at roughly 4/10.

Wen Chao: Like Jin Zixun, gets somewhat shielded from stress by being an unrepentant asshole, though his end of life 11/10 stress via Wei Wuxian kind of makes up for the rest. Averages more of a 2/10 most of the time, though? I don’t think we can let that relatively brief period skew the scale too much.

Wen Ruohan: Does “magic induced losing your mind” count as stress? I mean, he has a pretty stressful job even before that, but he doesn’t project “stress” so much as “incipient madness” during the period where we actually see him doing things. Not sure what rating to give here. It seems like he’s kind of on a different scale.

Wang Lingjao: For the most part seems to manage to get by relatively stress-free, up until things start going completely to shit and she gets haunted to death. Generally closer to a 2 or 3/10, because life as a servant ascended to mistress in a strictly hierarchical society is inherently a wee bit stressful.

Wen Zhuliu: Too sick of this shit and not getting paid enough to really stress out about it. 1/10.

Lan Sizhui: One of those people who manages to appear serene and calm all the time but mostly has just gotten used to functioning at a higher level of stress and therefore can pass for calm even when he is having an Experience of it, which makes his stress levels kind of hard to gauge. But I’d put him at a relatively consistent 6/10.

Lan Jingyi: Wouldn’t call him stressed exactly but he’s definitely very high energy. Kind of gives off the vibes of a very energetic dog who would be stressed if you didn’t keep him busy, but mostly (because I feel like Gusu Lan Sect is pretty good at keeping him busy) hovers around a 2 or 3/10. 

Jin Ling: I feel like Jin Ling isn’t stressed most of the time up until the actual events of CQL itself, where he is both very stressed and very confused almost constantly from the time he first runs into Wei Xuanyu, and it only goes downhill from there. So covering the events of the show I’m going to put him at a 7/10, because he does manage to deal with some wild things with some equanamity and makes it all the way to episode forty-five without breaking down sobbing.

Ouyang Zizhen: Seems like a sensitive soul but doesn’t give off the impression of carrying around a lot of stress, at least not from what we see of him. Probably the chillest of the junior quartet, tbh. Gonna give him a 2/10.

Xiao Xingchen: For most of his life Xiao Xingchen manages his stress very well! He’s actually surprisingly chill. Gets significantly more stressed, understandably, after Xue Yang engineers his no good very bad breakup (the first one) with Song Lan. But in general not that stressed! It is actually part of why he doesn’t handle the stress when it comes very well. He’s not used to it and he only had one pair of eyes to sacrifice. In general a 3/10.

Song Lan: Makes up for Xiao Xingchen’s relatively low stress levels by picking up on the stress for both of them. Still chiller than a lot of people on this list, though, but there’s a lot of very stressed people in this show, so. 5/10.

Xue Yang: Manages his stress by making everyone else very stressed, on purpose. If he’s having a bad day he’ll go and make someone else have a worse day and it helps. At least until there’s a dead Xiao Xingchen and then nothing helps! But as a rule exists at a general 2/10 and honestly he deserves it.

A-Qing: Her life is inherently stressful because she is a street kid trying to make it in a world that is not very friendly to people with no structure supporting them, but she manages to bear it pretty well on the whole. Still, it’s hard being a-Qing. She just makes it look easy. Probably a 4 or 5/10.

Sect Leader Yao: He’s not stressed, but he’s very good at making everyone around him stressed every time he opens his mouth. His presence is a +2 to stress for everyone in his vicinity with the exception of Sect Leader Ouyang, who is for some reason immune. 0/10.

[reidgraygubler]

a different type of high (spencer reid/reader) pt 4

Title: A Different Type of High (part four)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gender-neutral!reader

Category: angst in the first half, some fluff in the second half

Content Warning: mentions of death, talks about parent death, relapse scare, suicidal ideation, talks about drug usage and drugs, anxiety/panic attacks, explanations of nightmares/night terrors, swearing, intrusive thoughts,

Word Count: 4,514

Summary: Reader nearly relapses because of the anniversary of her mother’s passing. 

A/N: this one does deal with some heavier topics (see CW's), so please proceed with caution. I originally had t his as on big long part, but, uh, it was too long. So it’s two parts… anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

last part  series masterlist  next part

{***}{***}{***}

I sat in the living room with my eyes on the coffee table. Several orange pill bottles sat lined up on the edge. The way the light caught the plastic caught my attention, mostly in a bad way. I was already on edge, and my day was already ruined. Any number of things could have made my day bad, but we can easily put the blame on my mother. And, I’m not just saying that because she’s an easy target. No, I’m blaming her because she died a year ago on this very day.

I was hungry, and not for the food in my fridge. No, I was hungry for the high and the nothingness. The high that was dangerous and could likely kill me. Maybe that’s what I wanted. I mean, the only person I have in life to keep me grounded was Spencer… And we’ve only known each other for a short time. What if he’s faking it all? He doesn’t really care about me. He just says he does. Saying stuff I want to hear.

My body was on autopilot as my hand moved towards the bottles. The grip I had on the lid was tight like my life depended on it. Mostly because, in that moment, my life did depend on it. That was until a slip of paper caught my eyes. An unfamiliar handwriting was scribbled across the paper, but a more familiar name was at the bottom. 

Just because I’m at work doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you! Please call me if you need help with anything! 

-Spencer

I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at the note. I have no idea when he would have written it and put it there. But it was the exact sort of pick-me-up I needed to stop me from making a stupid mistake. 

I stood up and shoved the paper and bottle of pills in my pocket before making my way to the door. My keys and a small stack of quarters sat on the side table beside the door, they ended up in my pocket. 

My feet moved themselves, and I soon appeared at the laundromat down the street. There were a few people there, and I could tell they 

hadn’t been there for very long. I just hope my phone call to Spencer wasn’t too long and they didn’t listen. Although, why would they listen to a random girl’s phone call? They don’t care, they won’t care. 

I quickly made my way towards the payphones, going to the furthest one to ensure my own privacy (again, they won’t care). I fished out the quarters as I sat down. It was kind of amazing how quickly I dialed Spencer’s number, and more impressive how fast I remembered it. It was the next number I remembered after my address.

The phone only dialed for a few seconds before he answered. I would have assumed he was busy with work or something. But, I guess, like his note said, even if he was busy, he was thinking about me. I’m pretty sure he was just saying that though.

“Hello, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” he spoke calmly like he didn’t know what was happening. Well, that was probably because he had no idea I was on the verge of a breakdown. “Hello?”

“It’s… It’s me… Spencer, Spencer, I…” I swallowed roughly as I stared blankly at the wall in front of me. I could feel my heart beating a million miles an hour and hear the beating in my head. It was nearly deafening to me. Being alone didn’t help the anxious feeling. “Are you home?” My voice was a light whisper, and I wondered if he even heard me ask. I don’t even know why I asked if he was at home. I knew he was at work. It’s only 3 pm. Maybe I was just hoping he’d be home, and he could come over and save the day, make me feel better somehow. How though? I’m not sure. Spencer’s a fix-it type of guy, I’m sure he’ll figure something out.

“I’m still at work. But I should be home soon. Why? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” He asked, his voice heavily laced with concern. It was that moment that I realized he did care about me. 

I closed my eyes and brought my hand to rest over my mouth to muffle any sobs. “Are you okay? I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.” He asked again when I stayed silent. I let out a deep sigh and shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

“I, uh, I… I want…” I let out another deep sigh, hoping he’d know what I was getting at. “Please don’t make me say it,” I whispered and looked at the counter. My fingers rapidly tapped against the smooth surface. We both knew I had to say it and admit my defeat and the fact that I was sitting in the laundromat, with a bottle of whatever drug I had hidden in my bathroom. “Fuck,” I shouted before slamming the phone down on the hook. The other few people in the laundromat looked at me with caution in their eyes. 

“What?!” I looked at them before I tightly tugged my sweater around my body before storming out of the laundromat. The pill bottle in my pocket rattled with each step I took, and it was getting very difficult to move without wanting to take anything. Tears sprung from my eyes, blurring my vision the longer I was outside.

When I finally made it back to my apartment, I stormed to the bathroom. My reflection scared me. I almost didn’t recognize myself. It was a little horrifying, seeing myself as so unrecognizable. So, I stared at myself, my hand in my pocket, rattling the contents inside.

I scoffed before shaking my head. My hand came out with the bottle, and my eyes looked down at it. My thumb fidgeted with the lid, wanting to pop it off and pour the contents into my mouth. But, instead, I chucked it to the sink, the lid popping off and pills flying everywhere, before I ran to my bedroom.

I pulled the blankets over my body to hide from the world. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and face and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. That’s a shame too… Nearly two months clean and all I wanted to do was not exist and ruin everything.

{***}{***}{***}

I jumped awake when a very loud banging came on the front door. I looked around my room before swinging my legs off my bed and leaving the room. I dragged my body across my apartment and to the front door, where the banging hadn’t stopped.

I pulled the door open and looked up. Spencer was standing there, looking at me with a frantic expression on his face. I stared at him with wide eyes, my earlier fears and anxieties quickly returning. I had nearly forgotten about calling him too. Damn it.

“You didn’t do anything, did you? You didn’t take anything?” He asked, looking down at me. I took a deep breath and shook my head. I stepped to the side and silently invited him inside. He stepped inside and looked back at me, before looking around my home. He was probably looking for any signs of current drug use. The only real sign was in the bathroom… Where the bathroom had a grenade of pills explode all over the place. We’ll just keep him out of there… For now...

“No, no, I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I, uh... I took a nap and cried it out,”  I rubbed the underside of my nose. I pressed the door shut before turning around to look at him. He was looking at me, he still wore a panicky expression in his eyes and it made me feel sick. He doesn’t believe that I didn’t do anything. I wouldn’t believe me either.

“What happened?” Spencer finally asked as I walked up to him. He opened his arms up and allowed me to hug him. I honestly didn’t want to answer him. Everything about today was already awful, and I just wanted it to be over. “Can you tell me what happened?” He asked after a moment of silence. I let out a deep sigh after he pulled his arms away from me. He noted my deep breath and wrapped his arms back around me. 

I turned my head away from his chest so I could have a coherent sentence. Er, well, as coherent as it could get. “My… It’s the anniversary of… Of my mom's death,” I swallowed roughly. Spencer looked down at me before squeezing me harder. I pressed my face into his chest and shook my head. “And, I just…. Wanted to disappear. I don’t know…” I spoke, my words being muffled into his shirt. One of Spencer’s hands cradled the back of my head while the other held me closer to him. “I didn’t want to be alive at the moment,” I whispered. 

“Don’t say that,” he returned the whisper. His voice vibrated in his chest, and it felt good against my head. The way he squeezed me made me feel safer in the moment. “Please don’t ever say that again,” his voice cracked at the end. I bit my lips together as I started to cry. “Don’t even think like that,” his voice got even lower, probably because he was also crying and he was just trying to mask that fact.

“You don’t get to think that way either,” I looked up at him and furrowed my eyebrows. He looked at me as he remembered when he was gone for a week and how he stood in front of several people with loaded weapons. 

“This isn’t about me… It’s about you,” he whispered, bringing a hand to my face. His thumb brushed away the tears that were rolling down my cheeks, but that was basically useless because I couldn’t stop crying. But it felt good to cry, to be honest. “You’re still young and have so much to live for. Someone has to save you,” he looked down at me, his hand still holding my face. I feared that he was only doing it to make sure I was still here and alive. Which was a weird fear for me to have, and I suppose for him to have. 

“So are you, Spencer,” I whispered as I leaned into his touch more. He swallowed roughly as he kept his eyes on me. His eyes grew glossy the longer he stared at me. “You save everyone… But who saves you from yourself?” I furrowed my eyebrows. Spencer sighed deeply before hugging me again. 

“You do,” his whisper was hardly audible, so I was happy I heard his words. I wasn’t so sure what he meant by that. I mean, obviously, I was the thing that kept him sane while he was home. But, I don’t exactly know how I save him though. So, I was unsure as to why he told me that.  “It’s just been difficult for me recently. But, I’m working on getting better,” he spoke softly. And, I swear he said ‘for you’, but it was so quiet I couldn’t be sure. Even if he did say it, I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to hear it.

We stayed silent for a while, and we just stood in each other’s arms for even longer. Being in his embrace made me feel safe, and I know I said that earlier. But it’s true. I wonder if he felt the same.

