#romanticising sounds delusional and not seeing what's really there

[skzcoffeemachine]

Darling..

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a/n : moonbin (may his soul rest in peace) was actually one of my earliest bias. And this is not me romanticising the whole unfortunate accident. I just wish to be there for Chan, parasocially, delusionally, whatever works.

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“it's believed that the young idol passed out and his phone was on the floor, broken..”

You turned off the YouTube video you clicked on, expecting some truth to come out behind the passing, but ofc it was the internet with speculations abound.

Astro was the first group that got you into kpop, and the demise had affected you but not as much as it had affected your boyfriend.

“hey.. ”

He sounds weak.

“Hey.. ”, you smiled softly but his head was hung too low to notice. You knew what was affecting him. But cannot even start to imagine what must be going through his head. Just the thought makes your eyes well up.

I wish your pain was mine.

You watched as he trudged over to his desk, sitting down, laptop opened, trying to drown himself into his work.

You realise the least you could do was to help him eat. He has not ate properly in days, chugging down energy drinks, something out of character for Chan. But he needed energy to appear reliable in front of his kids. Earlier in the day, you had called Chan's mom to learn her curry recipe. It was ready, on the stove, piping hot.

It has also been days since he smiled in front of you. True, he force smiles when he's out and about. He did not have to pretend , in front of you. And you preferred it that way.

As much as you wanted to go up to him and kiss his worries away, you knew better . Instead, you went straight to the bathroom and started prepping a warm bath.

He recently bought bath bombs to try, but neither of you really knew the best way to enjoy it. So, you earlier asked Hyunjin about it. Time to apply it practically. You added some epsom salts, known to relieve stress. Then, dropped the bath bomb, which started fuzzing up into the colours of the galaxy. Next step was to dim the lights. You smiled to yourself. The mood lighting in the bathroom was a great idea on your part. Now it was the harder part. You silently draw up cue cards in your head to chain the perfect sentences , something that might help him.

“Chan.. ” his eyes looked up to you when you put your hands on his shoulders. “Come”.

He was probably too tired to retaliate or even say no. You gently tugged on his hoodie, signalling him to take it off. He stripped down, quite lazily, his eyes glued on the floor the whole time. You gulped down tears. How can you bear to see someone you love like this?

You guided him to the bathtub. He slid into the water until he was immersed upto his neck. You sat besides the tub, helping him place his head comfortably against the edge.

“baby, can I wash your hair? It will feel good”, you said in a whisper. He hummed in response. You stood up to bring out your shampoo from the cabinet. You remembered how he said your shampoo relaxes him whenever he was feeling less than ideal.

You were not the slightest bit alarmed or shocked by the sound of small sniffles that come from him as you detangle as gently as possible.

You silently and delicately wipe some tears from his eyes. 

“Darling.. ” you whispered, “it was not your fault”.

That was what he needed to hear. Enough for silent sniffles to evolve into hoarse sobs. Enough to finally break you too.

It was not the first time he had cried in front of you. Yet, it had never been like this. As far as you knew this man, you know his soul and how he takes the blame for everything bad that goes in his loved one's life. He had been working on it. It was getting better.

“I ..Should..Have been there”, he cried out in between sobs.

“y/n..what must be his family going through? His members? His sister?” he was shaking so much that you had to get into the water waist deep, with your clothes on, to hug him tight.

As his face buried in your chest, tears staining the sweater darker, he let it all out, everything he had been holding on inside himself. You hugged him tighter as he clung on the fabric in a failed attempt of control.

“Chan.. Chan.. Look at me.. Look..”

You held his reddened face in both hands.

“Breathe.. Baby”

He obeyed, although it was getting progressively difficult for him, from all the tears.

“Chan.. ”, you drew small circles on his cheek with your thumb, “you know..you have always been there, for us, for them, even for people you haven't meet yet. ”

For the first moment in what felt like forever, he held eye contact. His eyes was swollen, more than his morning kind of swollen, more than you have ever seen before.

“But what if one of you was going through the same thing.. And what if I failed to be there.. ” he spoke what was in his mind the whole time, mustering up courage.

To that, you smiled. “Well.. You have given us so much love and hope and strength . You have even saved millions with Channie's room. You just don't know it yet”.

And that was the truth.

His sigh was of relief to you. It hurts. He will hurt. But also it was extremely important for him to realise how loved he was, how he was helping millions out there.

