#(BUT again it's a BUT and IF this improves with the medicine and if it heals well enough)

[pigeon-butch]

I certainly have my own concerns about the treatment of moo deng but um. well i think some of you may just be racist

[squidaped-oyt]

My hands were almost healed but suddenly decided they were going to stop responding to the treatment I was using and turn back to raw meat again, so topical steroid cream it is

[raeathnos]

.

[lamah0urani]

Our dreams have been destroyed, and we have nothing left...😞

🫂You're our last hope in this life🫂

I'm Lama from Gaza, I'm 24 years old, and my husband is Mohammad... We got married in 2022 in a house full of love and happiness. Our house was beautiful, we chose everything in it carefully... We were waiting for the end of the day to go there after a tiring day of work, but the occupation did not leave us. 😔😭💔

This house was bombed with all hatred. Here we are after the genocide. We have nothing... We lost our house, our work, and our car.😭😞

We were displaced to Rafah in a tent that could not accommodate 5 people, and after the displacement from Rafah, we were displaced to Mawasi Khan Yunis again. It was a very difficult period... but now we are in Mawasi Khan Yunis in a tent that does not protect us from the cold of winter or the heat of summer.😞😭

This is our tent, its floor is made of cardboard, as you can see, and I suffer from severe eczema due to the pollution of the air and the materials used, and the medicine is very expensive.😭💔

Urgent: My husband needs a very necessary operation and medication. Please help my husband in order for his health to improve. He is in pain.😞😭🫂🙏🙏

Help us and donate to us. You are our last hope and the lifeline of this life. 🫂🙏

We need you...Donate to us and save what is left of us.😞🙏🙏

Link campaign ⬇️ ⬇️⬇️

https://gofund.me/8f634db2

..

✅️Vetted✅️

@gazavetters

[officialclangen]

CLANGEN UPDATE: CLANCOPHONY

(Download the update here, or via your in-game auto-updater!)

Hello furriends and Clanmates! We hope you have all lined your nests with feathers and moss; leaf-bare is here, and so is our next release!

Our lovely developers have been reinforcing the camp walls with new features for moons now. With the new release, you can direct your warriors' focus, befriend/antagonize the other Clans, invite in outsiders, choose symbols for your Clans, experience our new sound system, and more! ❄️

If you are having issues with your anti-virus flagging ClanGen, please look to this post for a guide on how to fix it.

Our changelog is very long, so it will be below the cut ❤️

Features

CLAN FOCUS: New feature accessed via the Warrior's Den. Direct your warriors' Focus towards specific goals, such as feeding the Clan or sabotaging other neighboring Clans. When the Focus is changed, there is a cooldown of 3 moons before it can be changed again, so choose wisely! Please note that some Focuses aren't accessible in Classic mode and that some Focuses require certain cat ranks to be present.

PRONOUNS: Wow! The cats have pronouns other than they/them? Yes it's true! Cats can now naturally generate with they/them, he/him, or she/her pronouns. Want a cat to have different pronouns than those options? You can do that to! Check out their profile page and the Change Gender option to add any pronoun under the sun. These pronouns will be used in text throughout the game when referring to that cat (give a big hand to our writing team for the monumental amount of work they did to get pronouns integrated into all the text!) Please note a new game setting to revert the game to only generating they/them pronouns for all cats.

LEADER'S DEN: You can now access the Leader's Den to view the other Clans neighboring your Clan as well as the known Outsiders. Decide how you want to interact with these other cats: will you appease the hostile Clans? Or antagonize them further? Will you hunt down that one pesky rogue? Or perhaps you've decided an exiled Clanmate should be allowed a second chance…

CLAN SYMBOLS: You can now choose a Clan symbol during Clan creation. Other Clans also generate with symbols, which you will see in the Leader's Den. There are currently 484 symbols available to choose from, a roster that we plan to continue expanding with each stable update. Please note that old Clan saves will not be able to choose a Clan symbol in-game, though save editing to change the symbol is relatively simple. When loading an old save, the game will attempt to assign a symbol matching with it's prefix, if no symbol exists then it will randomly choose a symbol.

CLASSIC CONDITIONS: Classic mode can now access illnesses, injuries, and permanent conditions! Please note that this still differs in some ways from Expanded mode. In Classic Mode, a single medicine cat can care for the entire Clan, specific herb amounts are not displayed on the med den screen, an herb will treat a condition regardless of the Clan's actual herb amounts, the Clan's herb supply is randomly generated and is not dependent on events.

AUDIO: What in StarClan?? Clangen with sound!? Clangen now comes with shiny new sound effects and one very lovely music track that plays during Clan creation. More music is on the horizon… and don't worry! There is a handy dandy mute button in the corner of the screen and audio settings to control music/ambiance and sound effects volume separately.

QoL

Fullscreen new and improved! Art no longer looks oddly crunched and the black frame has been replaced with pretty background art. This comes with a new setting to turn off anti-aliasing and a setting to ignore fullscreen scaling rules, just in case you want it a little extra large (please note that this setting will come with some visual quirks if enabled)

You can now search cats on the mediator page

More special characters are allowed in user notes

Leaders can now be affected by mass extinction events

Mass extinction events are now limited to affecting 11 cats at most, but they can occur multiple times in a single moon.

When leaders die of starvation, they now revive with enough nutrition to bring them up to malnourished, giving a little extra time to find food before starving once more.

Moon events that previously mentioned an Outsider, but did not generate an Outsider cat, will now generate an Outsider

Moon events that mention an Outsider can now pull an Outsider from the existing list of Outsiders, rather than generating a new one

War events will now match with the affect of the overarching war event for that moon (i.e. if the Clans are having peace talks that moon, no clan relation lowering events will occur at the same time)

More moon events are now recorded in the relationship log if they changed a relationship

"show dead/living" button on cat list is now "view dead/living"

"filtered by" button on cat list is now "sort by"

Last and First page buttons are now available on the cat list screen.

Players can now input a page number on the cat list screen to move to that page immediately

Leader death history now displays as a single sentence for each death, rather than one long run-on sentence

Custom cursor setting now comes with a warning about increased chance of crashes

All text (or at least, the vast majority) can now be copy-pasted!

Buttons on moon events that lead to the profiles of cats involved now generates a horizontal scroll bar if the buttons go off-screen

If a moon event had no cats specifically involved, the involved cat button no longer displays

Alert exclamation marks now persist until the tab is clicked

When keybinds are on, you can now use the arrow keys to move up and down the event tab buttons, and the enter button to switch to the selected tab

Cats can now be quickly added to and removed from patrols via double clicking

Herb moon events no longer destroy herb supplies in their entirety (with the exception of one war event) and any large destruction events no longer occur if herb stores are already low

Herb gained on moonskip and patrols has been slightly buffed

Relationship value changes when cats break up is now dynamic, meaning some break ups have larger impacts than others

Newborn kits are now listed in the involved cat buttons on moon events

Quick start! You can click Quick Start at the beginning of Clan Creation to skip to the end. All choices will be made randomly

Content

100s of new patrol art additions

Many many new patrols! Many requiring specific traits or skills.

New outcomes for existing patrols! Many requiring specific traits or skills.

New Camps! The Mountainous camp, Ruins, and the Beach camp, Fjord.

New moon events, such as murders and new ways to gain accessories.

Literally 1000+ new relationship events

Many many new thoughts, many of which are exclusive to certain traits, ages, conditions, seasons, and skills

New leader ceremony possibilities, many of which are exclusive to cats of certain traits (both the dead cats and the new leader)

Prefix list updated to include new canon names (looking at you, Stretchkit)

Many new loner/kittypet names

Many outcomes for Leader Den events, many of which are specific to certain skills, traits, and ages

New events for pregnancy announcements and speculations

New grief events and thoughts

New accessories!

