alcohol cw:

maybe its because im just a little buzzed rn but im just feel so damn tired of everything and feel like ranting. i think this is the first year ive decided to open up just a little to people i feel safe with about talking to about body dysphoria after feeling it for the majority of my life and i still dont know if its just because im “me” having “me” identity problems or if its from all the shit i internalized from harmful media growing up

i’d rant more about the lack responsibility and the ignorance of older generations for shaping the world into what it is now but my main thought is that i wish i could just be alive but non corporeal 

i’ve been seriously considering top surgery in the future and the possibility makes me feel genuinely hopeful but in the meantime im just deeply and secretly frustrated

bluemindaze:

iopele:

magnolia-lascivious:

jumpingjacktrash:

adigitalmagician:

the-rain-monster:

grimdarkthroes:

equalityformost:

grimdarkthroes:

as ur friendly Neighborhood Nursing Student™ i feel somewhat compelled to remind everyone with the hot weather:

1. every liquid except sea water and alcohol hydrates you. It’s not CHUG WATER OR DIE. in fact, gatorade and the like are designedto hydrate you efficiently.
   
2. yeah, this includes coffee and tea and soda. the diuretic is notenough to cancel out the liquid. juices and milk have solids in them, sure, but they’re also mostly liquid! it counts. 
   
3. your body can only absorb so much water at a time, so chugging 64 oz of water at noon and calling it good will do a wonderfuljob of flushing your kidneys, but not so much of hydrating your tissues. it’s more important that you’re getting consistent fluid throughout the day. 
   
4. there’s a lot of fancy ways to determine How Much Water (Liquid) I Should Drink but honestly? 8 oz (1 cup) every other hour on cool days and 8 oz every hour on hot days should be fine (assuming you sleep for a normal amount of time per day…. i’m assuming ur awake 16 hours a day.)
5. figure out how many oz each of ur favorite cups is. it’ll help your guesstimation. 
6. if ur urine is darker than light yellow, you’re dehydrated. 
7. if u pinch the skin on the back of ur hand for a couple seconds and it takes more than a second or two go to back to normal then ur dehydrated. 

In regards to #1, don’t take this as an excuse to drink the sugar water that they call sports drinks. They aren’t bad for you per se, but please choose water.

actually this entire post was written in the spirit of ppl using it as an excuse to drink sports drinks and soda etc

ppl have been commenting abt sodium levels in soda and sugar levels in sports drinks and thats all well and good but what i’ve noticed is that people who internalize “well, ONLY WATER hydrates me” but who HATE WATER remain horrifically dehydrated cause they dont drink anything. 

so like. if ur a person who haaaaates tap water, this is absolutely me giving you permission to drink whatever fluid you can stomach. please take this as a direct excuse to drink nothing but gatorade if that’s what it takes to get enough fluid into ur body.

it’s not the healthiest for you, sure, but you’re a smart enough person to know that. please drink fluids anyways. 

if u like water thats gr8. if you can stomach water that’s gr8. if you can’t, that’s okay too, and you need to stay hydrated just as much as anyone else, so pleasedrink. 

I used to hate tap water, and in some places (looking at you, Iowa) it is legit disgusting, but one thing I do which helped a ton and was long term cheaper than buying soda or juice was to get a bottle of Angostura bitters. It’s a cocktail additive with a strong distinctive flavor, so although a tiny bottle is like $6 it will last you for ages. Put a small drop or dash in your glass then fill with water. It has a pleasant sort of herbal metal taste (I understand that those words don’t seem like they should go together but it’s hard to describe) which masks tap water. It also helps me smooth an upset tummy but your mileage may vary. It’s not something that will get you drunk, just a flavoring like vanilla extract.

If that all sounds like too much bother, dropping a lemon wedge into water also helps.

I am learning that lemon wedges are magical in almost everything I like to drink.

here is the magic that made me stop being chronically dehydrated:

because yeah, i can’t STAND plain water – it tastes like the inside of my mouth. it tastes like spit. imagine drinking a glass of ice cold spit. ugh. but add a squirt of this stuff to your glass of tapwater, and now it tastes like apple, cherry, lemonade, whatever.

i also got a bunch of these

and pre-prep them with flavored water, iced tea, iced coffee, whatever (or ask my helper to do it), and then when i’m thirsty but distracted and want to just grab some kind of liquid without thinking about finding a clean glass etc., i can just grab one of these.

because yeah, hating water is a thing, and dehydration SUCKS. so drink SOMETHING, don’t be a water purist. better to chug iced coffee than go without.

mio was a damn genius for comin out with that shit

can I just speak up here as someone who has been a nurse for 17 years? I heartily endorse this post and also give you permission to DRINK WHATEVER THE HELL IT TAKES TO KEEP YOU FROM BEING DEHYDRATED

especially in the summer, you can’t play around with that. drink something. seriously. for the love of kittens. DRINK SOMETHING. 

I thought of this earlier today, too: If you’re trying to be really conscientious of the sugar levels in many drinks, a simple thing I do is cut my juice or gatorade like 1:1 with water. That way, it has just enough flavor, but it’ll also dilute some of the sugar content. Tbh, I find that some juices and such have too much flavor for my preferences anyway, so this also helps me want to drink more often.

HYDRATION FRIENDS! If you do not care for sports drinks or the like, but still want something that will help replenish depleted electrolytes, can I recommend…

SEKANJABIN?

Sekanjabin is a drink used across Northern Africa and the Middle East today and has its origins in medieval Persia. It is a vinegar-based drink (which sounds weird but I promise you can barely taste it if made properly). Modern sekanjabin is traditionally made with mint, or mint and cucumber. The first written copy of the recipe was simply honey and vinegar (10th century, in Fihrist of al-Nadim).