“You alright?” Spencer looked up at me. I looked down at our hands and nodded. “You look like you haven’t slept in a couple of days,” he spoke, his tone was soft and gentle. I could tell that he really cared and was trying really hard not to sound mean. I didn’t mean to take it to heart the way I did, but I did.

“Not really,” I grumbled and looked down at the ground. I shrugged and quickly glanced at him. He was looking at me with an apologetic look on his face, silently telling me that he was sorry for suddenly offending me. I shrugged it off like it was nothing. It wouldn’t be the first or last time someone offended me over something so… small and unimportant. He shouldn’t be sorry, it’s my own fault. He was just asking if I was alright.

 “The last few days have been rough for me, ya know? Especially with this whole thing,” I sighed deeply and shrugged again.

“If I stay here, will you promise to get some rest,” Spencer offered, grasping both my hands. I looked at our hands with a dullness in my eyes. I was beginning to zone out because of how tired I was getting. Spencer lifted a hand and gently rubbed my shoulder. I sighed and looked down before looking up at his face.

“I’m having nightmares, and they’re really realistic… That’s why I’m losing sleep,” I whispered. Spencer looked at me before pulling me into a hug. “And they’re about everything. Me, my mom, you, drugs, dying, death… I don’t know,” I mumbled into his chest. I pressed my chin into his chest and looked up at him. Spencer looked down at me with a smile on his lips. We were really close to each other’s face, and I know he noticed that too. “I like when you spend the night,” I noted, changing the subject to something lighter, even though it was that much lighter. 

“Really,” he asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling lightly. I nodded and returned the smile. “Why’s that,”

“Because then I’m not lonely, and left with my thoughts,” I whispered as I stared at him. I’ve never noticed how pretty his eyes are, with their golden and greeny color. He looked at me like he saw something, but I was clueless about what he saw. “And, whenever I’m with you, I feel safe and at home, in some weird way. I’m sorry. I don’t know. The exhaustion is starting to hit me now that you pointed it out,” I sat back away from him. I pressed my hands into my face and shook my head. “I just never sleep anymore and I’m honestly used to it at this point. But I’m tired all the damn time,” 

“I’ll be here, you can rest. You don’t have to worry about anything hurting you,” he whispered before wrapping an arm around my body. I looked up at him and nodded. “Let’s lie down?” he asked softly. I nodded before going to walk to my bedroom. Before I even got the chance to step a foot away from him, Spencer picked me up and carried me. I looked at his face and furrowed my eyebrows. “I’m fully capable of walking, you know,” 

“I know,” Spencer smiled as he readjusted his hold on me. He was carrying me like a backpack, but on his front instead of his back. “But you’re tired,” he hummed as he held me tightly.

“Yeah, I am,” I looked at him with a smile. Spencer laughed at me and shook his head. Our faces were close again, closer than before. And, for some reason, I really wanted to kiss him. Which, again, is weird. He’s my best friend… And I want to fucking kiss him. It just felt like the perfect moment for us to kiss. But, I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I can’t lose the one thing that’s keeping me grounded. And he can’t lose the thing keeping him grounded.

Spencer carefully kicked my bedroom door open and walked in. He laid me down on one side of the bed before going to the other side. The blanket was pulled over both our bodies and Spencer was close to me.

“Please get some sleep,” he whispered, brushing hair away from my face. I looked up at him and nodded. “Do you want me to rub your back?” 

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” I laughed before rolling onto my stomach. “My bestest friend ever,” I hummed as he started running his hand along my back.

“Aren’t I your only friend?” Spencer joked lightly.

“Ah, not only that. My bestest friend,” I looked up at him and smiled. Spencer shook his head before brushing his fingers across my eyelids, somehow getting me to close my eyes. 

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. I giggled and nodded before moving closer to him. Spencer returned the laughter before wrapping an arm over me. 

{***}{***}{***}

I wrinkled my nose as I noticed a weight across my body. It wasn’t like an emotional weight like I’ve been so used to waking up to recently. No, there was something actually on top of me while I was asleep. So, when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t too surprised when I saw something on me. However, I was more surprised that it was another person. That’s right, Spencer stayed the night.

His arm was strewn across my torso, and his legs were entwined with mine. His head was resting on the same pillow as me. The way he slept so soundly and restfully made me mildly jealous. How come he gets to sleep so peacefully and I don’t?

I hope he was as peaceful as I thought. There was probably not a bad thing he was dreaming about. Unfortunately for me, I was freaking out because I dreamt that I watched my best friend being killed.

I laid back, pressing my head into the pillow before turning to look at Spencer. His nose twitched as he stirred lightly before hugging me tighter. I held my breath, worried that my breathing would wake up. But, it did. There was no need for worry. He must be having a good dream with all the humming and hugging he was doing. 

I looked at his face, mesmerized by the way he slept so soundly. The way his eyelashes pressed against his cheeks, and freckles dotted the bridge of his nose. His lips pouty and slightly parted. I didn’t even realize he was awake and I was staring till he said something.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling me closer before nuzzling into me more. I smiled softly as I looked up at him again. “You don’t have to go to the bathroom, do you?” he hummed as he closed his eyes again. 

“No, I don’t,” I replied back, giving up on any chances of getting up. We might be here for a while, so there’s probably no point in getting out of bed with Spencer holding me hostage. 

“Mmm, good,” he opened his eyes and looked down at me. The tired smile on his lips made me feel warm and safe as I looked at him. “How long have you been awake?” he asked, his thumb rubbing circles on my shoulder.

“Not long,” I whispered, looking right at his eyes. He looked back at me and nodded. “How did you sleep,”

“I think that was the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time,” he closed his eyes again, “Something about your bed is very comfortable,” he looked down at me and smiled. 

“Is it the bed or is it because you’re sleeping with someone to cuddle with?” I asked myself as I stared at him. “I’m happy you find my bed comfortable,” I laughed lightly. My bed is not comfortable. So I know he didn’t find it that comfortable.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, placing a hand on my cheek. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him.   

“Better than the previous night,” I shrugged a little bit. Spencer frowned as he readjusted his hold on me. “Let’s make breakfast,” I spoke out loud before sitting up, pushing his arms off me. 

“Breakfast?” 

“Yeah,” I smiled as I slipped out of bed and grasped his hand to pull him out of bed. He grumbled before standing out of the bed. I smiled at him before practically skipping out of the bedroom. “I’m sure I have something!” I spoke out loud, knowing I have nothing much for breakfast.

 I went right to the kitchen, instantly eyeing up the loaf of bread that was probably a little stale. I grabbed it and opened the fridge, happy to see a carton of eggs. And with that, I made eggs in a basket. I hope that Spencer would enjoy that. Considering it was one of the only things I knew how to make.

“Coffee?” Spencer asked as he slowly walked into the kitchen. I turned around and pulled open a cabinet. A can of Folgers was sitting on the top shelf. I pouted as I stared at the can.

“I don’t think it’s good,” I muttered as I pulled the can from the shelf. “I probably had this stupid can of grounds for an embarrassingly long time,” I spoke as I looked into the can and noted that the grounds were kinda gross and kinda clumpy, causing me to pout. “No coffee,” I muttered, tossing the can to the garbage, only to miss and go over. The can landed with a clang on the ground. 

“We can always get some later,” Spencer smiled as he bent over to pick up the can. I raised my eyebrow at him as he tossed the can to the trash, without failing.

“We?” I asked, turning to watch him lean against the counter. He shrugged and smiled.

“Why not,” he shrugged again. I smiled as I looked at him. It was only then that I realized I was burning the food.

“Oh no!” I jumped around to the stove to remove the pan from the stove. “I hope you’re okay with burnt eggs and toast,” I pouted as I looked back at Spencer. He had stepped closer to the stovetop to watch me. He looked very amused with my laughter and urgency with cooking. “Don’t laugh!” I looked up at his face.

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you panic over food before,” he pointed out with a smile. I looked down at the burnt food as I carefully moved it to a plate.

“I’m hungry,” I muttered before shrugging. I looked back up at Spencer and shrugged.

“That’s a good thing…” 

“Being hungry? How is that a good thing?” I scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

“You have your appetite back,” Spencer pointed out before he lifted me up to set me back down on the counter. It was so effortless as he moved me. I was impressed that he barely strained to lift me (unless, he did and I was just oblivious to it).  We were at the same level now, and I was able to look him in the eye instead of at his chest. 

“Why’d you do that?” I looked at him before looking at the counter beside me. 

“So we can have an eye to eye conversation,” he smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and looked down at the plate of two burnt eggs in a basket. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, watching as I started picking at the food. He smiled as he stood between my legs. 

“You just did,” I smiled, trying to pretend like I wasn’t suddenly anxious. Why ask someone if you can ask a question? Why not just ask the question? That’s like #1 reason why people get anxious. 

“I want to take you to the office, so you can meet everyone,” he whispered as he grabbed some food too. I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You want to take me… To the FBI…” I stared at Spencer. I almost relapsed yesterday and had the worst day of the year yesterday... And, he wants to take me to… The FBI to meet his friends… I could feel bile rising from my stomach. It honestly took everything in me to hold back the sick. So, I slowly lowered my hand and food back to the counter.

“Yeah, they’re my family, and you’re my family… So, that also makes them yours,” Spencer smiled at me. I dropped my shoulders as I stared at him. I really didn’t want to argue his logic there, but I understand why he said that. 

“Won’t… They’ll… Spencer, that’s… I don’t think that's a good… They’ll ask how you know me,” I whispered as I looked away from him. He rested a hand on my knee and looked at my face.

“We won’t worry about that right now,” he whispered in a reassuring tone. I stared at him and shrugged.

“What’ll we tell them? When they ask, ya know?” I looked up at him. Spencer stayed silent as he looked around my kitchen. I could only assume he was thinking really hard about what we would say and how we would lie to his family. 

“I’m not sure,” Spencer shrugged as he grasped my hands. I looked down at our hands and felt a frown forming. “I don’t know,” he whispered and shook his head. It was obvious for both of us that we would have a hard time being around his friends. Everything about telling a bunch of FBI agents that you’re addicted/was addicted to drugs can be a little (alright, a lot) intimidating. What are they going to do? The worst thing is they arrest me and fire Spencer. “Don’t overthink it,” he looked up at me. I nodded.

“I just won’t think about it,” I forced a smile before shrugging. Spencer gave me a knowing smile. “If they’re your family, Spencer, then they’re my family,” I sighed deeply as I looked down at my legs. I pulled my hands from his before rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. “And, I’d love to meet your family,” I sighed even deeper as I looked up at him. His face lit up a little bit with my words, and it genuinely made me feel happy. 

“You’ll love them,” he whispered before pulling me off the counter. I wrinkled my nose before looking up at him.

“I mean, I’ve already met Emily. And, she seemed definitely cool,” I laughed as I grabbed the plate. I looked at the two burnt pieces of bread. I tossed them into the trash and looked up at him. “I just hope everyone else is just as cool as she is, and even as cool as you,” I cocked my head as I looked up at him. He stayed silent before pulling me into a hug. “When would you even want me to go?” I asked once he released me. My stomach felt upside-down as I asked my stupid question. “Whenever you want,” he spoke softly. I looked down at the ground and nodded.

 “I should let you get to work. I know you don’t like being late,” I pouted, “I’ll see you later?” 

“Of course,” Spencer smiled before hugging me again.

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didn’t work: thatsonezesty13,  mediocrehamiltrash

[ldpwriter]

~*~Pirate Roleplay Character~*~

Name: Katarina “Kat” (She really only responds to Kat) Bloodrose

Nickname: Katy, Katia, Rina (which she hates), Fire-Kat or Wild-Kat, or Red (which she also hates)

Age: If you wanna live don't ask. But she's really about 25, but appears younger.

Gender: The fairer sex; female

Race: Caucasian - British decent

Rank: Pirate also known as an assassin

Family: Father - Jonathon Bloodrose (Pirate Captain)

Mother - Rosemary Bloodrose/Darling (High Class Lady)

Has other family members still alive on her mother's side but doesn't know who they are just that they're family name is, Darling.