Bugfixes

Murders will no longer occasionally crash the game

Fixed a bug caused by the training app murder event

You can no longer sort living cats by death date

Players no longer get stuck in the med den backrooms (when accessing the med den through cat profiles, the back button would return you to the cat profile. attempting to back out of the cat profile would take you back to the med den. rinse and repeat, it's a loop)

Buttons now disable/enable properly when closing relationship logs on first and last cats in the cat list

You can no longer enter negative page numbers by clicking the back button very very fast

Leaders now receive appropriate birth event text when dying from childbirth

Outsider kittens can no longer join as warriors

Long term conditions, like wasting disease, will now display in leader's history if they took a life

When leaders are lost on patrol, patrol result text no longer mentions them by their warrior name

Litters can no longer spawn with duplicate names (i.e. two kits named Stonekit)

Medicine cats captured by twolegs no longer have their role erased

Cat history no longer lists cats as murdering themselves

Kicked cats out of the walls (fixed some possible cat positionings on camp screen)

Adolescents can no longer be considered "normal adults" in patrols simply because they graduated to warrior early.

Kits adopted during moon events now receive correct inheritance info and begin with a positive relationship toward new adoptive parent(s)

Mates of adoptive parents now automatically adopt any newly adopted kits received on moonskip

Check added for matching age when assigning random romantic relationship values at Clan creation

When assigning random relationship values at Clan creation, the Guide cat will now only generate relationships with living cats old enough to have known the Guide in life.

Adopted litters now always generate with a bio parent, ensuring their inheritance lists them as littermates

The generation of half-clan litters no longer assumes the birthing parent can only be the (biologically) female parent (this is important for "ignore biology" game setting)

Cats with no romantic interest in each other will no longer receive romance decreasing events

Poly cat love confessions no longer read as though one cat is asking their dead mate for permission before accepting a new cat into the polycule.

Rosemary is no longer applied to the "dead body" of a lost cat

Affair birth events no longer mention nonexistent mates

Fixed mistagging in patrols that would lead to unintended effects

Many small UI issues

Many small sprite fixes

Many typo fixes

[primarining]

I still gotta schedule my infusion too shit

[thehopcful]

🐚

[apas-95]

When people talk about 'building community', usually the peak they aspire to is some form of mutual aid group. There are two main problems with this.

Firstly, mutual aid is a defensive tool, not an offensive one. It can only soften the blows of capitalism - it is the naive, bourgeois view of communism that our goal is the redistribution of wealth, when it is in fact the reorganisation of production. A network of mutual aid will level out the harshness of deprivation between those more and less vulnerable within the network. But it cannot actually lessen deprivation, and it cannot actually produce any food or blankets or medicine outside of its members earning a wage and buying them on the market. Under a system of mutual aid, everyone's life will slowly sink further and further into immiseration at the whims of capital, but it will do so at a (somewhat) consistent rate between them.

Secondly, most 'mutual aid' is not, actually, mutual aid. It is charity. Ask yourself: is there an intended recipient and an intended provider of this aid? Is it carried out by one group in order to help another? This is charity, a system of donation between a designated needy and general better-off. It is not that other thing: mutual aid. Mutual aid is characterised by its mutual character - that is, it is a community effort in which all members engage with it as both providers and recipients. There is nobody involved for who the supplies 'are not for you', because there is no separation between them. Like the 'community gardens' whose owners suddenly become upset at the food being taken, people are wearing the names of (honestly very minimally) more radical formations than the ones they are actually carrying out. They think that when they have changed the name of things, they have changed the things themselves!

Again, mutual aid is a fundamentally flawed, fundamentally defensive tactic - but people aren't even actually doing mutual aid. An offensive tactic, one that can actually improve people's quality of life and weaken capitalism, inherently means taking command of production, not merely adjusting consumption.

[minetteskvareninova]

I am not on Bluesky and you cannot make me join, but if there was anything that could make me do it, it would be seeing this contrarian bullshit while procrastinating from studying on my Early Modern History exams. Because someone needs to give these historically illiterate morons a reality check.

Listen. I don't *like* Middle Ages. I don't vibe with their art, philosophy, politics, anything. But they existed. They brought something of value to the world. Over the course of the Middle Ages, Europe experienced important societal developments. Without these developments, renaissance literally wouldn't happen. Renaissance was in many ways (art, philosophy, science) a continuation of the Middle Ages, in that there really isn't hard cut between Late Medieval period and the renaissance. In other ways, it was exactly like the Middle Ages AND WORSE. The panic over witchcraft reached its zenith in the 16th and the first half of the 17th century. Lots of unscientific bullshit about medicine, alchemy etc. was still going strong well into the 17th century. In fact, 17th century really was the worst, I'd just despise it with all my heart if it wasn't for a few bright spots like baroque architecture, beginnings of the scientific revolution and the like. And are you seriously calling out medieval Europeans for their silly religious beliefs and tendency for violence when renaissance was THE era of bullshit religious conflicts?! Like, my man! Thirty Years wasn't a medieval thing! Even the thing about "going to war with your cousin" - THAT'S LITERALLY WAR OF SPANISH SUCCESSION WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT

I am not even going to talk about the 16th and 17th century on other continents, because in the Americas it was the era of LITERAL APOCALYPSE. Like how can you talk about any progress when that part of the world saw a brutality that would make the crusaders blush.

It sucks that Early Modern Era still effectively doesn't exist in the popular imagination. Its best parts are subsumed into "renaissance" and "enlightenment". Its worst parts are grouped in with the Middle Ages - not the least because they didn't actually improve that much, and in fact got worse a lot of the time. But you cannot celebrate the art of Da Vinci and just ignore the atmosphere of constant warfare between petty duchies it was born in. That's not how historical eras work. In fact, historical eras aren't really discreet categories with a clear cutoff point, but more like approximate divisions of a continuum. There is very little that separates the art of 1599 from 1600, but by 1650, you do kinda start seeing the difference.

Also! I know I keep repeating this, but Middle Ages didn't suck equally throughout their entirety. "Dark Ages" were the Early Medieval Era, which itself was a several centuries long period by most estimates. High Middle Ages were mostly as good as the Middle Ages got, you get gothic architecture, invention of universities, scholastic philosophy, the works. 14th century is when the things really start to suck again, Black Plague comes, you get wars and peasant rebellions, yada yada. But you also get the earliest "renaissance" art, so if you like that style, you can't disavow the Middle Ages entirely. And the 15th century is also mostly bad, except that one is when the renaissance and humanism period begins in earnest, so.

[ghosts-and-glory]

Is Shamura training martial arts after being taken into Lamb's cult? If they enjoyed complexity and bloodshed of war than it'd be probably dissapointing for them if they had to... drop it all

Full under the cut because this turned out really long

Upon joining the cult Shamura was a shell of their former self. They join the cult dissenting, the long term effects of the crown still clawing at the edges of their mind, but after a few days they’re mortal, just themself. Without the crown to hold them together they suffer like their injury was yesterday.

The Lamb has the doctor, Puar, perform their usual tests on them. Shamura is hardly there. They don’t know their own name, can hardly speak, can’t stand or track movement.

There was no wisdom in their slurred words. No power in the way their hands shook.

The outlook is bad.

