#I've been sleeping in intervals so there's going to be more of these

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Harvest Moon

Steven Grant X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 4: Sex Pollen

Summary: Being Khonshu's avatar has some... unexpected effects.

A/N: I'm so sorry. Set before Steven knows about Marc.

Warnings: sex pollen - so dubcon (both sides are effected, Steven more than reader and both had a crush on the other before they were infected), love bites, cum eating, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, cuming in troursers, so much cuuuuummmm, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 4073

Steven couldn’t concentrate. 

It was strange, a fidget just below his skin. Like every muscle was contracting and relaxing at random intervals.

He took off his reading glasses and sighed, rubbing his eyes to try to shift whatever was going on. Maybe he was tired. 

Which didn’t make much sense. He was always tired. 

Perhaps this was the accumulation of trying to survive on three hours of sleep or less every day for most of his adult life. 

He tried again to focus on the book in front of him, leaning an elbow on his desk. The words twitched on the page, flickered as if they were going to jump up and run off the paper at any moment. 

The strange thing was, he didn’t feel tired. Quite the opposite in fact. He was full of energy, jittery as if he’d just downed five coffees made with Red Bull instead of water and a handful of Pro Plus. (Though, he usually steered clear of coffee - for some reason it made him sleepy.) 

Still, the fidgety, restless energy seemed to only build. Grow deep in the pit of his belly and squirm around like he’d swallowed live eels that were now making a home in his large intestine. 

It almost burned, the blood in his veins boiling from the inside. He stood up, agitated and restless. Maybe, maybe he just needed to go for a walk. Use up some anxious energy, yeah, that was it. 

Steven glanced at his phone, it was 19:54, not late. He could maybe walk to the corner shop and back. The fresh air would help. Surely that would put him right. 

He stood, fighting the urge to shake his muscles, and put on his trainers. 

Yeah, go out, go to the shop, come back, he’d feel better. He’d feel so much better. 

“I’ll be back in a sec' Gus.” He gave the goldfish a little wave as he put on his jacket and checked that he had his keys. 

That restless energy, the burn of it seemed to increase, grow even as he moved. Buzzed behind his eyes. 

Slowly, Marc was pulled forward, woken from deep down. He watched Steven move from the reflection in the fish tank, confused for a moment until… he recognised that energy, those sensations that were running along their nerves. 

Panic gripped hold of him as he tried to force his way to the front, to push Steven back. 

But… nothing. 

He swore and tried again, not caring if Steven heard him, he needed to take control, get the body to the storage locker, steal the door and take those medical-grade tranquillisers he hid under the mattress. 

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have lost track of the days so badly? 

He pushed forward again, trying to seize control. But it was hopeless like he was separated by a thick layer of glass. 

This was bad, this was bad, this was bad, this was so very, very bad. 

There was a small breeze, cool air that made Steven turn, look over his shoulder and glance about the flat for a window he had left open. Nothing. 

Marc swore loudly. This was Khonshu’s doing. It had to be. 

The god had been uncharacteristically silent the last few days, and quiet the previous couple of weeks. Luring Marc into a false sense of security and letting him give more and more time up to Steven. 

Poor Steven, who had no idea what he was in store for. 

The first time it had happened Marc had thought he was going to die. The way his heart beat, his blood burned, every single muscle crying out at once. He’d had enough panic attacks in his life to know that this certainly wasn’t one, and for a brief moment, he thought that he had been poisoned. 

It wasn’t until Khonshu appeared and explained. The phase of the moon at that time of the lunar year. It had been a cause of celebration, festivals honouring new life. And due to Marc’s role as an avatar, he was ‘gifted’ with the effects. 

A gift he would very much like to return and never see again. 

Khonshu had been… displeased by Marc’s rejection, by his unwillingness to observe the traditions of the old ways. But had stayed quiet when Marc sealed himself away and knocked himself out.

Marc had wrongly assumed that the moon god had got over it. Realised that there was no way his avatar would take part. 

He didn’t think he would use Steven instead. 

Marc had to take control, had to stop him from going outside, from running into other people and experiencing the effects. He tried to push forward again to no avail as Steven stepped out of the flat, his mind buzzing. 

Steven blinked heavily, trying to shift the little spots of light that had started to dance just at the very corners of his vision. He fumbled with his keys for a second, sweat beading on his forehead. When had the corridor become so hot? He pulled at his collar, trying to cool himself. 