Here is my actual award-winning Pomegranate Ginger Rose Water sekanjabin:

Ingredients

1. 2 C sugar
2. 1¼ C water
3. ½ C vinegar (white, white wine, or red wine)
4. 1 C pomegranate juice
5. 1 T rose water
6. 3 ginger candies

Instructions

1. Bring the sugar, water, and vinegar to a boil. Stir for three minutes (sugar should now be fully integrated).
2. Add ginger candy; stir until melted. Remove from heat.
3. Add rosewater and pomegranate juice, stir.
4. Let cool to room temperature, then bottle.
5. To drink: add 1 part syrup to 5-10 parts water. Can be prepared hot or cold, but I think it tastes best over ice.

Notes

1. Sekanjabin is shelf-stable and will last a very long time. Feel free to play with the flavors and proportions of the base ingredients – other popular flavors include mint, lavender, and quince. It’s also worth noting that the different vinegars will affect the flavor of the final product.
2. I use Gin-Gin ginger candies. You could also use ginger syrup (1 teaspoon per candy, or 1 tablespoon/3 candies). You can even use powdered ginger, although the end result will have “floaters” in it as a result.
3. If you live in a large city, you may be able to find rose water in your local grocery store (in the middle eastern food area). Medium cities: you can find it at your local Middle Eastern grocer. Oftentimes in health food stores. Small towns: you may want to order online.
4. Rose water is not a common flavor in modern Western cooking. It is VERY easy to over-do  the rosewater; if you are concerned about it tasting like soap or perfume, start with a teaspoon and add more.
5. It’s fun to experiment! Hate ginger? Try adding mint (both have soothing qualities for the stomach). Think pomegranate is boring? Try quince. Know you can’t stand roses? Go for lavender! You could make a bunch of sample bottles to see what works for you.
6. Storage: I put mine in (thoroughly cleaned-out) glass booze bottles. I also currently have two gallons in an old water container. A little bit goes a long way.

Awesome things about sekanjabin: it’s an AMAZING recovery drink. I had folks drinking mine when they were sick and thanking me afterward because it was the only thing they could keep down and likely kept them from dehydrating to the point of hospitalizaiton. I also had folks drinking it as a hangover cure – a higher syrup:water ratio than I’d usually recommend, but it worked for them. 

Hydrate in whatever way works for you! But if you want those electrolytes, make you some sekanjabin.

http://www.hextilda.com/2017/08/01/summer-sekanjabin/

dajo42:

forgot to post on the day but yknow. 18 months sober

the issue was that for a long ass time i felt like i needed alcohol to feel like… normal. especially through 2019 and 2020 like it just became a part of my day to day routine to drink. and it escalated to stronger drinks more frequently and eventually i was thankfully able to take a step back and realise like… this is actively making my life worse. i am sitting at a table and drinking and feeling worse. i will instead try to stand up and go do literally anything else. and yeah. as of the 4th of this month ive managed to be sober for 18 months and i was right. i was so right. my life is noticeably better without drinking. there are still hard days but ive done it and will keep doing it

maxinemilespod:

Hey kiddos - Max thought it’d be a good idea for me to talk to people in Hastings and start to winnow down my list of enemies. Kidding. Sort of.

Anyway, ask me questions, I guess. I’d say I’m an open book, but I’m trying to lie less. It’s easier than giving up smoking.

Well, aren’t you all a curious bunch. I have to say, I was expecting more hate mail, so these genuine questions were refreshing. Alright, let’s get to it.

From@izzybutt

What can you tell us about your family? How do you feel about them? Get along with your siblings? Your father?

My family is big and opinionated and very particular about thing. I suppose I get along with my siblings just fine, though I wouldn’t say we’re close. But does anyone really get along with their family? I never buy it when people say their parents are their friends. Parents are parents, you’re not supposed to be all chummy with them.

What do you remember about Sherry, or her family? Did you ever consider reaching out to her, over all these years? Wonder what she’s up to?

I honestly don’t remember her family all that much, I was mostly wrapped up in her. But given that they moved her away suddenly, disrupting her life right in the middle of high school, I can’t say I’m the biggest fan. I did try reaching out to her in the years right after they left. I was in the post office every week, trying to get them to give me her forwarding address so I could find out where she went but I guess that’s “confidential information” or something. She didn’t tell me anything about where she was going, didn’t leave a number…by the time I graduated high school, I figure she just didn’t want to hear from me ever again. It still stings if I’m honest.

Who’s better at poker: Walt, Joe, or you?

Definitely me. Poker is big in my family, so I grew up playing it, and with very competitive people to boot. Playing with Walt and Joe is a picnic in comparison. That said, Joe’s definitely not too shabby either. God bless him, but Walt can’t play for shit. Though there’s something comforting about our Sheriff having zero poker face, I guess.

What was your life like growing up? Did you do well in school, have a lot of friends? Get into trouble?

It was pretty average I guess–I did okay in school, I helped out at the family businesses, I did sports, hung out with my teammates, dated a bit…the usual. I may have gotten into a bit of trouble here and there, but thankfully it was all before I turned 18, so all those records have been expunged, which means I don’t have to talk about it.

Your family’s name is on a lot of businesses, but is there one that you would consider your favourite?

If I say the Tavern, will I seem like an alcoholic?

How do you feel about Hastings, and the people in it?

It’s the only place I’ve ever lived, so I don’t spend that much time considering my own feelings on the place. It’s a good town, as far as towns go I guess, and everyone in it seems to care about living here, which is nice. I don’t know, as long as people keep buying things at Archer stores, I don’t need them to like me much.

What’s a day in the life of Ransom Archer look like?