The Lamb doesn’t really want to help them, after everything, why should they. Shamura who had The Lamb’s entire race and family killed, who killed them aswell and countless of their followers. It would cost them so much, to try and help someone who spent so long just trying to destroy them and everything they had. The time, energy, resources it would cost and they didn’t even know if they could get better.

Deciding it wasn’t worth it was one thing, but getting the other ex bishops to understand was a whole other, even the doctor disagreed with them.

Dr Puar took on being their primary caregiver. They’d been a doctor for the past hundred years and seen concussions and dementia but nothing nearly as severe as this. They wanted to help Shamura but didn’t know how.

It wasn’t until Narinder joined the cult that The Lamb saw any reason to help Shamura. But there was something wrong with him and Shamura knew something, they just had to get to it.

Kallamar was the ex bishop Puar wanted the help from the most. He was scared of the lamb and red crown but he loved Shamura more.

The Lamb took Puar and Kallamar to the ruins of the temples in Anchordeep and Silk Cradle. They spent days digging through the decimated remains of the libraries for something, anything on this type of injury.

It seemed that they where looking down possible years of intense recovery. Needed herbs and medicines that may no longer exist, techniques Puar had never heard of. But they would try.

Puar took careful and detailed notes. Timed Shamura’s responses, wrote down everything they said, tracked eating, drinking, sleeping and every symptom they displayed. Improvements where slow and sometimes nonexistent at first. They took full minutes to respond and only in single words, barley moved, couldn’t feed themselves and suffered constant migraines.

The one thing that seemed to help them the most was their siblings. They didn’t remember them most days but every time one of they came to check in it raised their spirits. One of their faces was the only thing they could focus on sometimes.

Kallamar insisted he wasn’t a doctor but still worked around the infirmary, helping Shamura was the only thing he’d do without complaining. Heket spent hours sitting in silence with them, brought them food and flowers and changed their bandages. Leshy was the only thing that could get them to smile and they where the only person he would ever lower his voice for, he told them stories even though they hardly listened.

Improvements brought new challenges. They got better at speaking full sentences and following conversations but it revealed how fractured their memory was. Forgetting names, places and important events, how often they forgot where they where, they asked the same questions over and over again.

They complained of seeing and hearing things, phantom pains with seemingly no rhyme or reason. The sun hurt their eyes, rain gave them headaches, always sleeping but always tired. They would suddenly backslide constantly. One day could walk with minimal help and the next, couldn’t even hold a pen in their hand. Have a full conversation one day and hardly spit out their name tomorrow.

Until the day Puar looked Shamura in the eye and for once they saw him. Didn’t look past them with their blank stare but looked at them. They would ask to sit outside at night in the fresh air. They seemed to know now who they are, what they where, what they lost. A tinge of grief in their words.

Improvements brought frustration. On days they remembered who they where they were overcome with a mix of anger, guilt and despair. They where a god. They had bore down on armies, killed men with a twitch of a finger, brought other gods to their knees, and now they could hardly bring a cup to their mouth.

Emotionally, their siblings said they’d never seen them like this before. Before Shamura could be frustrated but their temper was cold and quiet. Now they wore a short fuse and suffered constant mood swings. It angered them that they couldn’t read, that their hands were numb, that they couldn’t walk without a cane, couldn’t go out in the sun, couldn’t string a full sentence together, couldn’t recognize their siblings faces, couldn’t feed themselves, couldn’t sleep without drugs, everything they lacked and lost wore them down.

Regardless, they where unusually steadfast. They would always pick back up. If they got frustrated they would try again in a few days. They tried anything Puar asked of them, anything for the smallest iota of improvement.

The outlook was better.

—————

This got out of control and took me like three days between the art and write up. I got really excited when I saw this ask cause the answer is so devastating. If I was taking Narinder’s trauma seriously I’m not gonna just ignore Shamura’s traumatic brain injury.

As a side note, I’m very unsure how to write the medical stuff, my guess is that cotl is based around 1300’s-1700’s but that’s a wide net to cast. My excuse for the stronger understanding of medicine and trauma is magic.

[animeshotsh]

When I lost you | Young!Silco x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death - Reader is sick - Silco is still not a gang lord - Silco does not want Reader to try any drug - Italics = memories - ANGST - grammar mistakes -

When Silco was alone in his office, when he knew not even Jinx was around his mind liked to go back in time to see memories of a different time, so different that it almost seemed like these were dreams.

He remembers you well. Your face, your body, your eyes, they never once lied to him. You always showed him your true colors and motivations. You wanted a better place, a future, a good place for the next generation. Stop the undercity of being know as a place of crime.

You wanted so much.

"What's on your mind Sil?" You asked one hand under your chin as you studied him.

Once again Silco was thinking on how...how to improve lives, how could he and Vander make the undercity different?

"Nothing important" He had said "Just thinking on how you look today" He added smirking when you blushed at his words.

"Charming, I hope this does not mean you or Vande did something...because your sweet talking wont work on me"

"Doesnt always?" He asked pulling you on his lap making you laught. He smelled your hair and let out a content sound. He liked this, this moment. He wanted to stop time and be here forever.

The silence was broken by a heavy cought from you, one that made you have to stand up to breath the little air you could.

"Are you alright Love?" Silco asked getting closer making circles on your back as he saw how you nodded still breathing hard.

"Yeah, i may get a flu soon" You had dissmissed with a smile

Silco blamed himself. For how he have acted, faster or different, for not getting you out of the mines.

"(Y/N)..." Silco started seeing how you were having a hard time just walking the stairs, he had noticed how you also seemed to be slower, a side comment Vander had said on how you almost got caught on a recent work.

"Im fine" You responded back, trying to ignore the pain on your chest.

Once you two made it to the top you took a big long breath.

"You are not fine. I can see it, Vander can see it, everybody can see it" Silco said getting more frustrated by you

"Then all of them are wrong" You declared, letting yourself fall on your couch. Your eyes starting to close.

"You cant even stay awake"

"I have done much work in the mines. Im just tired"

"Then stop, I can help you, i can provide for you!!" Silco almost screamed

"You know I cant leave, what if i need the dam job later? No one will take me in. Every job out there is managed by them, i cant just leave"

"You are killing yourself"

Silco groaned at that, he wanted to go back and beat up his younger self. It was like his words had set off a curse.

Because less than a week from that talk you ended leaving the mines after collapsing and almost causing a fatal mistake.

Silco entered your home. He went to your room were he saw you reading a old book, pages yellow.

"I got you some medicine" Silco started getting it out from a bag well hided.

"Silco stop, these are too expensive!!" You said again even since he had started to get you different ones but no one seemed to work.

"Shut up, just try it" Silco said passing it to you who took it making a face.

"Its terrible"

"Well its not supposed to teast good, its supposed to cure you" Silco responded going to your kitchen to heat up some soup.

When he returned you were deep sleep. He hoped that medicine was doing the trick.

Saddly it did not.

Weeks passed and Silco saw how you became more and more weak. Pale like a ghost, eyes no longer shining but almost out of life.

"Im dying" you said to him one afternoon "Im dying and you cant do anything about it so stop beating yourself"

Even now Silco felt like your words reached him.

"No, i cant let you die" Silco said hands rubbing his hair

"Uh, i can try that thing they are selling now..."

"No" Silco had say "Next thing we need is you getting addicted"

You rolled your eyes but did agree.

The soft rain from outside was like odd music, for a couple that was seeing its end.

"I love you" You said taking his hand "Im happy i got to live my life with you"

If Silco had know these were going to be your last words he would have given you a better response. More than "I love you" and more than false promises.

He had become what you asked him not to, and while he was making on his own way a better life for the city a part of him hated himself. Hated that he had somehow betrayed you.