The silence was disrupted by a growl. Your stomach. Perfect timing, dear tummy. He let out a small laugh. That was the sound of angels to you. “Let's have dinner, hmm? ”, you took the chance to ensure he has his proper meal in days. “How can I say no to that cute tummy? ", he quipped, rubbing your belly violently but teasingly,both of your giggles resounding through the bathroom walls.

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A/n : is it peaceful there, moonbin? Rest well. Thank you for everything. 6

#bangchan x reader #bangchan soft hours #bangchan #bangchan × y/n #chan imagines #skz headcanons #skz fluff #skz bubble #skz chan scenarios #Spotify

[sailordiavolo]

suicide prevention month 2021 - things that helped me stay alive

i heard that this month is suicide prevention month in the united states. as someone who’s struggled for many years with suicide myself, and is currently in the mystical “better place”, i feel it’s my duty to open this can of worms. i am unafraid of the stigma that comes with discussing such things.

i’ll go over things that helped me to cope during dark times. these may also apply to being depressed in general (?) because no offense but “drinking water” doesn’t help as much as google seems to think it does. note that these aren’t be all end all solutions, more like techniques that helped me to stay sane on some of my worst days.

1. get rid of everything that’s an immediate danger to your health.

if you’re actively a danger to yourself, safety-proof your home. don’t keep sharp objects lying around, or anything dangerous of the like. get rid of anything toxic or chemical, and don’t keep medicines in excess.

2. if you can’t make yourself happy, try to mildly amuse yourself instead

thinking “happy thoughts” doesn’t really work for me, especially if i’m in the throes of a depressive episode. i do have many things that make me happy, but i seem to forget about all of them in dark times. that being said, really dumb jokes get me every time. if i can make myself laugh, smile or chuckle, i’ve already made it 10 times easier for myself. and if i can do that, usually it’s easy to make myself forget about the original reason i was upset in the first place.

dear reader, i don’t know what would count as “mildly amusing” to you, but here’s some things that work for me.

i have a self care playlist on youtube. mine’s pretty dumb, but making a playlist like that of things that you find entertaining or amusing might help. another amazing one is distantcry’s worst beat ever collection.

very specific songs that really get me going include metrostation’s shake it, botdf’s bewitched, rm’s expensive girl, and she past away’s ruh.

3. do some self care activities

self care is very very important. when you feel like you’re absolute worst, that’s a free pass to be as selfish as you need to be until you feel better. no job, no person, no drama is worth dying over. all of that can wait until after you’re finished what you’re doing. if you’re not really sure what to do as self care activities, i’ll list some suggestions.

take a hot bath, if possible. if you have the resources, add bubbles, flower petals, bathe salts or candles. i did this the other day and sat in the bath and ate crumpets. it was amazing. if not, have a steaming hot shower. (i know it’s hard to find the energy, but it’ll help, i promise)

watch your favourite childhood show, or your favourite show at the moment, or play a video game.

sleep all day, or take the day off.

eat your favourite food, or the best food available to you right now.

spend some money if you have it. personally, i never spend all my money in a week, i save some in case i have a panic attack or something so then i can spend money on something totally random to make myself feel better.

change up your appearance. i usually end up cutting my hair short or randomly dying it, but this can also mean dressing in a way that makes you feel good, painting your nails, or doing your makeup.

4. know how to comfort yourself

this is related to the last one but knowing what brings you comfort is very important. it took me a very long time to figure out what things i find comforting. list the things that you find comforting, and you can use those to help yourself feel better. it might be music, interests, even something abstract.

if you can’t think of anything, then make sure to pay attention to things that make you feel nice/comforted, and list them down. it’s also important to know what will send you over the edge, so you can avoid it.

5. distraction topics

this may help with anxiety as well, but having distraction topics can help you to calm down and forget about what you were worried about. it’s good to have a few distraction topics up your sleeve in case of emergency. i’ll list a few of my favourites, but if you ever need one don’t be afraid to ask me directly, or send me an ask on my blog! i have a ridiculous amount of misc knowledge just floating around.

dinosaur fossils of mothers protecting their nest have been found, meaning that dinosaurs probably felt some form of motherly love. love on earth is billions and billions of years old. creatures have loved each other on this planet since before the dawn of history. imagine being the first organism to love on this planet and what that must’ve been like

some cave paintings were animated. they had different frames painted over each other, and the flickering of a flame in the cave would cause the images to appear as if they were moving. isn’t that extremely profound?

i saw somewhere, that scientists attempted to see what an electron was made out of, or something to that effect. it’s made of a pool of energy, which is essentially nothing. no form, no matter. everything is made out of nothing.