There was a warmth growing in his lower stomach, and heavy an uncomfortable weight, like lead straining at his muscles. He needed… something. There was an odd carving at the back of his throat, a constriction of his windpipe that seemed to pull at-

“Hi Steven.”

He turned suddenly, his body moving well before his mind had even caught up. 

You smiled at him from the other side of the corridor as you stood outside your flat, your bag pulled over your shoulder, keys in hand.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no. Marc screamed inside the headspace. Not you, not you, anyone but you. 

You had moved in a little over three months ago. Had smiled and chatted briefly with Steven when you both ran into each other in the lift. 

It was only four weeks ago when Steven had found himself outside in the streets of London late at night (sleepwalking again). He had managed to get back to the flat with the help of city mapper and it was only when he was outside the block of flats that he realised he didn’t have his keys. 

After a few nervous minutes, he had pressed your buzzer with shaking hands and stumbled out an apology. To his absolute shock and dizzying relief, you can come down to let him in with a kind smile. You had even invited him into your own home while he waited for the 24 locksmith to arrive. Served him cups of tea and vegan shortbread biscuits while you both talked. 

Steven had been quietly remorseful when the locksmith finally arrived. 

As he was leaving you had invited him to a live music event you were going to at the Fox and Firkin, but sadly Steven had been working that weekend. 

He had been steadily working up the courage to ask you out, something casual. Relaxed. Informal. So you both could talk and maybe he would get a chance to judge your interest on a proper date. But the longer he left it, the more awkward it seemed. The more nights he spent in the shower fisting his palm and moaning your name behind his hand. 

Marc pressed harder against the mental block, swearing under his breath as he fought for control. 

Steven’s pulse quickened, heat prickling all over his skin as blood rushed downwards. He swallowed, the embarrassment that he would normally experience completely swept away by a deep mind-numbing ache. “Hi.” He whispered. 

You frown a little. He looked like he was in a daze, his skin flushed and pupils wide. “You okay?” 

The softness in your voice, the genuine concern for him made Steven snap. A small growl escaped his chest. It was like all his senses had heightened and pinpointed, narrowed. He needed you. 

“Ste-”

He moves faster than you thought possible, surging forward and pinning you to the wall with a bruising strength that knocks the air from your lungs. You don’t even have time to gasp before his lips are on yours, his hands on your waist as he pushes his thigh between your legs.

You murmur his name into his mouth, your surprise cut off by the glide of his tongue and how his body presses into yours. 

Marc smacks against the barrier fruitlessly, unable to do much more than watch as Steven’s sensations begin to bleed into his own muscles. 

Steven’s skin is feverish, heat rolling off him in waves as he grinds against you. The hard outline of his cock presses against your stomach, you can almost feel his rapid heartbeat through the denim of his jeans. 

Instinctively you react to him, grabbing hold of his shoulder and neck as you kiss him back and slide your tongue against his as he kisses you greedily. For a second you’re sure you're dreaming. It’s the only possible explanation. There’s no way that your lovely, and seemingly oblivious to your every attempt at flirting, neighbour would suddenly jump you on a Thursday night and snog the life out of you.  

You pull at his hair, lightly at first, but increasing the pressure when that does nothing. You barely manage to yank his head back an inch before his lips are on yours again, all tongue and teeth as he nips a trail down to your jaw and sucks a messy bruise just below your ear. 

Somehow you manage to hold down your whimpered moan and speak, “Steven, what’s… I mean-oh shit-” You cut yourself off, biting down on your lip as his hand slide up to squeeze your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardening nipple. 

There’s a faint ghost of a breeze, though from where you’re not sure. For a second a small wave of dizziness and heat run across your skin. 

“Steven,” you try again even though you're pressing up against his every touch eagerly. “What’s going on?”

He groans against your neck. “I’m-I’m so sorry, I don’t know, I can’t, I need you so badly, I just,” he tries to halt his movements, to take his hands off your body, but the second he’s a fraction of a millimetre away from you an intense pain drills along his spine. He whimpers and presses closer, continuing to rub his heavy cock against your thigh. 

“Did you take something?” You gasp, breathless as you try (and fail) to not grind your hips in time with his. It’s the only explanation, right? Though if there was a drug that made someone intensely horny you were sure you’d have heard about it by now. 