"Im sorry" He whispered to no one. "Im so sorry (Y/N).

[muzansfangs]

Black Russian with muzan?

The scientist and his experiment.

Starring: Muzan Kibutsuji x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, spanking, power imbalance, blood and gore, violence, mention to death and death threats, mention to cannibalism, body horror, abusive language, hair pulling, creampie, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, demon!reader, orgasm denial, language, degradation, sub!reader, dom!muzan, testing onto underlings;

Plot: Experimenting in his laboratory, Muzan had tried once again to come up with a way to finally withstand the sunlight. Not keen to test the potion on himself, he had summoned you, one of the new Upper Moons who had joined the higher ranks. Teasing him about the most likely negative outcome of his experiment, you ended up smashing the cruet containing the potion and you both inhaled the exhalation generated by the liquid. If you both were pissed off a minute before the accident, why were you now growling and tearing your clothes off of your bodies?

Drink chosen: BLACK RUSSIAN (spanking, hair pulling, orgasm denial, vaginal sex, creampie);

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT | RULES FOR THE EVENT

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Not a day can pass without you craving my presence, huh?” you sassily gloated, head dangling from the edge of the canopied bed of the infamous Kibutsuji Muzan to stare at his back, flexing underneath the silken fabric of his shirt with each movement he made. If you were a lower rank he would have most likely already killed you.

He never truly enjoyed your presence, only restraining from getting rid of you for your loyalty and lethality. You were not the strongest Upper Moon at his service, yet you were the only one who solely searched for the Slayers and consumed them to the bone. Your diet was remarkably satisfying for him. Pillars, new recruits, you never paid attention to their rank. When they died, their flesh tasted the same.

“Silence” Muzan flatly muttered, pouring some greenish substance into a still empty cruet. Sadly, he had summoned you for testing his new experiment and had no interest in striking up a conversation with you. Let alone actually enjoying your company.

Then again, you could not actually believe he was completely unaffected by your charm. Brows knitting together in indignation, you scoffed and rolled off of the bed. Your kimono had slided down your shoulders, cleavage on full display for a wandering eye to admire, but still Muzan blatantly ignored you. He deemed you something between a slimy worm and pretty much an annoying fly, to be correct. A slave to his whims, at best, a pawn in his scheme to conquer the sun and expand his reign of terror to the daylight.

Walking up to him, you slammed your hands onto his desk, paying no attention to the papers you were creasing, as your head tilted to the side to scrutinize the way his hands flipped the pages of his diary, or how he carefully grasped a pipette to mix up multicolored substances “Shush me again and I won’t drink up your shitty potion. Or shall I refer to it as your new failed attempt to imitate the skills of that doctor you regrettably murdered, huh?” you asserted, fed up with his attitude.

This bastard should have been glad you worked so hard to purge Japan from his natural born enemies. You even went to the extent of setting fire to the wisteria you ran into through your journeys. However, it was not enough with him. It was never enough.

Muzan’s irritation grew exponentially at your words, jaw clenching in unbridled rage at the mention of his incapacity to find the blue spider lily and improve the medicine his doctor had given him so many centuries ago. You should have been grateful he had even bothered turning you into a demon, welcoming you in his kingdom, sharing his blood with you, donating incommensurable power and eternal beauty. Still, ungratefully, there you were, daring to mock him for his unsuccess in upgrading a stupid medication. He was a man of intellect, he only lacked a mere ingredient to perfect that effing brew.

“Useless brat, wash your mouth, when you talk about me. — he hissed through gritted teeth, the nails in his right hand sharpening under your now wary gaze — Will you ever understand how insignificant to me you are and how privileged you have been for having stumbled on my path?” he bitterly stated, snapping his diary close with a dull thud and tossing it across the room in sheer wrath.

His fangs had protruded from his gums, shiny, pointy and deadly. The veins rooting on his face and his pupils reduced to two slits were your last warning. You tried to dodge his attack, but the dark blood dripping down the floor from your face, as your skin slowly regenerated, were events happening in a fraction of time not even your demonic eye had registered. The pain though was there, the wince burning your throat the proof he had already struck you, before you could react.

A slash straight on your cheek, deep cuts left by his claws still bleeding up led you to clasp your hand pathetically over the wounds, as if you could stop the flow. You cussed, fury glinting in your eyes, your subservient nature leaving space to an unprecedented thirst for revenge nothing could quench. You knew beating him was impossible. Lacking the skills was the least of your problems. Why? Because how could you defeat someone who could read your mind?

You growled, fangs on full display, before your good eye darted from his face to the desk. Fetching a blow directly at him would have never worked, but not even Lord Kibutsuji could prevent glass from shattering, or ink to restore on the paper.

The moment he understood your aim was not directed at him, he did not hesitate to wrap his hand around your throat. The air was sucked out of your lungs, feet leaving the ground, kicking at the air, as you glared in defiance at him. Maybe he thought he could physically stop you, but your blood demon technique worked without you touching the elements you wanted to destroy.

“Don’t you dare” he snarled at your face, his nails digging onto your smooth flesh drawing crescent bloody moons, tinging your white kimono in a crimson shade of red.

“Respectfully, f-fuck you” you choked out, smiling like a mad woman as you snapped your fingers and the very potion he had just ultimated exploded into a million splinters under his incredulous eyes. The sound of the glass shattering was the sign of your victory. You were probably going to die, your immortal life coming to an end by the very hands of the man who had gifted you that second chance of living like a supernatural being.

But you smiled, you never stopped smiling, not even as your forehead was smashed down against the edge of the desk. You laughed instead, an hysterical but genuine laughter that made Muzan’s blood boil as he tangled his fingers through your hair and strained your neck back to meet your eyes. Pain was long forgotten in that very moment. Every fiber of your body screamed to you that you had reached a level of freedom from him no one had ever been able to reach.

“You are a degenerate worm not deserving of existing. The sight of you makes me vomit” he deadpanned, forcing you back on your feet roughly and tightening the grip on your hair, as he watched the puddle of the liquid spilled sizzling onto the carpet underneath his feet, liquifying it. He had failed then. He had wasted his time once again. Two weeks spent in mixing together ingredients, studying new a formula, only to be reminded of the thruth you had shouted at his face: he could not match the skill of that damned doctor.

He never lost his composure, not even when he punished his underlings. But you had truly amazed him with your stupid antics and a kink for self-destructing choices. He had made up his mind. You could not live another day. You had to die, now. It would have not been enough to calm him down but it was going to be extremely satisfying anyway. He wanted to be covered in your blood, only to forget your name when he would have washed himself.

But no, he needed you to suffer. What a way to go down it would have been, if he devoured you?

“I was right, you’re too dumb to comprehend chemistry” you spluttered out, your vision finally restored albeit you were still bleeding out on the parquet.

The moment he heard the sound of you voice again, he pinned your head down onto what remained of his potion, disgust in his gaze as he watched you whimper out in pain as the liquid burned your skin. It was corrosive, your flesh on fire as he forced you to practically wipe the carpet with your cheek. The sadism in his action dripped hatred, while tears brimmed up in your eyes. You clawed at the carpet, disperately attempting to set yourself free, but Muzan had other plans for you. Kneeling down next to your writhing frame, he grinned, lifting your head up to examine the resault of his assault. Your cheek was deeply damaged, but you would have surely been able to regenerate it.

“Tell me, Y/N, would you rather have me consume you to the bone, or reduce you to nothing by biting chunks off of your body? Tell me, you stupid bitch” he chimed, your mouth going dry as you inhaled sharply, eyelids closing to avoid looking him in the eye.