Appearance: Lean, curvaceous figure. Appears fragile, but is stronger than most think. Deep green eyes that often show her emotions, with deep red fiery hair, down to the small of her back. Her skin is always tanned because she's on the open ocean and in the sun so much. Both Kat's ears are pierced with small silver hoops. And her right ear has several other piercings which also have either small hoops or jeweled studs. Several scars litter her body, mostly her back and arms. She has a lovely scar from naval to collar bone that almost took her life when she was 21.  Her usual dress is anything black. Normally, however, she wears skin tight pants, a low cut shirt that comes to just above her naval, a black waistcoat, and boots that rise to mid calf. Occasionally though, she'll be found wearing a loose tunic with a corset around her waist. However, when she's hiding her femininity, Kat wears slightly baggier black pants, a loose V cut shirt, with her breasts securely tied, and her black waistcoat and boots. Also, to hide her long fire-red hair, she ties her hair up and wraps it in a bandanna and tops it off with a tri tip black hat. A black belt is almost always secured around her waist to hold her "effects".

The waistcoat, Kat wears mostly.

Face Claim: Katherine McNamara.

Weapons: Her father's cutlass, a pistol, and several knives in her belt, boots, and several other hidden places on her body. She can dual wield swords, or have a cutlass in one hand and a knife in the other.

Captain Bloodrose's cutlass, that Kat now owns and holds dear as one of the last things she has from her father.

Skills: Kat learned how to wield a sword when she was but a child barely learning to walk. She is adept with a cutlass in one hand or both hands. When she has a weapon in both hands she can be a whirlwind, able to defend herself against even the most skillful foe.  She can throw knives with deadly accuracy and can shoot a gun, but prefers it as a last resort. It's too loud in her opinion. Adept at subterfuge, Kat can sneak into many a locked room. Her lockpicking skills are masterful. She is also a skilled assassin, killing foes before anyone knows she's even there.

Talents/Hobbies: Kat can actually sing quite well, but never will do so in public. The attention embarrasses her. She enjoys dancing as well having learned a bit from the old couple, but never has a reason to dance. Kat can read and write to most people's surprise, but her father had made sure she had the knowledge. Kat also collects knives. It was started with her father buying (or stealing) some of the prettiest knives she's ever seen and ever since, she's had a fascination with the quaint bladed weapons.

Weakness: Her temper and sharp tongue often get her into more trouble than what is good. She also has a well placed fear of enclosed spaces. She hates them with a passion and always tries to get out of being sent into small tunnels or entries because she often freezes while in them. Cages, wether behind bars in a prison or in the brig make her panicky. Oddly enough, wearing a dress terrifies her as well. It's like its own bondage and she hates being bound in any form. She fears love as well as dying alone. She is a wild card and hard to handle.

Likes: Pretty things, even though she doesn't really wear much jewelry. Even prettier knives. Children, dogs, singing, dancing, searching for treasure, killing evil people or those she feels deserves it, sailing on the ocean, sweets.

Dislikes: Men, women... okay most men and women. She doesn't get along with people well. Black Jack, the mutinous crew that killed her father, enclosed spaces, dresses, fancy things like balls and people.

Personality: Kat has a fiery temper, a sarcastic tongue, and a suspicious nature, which many would say matches her hair. The woman does not trust people easily. She has a particular hatred for the men who killed her father. She toys with men's hearts every now and then if it helps her get what she wants, but she never lets it go 'too' far. In truth, she really doesn't trust men, since most she had ever run into were liars, deceivers, and backstabbers. She is a loyal friend, however, and a good confidant. Kat also is not one to lay out her problems and when she is hurt or wounded she will not ask for help. She does not want people to find her weak. Which normally means she'll be dying before anyone finds out she's injured, which attests to her very stubborn attitude.

History: The only parent Kat ever knew was her father, who was a pirate. Her mother died giving birth to her in London. Kat's father raised her, on his ship the 'Grim Reaper'. As Kat grew older, her father taught her how to fight in hand to hand combat, sword play, and also fight with daggers/knives. She lived on her fathers ship becoming a pirate herself and grew to know the crew, although she didn't like most of them. The few she did befriend were like family to her and they treated her like a pirate unlike the others who belittled, teased, or flirted with her for being a woman.

One day when Kat was in her mid teens her father docked his ship in a seedy town. Her father figured that his crew as well as himself could use a rest after the pillaging they had just done. Kat and her father frequented the tavern to enjoy some ale and rum, while the crew came up with an evil plan. The evening after they docked, there was a mutiny. The crew killed her father, as well as any loyal to the former captain and took over the ship. The next thing she knew the crew tried to grab her, but fortunately she managed to escape with the help of her father's first mate, the only one left alive from the slaughter. Managing to sneak on land, though the mutinous crew was looking for her, she hid until there was a ship leaving port. Once she managed to stow passage on the ship, dressed like a man, Kat swore revenge on the mutinous crew.

Marcus, her father's former first mate and oldest friend took her away from the crazed, mutinous pirate crew. However, he was gravely wounded. The man took her to a pair of old friends and left her with them. The brother and sister duo were an odd pair. The woman considered herself a witch and knew many odd concoctions. The brother was a former assassin for the French empire. Both taught her how to fight in all new ways, to poison a blade, to blend into the shadows, and murder without being caught. Kat stayed with them for years until the nearby townsfolk got word of the witch in their midst and set forth to burn her. Francois, the brother took her to the nearby port afraid they would think she too was a witch. They disguised her by cutting her hair short and getting her baggy clothes. The Frenchman talked an old pirate captain friend of his to take her under his wing and that she would serve him well as an assassin. With that, the man left and Kat never saw him or his sister again. She never did learn if the two had made it.

For years, Kat kept her identity concealed until the old pirate captain grew sick and died. It was then time for the young woman to find her own way in the world. She let her hair start to grow once more and came across another brother and sister duo. They invited her to be a part of their crew, wishing to utilize Kat's skills for their gain. It wasn't until the brother, in a drunk stupor, tried to take advantage of her. Kat killed him in defense. The sister became enraged and attacked Kat. To the fiery haired woman's surprise, the ebony haired sister was far deadlier. The other woman managed to cut Kat from naval to collar bone. With such a dire wound, Kat threw herself off the ship grateful they had been near a French owned island. Somehow she managed to make it to shore, but passed out after. A kind elderly couple and their children found her washed up on shore and took her in. They nurtured her back to health.

When she was better, in the dead of the night, Kat snuck out. Leaving only a note and a few gold coins for their kindness, the fiery haired woman disappeared into the night. After that, Kat kept to the shadows mostly. Joining few crews and disappearing after a heist. Many referred to her as the Ghost of Shadows. Occasionally she would seek out higher paid quarries, using her assassin's skills to kill. It paid remarkably better than plundering as a pirate. As time slid by, Kat wandered from town to town, port to port listening for word of Black Jack and the Grim Reaper. But the ship had all but vanished, few going as far to say the vessel had sunk beneath the ocean's waves. It was disappointing and damn near heartbreaking for her.

One evening, Kat sat in a tavern in Tortuga. Alone in the back when someone approached her. The man said he would pay her in gold and information on the Grim Reaper's whereabouts if she did a job for him. It was the first news of her father's ship she had heard about in quite some time. Katarina readily agreed, not even caring who she was to assassinate. With that, Kat gathered her things and found the first passage she could and headed straight for her prey.

Her father's ship, the Grim Reaper

[tylerwritez]

Sunday, September 19th, 2021, 10:31 p.m.

Hey guys

I'm here again,,, which, as y'all know, means I've got something to say.

My life has been sorta stupid lately. I dont quite remember when I posted here last, but,,, a LOT has happened since then. I got into a lot of new music and tweaked my image a bit, my parents found out all about my self harm... and now they are being REALLY strict. No closing doors, I gotta do my art downstairs instead of in my room, my messages got searched, my room and bags are regularly searched, its like I have 0 privacy which ie ridiculous because I'm not going to fucking kill myself if left alone for... omg... a few moments :0

Whatever. They're trying. I love my dad. My mom... I love her too yeah, but idk, I have a weird reaction inside me to her touch, I'm like GETOFFME which is so weird???? But it makes me panicky. Idk why. There are so many things I dont know about myself. I proabably have BPD. IM PISSED at my parents for being so strict but I understand why. It's because they're scared I'll hurt myself real bad one of these days and the damage will be hospital/death level.

I haven't self harmed since I cut up my left leg... so that's how long... lemme check

Since September 11th

It's been only 8 days? WHAT THE FUCKKKK??? it feels like so much longer. I guess that's what it's like when you're addicted... time passes slowly. For example, it feels like FOREVER since I last smoked a cig, but it was really on the 17th.

I made a new friend which is cool. I'm going to call them Velo, which is in their disc user but not their actual name. Velo is pretty cool... they're a chill person, and I'm afraid I maybe came off as annoying, but I'm doing my best at social interaction,,, its been a long time.

Velo has been helping my tattoo my arm, I did a heart and they designed a face to go inside the heart. So far it's looking super epic! I also have a smiley face on my knee, a sad face on the other knee, and I'm going to do a sun so i can match my BFF, whos getting a moon.

Wow I'm so #rebellious

ANYWAYS I'm not here to talk about my shitshow life. I'm here cos I'm sad and I wanna talk about that and HONESTLY doing my best right now Not to hurt myself because I WANT TO HURT MYSELF!!!! so badly. But it makes me feel guilty,... my parents were so upset. Crying and shit. It made me feel so bad, but like, they shouldnt be doing all that crying shit in front of me... I swear sometimes they forget that I have feelings too...

Right now, I'm mostly upset about my slight weight gain... I'M FUCKING FAT and ugly as fuck, my acne meds dont seem to be working and I... my fucking face... is shaped WEIRD.... i look at my body and I dont even see anything remotely human it all looks disgusting and fat and gross and repulsive and like some kinda of monster and my skin is disgusting and full of acne like some kinda monstrous thing and I have got scars and scabs and... it hurts. It hurts knowing how fucking ugly I am. Seeing that other kids my age havent got dots all over their fucking faces, it's just me. Since I was 10 years old. And IM FAT holy shit I'm so fat I'm so ugly I dont even look human my lips are gross and my nose is fucked up and I dont even look like a boy becos my thighs and hips are fuckinf massive I hate seeing little blond children knowing theyll grow up without my fuckinf problems, I HATE IT, I HATE CHILDREN I WANT TO FUCKING KILL THOSE PERFECT FUCKING KIDS FUCK FUCK FUCKKK I hate seeing them knowing their family loves them and they never have to question that, knowing theyll grow up without the struggles of being trans, knowing theyll grow up without the struggles of being mentally ILL and of having everyone deny your sickness and assume you're a bad person and ruin your ability to trust adult authority figures and ruin your relationship with your parents and ruin your ability to walk into offices without crying or tensing up FUCK if I was a bit more off the rails than I am right now id take one of those little blond kids and beat the shit outta them because fUCK, FUCK, FUCK YOU, ,, WHY YOU ??? WHY YOU AND NOT ME? WHY??? WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE AS A CHILD TO DOOM ME TO THIS??? and the answer is nothing. It's not that kids fault, or my fault, or some fake gods fault, or my parents fault, or the teachers fault..... its nobodies fault. This is just how things ended up. A combination of faults from everyone. We are all to blame, but in little, complex pieces that make me think that nobody is to blame.

Its sadder having no one to blame. You cant rile up your anger and point a finger saying YOU did this to me, its YOUR fault... you just gotta put your head down on your desk and cry because there was nothing anyone couldve done to make it better for you.

I'm sad.

Yknow tonight when i went to bed, I couldnt find my nice pillow... it's one of those fuckinf memory foam cool whatever pillows with a batman pillowcase. I looked all over for it but then I realized that the pillow in question is the one I use at my DADS house.... and i broke down crying. I was confused, my brain was confused, between my two houses, because it was thinking of it's old life.... in one house... I'm not even upset about the divorce, I swear to god I'm not. It's just sometimes, my brain is confused about where i am... and I just find that so SAD. It's like oh, right, my parents dont love each other no more, I forgot about that for a moment.

Yikes. ANYWAYS. talking about this didn't help much cos I'm still bawling my eyes out. I'd love to smoke some to calm me down but I only have 2 and I'm saving em for lunch tommorow with my friend... goddamn. I give in. If I'm not too exhausted, I'm going to burn myself and then ill cry some more cos I look like freddy fuckin kreuger then I'll burn myself some more.

Goodnight guys... not that theres anyone out there whose even listening, who even CARES. Jesus.

