SAVE ME IN MY DREAMS TONIGHT / private, stocking

[madster]

malphas didn't really like confronting his feelings. he was supposed to be a stone-cold bitch with little feelings and an alcohol addiction, but his alcohol shelf was at the bottom of the swamp so there was no more booze for him to drown himself in. at times, he hated himself for throwing bottle after bottle into the water, but he knew it was for the better. he was going to be a better person. he had joined a coward, and he wanted to die as somebody people liked.

he liked someone though. it was different than his feelings for morgan, or even beck- he loved them platonically, and they didn't really cross his mind at night. when he was trying to sleep, though, he thought of stocking. her hair, her eyes, if she was okay... he didn't want to think about anybody else, but here he was, laying awake in withdrawal of both alcohol and attention. he decided to go talk to stocking, if it would make him feel better.

he crawled out of his falling-apart house and pulled himself over to stocking's house, bringing with him some weed. he wasn't a smoker, but knew stocking was, and so he had traded some high-quality booze for it with a loner. he was willing to give away his precious drink for her, and that meant something. he didn't want to think about it.

"h-hey, stocking," he stammered, shaking from withdrawal. he just wanted a drink, god damn it, but then he would be back to square one. "i know it's really fuckin' late, but i brought you some weed, and- do you have a moment?" he asked, actually being sincere for once in his miserable life. 

[SOCKING]

STOCKING ANARCHY

✯ — if you don't fuck with us then motherfuck you

space

tanglewood was her home. before this all, she had been a stuck up, conceited image of an angel. the thought of living on earth, much less a swamp filled with abominable creatures and muck downright disgusted her.

but the citizens had proved to be tolerable. and in all honesty, she had grown quite fond of them. especially one in -particular.

malphas was a simple, laid back guy. easy to talk to, not to mention that he had been one of the people to do her the biggest favor since her untimely and rather messy arrival into tanglewood's musty swamp. and for that, she was forever in his debt.

stocking had settled in well since her week of coming to tanglewood. she had thankfully, manage to find some furnishing; all dark hues of cool colors. black, blue, purples. colors like these brought out stocking's comfort.

and of course, there was the issue of her new pet.

the pitcher plant has thoroughly invaded the home, spilling his vines across the floor. stocking hadn't minded him then. plip (short for pussy lips) was polite and well-mannered. he eradicated pests lurking within her home, and he'd eat whatever she fed him.

a shaky, familiar voice from outside drew stocking to her door. she peered at malphas from the threshold of her cabin. he seemed... unstable. unstable in the way that one was tired, their energy sapped and struggling to stand upright. concern etched across her face, she stepped aside and gestured inward.

"of course-- and thank you for bringing the weed," the cannabis was a well appreciated gift, but in that moment stocking cared more for his health and what he had to say. what happened?

space

✯ — female. tanglewood. moderate difficulty. REF. BIO. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[madster]

malphas didn't believe he was in her debt, or she owed him anything. that day, he had just been simply doing his job- a shitty job, at that. malphas had to see terrible things- his worst thoughts haunted him at night, circling around him like sharks. what if i could have saved hati? what if i could have helped iota? it's my fault they were hurt... it's my fault nayru died, he thought, deeply burdened by the weight of his the pain of his friends. he was sure being the medic to strangers would be so much easier, but these were his friends he had to work on, people he cared for, as much as he would hate to admit it.

"ugh, fuck," he groaned, another shockwave of pain sent coursing down his spine. "hey, quick info- don't ever drink like, twelve shots of bourbon every day and then decide to quit cold turkey. this is the worst," he revealed his ailment- alcohol withdrawl. how pathetic, he thought. "but i'm not, uh, here to tell you to not be like me. i, uh.. oh god," he stumbled, clearly in pain. "i need a drink. no- no i don't. fuck. let's get fuckin toked up, stocking," he said, squinting, looking at her, trying to stay focused.