Muzan clicked his tongue, impressed by your sudden silence. He leaned even closer, taking a whiff of the disturbing smell of that potion that had scarred your face. His lips curled into a crooked smile, his eyes watching intently the way you sobbed and your skin gradually restored its former smoothness. Your head was spinning at this point, breath uneven, whilst Muzan pushed you down onto the carpet once again. He had all the intent of beginning to devour you, his mouth salivating as he leaned down closer to you.

He barely had the time to pierce your jugular, though, that he felt his pants tighten uncomfortably. A boner in the middle of a hunt. This was not exactly what he had anticipated, just like the sweat beading his forehead and his heart pumping the blood faster in his veins. This was primal arousal, a need setting his body on fire as he pulled his bloodied mouth away from your neck. Your whine, pained, was strained with something else. Muzan saw the way you were writhing underneath him, chest heaving, as you pressed your thighs together.

Your dilated pupils, the way droplets of sweat were running down the valley of your breasts causing his cock to twitch into his undergarments. You were just as aroused as he was, thrashing onto the carpet in agony. He could smell your hormones, he could see the way you were looking at him questioningly. You were on fire.

“What the Hell have you done to me?” you blurted out, gripping the collar of his shirt so harshly it ended up being torn.

Muzan refused to believe this was the effect caused by his potion, but it was the only valid explanation to this. He bristled, swatting your hand away and growling at your face like an animal “Oh, believe him, I wanted to kill you, not to fuck you. — he snarled, grasping your jaw roughly and leaning his face down to let his lips hover over yours hazardously — Now, however, I have no other choice but to rut into someone. The question is: do you want to be that someone and be satisfied, or do you wish for me to end your misery in a more brutal and permanent way?” he hissed, watching the way you stared daggers at him.

You had a choice, that much was true. You did not want to die, you still had plenty of things to do before dying. The possibility to be eradicated from the world was not alluring anymore. Your clit throbbing between your legs, craving attention, some kind of friction, made you agree with him. You gritted your teeth, legs spread to let him accomodate between them.

“So be it” you stated, watching him fidget with his hands to unbuckle the belt keeping his trousers up.

It was not something you two could control. The fire coiling on your lower abdomen matched the pulsing desire in Muzan’s briefs. Gentleness, care were far away from them. The moment he had gotten rid of his clothes, he was already disrobing you of yours.

You thought it was going to be a regular intercourse, something to look back at with a weird sense of disgust and the thrill of the rush, but it turned out to be much more than that. Flipping you over your stomach, Muzan gripped your hair with one hand to force you to arch your spine. The bulbous tip of his cock dragging up and down your slippery heat to collect your juices.

“If you think I am merciful enough to grant you the sight of my face, you’re even more of a goose than I deemed you to be” he rasped out, your scalp stinging, as he yanked you back against his chest.

You whined, mouth ajar, as you felt him enter you. The friction was surprisingly smooth and pleasurable, your spongy walls sucking him in perfectly, whilst he grunted from behind you “Honored! You should feel honored I’m f-fucking you” he mocked you, hips driving into yours quickly, smacking your skin with a ferocity you had never experienced before.

You moaned out, unable to look back at his face, but capable to speak up again “I should’ve let you fuck your fist. How would it have felt, huh? Instead— fuck, instead, there you are, nestled into me and moaning like a pig to the slaughter… H-How low the Demon King has fallen” you taunted him nack, regretting your impudent display of courage instantly.

The smack on your rear felt like incandescent iron on your flesh, his cock rubbing insistently through your walls causing you to babble out incoherent words you could not repeat. Muzan was furious, his desire to ruin you and humiliate you blinding him as he felt you clamping down onto his length tightly. No, you did not deserve to reach your orgasm, but he did.

The sudden feeling of emptiness within you felt like a cold shower, as you gasped and tried to whip your head around to meet his gaze “What—”.

The audacity, the direspect you continued to show him could not proceed any further. He could not bear the sight of you for any longer.

Your protests falling deaf to his ears, as he pumped his shaft with one hand, lolling his head back in ecstasy as he felt his orgasm wash over him as a violent wave. The feeling of his seed dripping down over the curve of ass, warm, sticky, was the last thing you felt before you heard the biwa’s melody echo through the room and you fell naked and alone into a black-pitch forest.

Underserving of an answer. Underserving of a goodbye. You were nothing for him.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi, there! Well, guys, what can I say? Muzan is a walking red flag. Let’s be real, albeit I love studying his character and personality, he would very much do all of the atrocities you’ve read in my fic. I do not condone any of this and I never will, therefore I will keep on depicting him more human in my modern au’s and pretend he is a good person. Stay the fuck away from people like him, hons❤️

Writing is fun, but he is a monster.

Until next,

x o x o

TAGS: @mrskokushibo @doumadono

[merchen-aeravellae]

Deep in the Forest

Yandere Enemy x Reader

Warning: decapitation, death, war mentions

Two kingdoms engulfed in a conflict that spans generations, peace is no longer an option, and the thirst for revenge permeates the entire surrounding land. But battles are no longer the darkest things you can encounter in this desolate place.

°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●

Yandere Enemy, who is a warrior, trains day and night with the purpose of protecting his rulers and his people from the threat posed by the neighboring kingdom.

Yandere Enemy, like the rest of the inhabitants of Nocheblanca kingdom, grew up with the idea that the Rosazul kingdom was eternal enemies of Nocheblanca and should be eliminated, but they are currently in a temporary ceasefire.

Yandere Enemy was training deep in the forest that connects both kingdoms, as he did every day, when he heard a noise behind a tree.

Yandere Enemy was surprised to find another person outside the grounds of the kingdom but quickly shifted to a battle stance when he noticed that it was a person from Rosazul.

Yandere Enemy expected to fight you, but all you did was raise your hands in a peaceful gesture and stepped back to give him space.

Yandere Enemy examined you from head to toe, and by your attire, he could tell you were a type of healer. He lowered his sword slightly but remained alert in case you made any movements that could indicate a fight.

Yandere Enemy only looked at you for a few more minutes, and when he realized you weren't leaving, he decided to leave first to break the awkwardness that had enveloped both of you. However, that wouldn't be the last time you two would encounter each other.

Yandere Enemy began to notice your presence every time he went to the forest to train, and no matter how much he changed his location, you always seemed to find him. At first, he threatened to kill you to be left alone, but when that didn't seem to work, he simply ignored you.

Yandere Enemy injured his hand one day while training but decided to continue as if nothing had happened. When you noticed this, you decided to help him. He refused at first, but when he realized you wouldn't take no for an answer, he had no choice but to accept.

Yandere Enemy, after a few weeks of this event, started tolerating you a bit more, and even had a couple of conversations that weren't threats. Unbeknownst to him, he was starting to feel comfortable with your presence.

Yandere Enemy, who began to hate himself, after months of interacting with you, came to the conclusion that he had developed romantic feelings for you. These feelings were forbidden, but he couldn't stop them he didn't want them to stop and they grew with each passing day.

Yandere Enemy knows that this would be considered treason to his homeland, but every time he saw you smile, that thought faded from his mind.

Yandere Enemy gathered the courage to confess his feelings to you, fearing rejection or the possibility that you might never want to see him again. He became the happiest man in the world when you admitted to having feelings for him too.

Yandere Enemy no longer went to the forest to improve his fighting skills; now his reason for going was you. He always brought an object that might interest you, or he would wait for you with a picnic.

Yandere Enemy was surprised when you told him that you had knowledge of healing and medicinal herbs because it had been a practice in your family for generations. It was also the reason why you were in the forest the first time you met.