He shakes his head, his mouth too preoccupied with sicking more love bites into your neck to speak. 

“Do you think someone could have drugged you?” 

Steven mutters something intelligible as he sinks his teeth into your skin and a strangled moan escapes your lips. This wasn’t right, none of this way right. Heat, stronger than anything you’d ever experienced before, began to burn in your lower belly. You had a crush on him, sure. You’d happily go on a date with him and be down for more after but this… You’d never been so desperate to fuck someone in your entire life. 

It was like you were starting to lose the ability to think clearly, and you were worryingly sure that if you let this go on much longer you wouldn’t have any issue with riding Steven right there in the middle of the hallway. 

“Steven,” you yanked his head back again by his hair, using an amount of force that would have normally been painful. 

Instead, Steven groaned, closing his eyes as he arched back exposing the taunt lines of his neck for you. 

“Love, please.” He whispered, though what he was begging for exactly, neither of you were sure. 

“Let’s go inside.” You muttered, rushing your words together in an effort to hold yourself together for a little while longer. 

You turn, just managing to struggle out of Steven’s grip to put your keys in the lock and open your front door. 

Steven moans as you move, but quickly goes back to grinding against you. Pressing himself up against the swell of your ass and sighing as he kisses your neck. 

You practically fall inside from Steven’s weight pushing against your back. But his strong hands on your hips keep you upright. His fingers slip under your top, greedily searching for your soft skin as you manage to close the door before he’s on top of you again.

He pushes you against the door, your chest pressed up against the wood as he pinches your nipples through the lace of your bra. He growls as you moan and arch back into him, your nails digging into the wood grain. 

He ruts against your ass, rubbing his clothed erection against your soft flesh with a burning vigour. The weeping head of his cock is soaking into his boxers, but he can’t stop himself, can’t break away for a single moment, can’t spare the few seconds it would take to undress. 

His little gasps and whimpers of air as he picks up his pace sends a flood of heat to your core and you gasp as he bites down on your neck hard. His left hand continues to squeeze your breast while his right snakes down and pushes under your leggings and underwear. 

There is the tiniest voice in the back of your head, a worry that you would normally have that things are going too fast, but Steven’s moans in your ears, the feeling of his hands on you drowns everything out. 

He presses his forefinger against your clit and moans at the wetness that he finds between your legs. Quickly, he circles your bundle of nerves over and over in time with the manic grind of his hips. 

His breathing stutters. Just being pressed up against you like this is too good, the burning along his veins turning into molten lava as he continues to buck like his life depended on it. 

The coil in his stomach starts to tighten uncontrollably, pressure at the base of his spine exploding outwards and-

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He moans loudly as he cums in his trousers, the pleasure whiting out all other thoughts as his hips falter. 

You slow your movements down, coming to a stop as Steven breaths hard against your back. You open your mouth to speak, to ask him if he feels better. But you never get the chance. 

In a blur he’s spinning you around, kissing your mouth harshly enough to knock your head back against the door with a thud. You barely register that despite obviously cumming, (the wetness on his jeans that press into you) he’s still rock hard and sweaty. His pulse thumps under your hands, so fast that you can barely distinguish each beat. 

He pulls you to the ground, practically lifting you off your feet, and tearing off your clothes as if they had personally offended him. You try to undress him, barely getting his jacket off his shoulders and not even starting on his t-shirt before he’s kissing down your body and shoving his face into your core. 

You gasp as he places a long flat lick through your folds, groaning at the taste and grinding his cock against the carpet. 

“Steven-”

“Need to make you cum, please,” his voice is gravelly and wrecked, burnt out and desperate but he doesn’t stop the movement of his tongue, ending the lick by sucking at your clit and quickly slipping two fingers inside you. 

He curls them perfectly, looking up at you with dark, pleading eyes. Pleasure sparks along your nerves as he fucks you hard with his fingers, watching your every reaction as he keeps his lips sucking firmly against your clit. 

You moan loudly, enough that you’re probably going to get a noise complaint, and screw up your eyes, your back arching off the carpet. 

The stretch of his thick fingers makes you whine as they work you open, finding every spot to make you fall apart as quickly as possible.

You grab hold of Steven’s hair with one hand, pressing him firmly against you and another low growl erupts from his chest as he pulls your left thigh over his shoulder and picks up the pace. 