I usually sleep through my first five alarms and then when I do get up, I start in on the rounds of the businesses. I’m in charge of the bookkeeping for all the businesses here, but honestly most of the store managers keep good books, so I don’t need to do much. I usually go down to the ski resort we own every month–more in the winter–to check on things there. Just…constant maintenance on all our holdings. I have dinner at the Tavern most nights and then I go home and…rinse and repeat.

From @nocluewhatshappening

Do you wish more of your family lived in Hastings and not just you?

My feelings about this are a mixed bag. I wish someone else could move here and take over the businesses, but I mostly wish that so that I could leave. I have no strong desire to live near my family.

Hi Ransom! Do you know of any sibling or relative of yours who was given up for adoption? And to be more specific… Do you think Riley is an Archer?

What a weird question–you know something I don’t? Kidding–if my parents had had another kid, there’s no way they would have given them up for adoption. Carrying on the Archer name is pretty much the only reason they had kids, so the more they had, the better chances they’d get someone who wouldn’t sully it. The idea that Riley Stevens–that’s who you’re asking about, right?–is an Archer is completely ridiculous. I literally don’t know how that would even work.

@outerspace02

If you had the opportunity to leave or move out of Hastings, would you?

Without hesitation.

And from some secretfolks:

hey it’s my friend’s birthday this saturday and he thinks you’re neat. he doesn’t live in hastings but he’s been learning about your family’s legacy for a project. could you wish him a happy birthday?hi it’s birthday anon again his name is leoh i forgot to mention that.

Oh hey, your friend sounds awesome! If he thinks I’m neat, then I think he’s neat.

Happy Birthday, Leoh! I hope you have a good one, pal.

what drew you to that girl during high school.

I don’t know how to put it into words but she was just…amazing. She didn’t take shit from anyone, she was smart and funny and gorgeous. And she’s the only person I’ve ever seen stand up to my father–on my behalf of all things. That’s pretty much the moment I fell in love with her.

are you into men?

Like, romantically? Honestly, the thought has never crossed my mind. I never have in the past but my romantic endeavors with women have been such a disaster, maybe I should expand my dating pool.

What the heck kind of a name is Ransom? What are your siblings called? Robbery Archer? Arson Archer? Tax Evasion Archer?

Here we go. No, my siblings all got the normal family names, while I got stuck with the name from some obscure great-uncle or something. Apparently it means “warrior’s shield” or something like that, but my dad always told me that they’d named me for the Middle English definition of the word: redemption. But I think that’s just something he made up after the fourth time I got arrested to try and guilt me into behaving.

Did you know that if you rearrange the letters in your name, you get ‘Romancer Rash’? I hope you know there are steps you can take to avoid that…

I will say, this one is at least original. I haven’t heard that one before.

What did you and Ms. Honeywell talk about, that night in the tavern?

God, I talked poor Alana’s ear off about my family. My dad had called me earlier that day and…well. Let’s just say I’m astonished she went out with me at all after that.

What sorts of rules did you break when you were Max’s age, exactly?

I broke most of the usual teenager rules: curfew, sneaking out, skipping school, dating the wrong girls, lying…all the stuff that most teenagers do. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with teenagers pushing boundaries, so I hope Max doesn’t get too wrapped up in worrying about breaking the rules as long as she stays safe. And I really hope she doesn’t end up breaking laws like I did–that’s a very different sort of trouble.

Why does your father think you’re a screwup? Do YOU think you’re a screwup?

Oh god, how much time do you have? Because I got in trouble as a kid, because I didn’t go to a fancy Ivy League school, because I was never a star athlete, because I’m not married to some high society gal with five kids, because I’m the youngest, because I never had ambition to add more businesses to the Archer portfolio…take your pick. I like to think that I’m not a screw up–I’ve got my act together a lot more in recent years–but I don’t think that’s really for me to decide.

Did you know that smoking is bad for you?

Yes, thank you for the reminder, Max.

What are your opinions on kids?

They’re pretty loud when they’re young. Kids are okay when they’re a little older, I guess. I like that some of the kids in town haven’t gotten the memo yet that I’m an idiot. As for having my own, I know my parents expect all their kids to populate the world with more Archers, but I really don’t see myself contributing to that.

Casino Quackity stimboard!!

- WWW-UwU-Stims

DM for credit/removal!

weeird art galllerryyyyy

“Hey, tough guy.”

Martzel raises his head from his arms. Cinnamon wafts toward him through the stench of beer. He blinks. “Aro…?”

Aro Slattery raises his eyebrows. He’s clearly dressed up for clubbing, but his eyeshadow and shirt are too sparkly for this bar– he must be in the middle of bar-hopping. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I… uh…” Martzel paws around at the counter for his half-emptied mug. “Oh…”

“You look like shit. Here, sit up straight. Look at me.” Aro hoists Martzel upright, half in his arms, so he can dab at the corner of Martzel’s mouth with a napkin. “Havalana, Martzel. I’ve never seen you get this shitfaced drunk. Did something happen?”

Martzel, stupefied, nods. It’s all coming back to him now. But his throat is too dry to speak. He reaches for his beer and takes a deep swig before he answers. “Ki-to,” he rasps.

“Your little boyfriend? What about him?”

Martzel swallows. “Kito… was angry with me…”

Aro rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move away. “So did you break up?”

“I… I don’t know, I… I begged him, but… but he hates me now… he hates me…” His head hangs in shame.

