carmineink:

         “I’ll write it on your punching bag,” Alex said, mumbling the words against Layne’s skin. He could just lift his head a bit to make sure that his boyfriend could actually hear and understand what he was saying, but that sounded like effort. “I’ll break into your gym and get all the focus mitts and everything and I’ll write ‘remember to turn on the air con, Layne, you fuckhead,’ on all of them in Sharpie. And then you’ll have absolutely no excuse to forget because you’ll be staring at it all day long.”

carmineink:

       “Um, I don’t kick you out of the bed because I love you, you ass.” Honestly. Alex rolled his eyes, adjusting his position until he was more or less draped over Layne’s chest, head pillowed comfortably on his shoulder. “And it’s only miserable because we’re both forgetful morons who forget to turn on the air con before bed. We just need to, like, set reminders or phone alarms or something. Y’know, like ‘turn air con on now or be burned to death by your boyfriend.’ That kinda thing.”

carmineink:

        “Well, yeah, but that’s why we have air conditioning.” Hell, Alex would do his best to keep every last goddamn blanket on his bed, middle of summer or not, and if that involved inventing some sort of bizarre reverse hot water bottle then he was gonna fucking do it. But later. Right now he had a Layne to cuddle, which was naturally much higher priority. “And besides, I’ve already slept with you in summer, babe, and it is definitely do-able.”

carmineink:

       “I do know, and it’s a lot,” Alex replied, managing to sound only a little smug. While most of the time he really hated his telepathy with just about every ounce of his being, occasionally it was handy to have to hand. Case in point - he knew exactly how much Layne liked his idea, and therefore knew himself to be an Excellent Boyfriend with many Excellent Ideas. He grinned against Layne’s skin at his next comment, turning his head a little to press a brief kiss to his skin. “Damn fucking right you are. It’s fucking great. You’re like my personal hot water bottle.”

carmineink:

        “Ok, so, consider this: instead of going outside where it’s cold, we put the heating up and spend all day here, and when we do go outside we do it with two coats and three scarves each. Sound good?” Alex cracked an eye open for long enough to look across the pillow at Layne, grinning slightly before he shuffled in again to wrap his arms around Layne’s waist. Layne was like a furnace, and it was fucking wonderful. “And until the rest of the flat is warm enough we just leech off of each other’s body heat.”

carmineink:

             “Good.” Alex really probably shouldn’t be encouraging this sort of behaviour, what with how Layne was a professional athlete and all, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care sufficiently. Layne was right; it was horribly cold outside of the warm cocoon of their bed, and Layne was warm and Alex was comfortable and spending a lazy morning snuggling with his boyfriend sounded nothing less than perfect. “Stay here. Cuddle me.”

porticosdaughter:

“I’ll have you know this is hilarious,” Alex retaliated, not moving an inch as Door started aggressively poking him. “I am a skilled actor, I assure you. Even as a corpse my acting skills are equal to none. Like, for example? Check this shit out.” This shit, of course, being Alex hauling himself upright and batting Door’s still-poking hand away. “Boom. I’m a zombie acting as a living person. I’m acting a heartbeat and a pulse and all. Get on my level, Door.”

He couldn’t keep the shit-eating grin off his face, not after saying all that. Besides, he felt like Door knew him well enough by this point to know that if anyone was going to dissent before her reign even really started it would be Alex, though he would of course only dissent in the bestest, nicest, most wonderful way possible. “Is re-dying aloud? Like, now that I’m a zombie and, therefore, technically undead, would killing me count as me dying? Would that still be illegal?”

mythsworn:

“Yeah, clearly.” Even Alex can tell that much – the stuff in the little display is clearly both ancient and pretty fucking awesome looking, and he’s definitely feeling impressed on some level. It’s definitely not his thing the same way it’s this guys thing, but it’s still impressive, porcelain or pottery or ceramic or something else entirely. “And listen, dude, you almost certainly know more about this than me. I’m just gonna, y’know, bow to your higher knowledge.”

Bow to his higher knowledge and try to ignore the frankly fucking bizarre thoughts that ran through the guys mind for a split second. Alex didn’t know who the fuck Song or Katya were, or even what they’d done, but it was clearly that a very big, and possibly very bad something had gone down, and this guy had somehow been involved in it.

…He thinks. Even telepathy isn’t perfect.

Alex shifts closer to the display, leaning down a little to peer once again at the neat little descriptor box. “Mm, yeah,” he said, nodding slightly, “I wouldn’t go to war with people who made pottery like this.”

spliitlip:

        “Alex,” he replies, and starts following after the guy - Noel - without too much complaining. He’s not entirely sure where they’re headed but he’s not bothered - telepathy, much as he bitches about it mentally, does come with a few perks.

spliitlip:

               “... fine.” Just be grateful he’s close enough to a headache that he accepts your help without arguing about it. Today, he just can’t be fucked. “You got a name?”

spliitlip:

                                              @lxthologica .

                     “I’ve dealt with worse. I’ll live.”

Besides, it’s only a split lip. At least he still has all his stuff.

maritamed:

“Babe, I’m sorry I’m being so rambly and shit, I promise I have an end goal in mind, okay? I promise. And it is to do with medical pot, this is just all… background information, if that makes sense.” I’m trying. “I wanted to try and, like, smoothly transition through this stuff but it turns out I am actually just really fucking bad at shit like this so just… just bear with me, okay? Please? I am getting somewhere, I swear.”

He sighed, and looked down at their joined hands. It’s gonna be okay. This is Noah. He loves you and you love him. It’s gonna be okay. “I know you know about the migraines, because you see them and deal with them and I crawl into your head a lot during them because it is very nice and comfy and comforting in there. But there’s- there’s other stuff, that I don’t tell you. Because I don’t want you to have to face it.” That’s not it, Alex. Just fucking say it. “Because I don’t want to face it.” Alex can’t bring himself to look at Noah. Not yet. “Sometimes I get days when I forget who I am. Like, entirely. I stop being an actual complete person because all I can hear are other people’s thoughts and they overwhelm mine and then I don’t have my own thoughts anymore, or if I do I can’t hear them. I’m just… I’m not there, at all. And it terrifies me.” Pause. “And I black out sometimes. That happens too. And I’ve lost time on a few occasions.”

Alex knew he was drifting from the main topic, the one he had, at least mostly, intended to talk about, and that was... well, it had definitely not been the plan. He fell silent, watching the play of sunlight on skin as he waited for Noah to process through everything he’d just said. Waited for Noah to get confused, to wonder how on earth any of this played into getting a more effective pain killer.

Fuck, this is a nightmare. You’ve just gotta tell him. You have to.

Alex took a deep breath, and looked up, locking eyes with Noah. And then, very quietly, very ashamedly, he pressed the words he should be saying towards Noah’s mind. [ I want to tell you everything about my telepathy but I can’t start a conversation about that out loud because it makes me feel ashamed and uncomfortable and broken and I hate it but I wanted you to know anyway because I love you and you’re my fiancé. I want to tell you everything, all the downsides of my telepathy, but I can’t out loud so I’m pretending that this is 100% about medical weed when actually it’s closer to 60% about medical weed and I’m sorry I’m such a fucking mess. ] Much as he wished he could send it all in one go, he doesn’t. He kept it slow, and paced, and measured, and kept eye contact with Noah the whole time, doing everything he could to suggest that he would be saying these words out loud if he could bring himself to. [ I’m trying, babe, and I love you. Just… I wanted you to know everything, all the shit stuff that comes from my telepathy like the chronic migraines and stuff before I brought weed up again. I’m sorry. ]