Yandere Enemy, knowing you two couldn't hide forever and fearing what would happen if both were discovered, he asked begged you to escape together. Far away from both kingdoms, far from the fear of being separated, he wanted to find a place where you could create a life in peace, a place where you could be happy.

Yandere Enemy jumped for joy when you accepted his proposal. He couldn't help but embrace you, and for that brief moment, everything was happiness, until it wasn't.

Yandere Enemy returned to his home in Nocheblanca to start packing all his valuable belongings and clothes for the long journey ahead for both of you. However, halfway through packing, screams and lamentations were heard outside his house.

Yandere Enemy discovered that the heir of Nocheblanca and his guards had been killed while they were out hunting, including Yandere Enemy's brother, who was one of the personal guards of the Prince.

Yandere Enemy saw red the moment he learned that his brother had been murdered, probably by warriors from Rosazul. At that moment, all the hatred he had for them, which had been buried deep in his mind because you had occupied it, resurfaced.

Yandere Enemy, who began to plan his revenge, completely forgetting the plan to escape with you. His brother was one of the few people important to him, and now he was gone. Convincing the population of Nocheblanca to attack Rosazul was not difficult for him, and by the dawn of the sixth day, Rosazul had fallen. The royal family was in the dungeons, awaiting execution, but not before being tortured in the cruelest manner possible.

Yandere Enemy had a reality check at that moment. In his pursuit of revenge, he left you standing on the same day you two were supposed to escape together. Panic and terror consumed him as he searched for you among the prisoners, in the forest, and in the place he feared the most—among the corpses. But there was no trace of you.

Yandere Enemy became a war hero; now he had enough power to save you from the cruel fate of the rest of the inhabitants of Rosazul but it seemed like you had vanished into the air. He searched for you for two months and as more time passed, madness began to take hold of his mind, and regret consumed his bones.

Yandere Enemy decided to kill the heir to the throne, wanting to take revenge on the person "responsible" for keeping him away from you. If it weren't for the prince and his guards, the two of you would be living your best lives in a distant place.

Yandere Enemy didn't stop there. To make him suffer more, he decided that his entire family should witness his inevitable death. The guillotine and the prince were ready, with all other family members in a row, bound arms and sacks over their heads.

Yandere Enemy, who witnessed the exact moment when the heir's head was severed and when the sacks were removed from the heads of the royalty, he wanted to die at that moment. Now he understood why he never found your whereabouts, why he couldn't locate you—because you were with your family, in the dungeon.

Yandere Enemy never imagined that you were a member of the royalty of Rosazul, but he couldn't be angry with you for that. He knows that everyone makes mistakes, and he forgives you for not telling him earlier, just as you will forgive him for what he did to your kingdom and family.

Yandere Enemy, who went to the dungeons in the middle of the night to see you, found only a pitiful sight. You were handcuffed to the wall, beaten and wearing dirty and torn clothes, your gaze lost somewhere on the grimy wall.

Yandere Enemy approached you with the intention of hugging you, but he didn't expect you to scream. Every attempt he made to touch you ended in screams and your lamentations. The few words you spoke were filled with anger and hatred directed towards him.

Yandere Enemy is convinced that you only need a new place far away from others. He tries to talk to you about the plans you two had before to lift your spirits, but it doesn't seem to be working.

Yandere Enemy knows that the longer you stay here, the more likely it is that you'll be killed, so he steals you away while everyone is asleep, taking you far away to a hidden place where no one will find you both. He is sure that this will bring back the old you, the one who was deeply in love with him. He had to knock you out, tie you up, and cover your mouth in case you wake up early, but it will be worth it.

Yandere Enemy who found a cabin deep in the forest connecting to another kingdom, "mysteriously" the former owners disappeared, and now it belongs to the two of you.

Yandere Enemy knows that you still fear him, but not for long. He will make you love him again, and if it still doesn't work, he won't let you go. He prefers to have you even if you hate him for the rest of your life than not have you at all.

Yandere Enemy "I refuse to let you go, I don't care if you hate me, curse me, or hit me. We will always be together, whether you want it or not."

°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●

Extra information, Nocheblanca is known for its warriors while Rosazul for its healers.

[synvil]

types of bad days // spencer reid

a/n : so I’ve been sick, and not feeling great.. just thinking about how understanding and wholesome our dorky genius would be.. ♡(。-ω-)

this is literally many different real-life scenarios I’ve had and how I imagine Spencer comforting you. or at least how my bf comforted me.

synopsis : you’ve been having a string of stressful days.. let’s see how spencer takes care of you.

warnings : stress, depression, vulgar usage of words, yelling, crying, sadness / angst, mentions of vomiting, insecurities, self-hate, self-depreciation, sickness, sick feeling, mentions of self-harm, mentions of emergency room n hospitals, etc.

little ooc! Spencer and reader is NON-BAU. kinda long!

HEARING you cough into the screen as you’re doing a meeting, Spencer frowns as you weakly murmur an apology and mute yourself in the call, your throat letting out rougher and drier coughs.

The man is quick on his feet and places a glass of water on the desk for you, much to your gratitude.

“I-I’m really sorry, one second-“

Almost immediately after, you had muted and shut off your camera, already hearing your supervisor dismiss you. “That’s alright. Take your time, or perhaps we can move on to another presenter.”

You can feel the embarrassment rise in your self-consciousness, continuing to cough as you try to unmute again. “No- it’s-“

Unable the finish the sentence, your throat unwillingly forced another cough out of you. “I’m sorry..-“

“It’s alright. We’ll come back to you another time. Miss Mera?”

Slumping your shoulders in defeat and major embarrassment, you keep the camera off for a majority of the time and let out a heavy sigh, a few tiny coughs escaping you as you do. Hiding your face in your hands, you shut your eyes tightly and try to control your breathing, hoping it would alleviate some of the coughing but it only pained you more.

Coughs drops were useless, your body practically immune to the flavorful cough candy, and many medicines didn’t quite help fully either.

“How.. embarrassing..”

Although you shouldn’t be ashamed to be sick, as many people go through this themselves, you couldn’t help but pity yourself.

Spencer watches your miserable expression and frowns gently, handing you a glass of water, along with some smaller pills.

“Hey, darling.. I saw what happened.. I’m sorry.” The tall genius crouches down beside your desk and whispers ever so softly, gently reaching for your hands that held your face. “How are you feeling?..”

“Embarrassed.” You laugh bitterly, turning away from his eyes as you turn to the water and grab the glass, bringing it to your lips.

Spencer’s eyes sadden at your words as he slides the pills closer to you. “Try these. I’ve been doing some research and hopefully these ones will be better. They’re newer in the medicine world but there’s already been some records of it’s improvement in reducing cough and itching of the throat and they actually include-“

“I’ll give it a try, honey..” you mutter, part of you feeling bad for interrupting but unable to apologize, being to distracted with your cough that’s coming out once again.

Sending an understanding smile, Spencer helps you open the pills and quickly goes to refill your water.

He sets the glass down, just as you pop the pills in your mouth. “I made sure to get the honey-lemon flavor for you, darling. That should also help you.” Spencer cups your cheek after you finish your glass of water and you look at him with a solemn but appreciative look. “..thank you..”

“Of course. I’m here for you.”

Spencer leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead before pulling away. “Alright. I’ll leave you to your meeting and I’ll get some warm tea for you. Just text or call for me if you need me, okay?”

“I will.. thank you.”