Aro sighs. “Riiight. Well, I don’t think here’s the best place to talk about your love life. Let’s go back to my place. Come on. Lean on me. I’ll make you some tea and we’ll set your head straight. Okay? Up. Ugh, you’re fuckin’ heavy…”

Aro half-carries, half-drags Martzel out of the dusty piss-smelling bar and down the street. The air is cold enough to bite tonight but Aro’s body is warm. Martzel pulls himself closer against the chill. Luckily, Aro’s apartment is less than a mile away, but Aro grumbles the whole way.

Martzel melts in the warmth of the apartment. He’s deposited into Aro’s bed, limp as a puppet with cut strings, while Aro busies himself in the kitchen. His stilettos click on the tile. “Asra got me this tea from Nopal. Says it’s great for hangovers. Like, you aren’t hungover, but you will be, so… do you still take it straight? No milk, no sugar? Wait– yes on milk. No on sugar. See, I remember. I remember everything when it comes to you.” Porcelain clinks, water pours, herbs rustle. Martzel watches with eyes half-open. When the tea is prepared, Aro brings it to the bed. “Hey. Up. Come on, I made this for you, drink it.”

“Whiskey,” Martzel slurs.

“No whiskey. You’ve had enough to drink. This should get you sober.”

Martzel shakes his head as Aro pushes him upright. “No… no… I can’t… forget…”

“Don’t make me baby bird this shit to you.”

When Aro doesn’t relent, Martzel allows his head to be tilted back and for scalding hot tea to be poured down his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut painfully. Aro takes pity on him after a few sips and removes the mug from his lips. “Sorry. Too hot?” he asks, too late.

“Yes,” Martzel gasps.

“It’ll cool down. How’re you feeling?”

Sure enough, some of the alcoholic haze is already fading. Less of a blinding fog than a softening mist. Martzel blinks. Aro’s face swims into view. He’s no longer a sea of sparkles. “Thank you,” Martzel says. “A little better. I’m afraid I… ah… you didn’t have to do this.”

“Bullshit. You were gonna pass out if I just left you there. And it’s not like I don’t like you anymore. I’ll help you when you need it.” Aro claps Martzel on the back and thrusts the mug into his hands. “Now. Tell me what happened. You said Kito was angry at you?”

Martzel heaves a sigh. “We never fought like that before. He wants me to… to give up sailing. He wants me to live in Vesuvia.”

Aro whistles. “Woow. Yeah. No.”

“Vesuvia is lovely… Kito, Kito is lovely… but give up the ocean? I couldn’t. And I couldn’t spend the rest of my life surviving off an allowance my boyfriend gives me. It’s ridiculous. But he thinks that giving up my self-reliance is somehow a matter of pride– and yes, in part, but– the commitment– the sense of duty– you understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“Yeah. You don’t wanna get tied down. If he’s your only source of money, you can’t go anywhere else. You’re trapped.”

Martzel blinks. “Er– yes. That’s exactly right.”

“See, told you I know you,” Aro says with a wink.

“I suppose you do.” Martzel sips his tea.

“Sooo… what happens now?”

“What do you mean?”

Aro leans closer. “Does this mean you and him are over?”

Martzel’s heart falls. He can’t meet Aro’s eyes, instead focusing on the golden tea in his hands. “I’m not sure.”

“Not sure,” Aro repeats. Aro’s pointed nails creep up Martzel’s shoulder. “But you said you want to forget him.”

“I’m not sure about that either.”

“Want me to help?”

“Er… how?”

Aro’s smile comes closer, and closer, and there’s a split second when Martzel realizes what’s about to happen, but it’s too late. Lips meet lips. The tea falls to the floor as Martzel’s hands fly up and shove Aro away, horrified. “Aro, no!”

“Geez, so rough! You could’ve said something!”

Martzel groans and stands up from the bed, head in his hands, safely out of arm’s reach from Aro. “You can’t just… I should have known, I should have known…”

“Fine, okay. You don’t want me. That’s– that’s fine, I just– I wanted to cheer you up. Kissing always cheers me up.”

“Thank you for the tea, Aro. I think I need to leave.”

“Huh?! No!” Aro grabs Martzel’s shirt to keep him in place. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Wait, I– I’ve got a good idea! Hear me out! Asra showed me a really neat trick the other day, I think you’d really like it!”

“I’m not interested in tricks,” Martzel says warily.

Aro flashes him a grin again. “Ooh, but you’ll like this one. Here, pick the mug off the ground. Is there still tea? Good. It should work fine. Don’t worry, I’ll clean that stuff up later.” When Martzel hands him the mug of half-spilled tea, Aro dips his fingers in the liquid. He buzzes with excited energy. “Okay. Close your eyes.”

Martzel squints. “Will you try to kiss me again?”

“Don’t be such a baby. No, I won’t, I’ll stay right here on the bed.”

Martzel closes his eyes, shoulders tensing. Aro is ominously silent, giving no indication of what he’s doing, and Martzel doesn’t like it. “Aro? Are you ready?”

But someone else answers. Martzel’s heart skips a beat when he hears it. “Yep. Open up.”

He’s almost afraid. But he obeys. His eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. “What…? What are you–”

“See, now you can practice,” Kito says, hardly able to control his laughter at Martzel’s reaction. “How’d I do? Pretty good, right?”

Martzel swallows a lump in his throat. “Yes…”

Kito crawls forward on the bed. His silken hair falling around his rolling shoulders, olive skin shining in the lamplight, everything is unmistakable. “Don’t look so fuckin’ scared. C’mere. Look, now you can tell me everything. Imagine you’re coming back and you wanna apologize and explain stuff and I’ll do my best Kito impression. Ahem.” He sits up again on the edge of the bed and clears his throat. His proud eyebrows furrow. “So you’re finally back. You smell like beer, Martzel. I told you I hate when you drink.”

Martzel fights a bewildered laugh of his own. He cautiously approaches the bed and sits next to Kito. “I’m sorry, my love. I felt terrible after our fight.”