His tongue and fingers move in a hypnotic tandem, dragging you closer and closer to the edge with a dizzying speed. Your toes curl, your breath catching in your throat and all you can do is just feel that mind-numbing pleasure he is pulling you towards.

His name falls out of your mouth in a repeated jumble as you move against him thoughtlessly, your hips chasing every touch. 

Steven moans against you, flicking your clit with the very tip of his tongue before sucking on it ruthlessly and stars explode behind your eyes.

You cum against him with a sob as your strength rushes out of you like a dam has been broken, your muscles clenching around him in utter bliss. 

But all too quickly for your liking his pulling his fingers out of you and sitting up. You’re barely back to thinking straight as you lean up on your elbows, about to question him when you stop in your tracks, your mouth hanging open.

Steven groans as he shoves his fingers into his mouth, lapping up your creamy release. He pushes at his aching cock with the heel of his free hand, his hips jerking up into the touch. He looks like a god, skin flushed and sweaty, his hair dishevelled and sticking out at windswept angles. Your cum all over the bottom half of his face. 

He gives you a dark look, his eyes almost blind with lust as he struggles to undo his fly without taking his fingers out of his mouth. 

You lean up and quickly help him, marvelling at the strength in his thick thighs as he kicks them free of his jeans and boxers. 

Your mouth goes dry and you swallow at the sight of him, the tip flushed and needy. Thick and long and you pause. Fuck. He was big, really big. Clarity seems to flash in your mind for the first time since you both went into your flat. How the hell were you going to fit that inside you?

Steven growls, kisses your neck, scraping his teeth over your pulse point and already edging forward as you lift up his t-shirt over his head. 

Being away from you for a second hurts. Makes his stomach twist and nerves scream. His dick twitches impatiently, already smearing precum (and his release from before) all over your thighs as he pushes himself between your legs. 

“Steven,” you start to say. The needy whine in your voice hampering your words. 

“Yes love?” He forces you back down and takes himself in hand. 

“I just, I’m-oh!” 

He’s not even thinking about his actions before he’s already sheathing himself inside your tight, wet heat. 

You gasp loudly, grabbing hold of his shoulders as he pushes impossibly deep, making you fuller than you have ever been and still he’s pressing deeper. 

You whine out his name in a sob as he bucks against you, pulling out a little before he pushes further in, stretching you wide. 

He swears under his breath, his eyes closed, brows furrowed together as he pulls out a centimetre before sinking deeper. Out, in, out, in, out, in, until finally he bottoms out. And it's heaven.

Steven doesn’t even give you a second to adjust to his size before he’s fucking you hard, bucking his hips like he wants to completely destroy you. Needs you to shatter under him. 

You’re so full you can practically feel him in your throat, the stretch so deep that it’s like he’s pushed all your internal organs higher, limiting your lung space and not letting you take a full breath. 

He grabs hold of the backs of your thighs, snarling as he forces them towards your chest, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he positions you into a mating press. His hips never falter, continuing their deep, hard onslaught that hits at a part of you you didn’t know existed. Every thrust sends a wave of pleasure up your spine, so perfect that it’s almost inhuman. Your slick coats his cock, smearing on his thighs as he fucks you within an inch of your life. 

“Steven,” you whine, your eyes rolling back as your second orgasm hurtles towards you. 

“Fuck, love,” he growls in your ear, biting at your neck. “So wet for me, so needy, I’m gonna break you, I’m gonna make you all mine.”

You moan loudly. Pleasure beginning to drown out every thought. His public bone grinds against your clit, making you want to scream.

“You know how many times I’ve cum thinking about you and what you’d taste like?” He growls as he snaps his hips in a relentless rhythm. “So fucking better than anything I could imagine.” 

You grab hold of him, your muscles tightening as his words send you over the edge. You cum hard, crying out as he ruts into you through it. 

He snarls as he cums, but his hips don’t stop as he pumps load after load of his spend into you and fucks it deeper until you're completely full. 

Your breathing starts to recover momentarily, but Steven is still rock hard and hitting that devastating spot inside of you so perfectly that it makes your head spin. 

Pleasure starts to creep back into your stomach and you whine, sobbing at the overstimulation. 

“Love, I’m so sorry,” he bites his lip, trying to slow his hips to no avail. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“It’s okay,” you manage to stammer out as his thrusts punch the air from your lungs. “Don’t stop.” Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. Too much, but you needed more. The idea of him stopping now boarding on painful. 