[lifesfeelings]

Phobia

I think I am developing some phobia, mostly associated with the pandemic, that I might need to seek some counseling for. This is the first time that I’ve been like really really contemplating signing up for the counseling my job offers. First of all, I think that I am developing agoraphobia. The last like three times that I have been in any sort of crowded space I have been having what I think might be panic attacks? I walked into a busy Starbucks a few days ago and just suddenly felt unexplainable anxiousness. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, I felt nauseous, faint, my eyes felt like I couldn’t keep them focused. I was able to control it, which makes me think that they aren’t severe? But I had to step out of line for second and kind of just try to zone out and focus on something. But this is becoming kind of common any time I’m in a crowded room without control. Like my classroom is fine because there is rules on masks, and distancing, we all test, and have to verify we don’t have symptoms, but anywhere that’s not school I can’t handle crowds. And secondly, I think I have an intense fear of sickness now. Hypochondria or nosophobia? I think any little thing with my body means I’m ill, and that leads to me thinking I’m gonna die. I spiral with any sniffle or sneeze. And I work at an assisted living, and any symptom with my residents makes me spiral into awful anxiety as well. Like I had a resident throw up yesterday and I just got so anxious and panicky I had to take a step back at work too. I don’t know what it is. Anybody who says they are feeling a little sick, anybody who coughs or sneezes or sniffles, anybody who is near my family who suddenly feels ill… I just can’t take that anymore. And I think it’s getting to a point where I should really seek out some help for it. it’s becoming worse and worse. With mask mandates ending, people trying to return to normal… I just can’t handle the idea of sickness, or crowds, or normalcy anymore…

04.14.21

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] Also on AO3

Chapter 7: Martin

Martin is ready to go now.

It’s late—it was late when all this started, but it has to be closing in on midnight now. He’s wrapped up like a mummy, and he’s only not in complete agony because one of the very nice paramedics got permission from the doctor at whatever hospital to give him some painkillers. He’s still in pain, but it’s fainter, more muffled. He’s tired and he’s, well, drugged, and it’s hard to think straight, and he just wants to get some rest. He wants to go home, or at least somewhere quieter and less...wormy than here. Somewhere safe.

He’s seen movement and flashing lights through the translucent plastic sheeting that is the quarantine tent, heard voices and shouting that he can’t quite make out, but it all seems to have mostly died down by now. Martin wonders how he’s going to get anywhere, much less home. He wonders if Tim and Sasha made it out of those tunnels okay, if the other is all right. He wonders about the scream.

But nobody will tell him anything, only that he is not infested and needs to keep the wounds clean and needs fresh air. They tell him a lot about how to recover from what’s happened to him and a bit on what to expect about that process, but nothing about what’s going on beyond the four walls of this tent, and it’s worrying Martin. A lot.

“What time is it?” he asks the paramedic currently standing with him. Her partner has stepped outside and may or may not be talking to someone, probably from ECDC. He’s at least ninety percent certain they showed up for this, considering the situation, which is a very mild way of putting it.

Before the paramedic can answer, the second one steps back into the tent and nods. “All clear. Everything’s settled...Mr. Blackwood, just to be clear, you are declining transportation to the hospital, correct?”

“That’s right.” Martin has been asking them to just give him the paperwork already for what feels like this side of forever.

“All right, go ahead and sign here, please.” The second paramedic hands him a clipboard. Martin’s hands are bandaged and it’s hard to hold a pen, but he manages it. He signs without really looking at what he’s signing. The paramedic studies it and nods. “That’s all in order, then. You’ll need to keep the bandages clean and dry, and you may need to go back to your regular doctor for a checkup...”

He rattles off more instructions for looking after himself and his wounds, but frankly, Martin is too tired to listen to all this again. He hopes whatever new information is included isn’t going to be too important, or difficult to figure out; Martin’s usually pretty good at taking care of others, but that’s the point, it’s always someone else he’s looking after. Maybe he’ll just have to think of himself as “someone else”. It’s going to be some time before he’s allowed back to work, he knows that much at least, so he’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to look after himself. Not like there will be anyone else to.

Something of all this must show in his face, because after a minute, the paramedic’s face softens. “I know, it’s a lot to throw at you right now. Don’t worry, I’ve already told your partner all of this.”

“My...?” Martin looks up, confused. He doesn’t have a partner. Who could be out there claiming that? The only one he can think of is the other, and surely he wouldn’t be so foolish as to come out in the middle of...all this.

“Yeah, I told him to give me a minute to debrief you and make sure you didn’t want transport.” The paramedic tucks the clipboard under his arm. “Do you think you can walk on your own?”

If he can’t, Martin’s not about to admit that out loud; they won’t let him leave if he can’t, and he doubts they have crutches handy. “I think so, yeah. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” The paramedic smiles. “You’re a lucky man, you know.”

“I know.” Martin only has to think about Timothy Hodge to know that. If the system had triggered any slower, he might have ended up too far gone to save, even if the CO2 had worked.

The paramedic winks. “’Course, he’s luckier. Take care, Mr. Blackwood.”

“Erm, you, too.” Martin bites his lip to hide his confusion and slides carefully off the stretcher. The painkillers help, but he’s still a little unsteady on his feet. He wobbles at first, but manages to make it to the edge of the quarantine tent without too much difficulty.

He steps outside and shivers. Apparently the tent blocked a lot of the night chill out; it may be halfway to June, but the nights are still cool and Martin wasn’t wearing his sweater when everything went down. It’s still in the Archives...he hopes. Assuming his little fire didn’t spread. Assuming Jane Prentiss didn’t cover the whole place in...whatever that was. Assuming...

“Martin!”

Martin looks up in shock to see Jon coming towards him, eyes wide and panicky. Behind him are—thank God—Tim and Sasha, both looking none the worse for wear. Tim and Sasha should be there, of course, but Jon...Jon went home hours ago, it’s late, he needs his sleep. It has to be a hallucination.

“Jon?” he says anyway.

Jon stops in front of him and reaches out like he wants to touch his shoulder, then stops himself, eyeing the bandages. “Are you all right? The paramedic said—”

“I—I’m fine.” It’s a lie, sort of, but Martin figures Jon doesn’t actually want to hear the nuances of that. “Apart from the...holes.”

He shivers in a sudden gust of wind, and Jon unfolds something under his arm. “Here, I—you left your sweater in the Archives, I—do you need a hand?”

Martin blinks in surprise. Is Jon sick? Is this even really Jon? He wants to say yes, to see how far this will go, but there’s enough of a height difference between the two of them that he finds himself saying, “I think I’ve got it, but...thanks.” As he takes the sweater, he manages to ask, “What are you doing here?”

Jon plays with the cuffs of his cardigan. “I—I came back to get those notes I was looking at before I left, I meant to take them with me and...I don’t know, I suddenly felt like I had to get them right away. I got back here and I found...” He gestures back in the direction of the Institute.

Martin struggles his way into the sweater and looks around. There are police cars, officers prowling about. The ambulance is packing up, and there’s a man in a white hazmat suit, minus the helmet which is under his arm, talking to one of the police officers. He mentally runs through the list of other flashing lights he saw through the walls of the tent, the voices he heard in the Archives, and surmises that there was a lot more chaos an hour or two ago.

“You should be sleeping,” he says instead, unable to keep the worry out of his voice.

Tim’s snort is practically elephantine, and Martin looks at him briefly. Jon just shakes his head. “I couldn’t—I realized you weren’t part of the crowd and that must mean you were still in there, and I—I had to make sure you were all right.”

“I’m all right.” Martin straightens up, despite the stiffness, and manages a smile. “I should...probably try and get home, I guess. If the trains are still running and all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jon gives him a look that’s almost reminiscent of his usual stern scowl. “I’ll give you a ride. I—I need to get your statement anyway, and...best to do it somewhere that...isn’t here.” He glances over his shoulder. “That goes for you two as well. Especially you two.”

“Are you guys all right?” Martin asks anxiously.

“We’re fine.” Sasha manages to give him a smile, coming a little closer to him as she does so.

Tim nods. “Well, we’re not hurt, at any rate. It’s...a lot.” He pauses. “Tell you what. My place is closest. Why don’t we all go there? I’ve got plenty of room and we can...debrief or whatever it is we need to do.” He grins, a pale imitation of his usual confidence and cheek, but enough to make Martin feel a little better, anyway. “Besides, we never got that sleepover in the Archives. Might as well do it in my living room.”

Tim’s up to something. Martin’s almost sure of it, but he’s honestly too tired to care. “Yeah, okay, sounds good.”

“Come on, then,” Jon says, turning towards the curb.

Martin starts to follow, and his knees buckle. That fast, Jon turns around and tries to catch him, but unfortunately, Martin is about a head taller than Jon and outweighs him by a good amount, so now they’re both falling. Luckily, Tim steps in and takes Martin’s other side, keeping them from pitching to the ground. “Whoa, there. Come on, nice and steady then.”

The three of them shuffle like an awkward, six-legged beast towards the curb, where a nondescript car that’s seen better days sits haphazardly parked and glared at by several officers. Jon opens the passenger side door, and Tim lets go of Martin slowly while Jon helps him settle into the seat. There’s a gentleness—almost a tenderness—to his actions that Martin isn’t sure he’ll survive. Never mind the worms, he’s going to die right here in this car because Jon is being nice to him.

Not to say Jon’s never been nice before. He’s been better—less tense, less angry—since Martin burst into his office and dumped a literal can of worms onto his desk. And there’s been a definite softening since Martin admitted he lied about his job history. But this level of concern, of care, is new, and Martin’s still not sure he isn’t hallucinating the whole thing.

He’s barely aware of Tim giving Jon an address, of Jon brusquely assuring him he knows where that is. He’s more concerned with not passing out or aggravating any of his injuries. He doesn’t know how many worms tried to burrow into his body, but he’s just thankful he’s not infected.

“Was the fire too bad?” he asks, feeling a little anxious.

“No, it was fine.” Jon’s voice is soft, reassuring. “Confined to a trash can, from what I could tell. I—I admit it wasn’t my primary concern when I went in. Elias said it looks like it was set to trigger the fire system.”

“It was. I just...didn’t want it to get out of control.” Martin takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t—”

“Martin, no. It’s fine. If—” Jon tightens his grip on the steering wheel briefly. “It’s fine. You did the right thing. Pulling the alarm wouldn’t have done anything but clear out the building, if there had still been anybody in there. It wouldn’t have set off the system.”

Martin nods slowly. Then his brain catches up with what Jon said. “Wait, Elias was there? When? How?”

“I presume he gets an alert from the alarm company. I don’t know. He was already there when I arrived.” Jon glances over at Martin, his beautiful brown eyes still worried. “He’s the one who told me Tim and Sasha were in there.”

“How did he know?” Sasha blurts.

Jon’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror, then back to Martin, before returning to the road. “He said he overheard Tim talking about it.”

There’s an audible frown in Tim’s voice when he speaks, but Martin can’t spare the energy to try and turn his head. “Okay, now I really think he’s got the place bugged. The only person I mentioned it to was Sasha, and we were in the Archives at the time. It was right after she got back from lunch—right after you showed me that statement you found.” He pauses. “Or was that you?”

This time, Martin does turn his head, to see Tim regarding him seriously. “No. Must’ve been the other.”

Tim nods. “Thought as much. I’ve never heard you talk like that before.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Jon asks. “The other what?”

Martin opens his mouth to explain, but Tim beats him to it. “Tell you when we get to my place. Don’t want you wrecking the car ‘cause you’re distracted. Make a left right here.”

Jon subsides and continues driving, but he keeps shooting glances at Martin that make him thoroughly nervous. He hates keeping secrets from Jon—from anyone, really, but especially Jon—and he really should have told him about this one right away. But the other’s caution had rubbed off on him, and he had kept his mouth shut. Now it’s going to be another stress about losing his job...despite the other’s reassurance that he won’t.

Even if he doesn’t lose his job...what if he loses Jon’s trust? He doesn’t think he’ll survive that.

Finally, Jon pulls the car to a stop in front of Tim’s house. Or at least, Martin assumes it’s Tim’s house, since he directed them there. For all he knows, this is some completely random place and Tim’s playing one of his jokes on them, but he doubts it. Tim undoes his safety belt and opens the door. “Come on in, everybody.”

Sasha gets out from behind Martin, too. Martin manages to get his safety belt unfastened, but when he goes to open the door and climb out, he can’t help the small, pained noise that escapes him when he tries to stand. He presses his lips together tightly and swallows down on the pain, desperate not to be a burden, to prove that he’ll be fine when—inevitably—Jon drops him home or he manages to hobble to the nearest Underground station and get there himself. He can do this. It’s just a few steps.

“Martin?” Jon’s suddenly there beside him, one hand out uncertainly. “Here, let—let me give you a hand. You’ve got to be stiff at the very least, sitting cramped into that space for so long. I should have pushed the seat back before you got in—that’s why Sasha sat behind you, I’m sure, her legs are shorter...”