“I’ll bet you did. What, are you here to say goodbye?”

“Goodbye?”

Kito crosses his arms. “You’re leaving. You made it pretty damn clear earlier that you’d rather stick your dick in the ocean than stay with me.”

Wow. The impression is terrible, but the image is so perfect. Martzel can’t resist wrapping his arms around Kito’s narrow shoulders and pulling his nose into his hair. Even Kito’s hair is perfect, right down to the scent of ylang ylang and rose oil. He takes a deep breath in. The facade slips. “My darling, you misunderstood me. I would do anything for you–”

“Except stay with me,” Kito interrupts, but the fire has left his voice. “Seems a little counterintuitive if you ask me, Martzel.”

“I do want to stay with you. I would stay with you for the rest of my days if only you would let me.” Martzel pulls Kito backward into his chest, his nose pressed to Kito’s lovely hair, fingers twining his curly locks. “Dearest, how I love you. Never forget it. But you forget my nature… I wasn’t meant for land like you… I grew up on the sea, I will live and die on the sea, and asking me to give up travelling is like asking me to give up breathing. For you, I would stop breathing, but my body will not let me. Do you understand?”

Kito takes a deep shaky breath. “O-oh. Um… yeah… I guess… I understand.”

Martzel presses a kiss to his forehead. “What would make you happy? What can I do to secure your happiness?”

“Ah… nobody’s ever asked me that.” Kito rearranges himself so he can look up into Martzel’s face. His golden eyes shine with the beginnings of tears. “You… you love me? Say it again.”

“I love you, Kito Achebe.”

Kito hides his face in Martzel’s neck. He’s shaking all over. Martzel soothes him with gentle hands stroking his back and hair. “I love you too,” he mumbles. Kito’s hands ball into fistfulls of Martzel’s shirt. “C-can I kiss you?”

Martzel smiles. “You hardly need to ask me.”

When Kito doesn’t lift his head at once, Martzel guides him up by the chin to eagerly meet his lips. Kito whimpers, tightening his grip, opening his mouth and allowing Martzel to explore to his heart’s content. When a tear rolls down Kito’s cheek, Martzel pauses. He pulls away. “Kito? Angel, what’s wrong?”

Kito shakes his head. Saltwater clings to his long eyelashes. “It’s.. it’s… wrong…”

“Have I done something wrong? What is it?”

Martzel wipes the tear track from Kito’s skin. Finally, Kito speaks. “Touch me.”

Martzel lowers his lips to kiss Kito’s neck, undo his shirt. Kito melts under his touch.

“Again… say it again, pl-ease.”

“I love you.”

Kito moans as he’s lowered to the bed. His hands are thrown up next to his ears in surrender. Calloused fingers caress every inch of skin they can reach. “I wish we could be like this forever,” Kito murmurs.

Martzel kisses Kito’s stomach. “Why not?”

“‘Cause… ‘cause…”

“You aren’t still worried about the ocean,” Martzel teases.

Kito avoids his gaze. “Dunno. Maybe. Maybe… you should think more about the ocean.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, land is nice and all. Pretty. Stable. But you said yourself you can’t forget the ocean. Sure, it’s– it’s moody, and unpredictable, but– hells, it loves you. It had you first, you know? Doesn’t that count for something?”

Martzel smiles. “What on earth are you talking about?”

Kito meets his eyes again helplessly. “Fuck me.”

“Martzel Morell,” Kito Achebe snaps.

Both Martzel and the Kito underneath him snap their attention to the furious Kito in the doorway, whose face quickly warps into confusement. “What the–?”

The illusion is broken. Martzel leaps off the false Kito as though his hands were burned, scrambling off the bed at top speed, face boiling red. “Kito, I– I didn’t mean–”

“Who are you?” the real Kito demands. He storms into the apartment with more fury than Martzel has ever seen. The false Kito glowers right back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the fake Kito spits.

“I asked at least two dozen people after I found that disgusting little tavern, but I hardly think it matters. Show yourself.”

The fake Kito rolls his eyes and sits up as a disgruntled Aro Slattery. His teeth are bared in Kito’s direction. “Next time, don’t just march into someone’s fuckin’ house, yeah?”

Kito’s anger somehow intensifies. His eyes shine with a panther’s feral predatory power. “You,” he hisses. “How dare you, you shameless little slut?”

“Kito,” Martzel reproaches meekly, but one look from Kito silences him.

“How dare you take advantage of a drunken man? How dare you take my shape just so your loneliness is quenched for a few hours?” Kito advances toward Aro on the bed, who cowers back into the pillows. “You should be ashamed. I ought to hang you with your bedsheets, you scheming harlot, you demon. If you so much as lay a finger on Martzel Morell again, I will personally ensure that nobody in Vesuvia will trust you again. You think that I am some unknowing fool, don’t you? You think that I won’t get my hands dirty?” Behind him, in the kitchen, the familiar shink of cutlery cuts through the air, as drawers open, as blades ready themselves. “I have people who are up to their knees in dirt. I will make your life a living hell, Aro Slattery.”

An unsettling silence swirls like poison gas in the air. Aro is utterly frozen. Finally, Kito turns away from Aro, the kitchen knives replacing themselves as he takes Martzel’s hand. “Come home.”

Martzel stumbles after Kito without a backwards glance. His pulse races. The icy air outside doesn’t even bother him. When they’re a safe block away, he murmurs, “you asked after me?”

“Of course I did,” Kito growls. “I thought I would find you at that tavern. When you weren’t there, I was worried.”

“Kito, I–”

“Did he take advantage of you?”

Martzel blushes worse than ever. He watches the road. “No.”