“Won’t stop, promise.” He moans against your lips, pushing you closer to the edge again. “Fuck!” He pulls out quickly and you whine. 

But you're barely given a second to lament the loss before Steven’s pulling you up with him. Your limbs are like jelly and you’re thankful for his surprising strength as he turns you around. 

You expect him to enter you doggy style but instead, he kneels down, his hands on your thighs and under your knees, and lowers you onto his cock with a dizzying speed. Your moan catches in your throat as he fills you. The stretch of this angle is intense as the head of his cock presses perfectly against that sweet spot inside. 

Steven groans as your walls clench around him, your own slick mixing with his cum to let him glide in. 

He places your legs outside of his and grabs hold of your breast with his right hand, kneading and squeezing it in time with his deep thrusts as his left toys and circles your clit. 

He bounces you up and down on his cock as he mouths at your neck, adding to the love bites from before, his chest pressed flush to your back. 

“S-Steven,” you barely get the word out, your nerves flayed raw with pleasure as he keeps pushing you higher and higher. You’re weak, light-headed and desperate as he growls in your ear; as he plays your body, brings you closer again like he had every cell memorised. “I’m gonna,” you sob. You don’t even get to finish the sentence. 

Another deep trust and you cum, squirming on his lap in bliss as your orgasm overtakes you. 

Steven swears, bucking up into you and biting his lip as your wall clench around him, trying to squeeze out every last drop as he follows you into that mind-shattering ecstasy. 

He cums deep, some spilling down his cock despite how tightly he is pressed inside, your pussy just too full to hold anymore. 

As you breathe deeply, trying to recover he holds you tightly, his hips still bucking upwards. His hard length still pushing firmly inside you. 

“Love,” he whines, reaching down again to stroke your clit. “Please, just one more, just one more.” 

How could you ever deny him? 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading! I'm not doing my normal tag list for kinktober as to not overwhelm anyone, please let me know if you'd like to be added/taken off.

@flightlessangelwings @steven-grants-world @lonelyisamyw-0love @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moon @campingwiththecharmings @minigirl87

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[illunicae]

Little Paws

No I don't know where this came from or why I wrote it. It is extremely self indulgent as I've always wanted a pet raccoon.

Pairing: Donnie x Reader

TWs: None, Suffocation from fluff honestly

Donnie was trying to focus. He was working on another addition to his tech bo. It was important work. He couldn’t mess it up, but a strange sound coming from somewhere in the lair had his eye twitching at random intervals. It sounded like small claws tapping across the cement floor, almost like Splinter, but lighter. 

Occasionally he could hear your voice drifting in from the main lounge area where you were no doubt talking with his brothers. You had come over earlier to hang out, in fact Donnie himself had asked you to come over, and now Donnie wanted to get this new upgrade done so he could show it off and impress you. You always knew how to say just the right compliments that would boost his ego tenfold. But progress was slow as the small tapping sounded like it was in his lab now. 

He froze and looked around, trying to pinpoint what and where the sound was coming from. But he saw nothing so he turned back to his desk, only for the scurrying to start up again. Donnie whipped around but once again his lab seemed empty. Raising an eyebrow, Donnie slowly started turning back to his desk again. The moment his back was to the lab the tapping scurry started again. Donnie spun around expecting to catch the culprit: once again whatever it was escaped his sights. 

Shaking his head Donnie turned to face his desk again. The scurrying didn’t start up again, whatever it was must have moved on. Or he’s going crazy. That’s maybe a possibility. He hasn’t gotten any sleep since…Donnie winced as he looked at the time. He’s been up for well over 48 hours. You would not be happy with him if he told you. 

As if summoned, he heard your laugh bubble up from the skate ramp area. Donnie found himself smiling. He liked the sound of your laugh. 

Donnie quickly went back to work: the sooner he got this done, the sooner he could go hang out with you and hear your praise and your laugh without a wall of separation. He reached to grab a bolt he left on the desk only for his hand to touch nothing. 

“What?” He looked around his workplace. He knew he left a bolt there, but now it was gone. Donnie shook his head and reached for more he kept in a jar above his work desk. He left a few sitting on the desktop as he worked on screwing them into place. When he went to reach for another, they were gone. Donnie blinked rapidly as he stared at where his bolts once sat. About half of what he put down remained on the desktop. 

