ngl wish cabal regrew their balls like lizard tails only because I would also like to revoke the consul’s sack rights for raising ghaul for completely selfish shitty reasons
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just cut the sleeves off my believers never die tour part deux t shirt. deranged gay summer has officially begun
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watching bridgerton s1 after finishing s2 was certainly a mistake :)))))
my kathony heart :)))))))
Ksksksksks yes I didn’t watch s1 but I watched the cast recap video and I'm like :)))))) no thanks :))))))
On the bright side, there's a malec au (a oneshot) of malec as Anthony and Sienna sooo there's that 😝 (I read it a looooong time ago and I found it again while looking at malec regency fics lol. Kathony!malec and kathony in general is still superior tho 😎)
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The words wash over Hawk and fills his lungs like putrid water. In a moment everything seems clearer than it has in years, plants greener than ever before and Tim still looks so calm.
His older features seem more relaxed, more grey in his hair than Hawk’s own. It is obvious the disease is aging Tim faster than normal and the army may have made a man out of his Skippy, but the years after Fire Island made him Tim.
It occurs to Hawk then that Tim has been living with this knowledge for some time, was not even going to tell Hawk the truth. This was Tim collected, this was Tim accepting. This was Tim on borrowed time, and Hawk imagines his Skippy holding a live grenade to spare him from any hurt.
“Can I use your bathroom?” Hawk asks in a tight voice after a moment of silence.
Tim says yes, and Hawk is on his way as though running from the truth. Skippy is dying.
The bathroom is a garish yellow and Hawk cannot stand the remnants of this person he does not know; he is used to picking up Tim’s small trinkets and being treated to the origin story with boyish glee. This Tim, however, is unknowable to Hawk. He wonders when Tim started using cinnamon toothpaste over spearmint.
Hawk looks into the mirror and splashes water on his face to bring him back to reality. There is no time to know this Tim, not like he once had. Gone were the days of lounging in bed and trading stories. There was no more time because Skippy was dying.
The world turns and Hawk sits on the toilet.
The last time the world had spun so violently, Hawk had been asked to identify his son’s body at the morgue.
Yes, that’s… Hawk had said before clearing his throat. That’s my son, that’s my boy.
Jackson had been so still and looked freezing and it took everything in Hawk to not climb next to his son and cradle his frigid body. There was in fact nothing left for Hawk to do for Jackson, his duties as his father were absolved. Father of one, officially. Losing his child had damn near killed him.
And Hawk had tried to die, hoping maybe falling into drugs would somehow make him closer to Jackson. This is how he felt when he felt free, Hawk thought as the powder burned his nose; it was the closest they ever got to father-son bonding.
Hawk would have died if it had not been for Tim. No two ways about it.
Now Tim is dying and Hawk cannot return the favor.
He lost one of his boys and another was on the way out next. Jackson and Tim, was there truly no sanctuary for the kind? Were they doomed the minute they opened their hearts to the bitter world?
Hawk cannot imagine losing Skippy, not again, not like this. Soon the world would be without Tim and Hawk could not bear to live through this death again.
Don’t you need me, Skippy? Hawk had asked long ago with cheeks sticky with tears.
I have you, Tim said with all the certainty in the world.
Hawk crumples forward with his face in his hands, tears stubbornly at bay. He never had Tim at all and it was no one’s fault but his own.
He looks up from his hands to the shelf of medication and notices the prescription has a refill available for pick up.
Skippy is dying, Hawk thinks. But he’s not dead yet.
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