“I’m fine,” Martin insists, or tries to, despite the fact that he’s leaning heavily on the roof of Jon’s car for support and that’s really not helping the pain from the holes under the bandages. “You don’t have to.”

“Maybe not, but let me help you anyway,” Jon says. He sounds like he’s trying to summon up his usual brusque and stern facade, but the genuine worry in his eyes makes a lie of that. Martin doesn’t know what to think about it, but he can feel his ears getting hot.

“Sure, okay,” he hears himself say softly.

Jon slips an arm gingerly around him, draping Martin’s arm around his shoulder. Martin tries not to lean on him too hard, but Jon takes more of his weight than Martin would prefer as they limp towards the front door. When Tim, who’s in the process of unlocking the door, realizes what’s going on, he abandons the keys and comes back to help. Since he’s closer to Martin’s height, it makes things easier.

Sasha pulls the door open for them, holds it so they can maneuver in, then shuts the door behind them as Tim switches on the hall light. “Here we are,” he announces, his voice maybe a bit louder than necessary. “Home sweet home. Come on, let’s get settled in the living room.”

It’s not a very long hallway, but still, Martin is definitely ready to sit down by the time they shuffle awkwardly into the living room. There is, he’s relieved to see, plenty of seating available. Apart from two wing chairs flanking a window and backed by a bookcase, there’s a comfortable-looking sofa, a matching love seat, and an oversized armchair. There’s also someone standing next to the love seat, one hand pressed into its back. Jon stops abruptly and nearly sends Martin tumbling to the ground, his entire body stiffening.

“It’s all right,” Tim assures him. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Jon repeats incredulously.

The other smiles, but there’s something sad about it. “Hello, Jon.”

“Who—what are you?” Jon demands. There’s an edge to his voice, something between anger and fear that stirs a feeling of protectiveness in Martin’s chest, which is not helpful at the moment since he can barely stand on his own, let alone stand between Jon and anything that might be trying to kill him.

“I’d really like to sit down right now, if nobody minds,” he says.

“Sit. Everybody,” Tim adds. He takes most of Martin’s weight and helps him over to the armchair, which turns out to be a recliner. “Put your feet up if you need to...Jon, Sasha, you sit too. And you,” he adds, gesturing to the other. “I’ll go make tea. Or break out the whiskey. We might need it.”

“Not a good idea for me,” Martin says softly. “Painkillers.”

“What, you don’t think the possibility of a good time outweighs the risks of an overdose? Kidding,” Tim adds quickly, holding up both hands as Jon turns a glare on him that makes the ones he directed at Martin and his work pale in comparison. “Only kidding.”

“Tim, sit down. We don’t need tea right now,” Sasha says, gesturing for everyone to either sit or calm down or both. “Maybe later.”

She takes a seat on the far end of the sofa, by the door; Tim comes over to sit next to her in the middle. The other moves carefully around the love seat and sits down on the end closest to where Martin sits. Jon remains standing, still glaring at the other.

“What are you?” he repeats.

“Human,” the other says. “As far as I can tell, anyway. At least as human as you are. But if you’re asking who I am, which I think was your original question...I’m Martin Blackwood. From the future. And I’m here to help save the world.”

[sparklyricee]

This isn’t an episode but here’s a Janstar fanfic I FINALLY FINISHED

Janstar story thing

It’s been awhile since Star has been in a relationship. Well, since she and Marco broke up. Star promised herself that she would let herself take a break from the romance, knowing it’s only caused her trouble anyways. She’s still friends with Marco, even though things are a bit awkward, but she’s okay with it. It’s better for things to be a bit weird than to be on bad terms with someone, for the most part at least.

Star has been hanging out with Janna more, getting back all that time not spent due to being with Marco and figuring things out on earthni. Her and Janna would usually talk and chill out at her place, or wonder around, checking out the weird new dimension Star created by accident. The only downfall of that, was that Star was slowly developing feelings for Janna.

Star has already felt this way for awhile, but never acknowledged that they were those kind of feelings. Mostly because she didn’t realize she was gay until her and Tom got back together. Which by her luck, Tom was very supportive of her and was also bisexual.

Star didn’t want to let her impulsive urge to jump into things take over, she wanted to wait it out and see how much closer they would get. Janna and Star were already close friends, but she had no idea how Janna would feel about her having these kind of feelings. She knows that Janna also likes girls, but Janna didn’t really talk about her love life that much. The last time that happened she went on a date with a skeleton guy and refused to tell Star why they didn’t go on a second date.

She really wanted to tell Janna how she felt, but Star was nervous about how she would react. Even though Janna was pretty chill with a lot of things, Star knew she would get panicky when it came to people liking her. And Star didn’t want this to come off as her hoping from one person to another, which was one of the reason she took a break in the first place. Other than the fact that she need an emotional break from relationships. She didn’t want to take any chances of ruining her friendship with Janna. Other than Ponyhead, She’s the only other close girl friend that she has right now.

The girls were once again at Janna’s house, they were in her room, sitting on her bed. Janna was talking about her new tarot cards that came in today. They were all shiny with dark colors and pretty pictures, that’s how Star always saw them anyways, still not knowing exactly how they worked. Janna couldn’t stop smiling and her eyes were bright as she messed with the cards. Star always though Janna was the prettiest when she lit up the way she did with things she’s passionate about. Her beaming brown eyes had Star melt every time, her smile made Star’s heart drop. Star loved seeing Janna genuinely happy, it’s not often she shows that side of her.

Star was having one of her intrusive thoughts of “I need to tell her” days. But this time it wasn’t just her not being able to keep a secret, she felt that maybe this was a good time. She’s waited 6 months to make the move.

Janna moved to the topic of star signs, this was Star’s chance to possibly make a move.

“Soo uh, who’s all compatible with Capricorn’s?” Star asks.

Janna looked up at her and the back down at her bed. “Hmm, I’m pretty sure it’s Cancer, Taurus, Virgo, Libra, Pisces, Scorpio.”

Star face started to turn red, Janna was a Scorpio and she was a Capricorn. She wasn’t going to fully depend on the stars to prove her point, but it would make sense.

“Aren’t you a Scorpio?” Star asked. She immediately regretted asking that.

“Yeah, why?” Janna responded.

This was already going downhill.

Star froze, not knowing how to answer without actually telling her the truth. That’s why she asked right? She couldn’t be sly this time.

“N- no reason! Just making sure.” Star stuttered.

Janna furrowed her eyebrows and poked Star’s arm. “Hey, what’s going on with you?” She asked.

“Nothing!” Star chuckled. Go going Star.

Janna crossed her arms and smirked. “Star, you know you can’t lie to me.” She said.

Star started to felt really anxious, why was this going so horribly?

“Why, is it because of your ‘Scorpio senses’?” Star smarted off. “Star why are you doing this?? Why do you have to get so defensive?? Just tell her!” She thought to herself. Her acting like this wasn’t helping her redeeming herself.

“You’re a horrible lair.” Janna said.

Star really couldn’t disagree with her though, Janna knew when she was lying. She seemed always know when her friends were lying. Star was never really the best at lying either way but she knew that she couldn’t get out of this one.

Star sighed. “I’m sorry Janna, I didn’t mean to come off like that.” She said covering her face with her hands.

Janna knew something was up and she really wanted to know, Star hasn’t been this jumpy since her and Tom broke up.

“Like what? Star, please tell me what’s going on. You’ve been acting weird for the past few weeks and I’m..kinda concerned.” Janna said.

Janna put her cards away and sat in front of Star on her bed. Star saw the worried look on her face, which made her more anxious. She tried to avoid eye contact for her to possibly calm down. But nothing was helping, she couldn’t even get words to come out of her mouth to tell her. Star’s heart was pounding and her face was red. Then out of impulse, she did something that was crazier than telling her how she felt. Star closed her eyes, quickly leaned in and kissed her.

It felt like everything around them went dead silent. Janna froze with her eyes widen. Her mind went completely blank for a few seconds. Her lips were so soft, she was about to kiss back but Star pulled away quickly.

What just happened?

Both of the girls faces were burning red. Star heart was racing, not knowing why she did that, and most importantly Janna.

Janna looked up at Star and saw the terror on her face. Janna had no idea what was going on and didn’t think Star knew what she just did.

“I’m- I’m sorry..” Star said.

Before Janna could say anything, Star quickly stood up and grabbed her heart purse. “I need to go.” She said.

Janna wasn’t going to let Star leave, now she more than ever wanted to know what was going on.

“No wait!” Janna said grabbing Star’s arm. Star turned back to Janna and saw her leaning off the bed so she could catch her.

“Please, talk to me.” Janna was basically begging Star at this point. She was so confused for all of this happening at once.

Star felt sick to her stomach, but this was almost not as bad as she thought it was going to be, since Janna was taking it slightly better than she thought she would.

Star let out a heavy sigh, and she sat in front of Janna on her bed.

“I..I really like you, but that wasn’t supposedly happen.” Star said.

Janna looked away. “Yeah, I uh..kinda figured that you didn’t mean to do that. But..why though?”

Star was shocked by her response. “What you mean why? You’re like, the coolest girl ever.” She said.

Janna’s heart started to pound, she always thought Star was cooler than her. Hence why she always wanted to show Star her magic things. But, Star thinking that she was cool too?

“You, really think I’m that cool?” Janna laughed nervously.

“Of course! You can do magic anytime you want! Your earthy magic is so interesting to me! And just the way you’re so passionate about it too...” Star responded.

“I mean, your magic is really cool too. You can do literally almost anything with it. “ Janna said.

“Yeah but, I don’t have that anymore, but you still have yours. You get so excited when you talk about those things and it just.. it makes me feel all warm inside. Seeing you light up about those things makes me happy too..” Star said.

Janna’s face turned red again, she’s never been complimented like that before.

“And you know, I’ve had feelings for you for a while now..and I didn’t want you to freak out because of that...and I thought they would go away after awhile but they just gotten more intense the more I tried to deny it and act like they weren’t there. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship..” She added.

Janna really didn’t know what to say, she was still trying to comprehend that Star even had feelings for her like that. But she knows how that is, it sucks.

“ I get how you feel, holding it back is really hard.” Janna said.

“It was.” Star said.

“I think you’re cool too Star.. and pretty..” Janna said.

Star’s eyes widened. “Wait.. you like me back??”

“Of course I like you! You’re like..the coolest person I’ve ever met. “

Star’s eyes lit up, her face started to feel hot again. She thought it was crazy that Janna thought she was cool, since she obviously think of herself like that.

“Well.. I guess..we should date then?” Star hesitated.

Janna’s heart started beating fast again, she never thought this day would come.

“Umm well, I’ve never dated another girl before.” She said nervously.

Star laughed. “I haven’t either..”

They both looked at each other awkwardly, not exactly knowing what to say next.

“Well,...I guess we can try this out. I mean since we’re on the same page.” Janna said.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Star said.

There was another awkward silence, Star bit her lip.

“Soooo, I guess you’re my girlfriend now.” She said with her face red.

Janna laughed, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

The girls both laughed nervously, but this time it seemed more out of contained excitement.

This didn’t turn out to be a disaster after all.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Whumptober Day 3

Day 3: Delirium

Simon

Baz is late. He’d called to tell me he was going out for a quick drink with Niall and Dev after class but that was hours ago. He’s not one to drink much so I’m not that worried but it’s later than I’d expect. We’d planned to watch a film tonight—one he’s been on me to watch for weeks.

I look at the clock again. It’s almost nine.

He probably stopped to feed.

I wish he wouldn’t do that. I’ve got supplies in the fridge for him. London’s not the best place to hunt, in my opinion. To hunt anything other than humans, I mean, and Baz most certainly doesn’t hunt those.

The rat-infested areas are mostly dodgy and the parks have all kinds of strange creatures in them at night. I don’t just mean the animals.

I know he prefers fresh blood but it’s a bit dicey here. It’s not like Watford. You never know who’s watching you. Weirdos on the street. Surveillance cameras. The odd goblin.

I suppose other vampires have it a bit easier. No one looks at them twice for walking around with a girl or a bloke they’re about to drain dry. Not even if they’re creepily following someone, I’d wager.

It’s a whole other situation when you’re chasing a hedgehog in Regent’s Park or stalking the Battersea kids’ zoo after hours.

I’m almost ready to text him when I hear a thump at the door.

