#alyssasmuses

     Every morning. 6:13 AM.

He’s up due to the sound of a bird pecking at his window. It’s been trying to get in for weeks now.     Weeks..

          It’s been weeks since the fight on the moon. Five weeks, actually. Marie went back to Oceania to help there. That’s her station after all.. Why he thought she’d stay is beyond him at this point, and he’s not sure he cares anymore.

     It’s 🇷🇴🇺🇹🇮🇳🇪.

     People leave him. He’s quite used to it at this point.

   6:30.      He adjusts.

  First- Straighten his back. Stretch.                         ...Neck, arms, wrists, knuckles.   Second- 🇦🇩🇯🇺🇸🇹🇸 the screw. It tends to get off-set when he sleeps. He tosses and turns a little when he has nightmares. It’s a good way to tell if he’s had a nightmare.            Not that they aren’t regular anyway..

     If he can stomach the motivation nowadays, he’ll shower. Nice and cold to offset the Nevada air.

Get dressed. Breathe for a few minutes.

       6:40.      Motivation or not though, he needs to eat. If he doesn’t, he’ll relapse or pass out or just feel generally shitty for the day.

     Breakfast is generally a sandwich but sometimes he spices it up and makes bacon. The one thing he has managed to learn how to not burn. It requires just enough focus that he can dissociate while he cooks it.              His 🇩🇮🇸🇸🇴🇨🇮🇦🇹🇮🇴🇳 falls into a perfect pattern for cooking bacon.          Bacon goes on the hot pan,            Start 🇩🇮🇸🇸🇴🇨🇮🇦🇹🇮🇴🇳.                It wears off in a few minutes, leaving him to flip the bacon.             Start 🇩🇮🇸🇸🇴🇨🇮🇦🇹🇮🇴🇳 once more.                 🇩🇮🇸🇸🇴🇨🇮🇦🇹🇮🇴🇳 wears off and the bacon is done. Bacon.

     “Hm.. Clothes, shower, food, stretched...” What is he missing.

Oh right.

         His pills are something he almost forgets every day. In fact it has become 🇷🇴🇺🇹🇮🇳🇪 to just barely remember to use them. Which means he knows he’ll always remember. Because he knows he’ll always almost forget.

     Pills are swallowed down with juice, water, tea, or coffee. It depends on what he has the energy for. Yes, he may have gotten sleep, but he’s still exhausted. Constantly.                         Then again, he doesn’t always actually sleep too..

                                                       Focus.

Walk to work, arrive at 7:45. Sometimes earlier if his 🇷🇴🇺🇹🇮🇳🇪 takes less time than normal.     🇦🇩🇯🇺🇸🇹.

     🇦🇩🇯🇺🇸🇹 papers on desk, books, desks for the students.   Sit and think, or dissociate. Whichever happens first.

     🇦🇩🇯🇺🇸🇹 glasses, screw, or seated position as needed.

          While he waits he tends to go over papers, grades, future class plans and the like. Sometimes even student data. Mumbles it to himself to see if he can get it right in comparison to the notes he writes down.                                    Using the word ‘writes’ loosely. He does get it right. Every time. Eidetic memory.

       Continue to 🇦🇩🇯🇺🇸🇹. Though, if he adjusts too much he’ll get antsy...                                                    Can’t have that.

Classes...    Control students.   Control urges to cut something open.                                                         Barely...

🇦🇩🇯🇺🇸🇹 schedule as needed by variables throughout the day.     Everything is just variables....                       Everything is just..                                                     🇷🇴🇺🇹🇮🇳🇪.

Nothing to do after classes but go home, unless therapy is today.    Check calendar. It’s not today. Nothing to do then.

     🇦🇩🇯🇺🇸🇹.. 🇦🇩🇯🇺🇸🇹.. 🇦🇩🇯🇺🇸🇹... Turn the screw...        No, don’t dissociate while you turn the screw. You’ll hurt yourself. Stop it..

     The professor sighs, managing to pull his left arm away from the screw. He’s so tired of routine. It’s the same, it’s all the same. Routine bores him. Bore scares him, because he’s afraid of himself. He needs something different. Routine cannot last forever, he’ll just become 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐

      Becoming 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 is one of the only fears he has.   He requires ＰＵＲＰＯＳＥ.

He slicks a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair. The last student is gone... Remove the glasses. Remove the facade, quietly fade. Quietly.. Power down inside.                      Nothing to stop the apathy now. Great.            A relapse is just what I need.. Right.

The door to his class remains open.

u kno what this means. Polyship.

TH AT’S MY FA V SHOW

X @alyssasmuses

     He’s had such a good day today. He slept well, ate properly, took a good long shower. Classes went well, all the students were compliant. Maybe the word got out that his birthday is tomorrow, who knows. All he knows is he’s grateful as hell for this break.

    It’s been a couple weeks since you and he had that heart to heart on this balcony. He seems to have been getting better ever since. Getting shit off your chest will definitely help with that. So of course he’d accept the invitation.

     You’ve been joking about the sun being tired, and for once he actually gets the jokes. Or maybe he actually cares. He has the energy today. He didn’t need the cigarette tonight but it’s still calming him even further.

       He has a semi-permanent smile on his face, staring off into the freshly-night sky. Stars are starting to come out, but it’s not late enough for the city to be lit up quite yet. He likes this in-between.   He wanted to be close to you.           Wanted to hold your hand or something. All these random urges to be closer to you or to hold you or touch you or hell.. Maybe even kiss you.    It was starting to get really prominent in his mind, but he had that anxious feeling in his gut. What if it was stupid? What if you got confused or upset? You’re his best friend. He doesn’t want to ruin that.

    Yet eventually he does it anyway. Shaky hands reached out, and were greeted with.. Enthusiasm? What is it? He can’t place a word to your reaction, but his would most likely be described as butterflies. Or nausea.        Holy shit it worked??

   He stares at your for the longest time, trying to relax. Relaxing is not a strong suit for him. Mentally on a day like this, this is what he calls relaxed. His body is always tense though, no matter what he does. A small price to pay for precise hands he imagines. 

                   He was so caught up in his thoughts he almost missed it.                                              Cute?

“Wait-- Cute..? What do you mean cute?” It’s extremely rare to see him flustered. His hand tenses around yours instead of letting go, but he does look away. Maybe he even blushes, too dark to tell. He quickly takes a drag of his cigarette. If anything he gets shakier.

// chants; group verse group verse

send a symbol for a text  | accepting

⊙ for a reaction to your muse’s nudes text

it wasn’t often that someone would go out of their way to text her unless it pertained to some sort of work issue. so, upon seeing that spirit had sent her one--- a file no less, she opened it up with the idea of a professional relationship in mind.

how wrong she was. 

as soon as she saw the contents of the picture she found herself fumbling with her phone. in fact, dropping it in her lap & knocking her drink over. she did not just see spirit like that. no. he in no way sent her a photo of himself naked.

for everything that was holy. she quickly began to type a response. her eyes unfortunately flashing back at the previous message & only adding to her flusteredness. thank goodness she was at home. no one could be a witness to just how red she turned.