6. romanticise your future

a lot of us probably don’t have a concept of the future, or if we do, it’s something that sounds absolutely horrible. well, forget about that! think instead about how hot n sexy you’ll be in your 30’s, 40’s, etc. don’t worry about how you’ll get there for now, your future self can take care of that. think about your ideal life, and get excited like it’s absolutely going to happen. the more you think about it, the more it will become true.

7. romanticise your current self

nobody in your life understands you? that’s because you’re the hot brooding mysterious one. struggle with very dark thoughts? omg you’d be so powerful as a jujutsu sorcerer. people are staring? it’s because they’re in love with you. people whispering as you go by? also in love with you. no friends? the universe had to keep you humble because otherwise you’d be too perfect. hate the way you look today? you’re just a littel troll babie. the more amusing these thoughts are, the better. and if you think these things for long enough, eventually it will trick your brain into thinking it’s true. who’s gonna check you? the telepaths?

8. put things into perspective

i am prone to delusional thoughts when i’m panicked, and i have to remind myself to reel it in. think about it, you’re more afraid of answering the phone than you are of death? doesn’t sound very cash money of you, bro.

think about how many years you’ve really lived, especially if you think you’ve failed in life. take 12 years off your age, because childhood doesn’t count. also take off any other years which you were forced to live the way someone else wanted you to live, rather than for myself.

for example, i’m currently 23. my household was pretty strict, so i couldn’t really do anything before age 18. which gives me a grand total of 5 years of me trying to figure out life by myself. it helps me to remember how young i actually am in the grand scheme of things, and that i have plenty of time to still figure things out.

9. find a safe outlet for dark urges

for me, art and journaling really helped. music too, especially when i felt like i could relate to either the lyrics, or just the tone/mood/feel of the song. it might be exercise, or you may like to do creative writing or make oc’s. sometimes you may just need a friend or someone to listen.

if you don’t have anyone to talk to, you can message me or shoot me an anon

10. sleep it off

sleep is not going to cure anything, but if i’m pushed over the edge and am struggling with dark thoughts, going to sleep almost always helps. most of the time i still feel like shit in the morning, but no longer in the mood to try anything hasty.

lastly: suicide is not the easy way out

note: i’m gonna be discussing my own experiences with suicide in this part, so if you don’t want to see that, then don’t read past this point

suicide is not the easy way out. it’s messy and it’s ugly and it’s painful and it’s gonna bring out the worst in people. i’ve been struggling with it since age 19.

one particular attempt landed me in the hospital after i swallowed a bunch of painkillers. i couldn’t think or speak properly, i was slurring my words and tripping over myself. my doctor brushed me off and said that it “would probably get better” with time, but it never did. it improved, but my mind has never been the same as it once was, and one of my biggest insecurities to this day is when i struggle to learn new things or get things mixed up that i shouldn’t. i struggle to learn the simplest of things, and my reaction times tend to be very slow.

the point is, sometimes you don’t die, sometimes you just end up hurting yourself in a way that won’t get better. nobody needs that. if had’ve known how to calm myself down back then, i might not’ve tried.

i don’t mind talking about it now, since i’ve dedicated so much time in learning how to uplift myself. i may be in the “better place” now, but you don’t need to rush yourself to be better immediately. sometimes you need to be patient, use baby steps, or learn to accomodate yourself where you are. these things take time. that’s okay.

and remember, you are loved and very much needed to be here on the planet with us.

#suicide awareness #suicide awareness month #mental health awareness #mental health #depression #anxiety #self help #suicide prevention #suicide prevention month #cw suicide

[yeahwehadatime]

Julian Barratt on jazz, memes, and the Chuckle Brothers

Short List  Ralph Jones 27 Apr 2017

ShortList sat down with comedian, writer and actor Julian Barratt to have a quiet chinwag.

A great deal of Mindhorn was filmed on the Isle of Man. How was the isle?

Yeah, weird. Windswept and isolated. Like a lot of English resorts, it has that flavour of sadness. Behind the eyes there’s a howling emptiness.

Reminiscent of Howard Moon.

Sad. Delusional. There’s a pattern emerging.

Are you much more at home playing deluded men?

I just haven’t got a plan with acting at all. I just know that I’m quite good at something and I can be terrible at other things. For comedy I think that’s quite good: someone who thinks they’re better than they are or has a lot of thwarted dreams – which we all do. We wrote it [Mindhorn] and initially I was thinking, “Oh I don’t necessarily want to be in this.”