Baz has a key but he doesn’t like to use it. Penny gave him one months ago when we first moved in, for emergencies, and as a spare in case I lost mine (I haven’t) (she has) (she’d have been right out of luck if there wasn’t a spell for finding it).

He still knocks. He’s only used his key the one time, when my mobile was dead and I wasn’t answering any of his texts.

I didn’t know it was dead. Thought it was charging, I did. That’s how we know the outlet on the left side of the sofa is wonky now.

Baz even knocked that day, the prat. Knocked once and then burst in, hair going every direction, eyes wide and panicky. Looked like he’d run all the way here.

He had.

I don’t know what had him so worried. I was on the sofa eating crisps and watching last year’s Bake Off.

So I’m not surprised he’s knocking now, even though he knows he’s expected.

It’s not really a knock though, is it? There’s another thump and I hear something—his keys, I think—hit the floor. I can hear him groan as I open the door.

He looks terrible. I mean, Baz never actually looks terrible. I think it’s physically impossible for him to. He looked good even after the whole numpty incident. Paler and thinner than usual but still fit as hell.

Right now he’s got mud on his shoes and a streak of it on his cheek. His hair’s hanging in his face but messily. Not in the artful way he styles it now that he knows I don’t like it slicked back. He’s . . . well, he’s disheveled.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, slumped against it really, eyes half lidded. “Simon.” Even his words are off. Slurred almost, but I don’t think his fangs are down. His cheeks look normal, all high and chiseled, the sharp planes of his face pronounced as ever. I grab his sleeve and pull him into the flat.

He stumbles over the threshold.

That’s when I start to feel uneasy. Baz is grace and elegance personified. Even if he’s draining a deer in the middle of a forest. I shut the door and take a good look at him.

I actually lean close and sniff at him. I’m no vampire but I’ve got a pretty good nose after all those years chasing dark creatures and going on missions for the Mage.

Baz smells like sweat and musty leaves and just the barest hint of his cedar and bergamot. I thought he’d smell like alcohol but he doesn’t. There’s something more there but I can’t place it. A faint whiff of something sour. Bitter. Gamey.

He slumps against me, which is also odd. I slide an arm around his waist to steady him and pull him close. His head droops onto my shoulder.

He’s warm. Too warm.

Fuck. Something’s wrong. Something is really wrong. We stumble our way to the sofa and I get him to sit. As soon as I let go he teeters sideways and he ends up sprawled across the sofa, feet on the floor, arms limp, cheek pressed against the cushions.

“You’re upside down, Simon.” It a mumble, none of Baz’s crisp elocution evident.

I press my hand against his forehead. It’s slick with sweat and far too warm. But he’s not flushed, not the way I would be if I had a fever.

Do vampires get fevers? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I didn’t think they even got sick.

Is Baz sick?

I’ve got no idea.

I should wake Penny. I don’t want to leave Baz alone.

Fuck.

I kneel in front of him, my fingers sweeping the hair off his face, rubbing the mud off his cheek with my thumb. “Hey. You alright?”

I know he’s not but I don’t know what else to ask.

“Hmm.”

“That’s not an answer, Baz. It’s late. Where’ve you been?”

“Had a drink.”

“With Dev and Niall, yeah. You told me.” I lean closer and narrow my eyes. “Are you drunk?”

He blinks at me then shakes his head.

“Had a drink,” he says again.

“I know . . . you told me you were going out with—oh!” The realization strikes me midsentence. Not the alcoholic kind of drink. “Ok, you fed after going out with them, then?”

Baz nods but his brow furrows. He closes his eyes tightly, then opens them again, trying to keep his focus on me. He looks at me for an instant and then his eyes are darting around the room. 

This is like playing twenty questions with a pixie. I can’t get a straight answer out of him.

“Where did you feed then?”

Baz shrugs. It’s more of a jerky motion of his shoulder than a shrug but I recognize the gesture. I’m quite well versed in shrugs. I can’t help but sigh.

“Regent’s?”

He shakes his head again. “Hyde?” I get a nod this time.

“Alright. You fed at Hyde Park. Hares? Squirrels?” That’s his usual there.

He shakes his head again.

I’ve always hated twenty questions. I don’t have the patience for it.

“Come on, Baz, give me something.”

“Badger.” It’s another mumble.

Odd. He usually avoids badgers. They’re a protected species and he’s fastidious about maintaining the ecosystem.

He’s picking at the seam of the cushion with one hand, a nervous, repetitive motion. It’s like he’s drowsy but agitated at the same time. His leg’s jiggling too.

“You seem a bit off. I’m going to go get Penny.”

Baz grips my arm then, fingers like a vice around my bicep. “Don’t leave me.” His eyes dart around the room again. His voice drops. “Don’t leave me alone with them.” He shudders. “Don’t like moths.”

I turn around to scan the room. I don’t see anything. No moths. No shadows. Nothing.

I stroke his hair again. “Penny will know what to do.”

“Don’t leave me, Simon.” His eyes stay on me this time, unblinking, pupils wide and black.

“Alright. I won’t leave you. But you’re not well, Baz. You’re talking funny and you’re running a fever. I don’t know how to help you.”

“Don’t leave me, Simon. Don’t ever leave me.” His words are still too thick, sticky, as if it’s taking too much effort for him to push them out, tripping as they spill over his tongue. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, Simon.” I can hear the distress in his voice.

“Hey.” I take his hand in mine and twine our fingers together. “I’m here. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” I mean it. Not just for this moment. I try to push the conviction of that into my words, my voice. I lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m never leaving you, Baz Pitch,” I whisper. “I’ve never turned my back on you. And I don’t intend to.” He closes his eyes and relaxes a bit but he’s still worrying a loose thread on the sofa with his free hand.

“I’m going to give Penny a shout, ok?”

Since Baz isn’t going to let me leave him I bellow Penny’s name as loud as I can, the neighbours be damned.

She comes tearing into the room, ring pointed at the door. She takes in the sight of Baz on the sofa and huffs at me, eyes narrowed. “What the bloody hell was that, Simon? I thought the goblins had finally tracked you down.”

“It’s Baz. He’s not right.”

Penny rolls her eyes. “I’m not here to spell him sober if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Penny, you know as well as I do he rarely drinks. I think something’s really wrong with him.”

“Vampires don’t get sick, Simon,” she says, all exasperation, but she comes close enough to peer over my shoulder at Baz. His eyes are roaming around the room again.

“He’s warm too,” I say.

Penny reaches a hand out to Baz’s forehead. His eyes light on her and his lips curve up. “Penny.”

She frowns. “You’re right. Something’s off.” She takes in his tapping leg and roaming eyes. “Did he feed tonight?”

“Said he had a badger.”

“He never feeds on badgers.”

“That’s what I said.”

“They’re an endangered species.”

“That’s what I said too!”

Penny stares down at Baz for a minute and then her eyes widen. She grabs his shoulder. “Baz. Are you sure it was a badger?”

His eyes dart to her and he nods.

She shakes her head at me. “I think he fed on a worseger.”

“Oh fuck.”

Worsegers are like badgers only worse. Worse as in they’re were. Most of them anyway. The rest are just rabid.

“For fuck’s sake, Basil.” Penny’s got her hands on her hips and she’s glaring at him. “How could you be so stupid?”

“Don’t call him stupid,” I say. “He probably didn’t know. We didn’t know, that first time.”

“Simon, he’s a vampire! He should know about other dark creatures.”

“He’s not a dark creature.”

“Semantics.”

“He’s not, Penny. You know that.”

“Fine. He’s not. He’s a blithering idiot who fed on a fucking were badger.”

“So what does that mean? Is he were now too?” Wouldn’t that take the fucking cake. A were vampire. I don’t even know how that would work.

“No, Simon. You can’t infect a vampire. They’ve got some superhuman immune system.”

“So why the bloody hell is he like this? All feverish and jittery and weird?”

“Were is a virus. A really strong one. Strong enough to make even a vampire a bit wonky, I’d wager, at least for a little bit. At least until his vampire antibody or whatever fights it off.” Penny frowns. “Maybe Baz isn’t as well suited to fight it off as other vampires.” She gives me a pointed look. “He’s basically the vampire equivalent of a vegan and strict vegans have to supplement nutrients to shore up their vitamins and minerals and such.”

“So what do we do now?”

Penny shrugs. It’s quite irritating when people shrug.

“Penny, I’m being serious.”

“Have him bite on a silver bullet?”

“Penny!”

“Oh for magic’s sake, Simon, I’m kidding.” Her expression softens and she squeezes my shoulder with her hand. “Just be certain he drinks plenty of water to flush it out, make sure you have plenty of blankets—he’ll be freezing once the fever breaks, and talk him through whatever hallucinations or paranoid episodes he has.” She purses her lips before continuing. “It’s kind of like he’s having a bad high, I think. Like Ecstasy or tainted pot or something. A bad trip. Like a drug induced delirium.”

“Right.”

“I’m right here you know,” Baz says, a hint of his usual acerbic tone tinging his words.

“Ah, Basilton, how nice of you to join the conversation,” Penny says. “Try to avoid draining were creatures in the future perhaps? Give that a try?” She pats my head. “Keep your boyfriend from worrying too much, ok?”

And then she’s off, back to down the hall to her room.

I turn to Baz. He’s still agitated but he looks contrite.

“I can’t believe you drained a worseger, you stupid git.”

“Didn’t know. Thought it was just a cranky badger.”

“You really are a terrible vampire.”  

Baz shrugs. I don’t mind it so much this time.

I lean in to kiss his forehead again.

“A terrible vampire. The worst,” I whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

I cup his face in my hands. “The worst Chosen One and the worst vampire ever.”

“You were never the worst Chosen One.”

“And you’re not the worst vampire.” I brush my lips to his. “But we are simply terrible boyfriends.” I kiss him again. “It couldn’t be more perfect.”

Baz frowns at me. “We’re the furthest thing from perfect.”

“Maybe we are,” I say, remembering. “But we match.”

That makes him smile.

Baz finally falls asleep in my arms, on the sofa. So much like that night last year.

He really does sleep fitfully this time though.

I think I’ve got bruises.

[cabinofimagines]

“Secret Agreement” (Jason Grace x Reader)

A/N: Is ya girl!!!!! I’m done with school work FINALLY which means I get to do my requests :’)) prepare for lots of Jason appreciation cause I’m about to love the hell out of this dude, also I think this one is sort of gender neutral? I don’t think I put a gender to it so, enjoy! -Danny

Request: oh jeez i’m a sucker for best friends to lovers kinda relationships and ?? I was hoping one of y’all could write some Jason and reader fluff set after the war is over ?? (bonus points if the two have been friends since they were like ten lmao)

Words: 1,943

Warnings: Swearing and not proofread cause I suck anyway lmao

He is looking at you again. 

That is not exactly a problem, the thing is that Jason makes you nervous, especially when he stares, and you don’t think it’s a good idea to be practicing archery while he has his eyes fixed on you. Your hands are shaking and a little bit sweaty, but you gotta focus, kid! How can you survive an attack if something as simple as a boy makes you this anxious?

Camp Half-Blood was a very interesting place to be at, living your whole life back at New Rome where everyone was kind of strict about the training, you were pleased to see you were better than some greek kids, however, you still had some issues with archery and you thought you could ask Jason to help you out.

He currently is staying at C.H.B, he decided to start his duty right after the war: build a cabin and altar to every god to ever exist in Greek and Roman culture, which of course, was a freaking lot. And you missed him a lot. Jason is your best friend since u were children. You knew you could rely on him if you ever were in need of assistance even if it was something silly like practicing archery.

“Y/N, eyes on the front” Kayla called out.

“Right! Sorry,” you shook your head before squinting your eyes towards the target and taking a deep, calm breath.

You shot the arrow... and barely made it through. It stayed dancing on the edge of the wooden circle, you dropped your arms in defeat.

“Okay,” Kayla sighed, “you know what? We’ve been practicing for two hours and you were doing pretty good, I don’t know what happened at the end but I think it’s alright if we stop now”

“Yeah...” You nodded avoiding Jason’s face, knowing he’d be staring with that annoying little smirk of his, “time for a break”

You walked towards the bench to leave all the equipment and grabbed your water bottle to chug down half of it. Jason stood up and jumped between the seats to get to you. 

“So,” Jason crossed his arms, eyeing you up and down, “you’re getting better”

You snorted, “Didn’t you see the last shot? I missed it”

“The rest was fine though! I’m proud of you”

“Thanks, I guess” You turned your face away to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“My pleasure” He hugged you close with one arm and walked alongside you, “Can we go eat now? I’m starving”

“Sure” you smiled softly, finishing what was left of your water.