For the third day in a row, you sink yourself over the toilet and retch, feeling your eyes stinging and your throat burning with the acid inside of you.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you clutch your stomach, the immense pain filling every part of your body.

Just as you feel another force of explosive pressure waiting to be vomited, you hear the sound of a door and a familiar voice call out for you. “Honey? I’m home. You here?”

The salivating of your mouth sends you a signal as you gag and hurl into the toilet once again, a weak sob mixing in the noise.

At the sound, Spencer furrows his brows as he makes his way down the hall of your apartment and into the bathroom, seeing it ajar. You were home alone so you didn’t bother to close it. “Baby?”

Knocking gently, Spencer cautiously opens the door, before his eyes widen at your figure. “[Name]!”

You cry out in shame as you pant heavily, the smell enough to make you want to vomit once more but you swallow hard. “S-Spence—“

“Hold on one second, please-“ Spencer runs out into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before making it back to your side in seconds, kneeling down and handing you the water. He pulls back your hair and immediately rubs your back soothingly. “Sweetie..”

You can’t help the choked sobs escaping you as you cry loudly, using your hands to wipe your eyes uselessly. “S-Spencer.. it hurts-“

Tears brim his eyes as he pulls you close, not caring for the smell. He’s smelled worse so it didn’t bother him. “I’m so sorry.. I’m sorry..”

He held you tightly, petting your hair and comforting you, guiding the bottle of water to your lips. “Drink some, baby.. it’ll help..” his whispers fill your ears through your cries as you weakly take a sip of the water, breathing heavily and wiping your lips.

“I-I’m sorry..”

“No,” he quickly interjects, cupping your cheeks ever so softly. “You don’t need to apologize at all, my love.. this isn’t your fault.. you can’t control this.. and I’m so sorry I haven’t been here to help but I will be; right now.” You look up at him with a sad smile and go up to hold his hand gently. “You promise..?” Your voice so hoarse, it barely was above a whisper.

He sends a small smile in return, nodding genuinely as he presses a kiss to your forehead. Spencer slowly pulls away and stands you up gently. “Come on, honey.”

“Get into bed, okay? I’ll make some nice honey tea for you, get some more water and I actually picked up some medicine for you before I got home.”

“Really?..”

“Of course baby. And I know you don’t like the grape flavored, so i grabbed strawberry. Sound good?”

You manage a weak smile as Spencer helps you under the covers and tucks you in. “Perfect..”

IT was the time of the month, where you and Spencer dedicate a day of the month to just yourselves, whether it’s at home together and away from work, or preparing a whole day of date ideas for you two, you both thought this was a great idea to just relieve from work and strengthen your relationship.

Unfortunately, as excited as you were that this was one of the days that you’d be going out, you wished you could stay indoors, in the comfort of your bed.

Your date was in an hour and you still couldn’t find anything at least decent enough to wear, eyes watering every time you held another piece of clothing to your body in front of your mirror.

“Pretty.. but it shows my arms..”

Tossing that blouse aside, you grab a pair of jeans to your legs but frown. “Too tight.. it’ll show the size of my thighs..”

You found a beautiful sundress and held it to your body and try to smile in the reflection. “Maybe this..?”

Not wanting to give up hope, you strip down to replace your former outfit with the dress and secured it nicely on your form.

But when you turn around, you almost feel yourself ready to burst into tears. The dress was beautiful.. but you just couldn’t feel beautiful in it.

You drop to your knees and sigh heavily, wiping your tears away as you look at yourself. No matter what, you just felt ugly inside and out.

“Darling?”

The familiar voice of Spencer’s rings out as he enters your shared home, a smile lacing his lips as he clutches a bouquet in his arms. “Honey, are you almost ready?— Hun?—“

Spencer pushes the door to your bedroom open and widens his eyes to see you kneeling, clutching the fabric of your sundress as tears stream down your cheeks. You couldn’t even look up at him, forcing your eyes downward as you silently wept.

“My love, what’s wrong, what’s going on?” He voices his concerns as he kneels in front of you, wrapping his arms around your form immediately.

“I-i’m so ugly-“ You choke back a sob as you force your eyes to look at the sundress again before tossing it aside and running a hand through your hair. “I can’t even look in the mirror without feeling disgusted..”

“Angel..” Spencer trails off as his hands run up and down your back in a comforting manner. “My love, i don’t think that at all.. you’re beautiful inside and out.. i think you look stunning in anything.” He says sweetly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I love every inch of you, exactly as you are, because to me, you are gorgeous, beautiful, a magnificent piece of art.” You can’t help but manage a small chuckle at Spencer’s words as you sniffle and wipe your tears with your palms. “I don’t know..”

Spencer just smiles when he notices your tiny curve of your lips and gently helps you up. “Here, why don’t we stay in tonight and we can watch your favorite show? I’ll order your favorite food and we can relax for tonight and i’ll remind you all the things i love about you; and it’s endless.” Spencer grins and you manage a bigger smile and hold his hand tightly.

“Okay..”

YOU weren’t sure how long you could take it anymore. Everyday it was always something new, yet something so small, almost insignificant. But enough to make you want to go into insanity.

Each minute that you try to collect yourself, taking deep breaths to relax, you could feel your head spinning and your migraines getting worse.

The voices in your head wouldn’t stop; screaming at you from inside.

Judging.

Insulting.

Mocking.

No matter how hard you clutch your hair, nearly ripping it out, the pain didn’t stop.

No matter how much it hurt to keep screaming, how dry your throat became and how swollen your eyes looked from crying, it never stopped.

Not even when the thoughts became violent.. the need to just do something, anything, just to make it stop for a second.

“I’m here.”

You gasp. As if time had stopped, you whirl your head up and make eye contact with Spencer, who himself has watery eyes.

However, all you felt was the warmth of his hold around you, embracing you in the tightest hug possible, afraid to let you go. what would happen if he did.

“Spence— I—“

“Don’t.. you don’t have to explain, [Name].” His voice is only just above a whisper, one hand on the back of your head and the other around your waist. “I’m here now.”

Your arms are between you two, pressed against his chest and his words and soft touch is enough to bring the tears falling again, as you shut your eyes tightly.

“Let it out.. i’m here.. if you want to explain.. i’ll listen.. if not, then just know..” His grip tightens on you as you cry. “I will always be here for you. always.”

“I love you, [Name].”

a/n : i definitely had a lot more in mind when i started but i might make a multiple parter just because it’s been a while and im still going through some stuff :’)

synvil™️ do not copy my work!

unedited. i literally went to drafts and just finished this last part and posted.

[scientia-rex]

I made that post about how smoking is bad—actually, no, I’ve made two relatively popular posts about how smoking is bad for you. Raises your chances of dying from multiple factors including heart disease and stroke in addition to lung (and mouth, throat, and bladder) cancer.

I am always so baffled by the responses going “well I could die from something else!” Yes. You could. Statistically speaking, you will most likely die of heart disease, stroke, or cancer, if you live in the US. Your average life expectancy is somewhere around 78 for women, 76 for men. Many people die younger than that, for a lot of reasons. Many of my patients have illnesses that will shorten their lives. I hate to split it into “fault,” as if there’s some kind of perfect way to live a blameless life. (There isn’t.) The numbers, however, are both clear and pitiless. People who smoke are more likely to die younger than they otherwise might have.

Medicine is a numbers game. My job is not to psychically predict exactly what will punch your ticket and when. It is to improve your odds. I want you to both live as long a life as possible but also as high-quality a life as possible. I want for you to live a life you enjoy.

It’s that simple; it’s not sinister. I’m not out here going “I’ll tell them not to smoke so they can have LESS FUN before getting hit by a bus at 30!”