“Oh no!” He heard your voice shout from the lair. The worried tone of your voice had him glancing toward the lab doors before a soft metallic clink drew his attention back to the desk. 

Donnie’s eyes were wide as he saw a small amount of movement from the gap between the wall and his desk. He stared unblinking and waiting. His patience was rewarded with the sight of a small black paw with little claws reaching through the gap toward the shiny bolts resting on the table. The softshell could only stare as the little paw attached to a fuzzy gray arm reached across the desk top and snatched another bolt before sliding back to the crevasse. 

A soft curious chittering came from that direction as Donnie shook himself out of his surprised stupor. He leaned back slightly to get a glance under the table and saw a small creature huddled under the desk. Slowly Donnie moved and knocked some to the bolts off the desk in an attempt to lure the animal out. 

The bolts hit the ground with a metallic clink. Donnie watched with bewilderment as a raccoon crawled out from under the desk toward the bolts. It was wearing a purple bandana around its neck as it grabbed the bolts and inspected them with a chitter. Donnie was at a loss. He had no idea where this raccoon came from or how it ended up in his lab.

The curious animal glanced up at him with big shining eyes as it held the bolt out to him. Donnie blinked confused before holding out his hand. The raccoon stood up on two legs and dropped the bolt into his hand before scampering up some boxes to get to the desktop. The raccoon sat there and stared at all the shiny things lying about while Donnie was silently fiddling with the bolt in his hand.

Through the doors of the lab Donnie could faintly hear your voice calling for someone, though he couldn’t make out the name. 

The little raccoon seemed perfectly content to sit and watch Donnie work as it played with a bolt, screwing and unscrewing it. Donnie only stared at the little creature before slowly returning to his work. “I don’t suppose I can ask you where you came from?” He muttered as he worked on his tech bo. The raccoon chittered and offered a wrench from who knows where. 

After about an hour of working on his project with help from the little helper, you eventually burst into the lab. “Donnie! Random question but have you seen Remi! He’s a raccoon, wearing a purple–” You trailed off as Donnie spun around to reveal said raccoon you were frantically searching the whole lair for the past hour sitting in his lap. The little menace even had a pair of small goggles matching Donnie’s resting above his fuzzy little head. 

Both boys looked like deer caught in headlights before they exchanged glances. “He belongs to you then I’m assuming?” Donnie says.

You laughed as you walked forward and Donnie found himself grinning. That was the laugh. “Yeah, that’s Remi, my pet raccoon. I brought him down to meet all of you, but he must have escaped his carrier. I’m sorry if he was disturbing you, but it looks like you two have been getting along well.” 

Donnie nodded, “Yes he has proved to be quite the adept helper.”

“Better than me?” You asked as you sat down on your stool in the lab.

With a grin Donnie looked down at Remi. “No, not better than you,” He looked back up and met your gaze, “that is an impossible task by any other than yourself.”

You smiled as you just sat and watched your two favorite boys interact, so happy that they were getting along.

[welovetesvkaidan]

OPINIONS ON KAIDAN EE/IF???

My honest reaction:

in all seriousness, if you wanna hear me yap about it, more under the cut

warning like, genuinely a ginormous yap, like a HUMUNGOUS, sleep-deprived yap,,, im cursed to be obsessed with skyrim + modded followers instead of touching grass

I think a lot of this is probably gonna be the same thing other people have said, so im sorry

if you feel i'm gonna be bringing up redundant points and get mad at me😓dont read

I haven't experienced and thus won't talk about the versions of EE and IF that are now separate mods from each other. I don't know anything about that.

if they're better now yayyy but this is about pre-separation

I should preface this with the fact that I've played through Skyrim 3 times with different stages of Kaidan EE/IF:

The initial Dawnguard + fixes/miscs mod

Kaidan EE/IF versions before extensive faction/NPC dialogue for Kaidan

EE/IF w/ NPC Dialogue (AKA Fratpack)

I was also part of the two different discords that were purged and created during these intervals. i don't even know if there is a discord currently?

anyway, that is to say that I have experienced the mod and it's behind-the-scenes progress, extensively so I have a pretty good idea of what I liked and didn't like

That being said, I will introduce probably my biggest problems with it: Tonal whiplash

Okay, well the most common complaint is ofc that a lot of the writing is out of character - and I agree. But it's not just ooc on paper, it's his voice too. I swear, it is very jarring hearing hushed, mild og Kaidan 2 voicelines, and then being deafened by EE Kaidan SCREAMING in my ear ALL.THE.TIME. (like... why are you yelling at me rn jeez)

Seriously. I'm not sure why they didn't just re-record everything from the original mod instead of adding more and more contradicting lines on top of the originals. It definitely could have been a standalone mod, and sometimes it almost feels like it is - because he is just so different.