While both of you walked through the camp people (mostly your friends) stared at you with knowing smirks and wiggling their eyebrows, you tried to ignore them, you had no time to indulge their games.

Ever since you and Jason grew old enough to be called teenagers, there has been this huge anticipation about when are you going to admit you like each other, which is stupid, being best friends doesn’t mean you have feelings for each other!

Except that you do. Oh, you do.

What is there about Jason to hate? He’s kind, funny, smart, handsome and he’s your best friend after all. You could keep the list going but that wouldn’t help your case, to everyone is so obvious. To you? well, at least it is obvious on your side, you have no idea what does Jason think about it.

Every time someone makes a joke about you two acting like a couple he laughs it off and hugs you saying something like “Yeah, sure” and you’re both, grateful and in pain that he doesn’t say anything more specific cause living in doubt is pure agony.

His hand goes up and starts playing with a strand of hair that moments before was laying on your shoulder, he is smiling and looking forward to the road ahead. His eyes look so bright, you always thought it was odd since they were blue, and blue usually is a cold color, but his eyes are far from frozen, you find a  home in them when everything around you feels borrowed.

“Y/N?”

Oh shit, he was talking to you, right. You forgot.

“Sorry, what?”

He laughs a short, sweet laugh and your chest feels so, so light.

“I was asking if you remember that one time when you got sick and I kept sneaking up from training so I could give you sweets and the Praetor of that time caught me, so they made me clean the...”

“Oh yeah, I do!” This time it was your time to laugh, remembering that one time the great Jason Grace misbehave, “Gods, I felt even worse after that, you got in troubles because of me”

“It’s alright, that’s in the past anyway” He shrugs, his arm is still around you and maybe, maybe you don’t want him to move away. Ever.

“Whenever you got sick after that I made sure you had the best of the best, so I think it was a fair trade” You added.

“I got lucky to have you then, a fair friend is always the best friend. Words cannot describe how much I love you for that” Jason finally lowered his arm, reaching the entrance of the mess hall.

You stayed in stunned silence for a second, watching as Jason glanced over his shoulder with a questioning look, the small smile still fixed on his face.

“You coming?”

“Uh...” Did he mean he loved you as in love-loved you? Or was it a simple friendly “I love you” like the one you say from time to time to some of your friends? What was he trying to do?! “Yes?”

You were about to reach the tables when your voice rose up, “Jason?”

He stopped, looking over her with open concern, “Y/N?”

And you couldn’t, there were far too many people and way too many years of friendship between you. Suddenly the words were no longer available for your use, and your mind was blank; Was it worth it? Openly ask what did he think about you two as a couple and get your heart broken? No. You were okay as her best friend, it was comfortable, safe.

“D-do, enjoy your meal!” You half smiled, turning hot on your heels without waiting for a reply.

Later that week you kept the routine as monotone as possible, spent time with new friends and old, eating tons and training till your arms were sore, and even although you tried not to think about it, Jason was always at the back of your mind, Jason, Jason, Jason. Jason Grace and his stupid looks and cute smile with a beautiful personality.

He was your best friend, after all, so you couldn’t avoid him forever, not without him asking what was up, and you’d rather not have that conversation.

So now you were playing basketball, throwing the ball like it was made of your toxic thoughts and were trying to desperately get them out of your body, and Jason was just having a good time, of course, he always does, or tries, at least. What a good dude.

“So I told Leo to try with the other drill, and he flips me off and says ‘I know what I’m doing, doofus’ and turns around to keep working and as soon as he touches that thing, it falls apart like Jenga” Jason lets out a breathless laugh.

“Just his luck,” You laughed, taking the ball from his hands and running towards the hoop.

“Yeah,” The boy ran beside you, trying to take the ball from your hands, “and I was about to ask him, like, need any help? But he looked like he was about to burn my pants so...”

“Not the best idea” You finished, stopping short and throwing like your life depended on it... and the ball got stuck, ”shit...”

“Wait, I’ll get it” Jason jumped making use of his flying abilities to reach and shake the hoop, the ball fell and you caught it on the air, keeping it tightly against your chest.

“Got it!” Your friend came down in front of you, startled, you jump and threw the ball at his face, which he managed to avoid, barely, “shit, I’m sorry!”

“It’s ok, you missed my face” He laughed.

“You scared me!” You exclaimed, still nervous.

“I can tell!” Jason reply with an amused voice.

“You love me?” You asked in a very high pitched, panicky cry.

“What?”

“What?” You repeated.

Oh fuck, oh no. You said it. WHY?

“Why are you asking me that?” Jason tilted his head in that adorable manner he always does.

“The other day, you -uhm, I don’t know, you said something like it”

“Oh yeah! I remember” His face lit up, finally knowing what were you talking about, “yeah I said that”

He nodded with a childish smile, you stayed there with wide eyes, waiting for an explanation that never made its way to you.

“And?!” You urged him.

“And what?”

“What does that even mean?!” You huffed, on the verge of losing it, “is it... is it like, platonic?”

“Platonic?” Jason snorted, “Yeah, of course, Y/N. I’m in love with you platonically”

“YOU’RE WHAT?” That’s it, you’re hallucinating; probably fainted in the middle of playing and now you’re dreaming.

“I’m- wait, did you really not know?” For the first time, he looked as surprised as you, “Y/N!”

“What?” You asked again, completely confused.

“Oh gods, I’m stupid” Jason groaned, passing a hand through his hair and messing it up more than it already was, “you don’t like me that way, I understand, I-”

“No, I do” You interrupted, “believe me I do, but you never said anything! At all! and what about when everyone makes those dumb jokes about us dating, you never said a thing?”

“Because I thought you knew it!” He said, “and what about you, why didn’t you say anything? You laughed it off and acted like it was nothing, I thought it was like a silent agreement about not saying anything until we were ready?”

“How could I know that?” You huffed in disbelief, “Or you for that matter, is my face just that expressive to you?”

“No, but we’ve been friends for years, I thought this whole... whatever it is, it was meant to be, and that both of us were okay with that” The blush on his cheeks increased with every word, “well this is awkward”

“Yeah, a bit” you avoid his gaze, knowing how red you were too, though you kept the talk going, feeling a different vibe between you, a bit more nervous than usual but much more intimate than before. 

It all happened in a split second, you and Jason shared one look and were both goners.

The moment you moved forward Jason did too, it only took a glance to know Jason was right, you could tell that he was thinking the same, you knew exactly what he was thinking, you always knew. 

“Can I...?” He hesitated, staring at you with soft eyes.

As a reply, you kissed him. Gods, was it a great kiss. The type where hands go their way up to heads and waists and cling into what they can find, your breath gets stuck somewhere in your chest and you lose track of time, all you can feel is Jason and the kiss, how good it feels against your body.

“You’re right” you mumbled against his lips, “it’s right. This feels right.”

“It’s meant to be” He chuckles before kissing you once more.

-Danny :) (Hope you liked it)

[lauren-nabors]

day ??? of quarantine

today is easter sunday, april 12th. 

we’ve been quarantined for 26 days. our restaurant’s dining room’s have been closed for 25 days. tensions are high, emotions are flowing, people are feeling all the feels. everyone except me, that is...

i have felt nothing this entire month. i haven’t cried once. i haven’t been all that angry. sure, i’ve been tired and i haven’t slept well and i’ve been bored and frustrated that there isn’t more to do. i was disappointed when our foster care class was canceled. but honestly, i haven’t felt much emotion at all. my anxiety hasn’t skyrocketed. i don’t feel scared. i am not paranoid of the virus or of getting sick (i’ve never been a germaphone anyway so i don’t feel panicky in the way that other people do). i told clif the other day, i keep waiting to cry or to just lose it on someone. i know those emotions are there somewhere under the surface...surely? i don’t know what’s going on. i guess because i feel anxiety all the time in normal life and i always feel like i’m waiting for something bad to happen or for “the other shoe to drop” so to say -- and this is the bad thing, at least for now. so it’s here and maybe it’s not so bad after all for me at least (that feels like a horrible thing to say because it is bad for so many people and so many have lost their lives or their loved ones and in cities like nyc it’s horrendous beyond belief) i’m also a pretty adaptable person so maybe it’s more that this feels like something i can adapt to for the time being and so my role in this is to be that person that keeps moving... and when it’s all over perhaps i’ll crash and burn?

as for other, non-mental-health-related things, since i last posted things changed in our world even more. everything is different as we know it. all non-essential businesses are closed (gyms, spas, clothing stores, etc) and restaurants can still only do carry-out and curbside. our team has continued to adapt well, i am proud of how we’ve handled things. we cut our hours from 7am to 6pm, and then about two weeks ago we cut them even further back to 3pm. it just didn’t make sense to stay open and run the labor clock out when we were so slow. for the most part our customers have been supportive and understanding. we’ve had the occasional angry customer that said “well google says you’re open until 8pm” and it’s like, ‘well sure but this is also a pandemic and everyone is closing early so maybe stop trusting google so much and just expect that things might be different.’ 

church has been online for us since i last posted. we’ve been doing Redeemer west side live streams, which honestly has been encouraging for my soul to sing old hymns with Tom Jennings and hear our friend Kate from our old community group lead the prayers of the people and to see David Bisgrove’s face each week and have him lead us in the Lord’s Prayer. there’s so much we miss about Redeemer so this is both a source of comfort to us but also creating a longing and an ache that will have consequences for us when this is all over...

we’ve seen very few friends in person but we’ve facetimed with so many that we wouldn’t have ordinarily. brendon & theresa, my college girls, jen & matt a lot, my mom and dad almost everyday. it’s funny but i think i miss my mom more than anything, this is the longest i’ve not seen her since we moved back to this area after nyc. the other night we played a game online with Boyd and Sarah while on Zoom with them. it was lots of fun. Zoom is a thing now... it’s not that important. 

of course our president has handled this poorly. he is the absolute worst person you want leading your country in a time like this. he isn’t a leader at all, he’s a petty child who wants all the credit for things he should’ve done anyway. instead of leading, he takes to twitter or tv every chance he can get to say “look what i did! look what i did!” Dr. Fauci, head of infectious diseases for the CDC is leading our country through this. Gov. Andrew Cuomo of NYC has also had a profound impact not just on his state but on our country through his leadership. the situation in the city is so much worse and scarier and more real than it is here. maybe my feelings would be different (emotion-wise) if we still lived in nyc. obviously because of the denseness, the death count is so much higher there. they are building pop-up tent hospitals in central park, and facing real challenges of how to bury all the bodies of those who have passed away from the virus. KFed is a nurse at Mt. Sinai and it’s crazy seeing her photos of her in her protective gear. Brendon told us that no one is taking the subways in the city. he needed some things from his office so he walked from their apartment on 158th to his work in the 20′s. it took him all day. but he didn’t want to risk any contamination and Theresa is now high-risk because she’s pregnant (what the what?!?!?! omg so exciting! praise the Lord!) 

people are wearing masks everywhere. there are lines outside of grocery stores because they can only have a certain amount of people in the building at one time. our unemployment count in our country is higher than it’s ever been, higher than during the great depression. the economic fall-out from this will last for years to come. the senate did finally pass a 2T stimulus package called the CARES act. it has some provisions for small businesses to get money that could be forgivable if used on certain things. we applied and got accepted for both restaurants -- we will get money to spend mostly on payroll and some other overhead expenses in 8 weeks once the money is funded. they are also sending a check to every american who made under $130K last year -- so we’re supposedly getting a check sometime for $2400 ($1200 per person and $500 per kid for those families who qualify). hopefully we’ll get some of our staff back to work and extended our hours back to 6, since we won’t have to be as worried about our labor costs being high. 

i guess that’s about all i can think to update for now. as for what clif and i have been up to, well... we’ve taken a “cocktail walk” almost everyday. around 4pm we’ve made cocktails and taken them with us as we walk Lenny around the park and say hello to those of our neighbors who are outside, too. the weather has been great so we’ve been very lucky in that regard. we’ve done some yard work and clif has been doing some drawing and lots of bread baking. we’re trying to eat at home 5 nights/week and eat out the other 2. to spread the local love around, we’ve enjoyed Progress burgers, Farmer’s Gastropub, Everyday Thai, Craft Sushi and I think tonight we’ll get either Bambino’s or Los Cabos. i haven’t been doing too much because i’m not a “hobby” person so I don’t do well with stuff like this where you have to stay inside and pass the time. i’ve been reading a lot, that’s about it. here are some photos from the past few weeks: 

feeding healthcare workers in partnership with local organizations has been a highlight for us! this is Cox Hospital staff here. 

we’ve been selling both bread and flour like crazy. there has been a flour shortage in grocery stores so we’ve sold probably more flour in the last 3 weeks than in the 20 year history of neighbor’s mill. 

hot cross buns for easter -- didn’t do hardly what we would’ve normally for a holiday weekend baking-wise but we still had to do these gorgeous buns and some festive cookies and cupcakes. 

we were on the front page of the Newsleader as a “small business adapting during the time of COVID” -- we had some blowback from the photo of our bakers shaping dough without gloves on, but all ended well as we took the time to educate and had positive responses from most of our customers 

our bread at Price Cutter -- i feel like the poor stock workers were like “screw up, it’s gonna be gone in three hours anyway, let’s just leave it on the dolly” 

boredom leads clif to many funny and creative things, though not always useful -- here he made a concrete cup mold 

my dad on KY3 for a story about local support of restaurants in Harrison 

a quarantine meal when food was low -- let’s see what’s in the fridge! 

said game we played with Boyd and Sarah where we had to draw different prompts -- i am a terrible drawer! 

afternoon rose and popcorn while Lenny plays and wanders -- we began sitting on the front porch just so we could see anyone walking by on the street and have the chance to chat and be social from a distance 

not much has changed with the animals 

chalk art outside Cox South main entrance 

lol...”i thought you said CLAMdemic” card from Donita 

sign we purchased to put in front of our restaurant -- strange times 

[hecallsmehischild]

Ski-Flailing

Lately I’ve talked about several things where I have done well and have adjusted and healed a lot, so how about a mixed bag of flail for a change?