“Did you ask him to transform into me?”

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

“He… he helped sober me… so we could talk… and he took your shape, so I could practice, because I wanted to talk to you, more than anything, and… and I must have still been drunk, I forgot, I only saw you, and I needed you… oh, gods, Kito, I should have known, I should not have allowed myself to–”

Kito squeezes his fingers. “I’m not sure what category of adultery this falls into, but I’m not angry with you. He is the one at fault.”

“But I– I let him–”

“My love, you still reek of beer. You won’t be convincing me that you were in your right mind.”

Tears swim in Martzel’s eyes. “I love you more than anything,” he says.

Kito smiles and kisses Martzel’s bicep. “I know.”

“Please don’t be too hard on Aro, my angel. He means well.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Er– his intentions are– hm–”

“I won’t kill him, if that’s what you mean,” Kito sighs. “Too much red tape. I would rather not deal with the intricacies of murder. But I’m still not happy with him. One more slip-up, and I’ll make him pay, Martzel, I must insist on it.”

“Ah… I suppose that’s fair.”

The night air is a little warmer. Martzel’s feet don’t drag as much. “Come home and I’ll put you to bed,” Kito says gently.

“Home,” Martzel echoes.

“We can discuss everything in the morning. You need to rest, and maybe vomit.”

“I love you,” Martzel says again.

Kito sighs and stands on his toes to give Martzel a kiss. “I love you too.”

–

Aro is on his hands and knees, cleaning up the spilled tea from his floor. He bites back tears. Stupid Martzel. Stupid stupid stupid Kito. Just thinking about it makes him want to throw up.

But Martzel’s words ring in his ears. “I love you,” Aro whispers, and nobody answers.

The CDs music fills the air as you take him apart. Hands on his neck, lips wandering his body, drugs and liquor fogging your heads as you fumble in the dark of the back of the van. Moans fill the silence the pauses in his songs leave behind. Even now, he sounds as beautiful as he does when he performs. 

This is everything you never wanted to do with your life. 

Why does it feel so good to be with him?

shimadavevo:

everwizard:

Weed strains are like “smells of banana with a slightly nutty note” my brother in christ it smells like weed

IPA breweries will describe their beer as “a citrusy and bright barley flavor with a floral finish!” and the IPA tastes like tap water that sat on your dresser for so long it developed an anti-predator warding mechanism

Plant Day

This is, of course, a RSS story for @brutal-nemesis’s Plant Day 2021.

And please don’t kill me, but I kinda feel like I bent the rules here. The assailant here is not a fungus or protist. It is a part of the plant kingdom, but not like that.Anyway, on to the story part of this.

Trigger Warnings – also tagged: choking, alcohol, knives, blood, surgery

WC: 897

———-

“911, what is your emergency?”

A panicked voice came from the other end of the phone. “My boyfriend is choking and we can’t get it out!”

“Okay. Where are you?”

“Middle of the quad at OakU.”

“Any landmarks nearby?”
“Across the street from the ADG house.”

Victor entered the location into his computer and pulled up a map of the OakU campus. “Okay, help is on the way. My name is Victor. And you are?”
“Raegan.”
“Okay, Raegan. You said that your boyfriend is choking?”

“Yeah,” Raegan said, panic once again rising in her voice.

“And you tried the heimlich?” Victor asked.

“Yeah. It didn’t work. One of my friends tried that and they tried smacking his back. Nothing helped.”

“Okay. What is his name?”

“Hugo.”

“Raegan, put me on speaker.” Victor paused briefly as he waited for Raegan to oblige. “Okay, Hugo, if you can hear me, please give Raegan a thumbs up.”

Hugo barely moved. He was rocking back and forth, his arms slowly reaching at his neck, but his hands made no attempt to show Raegan a thumbs up. His olive skin slowly grew bluer.

On the other end of the phone, a message popped up on Victor’s computer. EMS was on the way, but Raegan and Hugo were not accessible by road. It would be at least 15 minutes until help could arrive.

Victor’s attention was pulled back to the call when Raegan began screaming.

“Victor, he’s not moving anymore! How much longer?”

“Your location is pretty far from any roads, so it’ll be 15-20 minutes. Can you try the heimlich again?” Victor pulled out his phone and texted Kai.

“I know you’re off, but I need help. College age male choking. Heimlich not helping. EMS 15-20 out. I am conferencing you in.”

Kai responded with a thumbs up and Victor entered his number into the console. “Raegan,” Victor said, “this is my friend Kai. He is a paramedic. He is going to help you.”

Kai cleared his throat into the phone. “Raegan, can you tell me exactly what happened?”

Raegan sighed as tears made their way from her eyes to her chin. “I was working on a project for my photography class. It was, uh, humans in nature. We were doing a shoot and Hugo decided he wanted a picture biting an acorn. I got a couple shots and then he tripped over a tree root. He must’ve swallowed the acorn and it got stuck because he can’t breathe and it’s not between his teeth anymore.”

Kai took a deep breath. “I am going to recommend something crazy, but it should save Hugo, alright? I think that you should attempt a field cricothyrotomy.”

“You want me to cut open my boyfriend’s neck?”
“Raegan, it will save his life,” Victor said. “Now, before I ask you this, I want to remind you that these calls are recorded, but I do want to help.” He paused. “Does someone over the age of 21 in the ADG house have alcohol, a knife, and a straw?”

“Yeah,” Raegan responded, but it wasn’t entirely true. She always carried a pocket knife and metal straw, and she had filled her water bottle with vodka at a party the night before. Victor didn’t need to know where it came from.

“Raegan, I need you to sterilize everything. Dump the alcohol on your hands, his neck, the knife, and the straw,” Victor commanded.