My most infamous moment in my last playthrough with him happened after we defeated the dragon at Kynesgrove. His og Kaidan 2 dialogue played first, in it he shows interest and is cordial about Delphine ("I wouldn't mind prodding her mind" or whatver dialogue), THEN immediately after his Kaidan EE/IF dialogue will play, in which he walks up to Delphine and STARTS YELLING AT HER AND INSULTING HER - like they argue for quite a bit wtf. And it's like, listen, I have my thoughts about Delphine, but whether or not it was okay to yell at her isn't the problem. It would be fine - IF he hadn't just calmly told me he thought she was okay.

It is sooo confusing how he contradicts himself :(

I mean, yeah, fragments of who he is are still there, I can tell it's Kaidan, but he's warped to fit a different character. Like a con-artist Kaidan.

Anyway, besides the contradictions, it also feels out of character because of his established backstory.

Let's go over it: He's an orphan, lost his only connection to his family(his guardian) to drugs, fell into substances himself, joined a violent cult, had to escape said cult, came clean from his addictions, has been traveling Tamriel bounty-hunting, got brutally attacked by the Thalmor, rescued by mere chance. Do you honestly mean to tell me this man would be yelling, pissing, drinking, lewding, and joking his ass off?? After all that???? NO - or maybe not these levels of extreme. (maybe some other dude might, but Kaidan's characterization insists he is a brooding, keeps-to-himself man, even though he never acts like it anymore)

That man should be tired, and he did feel like he was tired in the original. He was more brooding then than he is now, usually silent, but could still have an edge of comedy/wittiness, he was smart, he had been through a lot!

In that regard, EE/IF Kaidan felt like... we are experiencing Kaidan 10 years in the past - like a Kaidan in his early 20s when he was still a drunkard low-key terrible person. He is just so energetic, always yapping - GOD he talks a lot now. ugh but most of the time it wasn't about anything, it was either inside-jokes, meta jokes, and only occasionally did we get things that added to the experience.

For example, I think most of us who have played Kaidan 2 remember at least one specific line he has said while exploring. What comes to mind for me is either "Can you smell the magicka in the air too? Smells like a rainless thunderstorm." or "Watch for the mammoth with the carvings on their tusks, that's how the giants mark their herd." Alright, both pretty nice small talk for characterization (he IS smart) and worldbuilding.

Tbh i can't really remember any iconic lines from the additions of EE/IF Kaidan... the only two lines that stood out for me were: the "elevenses" line from the clip above (started bumping into him every time he was about to say this so he would stfu... total tonal dissonance), and one he said while I looted Lucky Lorenz ("poor sod wasn't as lucky as his namesake would have you believe!") kai HOW do you know this man, and his nickname, who told you that??? (idc about it that much but its like the only other added line i remember)

I thought that maybe his ooc-iness might have been caused due to the collaborative approach of the mod, I think the mod authors created their own perfect Kaidan - and that's good for them! It takes a shit ton of work (Ik cuz i was there!!) But I think the original essence was lost with each addition. It might have been lack of direction for the voice acting too, a lot of the lines might have hit better if they weren't borderline screamed.

Okay, at some point while playing I got so tired of his constant himbo chit-chatter that I tried tuning him out and bringing other npcs from vanilla skyrim as followers. Problem: even without kaidan on your party, everything starts being about kaidan. Because the extension made it so that Kaidan either has history with/character interactions and development with different NPCs from the base game.

The main poor sods that traveled with me:

Erik the Slayer: Apparently was Kaidan's childhood friend, got inspired by Kaidan to become an adventurer. Least egregious in my opinion, they say sweet things to each other. I swear, Kaidan yells more at me than he ever did at Erik.