It’s hard to imagine the character not being played by you.

I was thinking we could find a big actor to send themselves up. David Suchet. Ben Kingsley.

Suchet’s a curveball.

Some of his stuff was inspiration [for the TV detective Richard Thorncroft in Mindhorn]. There’s one Desert Island Discs he did which I thought was quite brilliant. A lot of talking about the process, that’s what I found quite funny.

Was it intentionally funny?

Er, no. One of the inspirations was something Suchet said about forgetting who he was after a play; not remembering where he lived or what his wife’s name was. He had to have a psychotherapist talk him out of character because he was so deep in. It’s hard to talk about acting without sounding like a pretentious fool or pretending not to be pretentious – like “It’s just a job of work. Plumbers go to work, they fix pipes. I fix characters.”

Have you had any particularly bad auditions?

I’m terrible at them. Having to ride a horse – pretend to ride a horse – that was pretty bad. I remember one where I had to play a rapist. I thought, this is gonna be good, it’s a bit of a departure. And then the person I was doing it to was a really sweet old lady behind the camera. So I was having to say all these horrific abusive things to a really sweet old lady. It was awful. 

If Channel 4 had come to you to present Bake Off, what would you have said?

I don’t know what it is. I got The Daily Mail and Noel was on the front of it; I thought, “Oh no, what’s he done?” I think they called him a drug-taking comedian.

What do you think your prefix would be?

Er…“miserable, slightly pretentious”.

And if you were presenting, who would you like to have had as a partner?

I would host it with one of the Chuckle Brothers, probably.

Paul Chuckle has an astonishing Twitter presence. I’d recommend it.

Does he? Who’s the other one?

Barry.

Berry Chuckle?

Barry.

Barry Chuckle.

Strictly speaking, Paul and Barry Elliott.

Oh wow, you know a lot about the Chuckle Brothers.

Has anyone spoken to you about…

Bond?

Yes. That’s why I’m here. No, Howard Moon and the La La Land connection.

No, what’s that?

There are memes comparing Howard Moon and Ryan Gosling’s La La Land character, both of them forcing people to like jazz.

I love that film. I thought it was great fun. I have friends who hate it, and same with Whiplash: “No one plays like that. You can’t do that. It’s not possible.” They bring in all their jazz theories.

You’re not a jazz purist, then?

No, not at all. I sort of romanticise that era of jazz – the 40s and 50s, when it was the modern music. No one had heard anything like it. You can’t really make it like that now. I think jazz is a shortcut, isn’t it, for a certain type of person who’s a little bit lost or a bit deluded. I remember taking it to school and playing it on a tape and just seeing almost hatred coming off people as to why I was playing them this utter noise.

In an interview recently you mentioned pitching to HBO a show in which you and Noel drove around in a haunted car. Can you elaborate?

We were feeling pretty good; we were sort of known by some of the good people over there. So we went to this HBO meeting slightly cocky. We wanted to travel around a bit in a car. We thought, let’s get Jim Jarmusch to film it, black and white. Noel’s face looks good in black and white. I’d be in colour, obviously. The car would be haunted. We went in like, “Do you want a piece of us? This is who we are. We’ve got this car idea; haven’t really thought it through, but do we need to?” And it was just silence – like some of the early gigs we’d done, where you go into a room and you just get it wrong at the beginning. It’s a bit like going into a room underneath the carpet. Then you’re under the carpet, and you can’t get out. You’re just a lump moving around. After, we were like, “Ha! Idiots. What do they know.”

“Who’s heard of HBO?”

Exactly. What have they ever done.

{source}

#julian barratt #full interview #sometimes we lose articles and i'd just like to work on helping us archive things so we can find them later #LA's saturday paper #Short List

[letsprayitwritesitself]

groundhog dave part 4 - day three

At 6am sharp Davey was jolted from his suspiciously pleasant sleep. He remembered the night before, getting drunk in the bar with Jack. He remembered the night before that, getting drunk in the bar with Jack. He remembered them both, distinctly and separately, as two completely different nights.

And he knew that something was really, really fucked up.

He muttered along with the radio as he sat, unbelieving, on the side of the bed, staring glassy-eyed at the intricate vomit green and sludge brown patterns of the carpet. This was happening - he knew, he knew that February 2nd had already happened twice, but how could he prove it? He had only his memories to go off.