Raegan carefully poured the alcohol out of her bottle, through the straw, and onto her hands, her knife, and Hugo’s neck. “Done,” she said, putting her phone on speaker and placing next to Hugo’s short, scruffy black hair.

Kai took a breath and began to instruct Raegan. “Raegan, you are going to find the cricothyroid membrane, it is–”

“In that indentation below the Adam’s Apple,” Raegan finished.

“Yes,” Kai said with a slight bit of surprise in his voice.

“You sound surprised,” Raegan responded. “I find that knowing human anatomy is incredibly important to my art.”

“Alright then,” Kai continued, “You are going to make a 1-inch long incision. You are going to drive your knife in until you feel a bit of a pop. That means you are in the trachea.”

Raegan squeezed her eyes shut before busting them open again. She grasped the handle of her pocket knife and slid the blade across her boyfriend’s olive-colored skin. Dark red blood oozed from the opening. At the center of the incision, Raegan pushed down on the knife until she felt something different than the feeling of slicing through fascia and muscle. She slid her finger into the cavity and there certainly was a hole in something. “Done,” she informed Kai and Victor as she pulled her finger out of Hugo’s neck.

“Slip the straw into the hole in the trachea and take a breath into it,” Kai instructed.

Raegan slid her metal straw into the hole that had just held her finger. She wrapped her lips around her purple silicone straw topper. She gently exhaled through the straw. Surprised, she pulled back when she saw Hugo’s chest rise in his green hoodie. “He is breathing!” she exclaimed.

“Good,” Victor said. “Paramedics are about 5 minutes out. I can stay with you until they get there, okay?”
“Thank you,” Raegan replied softly. She buried her face into Hugo’s shoulder. Her tears joined the bloodstains on his hoodie.

deluxewhump:

The Blackmuir Reign: Saxon Gets Therrin’s Letter

Summary: Saxon Osier learns from Therrin’s letter that his little brother is alive.

CW: fantasy/medieval whump, fictional politics, referenced political prisoner, consensual sex mentions, threesome, prostitution mention, saxon ponders the nature of consent between him and Therrin, alcohol and drunkenness, problem drinking, grief and death mentions, a timid servant girl is afraid of saxon a little bit

-

Saxon Osier snapped at a servant girl to leave him, feeling a small twinge of regret as she ducked out of the room like she’d been kicked.

He poured another cup of strongwine, ignoring the drops that slipped from the lip of the bottle and stained the table.

He remembered Tayla, the girl he and Therrin shared for a night, years ago now. She had shown him how to twist the bottle at the end of the pour so no wine was wasted. He’d messed it up on purpose, landing a few drops on the table so she’d roll her pretty eyes at him.

“He’s a brute,” Therrin had said, balancing his chair on its hind legs in the noisy tavern. “What’d you expect?”

“And you, Therrin?” Tayla flirted shamelessly. “Aren’t all you Muirish men uncouth beasts who take whatever they please without asking?”

Therrin’s eyes seemed to smile at her over his cup as he took a drink of his strongwine. “One way to find out.”

Keep reading

The Blackmuir Reign: Saxon Gets Therrin’s Letter

Summary: Saxon Osier learns from Therrin’s letter that his little brother is alive.

CW: fantasy/medieval whump, fictional politics, referenced political prisoner, consensual sex mentions, threesome, prostitution mention, saxon ponders the nature of consent between him and Therrin, alcohol and drunkenness, problem drinking, grief and death mentions, a timid servant girl is afraid of saxon a little bit

-

Saxon Osier snapped at a servant girl to leave him, feeling a small twinge of regret as she ducked out of the room like she’d been kicked.

He poured another cup of strongwine, ignoring the drops that slipped from the lip of the bottle and stained the table.

He remembered Tayla, the girl he and Therrin shared for a night, years ago now. She had shown him how to twist the bottle at the end of the pour so no wine was wasted. He’d messed it up on purpose, landing a few drops on the table so she’d roll her pretty eyes at him.

“He’s a brute,” Therrin had said, balancing his chair on its hind legs in the noisy tavern. “What’d you expect?”

“And you, Therrin?” Tayla flirted shamelessly. “Aren’t all you Muirish men uncouth beasts who take whatever they please without asking?”

Therrin’s eyes seemed to smile at her over his cup as he took a drink of his strongwine. “One way to find out.”

It was then, he thought, Talya was struck with the idea of taking them both upstairs. She was brazen and self assured, and they were drawn to her like flies to honey. The two of them were used to highborn girls with their constant chaperones, or else bored prostitutes at the brothel Therrin had been whipped for their visiting.

Drunk as they were, they were rather unsubtle, and the rumor was rampant by the following morning that Saxon Osier and the northern ward had shared a tavern girl— had gone into a room together and not come back out til daylight.

It was true, of course, but Saxon’s memory of the actual act was hazy. He always wondered if that night they shared Talya made it easier, when he and Therrin finally turned to each other.

It was Therrin who had kissed him. Therrin who stopped his hand once while tending his whip-welts and brought it to the front of his breeches, holding it there.

Therrin had wanted him.

Hadn’t he?

Saxon took a healthy swig of strongwine, bitter and black. His tongue was stained with it, his lips. He would have a pounding headache in the morning, no doubt, but he was already too far down in its blessed numb depths to care about that. Morning Saxon was not his problem, and his father was no longer lucid enough to make a comment if he was visibly hungover.

Therrin was the one who wanted to play their power games so badly, feigning helplessness and calling him by his official title in bed. Saxon had gotten off on it too, like nothing else, but it was not real.

Not once had it gotten too real, he thought, staring blearily at an unopened letter on the table. It was sealed in red wax with a hand scratched B, for lack of an official royal seal yet.