Because smoking isn’t actually fun. What it is, is a very quick (and faster = more addictive) reduction in physical feedback systems that heighten anxiety. Withdrawal of an unpleasant stimulus is rewarding. (Technically, it’s a negative reward; the negative doesn’t refer to a moral judgment, but the addition or subtraction of a stimulus.) Something that is very rewarding very fast will be very addictive. It’s why crack cocaine is also so addictive—it is also a very fast and very potent reward. It’s also why benzodiazepines like Xanax are so addictive to so many people; it’s a slower peak blood level but the removal of severe anxiety is profoundly rewarding.

So smoking can make you feel better when you do it. But your body will try to fix any broken signals. It doesn’t just want to be able to signal to you when you need to feel stressed: it has to be able to signal you, or your long-ago ancestors would have been eaten by predators. So it ramps up the signaling. Now you’re not smoking because you feel better than baseline; you’re smoking to get back to baseline.

That’s why quitting sucks. When you quit smoking, all of the sudden your body’s signals of stress that got dialed up to 11 to overcome the nicotine are just out there at full blast, making you feel scared and jittery and irritable. It’s why when you quit benzos (or daily alcohol) cold turkey you can get life-threatening seizures. It’s why when you stop alcohol you’re likely to have sleep disruptions that can persist for weeks to months.

That’s why things that help reduce the suckage can help. Nicotine patches, lozenges, or gum. Chantix. Wellbutrin. Slowly stepping down the nicotine level on your vape. Eating more, eating things you like. (I would 1000% rather have a patient be fat than be smoking. I know other people will be shittier to you if you gain weight. Living is worth it.) Being kind to yourself helps you quit smoking. You need to recognize that “quitting smoking you” is not your baseline you. It is you with an invisible illness that will take weeks to months to get over.

And sometimes you can’t face that hump right now. But if you want to maximize your odds of the longest and healthiest possible life, knowing that any number of terrible things can happen to you at any time, making the effort—over and over again, if you need to—is the best shot you have.

There are a couple of conditions where smoking does markedly reduce symptoms. The well-known ones are schizophrenia and Crohn’s disease. If you feel not just better, but better like this is a medication for you, like you poop blood or hear things without it, talk to your primary care provider, because there are other medicines that might be safer and/or more effective for you. The landscape around pharmaceutical research has shifted dramatically over the last 30 years. We have more options than we’ve ever had before. Maybe this doesn’t have to be the expensive, dangerous medication that half-works for you. And if what you’re self-medicating is your anxiety, nicotine is a pretty crappy medication for that, because it doesn’t fix you; it changes your baseline to an even shittier place.

You have bodily autonomy. You can make your own choices. I will never go to a patient’s house and slap the cigarette out of their hand. But if what you want is the longest and healthiest possible life, smoking makes your odds worse.

The number of people who think that I, as a doctor, would be unaware of how profoundly unfair bodily health can be amazes me. It’s like the first Father Brown story, where Father Brown is explaining to the villain that someone whose main job is to hear about all of the terrible sins people have to confess cannot remain naive. My job is watching people age, or filling out their death certificates. One or the other. I prefer watching them age, but everyone will die. Someday my doctor will be filling out my death certificate. I’ve removed one potential contributing factor from that line—maybe I’ll get diabetes, maybe I’ll get cancer, maybe I’ll have a workplace accident, but “smoking” isn’t going to be on that line anymore. That’s the best I can do. I can’t psychically predict my own death, either; just play the numbers, try to do my best, and hope.

[searchingforserendipity25]

hypothesis of care

afterwards, julian washes garak's hair.

standard procedure, after brain surgery. most saurian bodies tend to be too fragile for sonic washing after being operated upon, and he doesn't know enough about cardassian anatomy to be sure, only to avoid any shifts in body temperatur.

warm water, nearly scalding. there are clusters of blood where garak had pulled strands by the root in his agony on the third day of in internment, older spots and crusts, from different fits of pain - some scarring, where his claws had dug and pulled.

he doesn't heal any of it. garak had resisted medication and care and sedation and pain relief as much as he could stand, every step of the way; he wouldn't appreciate it.

he leaves it be, the same way he leaves a small, fine scar, though it would be the easiest thing in the world to pass the dermal regenerator over the line where he cut upon his friend's skull.

if garak wants to remove it later, he can - well, he may not be able to ask for it, but julian is fairly certain he has a regenerator of his own hidden away. he won't take the choice from him. he wouldn't have, even if he hadn't met enabran tain.

he didn't need to be an expert in cardassian physiognomy to note the similar width of the aural ridges, the same tilt of the chin when speaking in mockery. and the mannerisms, the grooming-tells, the affable malice.

garak wore it better, julian had thought at once, a sharp proprietary surge in the part of him that was not noting his odds of success, odds of survival, noting the vile pride and disdain tain held for garak, as a master to a favored slave fallen to disfavor.

he has rarely hated a person more, with such a clean and potent loathing. it is always easier to hate other people's cruel fathers.

julian bashir could talk anyone's ears off on biology and tennis and medicine, and often did; it could be very convenient, being remembered for that, and not much else.

months and years tending to mostly bajoran patients, working with mostly bajoran professionals most days. he had lunch with the only cardassian on the station once, twice a week, visited him, oh, an unsuspicious amount of times in his shop.

pity wouldn't be tolerated. it wasn't generally; no one wanted that from a federaji doctor. the truth of the matter was that the rot was dug deep, too depth to unroot.

the truth of the thing is that he read the old kardassi classics, and he could see the beauty, the shadow, the shadow of the idea that had once been cardassia, before it sickened to a rot that made sons into owned claims and all the wide sky's horizon too.

garak's medical readings had suffered, in his absence, a little worse than he had expected. not for any lack in the care given by nurse jabara, as much by what julian hypothesizes is a - an awareness of skinship, to some degree.

first, a careful rinsing, then a sterilization soap. careful, careful. he wore no gloves, didn't trust the material not to snag.

garak's hair is much thicker than it seems, not feather-like at all but thick and slick and only slightly more malleable when damp.

careful, with care, he pressed the edge of a soft cloth to the sides of his face to catch the last dampness, and pulled up a thick blanket, folded beneath his chin.

his shallow breathing gains a new ease and a new dimension, not quite a humming sound. even his vital signs improve by small increments, as julian goes about his ministrations - most species do benefit of some baseline level of touch, some level of trust.

now that julian has given him a forgiving grasp, it may be instinct to seek it out again. he doesn't doubt garak will seek to stifle it ruthlessly, when he's awake.

but for now, julian contents himself with a prickling pride, a pet hypothesis proven correct. sits himself down by the familiar bedside chair. close enough to leave a hand near the blanket, not quite touching, only giving heat. that will be a choice, too, though he's not holding his breath on that account.

he doesn't need to, to have lunch with him twice or thrice a week, a smug and sanctimonious and provoking presence across their small feasting table.

'alright,' doctor bashir says, peering down at his tablet left waiting in the same place it had been, before his brief sojourn.

an eye and two ears attentive to every reading animating his medical machines, but not unduly alarmed. the end of the vigil, and there is no reason to believe it would last longer than this night.

'where were we? i can't even tell with these repetitive pieces. alright, so it's the fifth generation of the bedrin family, and shockingly, not a one of them has yet sacrificed their loves and aspirations for the state, they'll get there eventually but i have a good feeling at least one of these witty cousins from lakar will be subversive about it -"

julian doesn't move away, doesn't press, doesn't impose. garak turns towards the warmth. even in sleep, he does that.