It was like a long, overly drawn out practical joke that the people of Punx plus Jack and Crutchie had decided to play on him - all re-enacting the same day, wearing the same clothes, walking to the square at the same time and in the same order while insisting that it was Groundhog Day. If his iPhone didn’t confirm the date for him he would half expect Ashton Kutcher or someone to jump out at him during the broadcast and half a dozen hidden cameras to reveal themselves. 

As such he couldn’t reconcile himself with the reality of the day. It was like he was watching his own memories through a VR headset, like if he reached out to touch a lamppost or a pedestrian his hand would pass right through them.

The night before with Jack had been frustratingly similar to the one before.  He hadn’t been able to hold back on the drinking, in fact, his anxiety at trying to improve the first night had translated into treating his pint glass like a crutch, sipping whenever a beat of silence dared appear. He managed to not call Jack pretty, instead settling for a ‘Hmm, wow’ when he said the thing about making sense of the universe. This did not stop him focusing for another moment on how pretty Jack actually was (it may have actually forced him to think of it, that attempted avoidance of acknowledging it) but he figured that he was only human, and it wasn’t exactly a full-blown infatuation or anything, more just... aesthetic appreciation. So he still blushed as he headed back up to the bar for his round, prompting the same remarks from the sexy bartender, the same free drinks. 

It was at this point he decided to let the night roll over him, reliving it all - the conversations, the ramble home, the vomiting, If he tried this again, he would plan ahead better. Spreadsheets, maybe a powerpoint. Definitely at least one flowchart.

So, the absence of a hangover was his first clue that today was his third February 2nd. The next was the radio broadcast. And now, the walk into town.

‘Morning sunshine!’

He stared at Jack. ‘Everything good to go?’ he asked weakly. The band onstage struck up and nausea overwhelmed him as the chirpy music assaulted his ears. Crutchie was saying something about the video link and the studio in Philly but Davey couldn’t comprehend it. He had done this twice already, had hated it both times - ‘I can’t fucking do this.’

He forced his way out through the crowds, the world spinning around him. As soon as he was out of the square he sank into a crouch, sucking in mouthfuls of air. He needed help.

//

‘Say “aah.”‘

‘Aah.’

The doctor peered down his throat and he stared up at the ceiling, disillusioned. The difference between knowing that something was wrong, and knowing what that something was, was huge. The urge to have it looked at, to be assessed by a professional, had taken him to a doctor’s office, and he didn’t know exactly what he expected them to say, he just needed some kind of insight.

‘Well, your tonsils look fine! No headaches, pains, anything like that?’

‘Nausea. Deja vu. Just... disorientation.’

‘Mmhmm, mmhmm. Had a knock to the head recently?’

‘No. I don’t think so.’

‘Eaten anything bad?’

‘No.’ The doctor stared at him, tapping his pen about the metal desk. ‘Have you recently come off any medication?’

‘I have literally done nothing. This is happening to me and I don’t know why.’

The doctor took a few more seconds to think, then leaned forward, narrowing his eyes and glaring at Davey. He took a deep breath in, paused - and then let out a huge sigh, and shrugged his shoulders.

//

‘So you’re depressed?’

‘No. I’m literally reliving the same day. February 2nd has happened to me... three times now.’

He sat opposite Punx’s premiere psychiatrist, who eyed him anxiously, pen poised over her clipboard, though she hadn’t yet taken any notes.

‘So you’re... delusional?’

‘No - I’m.’ He hadn’t said it out loud before so he could totally understand her response. ‘I’m being very serious.’

‘My initial thought is to prescribe you this very mild anti-depressant. Sometimes days can feel like they’re bleeding into each other and really you just need a little pep!’

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and stared at her. ‘I don’t know why I thought this would help. Give me the pills.’

//

‘I feel like I’m trapped in a loop - like I’m unstuck in time.’

‘I sense a lot of anger in your aura,’ the guru nodded sagely. ‘And I think that’s why you’ve come apart from reality.’

‘I haven’t come apart from reality? I’m here - reality has... has come apart from me.’

‘I’m just going to see where your moon is, and then I’ll be able to get a better idea, alright? Now, what time were you born?’

//

‘I know exactly what you mean.’ The sexy bartender leaned over the bar and fixed him with a glare. ‘Like every day is exactly the same, right?’

‘Right! Like literally the same. Like I can’t even butterfly-effect it, I’m just floating through like an unwilling witness.’

‘Like nothing you do matters?’

‘Kind of!’