So my husband, Sergey, organized a ski trip for the three of us in the house this week. I have never been skiing. I am not what you call physically adept. I enjoy occasional ice skating, hiking, and kayaking so far. This was another venture to see if this was an activity I could partake in and enjoy. Sergey is already an intermediate skier and loves it. Our housemate (whom I shall dub K) has been skiing since a young age and is basically expert level. So we represented the whole ability spread.

K agreed to teach me to ski, and both he and Sergey were surprised at how fast I caught on at first. I have no scale to judge by, so I glowed at the praise, but I was mostly concentrating on snowplowing my way everywhere because speed was scary. (snowplowing is pointing your skis to form an angle to slow yourself down. The wider the angle, the slower you go/the faster you stop).

At the top of the beginner’s run the guys had picked out for me, I was nervous, but it wasn’t too bad. I pushed off and started down. I very quickly realized that I didn’t know how to stop. I was doing the snowplow like I’d been told, but at this angle, a snowplow pointing down the mountain didn’t stop me. It only slowed me a little. I probably could have stopped if I could sustain a wider angle of snowplow, but my legs don’t have muscle in the right places to sustain a wider angle without crossing my skis at the front tips. So I went zipping down the mountain, weaving beautifully.

Sergey later said he’d been impressed and had to increase his speed to keep up. K caught up and called, “You’re doing great!”

To which I yelled, like the punchline to some cartoon, “I CAN’T STOP.”

Eventually K talked me through turning so sharply that I was pointed perpendicular to the slope and THEN doing a snowplow. This finally brought me to a halt.

I was thrilled to be stationary. But I was also only halfway down the slope. And from that point on, the angle got slightly steeper. By now you might guess that to me, “slightly steeper” presents a problem.

The first time I fell down was on the second half of the slope. What we worked out, eventually, was that I can do a perfect, beautiful, sharp right turn to go perpendicular to the slope. But for whatever reason, I don’t know how to mirror that same move to make a sharp left turn. So my left turn is a lot wider, and I pick up a LOT more speed because I’m pointing partly DOWN instead of straight ACROSS. Then I panic and try to turn back, but the panicky right turn isn’t as sharp as it needs to be to keep me slow, so I pick up MORE speed, and by the third (left) turn I am going so fast that I tip over in panic.

Things I am afraid of on the slope:

Hitting little children

Hitting people who can’t see me coming from behind

I can’t find the brakes

Later on I would realize there was a connection between the fear I experienced on the slope and the driving nightmares I have from time to time. In these nightmares there will be some combination of these factors: the brakes don’t work; the brakes work but only nominally; I’m on the wrong side of the road and can’t get out; I’m on the wrong side of the FREEWAY and can’t get out; I’m not actually in the driver’s seat, I’m in the passenger’s seat and nobody’s driving. Every time, the loss of control I feel, the total and utter helplessness, reduces me to screaming and crying in the dream, mashing my foot where the brake is even if it does nothing. That is the same feeling I got when I kept picking up speed on the slopes.

Back to reality. I made it down the mountain the first time and decided to give it a second go. Once again, I did great on the first part of the run. It was a gentle slope and I could bring myself to a stop as needed. Even my bad left turn couldn’t get me going uncontrollably fast on a slope that gentle.

And then came the second half.

I fell three or four times. Once I smacked my head hard enough to see stars for a split second. I slid pretty far on my back that time. I’m sure an instant replay would have been funny... later. Several times I tried (in desperation to stop) to turn so far that my skis were pointing uphill... and then I started going backwards. I couldn’t pull out of that except by falling over.

And every time I fell over, getting up was a huge ordeal. Joints you take for granted in getting up off the ground normally are constricted by super rigid boots and VERY bulky clothing. I don’t have the upper body strength to right myself while still attached to the skis, so I would have to pop out of the skis every time.

The more I did that, the more snow and ice getting packed in my boots became an issue. See, if there’s too much in your boot tread or in the ski mechanism, your boot won’t go in right. Imagine trying to balance on one foot on the slopes, using a ski pole to whack your boot, and then trying to get it aligned just right with the mechanism, only to find you didn’t get enough ice off. Or you can’t get your foot at the right angle, and you have to try and tilt it more, but you’re not even sure which joint you’re supposed to be tilting to get it to match the ski. Maybe you know exactly what I’m talking about and perhaps this motion is easy for you, and if it is I sincerely congratulate you. I don’t have great balance. I kept stepping back into the snow, or I couldn’t get it in the mechanism right and the ski started slipping away, or I got in one ski and had to make sure it stayed perfectly perpendicular to the slope, adjusting every time I got off the line because I would start slipping with only one ski on.

It took us an hour to get down the beginners run the second time. I cried twice on the way down. It’s easy to talk about it after the fact, but in the moment I hated it. Hated myself. Hated crying like a stereotype, out of shock and overwhelmedness and frustration. I felt very weak and helpless on all kinds of levels.

Sometimes K and Sergey were both with me, sometimes it was just Sergey, but they were both very understanding and helpful and supportive. I came off the second run pretty sure I couldn’t keep going. In addition to my high strung emotional state, my legs weren’t strong enough to sustain the moves anymore, and I’d spent most of the rest of my energy trying to pick myself up and get back in the skis.

We got some lunch and talked things over. I chose to go back to our place and rest and walk around town. I was tired out of my mind and shop employees probably thought I was high, but it was nice to window shop. I even found a candle for Mom’s birthday. Then the guys and I went out for dinner and I thought things were going to be okay.

Later that night, as I tried to go to sleep, anxiety kicked in hard. I recall, now, that on the slopes I said to myself that I would pay the panic bill later, that I had to get down the mountain somehow, and I wonder if I delayed the reaction. Between that, altitude, attack, a what-have-you combination of factors, I lost all rationality. I was convinced that if I went to sleep, I would have a skiing nightmare and be back on the mountain all night, completely out of control. I wrought myself up so much, I ended up sick in the bathroom. I shook and shivered under my blankets for a long time, unable to push through anxiety to get to the sleep that I KNEW would straighten out my brain. Finally, I grabbed my phone, pulled up Spotify, and turned on Enya. With her soothing Celtic tones in my ears all night, I finally fell asleep.

The next morning, I explained to Sergey and K why I couldn’t join them. They both understood and relieved me of guilt, though K suggested that I should consider at least going over the bunny slopes (almost flat) at least once the next day. He said that if I left this trip with my very last impression of skiing as a bad one, general human psychology gave high odds that I would never try again. This made a lot of sense. I agreed to try the bunny slopes the next day so that maybe, in the future, I might be willing to try beginners slopes again. Just three runs on the bunny slopes, then I could be done.

I did self-soothing things. I slept another hour. I had a good conversation with Mom over Facebook. I had a hot bath. Then I joined Sergey for lunch and stopped by a used bookstore and rescued some Terry Pratchett books for cheap.

Last night, I went to sleep without panic. This morning I woke up calm. Happy. Ready to go. Well, I almost didn’t go because my legs still hurt so bad, but after some advice and a round of stretching, THEN I was ready to go. I started eating a good breakfast and piecing together my outfit when the anxiety started kicking in.

No big deal, I told myself. Just the bunny slopes. Just three times. It’s basically flat. Three times and I can stop.

The anxiety would leave for a few seconds at a time, but came back. It slowly began to amp up over the hour we all prepared. I checked with Sergey to be sure he’d come with me at least once, and he said of course he would stay with me a while. Reassured, I continued suiting up.

The. Anxiety. Amped.

I kept repeating, “three bunny slopes” over and over to myself. As I strapped on the boots. As I stumped out with the guys. As we sat at the bus stop. I have to be able to talk myself into doing this. It is in my reach, ALL of what I am going to do is TOTALLY within my capability, said the rational part of my brain. And it was right. But my anxiety screamed louder.

When a tinge of nausea hit, I had to ask myself if I really wanted to spend another bad night like this. I’d never worked myself up to be sick before this trip, but I guess the altitude factored in. I am, after all, from flat and valley lands.

And then... what do I want? That’s what really stuck out in my mind. I closed my eyes and said to myself, “Okay. I’m listening. What do you really want, here?”

Immediate calm. And the rather strongly rooted feeling that I really. Really. Really. Do not want to do this.

See, in the past I have been really good at ignoring what I really want if the things I want don’t align with desires of other people. I prefer to gain peoples’ praise and approval. To avoid judgment. I will do something if I think it is the “right thing to do” whether I’m objectively correct or not. If I really wanted to ski and it aligned with the desires of other people with me? I believe that I could push through that fear to do it. Heck, I push through fear to get on a roller coaster because I know for a fact that’s something I truly enjoy and I just need to override the fear to get on board. But the fact of the matter was, I really didn’t want to ski. And my push-past-what-you-want-to-gain-approval function doesn’t work as well as it used to.

I apologized to the guys and explained, briefly, why this wasn’t a good idea for me. They understood and wished me well. I thanked them (again) for their efforts and support, then stumped back to our place to have a hot bath. I’m really glad that they got more time on the slopes they enjoy these last couple days.

I walked up and down the main street of the town. I fed my addiction patronized another small bookstore. I found a card and a bookmark, each headed for someone special. I found silly knee high socks for me. I chatted with some of the employees of the stores. I finally found a really nice cozy coffee shop and set up here, and this is where you find me now. With a hot chocolate, not a mocha, because right now extra caffeine is the last thing I need until I’m back to my “normal” stability.

So that brings us back to the mixed bag of flailing. Quite obviously I did quite a lot of falling and failing. In many senses, I let my fear get the best of me. I didn’t push through and conquer, not even at the lowest bar set.

But on another level, I had some successes.

I tried a new thing and established whether I liked it or not.

I stopped pushing myself to do something that was scaring me, even if the fear was irrational. I came to realize, if it isn’t going to be fun for me, what is the point?

I listened to myself. I listened. To that part of me that I so often sweep aside because if I don’t go along, surely I’ll just be judged and left behind. Alone.

I expressed my preference. I made my own decision about my actions instead of allowing myself to be “swept along” when I didn’t really want to.

And this time I know I won’t be abandoned. It is safe for me to say, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to. I hope you have fun, and I’ll meet up with you later.”

I sit here in the coffee shop, unspooling my thoughts. I didn’t conquer my fears about skiing, but I did listen to myself. I didn’t drag the whole trip down like I worried I would, either. I hope that in the future, I will be less afraid of many things, but for now I will continue to feel out what my pace is.

And this is not a wasted trip by far. The guys are having a blast on the slopes. I’m enjoying the local artists and booksellers and coffee joints and the glistening snow I so rarely see. Bundling up tight against the cold and relishing the warm/cold sensations that go with this clothing/climate duo. I get to welcome them back with a smile and either listen or join in on evening discussions. This has been a good time, even if it didn’t go as expected, and that is another win in my book.