There was never any force. He was not some vile Lord’s son who would use his power over a ward in such a way. Like a slave. Like a prisoner.

Did he hate you the whole time? You did your best to make it easier on him here. Did he think you wanted that in exchange? In payment? Are you really so clueless that it could be so, and you thought it love?

Or was he using you?

Saxon believed what the southerlands deserved was its sovereignty back. But he would not claim himself a King once his ailing father passed, it was not about that. Rather, he and Martin Spearly of Aepoli would form an alliance, both vowing to protect and trade with the other so new independent governments could be established in both provinces.

They would be fragile republics in their infancy, and would need to be protected against outside invasion and inside corruption both.

Most crucially, they would need a strong treaty with the King of the Muirs. An admission of their sovereignty.

There was a time Saxon would’ve been certain Therrin would support this endeavor. Would support him. They would work together to achieve this goal, pushing away from the overstretched rule of Kings.

That was before Therrin went behind his back and took the crown by force and blood. Before he declared himself King and demanded tax and tribute like some tyrant, the very thing he had ranted against the Trulys for from the time they were thirteen.

And it begged the question; if he couldn’t trust Therrin, how in the hell was he supposed to trust Martin fucking Spearly not to double cross him?

Spearly could say he was interested in this plan—almost embarrassing in its idealistic naivety at times— and all the while be shaking hands behind his back with Therrin, plotting to replace him.

Saxon took another numbing drink.

“Lord Osier?”

He turned his head slowly, so the room would not tilt. In the archway stood the girl he’d snapped at not ten minutes earlier.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but… the messenger said it was of high importance. Utmost, he said.”

“Well, if it’s utmost,” he teased. “Better get on with it.”

“It’s…a letter from the Muirlands.” She took a long envelope from behind her back as if apologizing for it. “They said to deliver it now.”

“More demands from our benevolent King,” he tried not to slur. He couldn’t tell if he had or not. He waved the girl closer. Rather offensively, she hesitated.

“Oh please. You look at me as if I’ve ever given you a reason to fear me. I’m a little bit drunk, not rabid.”

She came closer, until she was standing right in front of him. He put his boots on the table, crossing one ankle over the other. “Do you read?”

“If it please you, my Lord.”

“Open it. Read it. I don’t want to look at his handwriting. I’m still trying to enjoy my evening.”

He drank as the girl struggled to snap the seal and unfolded the letter, reading Therrin’s bold words in her soft voice.

As Saxon listened he stared at one of his dogs in the rushes, happily chewing marrow from a bone. The letter was humble, so far. More personal than the first touches had been, which were just scribe copies of tax documents.

The servant faltered, looking up at him over the top of the letter.

“You’re doing fine. Keep going.”

Her eyes were shining in open fear, her face gone pale.

“M-matteo is alive,” she read in a trembling, reluctant voice. “I have no way to soften this news… and… and though joyous, I—”

Saxon swung his legs off the table. He took the letter from her hands and placed it facedown against the table, as if pinning an unruly fish. The dog looked up from its bone, licking its teeth.

“It’s alright,” he told her. Her eyes had gone wide and her hands remained frozen where they had been holding the letter, like a statue in the gardens.

“It’s alright. But don’t repeat that. Do you understand me?”

She nodded.

Saxon took her by the chin, careful not to pinch too tight and bruise her. His strength got away from him when he was drinking, sometimes. Everything felt as if he were holding it through a glove.

“I have rarely meant anything so seriously. Do not repeat what you just read. To anyone. Do I have your word, Gisella?”

“Yes, Lord Osier,” she breathed. “I swear.”

“Go.”

She stared at him, frozen.

“Go,” he said again.

She turned and picked up her long aprons so she would not trip, nearly running from the room.

Saxon tried to calm his pounding heart.

Therrin would not lie to you about this. He wouldn’t.

Matteo… alive. Was it possible? He didn’t dare to hope. The disappointment would be too cruel.

They’d never received a body, it was true. But still… after so many months and months? Where? How?

He stayed with you as you cried beside that empty grave, that day by the sea. Therrin Blackmuir would not lie to you about Matteo.

The letter was still pinned beneath his hand. He closed his eyes. Already, a headache was gathering behind his temples.

He turned it over, and forced himself to start from the beginning.

-

taglist

@highwaywhump,@melancholy-in-the-morning,@quirkykayleetam,@whumpsday,@redwhump,@myhusbandsasemni,@chai-and-cherries,@whumpthisway,@top-hat-aye,@foggy-whump,@whumpcreations,@mylifeisonthebookshelf,@inpainandsuffering,@extrabitterbrain,@pumpkin-spice-whump,@thecyrulik,@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump,@finder-of-rings,@whump-tr0pes,@the-monarch-whumperfly,@cursedandtired,@shydragonrider,@cupcakes-and-pain,@whumpwillow,@whither-wander-whump,@whumpilicious,@literally-frog,@darkthingshappen,@kixngiggles,@orchidscript,@ramadiiiisme,@prodigal-zoe,@robins-whump , @cicatrix-energy, @unicornscotty,@wolfeyedwitch,@heystreetblues,@castielamigos-whump-side-blog,@annablogsposts,@leyswhumpdump,@distinctlywhumpthing,@oddsconvert,@no-terms-and-conditions-apply

imagine being the therapist of either of them. you’d need a prozac and a shot of whiskey after each session to cope

venicebitch321:

Requested by anonymous; 215 Yukiko icons from the Persona 4 anime. No credit is necessary, but a like/reblog if you plan to use any would be appreciated!

Eps. 1-4

Eps. 5-7

Eps. 8-11

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Eps. 21-26