‘Oh yeah, I’ve been there.’ He pushed over a freshly poured pint. Davey traced his fingertips through the condensation on the glass. ‘I’m Spot.’

Davey had given up trying to explain his predicament to medical or spiritual professionals and had opted instead to indulge in the fact that in a metaphorical sense the entire town probably felt like him. He had peeped through the door of the bar to check that Jack and Crutchie weren’t there, because he didn’t at all feel like explaining himself to them, before taking a seat at the bar and treating the bartender like a therapist.

‘I’m used to it,’ he’d said, when Davey had apologised, sheepish at having rambled about his problems. But Spot had kind eyes (when he wasn’t glaring at rowdy customers) and a warm smile (when it eventually surfaced), and it made him feel like he could share without being judged. ‘In fact, what you’re saying sounds a whole lot like my day-to-day.’ And he had told Davey in turn, how tending bar in a place like Punx, was a steady paycheck thanks to the town’s band of alcoholics (”drunxsutawney”) but it wasn’t the most fulfilling, or exciting, or the best way to meet people. This was why, he explained, he couldn’t not introduce himself when a news crew of three cute guys passed through. Davey raised his eyebrows and accepted the drink.

‘David.’

‘David.’ The repetition with a smile sounded like validation. And Davey liked it. ‘How long you in town for?’

‘I’m... not sure. I don’t know.’

‘One night? More?’

‘Hopefully not more.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Me and Punx don’t get on. We’re not friends.’

‘Go on?’

‘I miss Philly. I miss my apartment on top of a 7-11, and I miss the constant buzz of noise and activity. When a town is too quiet, it’s... unnerving. I don’t like it.’ This was a new realisation. But there it was. Punx was so quiet that it forced all his problems to the forefront of his mind - how lonely nights in his one-bed got, or how stilted his career already felt despite being solidly okay for his age. How he had all these ideas exploding around in his head but what felt like no power to make them heard. ‘How about you? What makes you say that you’re stuck? Apart from, I guess, Punx just making everyone feel like that?’

‘I just - this is my pop’s bar, right? He passed eight years ago, just in time for me to graduate high school and take over - like he timed it. But the thing about my pop is, he saw beauty in the small things. Glass coke bottles, beer mats, musty pool tables. He loved this place. But I just - can’t. Can’t romanticise it like he could. But I love him, so. It’s what he would have wanted.’

‘You to be bound here? Sorry - I know it’s really none of my business.’

‘No, no. I don’t know. What if I get rid of this place and don’t find something better? He set me up here, y’know. Can’t sniff at it. But will anyway, right?’

‘Right.’ At the same time that Davey wanted to shake Spot and tell him to chase his dreams or whatever, he knew where he was coming from, and saw a good deal of his own issues in him.

‘I mean. One day something else will appear. Something so good that it’ll propel me away from here and I won’t feel bad. Just... not tonight.’

‘Something like what?’

‘I’ll know when I see it.’ He smirked, holding Davey’s gaze for a few seconds before stepping back and nodding towards the rest of the bar. ‘You’re the last man standing. Mind if I join you for one before last call?’

‘Be my guest. Or your own guest. Or whatever.’ Davey watched him pour a beer before venturing round to the other side of the bar. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that the place had emptied around them. Spot sat on the bar stool next to him, swivelling to face him, their knees just touching.

‘And what about you, huh? What do you want?’

//

The apartment was dimly lit in orange by a solitary lamp on an end table. Lived in but not messy. Clearly one person’s abode.

Davey followed Spot in, and paused in the living room as his host wandered into the kitchen. As Davey replied to the drink offer thrown to him he took a second to centre himself. He touched the doorknob first, as he closed the door, a knuckle on the polished brass, and then the back of the couch, memorising the rough texture of the cotton or wool or whichever material it was. He ran a fingertip through a fine layer of dust that had collected on an old War and Peace on the arm of the couch, and then finally encountered a little cat who breezed over from its bed in the corner. He picked it up, holding it to his chest, scratching behind its ears. It purred, nuzzling into his hand.

He was definitely here. He was definitely in this apartment.

//

When he woke up the next morning under that stifling duvet full of stale laundry fragrance, with the hotel radio singing about groundhogs plus the brand new memory of Spot’s hands and mouth and skin - that was his first realisation that nothing he did now had any consequences.

#newsies #newsies fic #davey jacobs #spot conlon #don't shoot me this is javid i promise but stuff will happen on the way obv!!!!1 #bear with bear with