The Companions: dumb, dumber, and dumbest basically.. This part of EE/IF was also known as "The Fratpack" and y e a h they pretty much had Vilkas, Kaidan, and Farkas acting like immature frat boys all the time. Just,, absulutely taking away all the maturity out of these GROWN ASS MEN. im sorry, i guess i dont get the appeal. I liked it when they didn't behave like teens (Aela im so sorry, you deserved better than being part of this)

Lydia: All she does is simp for him, ALL.THE.TIME. You think she's about to have a meaningful thing to say? nope, she's checking out Kaidan's ass. Think she'll have a deep convo with another npc about one another? nope! she wants them to tell her all about Kaidan. Both the Companions and Erik will either talk down to her or have to deal with her thirst for Kaidan. i had to start leaving her home.

They also suffered from the same tonal whiplash as Kaidan, unfortunately

additionally, the mod added an "early flirt switch" - you could basically toggle Kaidan to start showing romantic affection for the Dragonborn before the amulet of mara., the interactions were good on paper, but everytime he stammered and stumbled over his words it was written in such an unnatural way... pls people don't talk like fanfics lol !!!

I did like that he gave me flowers, my inventory got full of them - but then he noticed how many flowers I had in my inventory and judged me for "picking everything i see" ugh dude you gave them to me, but also even if you hadnt... mind your business lol

Another addition was a feature that basically made it so NPCs could potentially throw flirtatious comments at Kaidan and the Dragonborn (Bishop flashbacks😨)

You can't do anything to defend Kaidan from those comments, but he WILL take it upon himself to defend your honor infront of any men, women, jarls, or criminals that even so much as find you attractive (THIS INCLUDES FARKAS AND VILKAS BTW :( ) by being rude, forthcoming, AND violent. so yea, you can guess the target audience

speaking of which, he definitely comes on too strong on you once you start the romance, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. I specifically picked the "go slow" option for the romance, and the next day or two it was him constantly complaining about having to go slow under his breath, how he wanted to do anything but slow rn... and like just, wow. :/ yikeees lmao

Maybe this is the result of "i can fix him" romance ideals? im sorry but I liked him when he was down to earth

Bonus? He comes with a campsite now, which has to be magic because its ginormous and he somehow lugs it around despite it also coming with a whole ass furnace (fine fine i'll hold my disbelief)

anyway I do like it, its basically a player house you can take anywhere (so long as kai is with you ig) also you can have a cat in there

I like that there is an MCM, I like that the MCM lets you get through the quest stages in case you get stuck

I like that he can guide you places, usually he gets stuck in a tree or rock but its the thought that counts

I think if the mod had continued in the vein as its original iteration when it was just audio/bug fixes and included these qol features it would have been better than it is now.

But it seems maybe i'm just not the target audience, and as a young woman I'm really confused as who the target audience is 😓

okay im srry rant over

if anyone else wants me to yap about other kaidan skyrim things also ask or join in cuz i like yapping about skyrim and kaidan to people!!!

[base0h]

Hey slayer. I've been violently ill lately and thought it be best to turn my misery into your profit, so here's a request for you. May I request the asl trio with an s/o that one night got really really sick?? Like I'm talking throwing up in the toilet, body shaking, feeling like you're going yo die type of thing. Thanks, have a great day and I hope you drink water 👋

a/n - nooo! I’m sorry about that anon :( I hope you feel better soon :) sorry in advance but I somehow make things cracky when they’re supposed to be serious 💀

warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, vomit, comfort

- this guy hasn’t gotten sick once in his entire life, so he doesn’t know what the fuck to do when someone gets sick- (have you seen the way he tried to handle when nami got sick 😭)

- today, you already felt nauseous, sick to your stomach. The thought of eating made you want to throw yourself overboard-

- the rocking waves that shook the boat back and forth only contributed more- you weren’t even sure if this was your sickness, or sea sickness at this point

- maybe both?

- the toilet was your new bestie, the amount of times you threw up in there were countless

- chopper did his best with what meds he had- but nothing really eased the sickness. Your head just kept banging, dizzy from how many times you’ve thrown up

- your captain wasn’t sure what to do- he just kept frantically calling chopper over to see if you were ok.. He knew that maybe his funny antics weren’t going to help you right now

- “Sorry y/n… But I think this is just going to pass tomorrow, hang in there.” -chopper

- You were glad it wasn’t anything serious, but this was horrible

- Don’t you worry, Luffy stayed with you the entire night. He stole a bucket from Sanji for you to throw up in, and tried to tell you funny stories to lighten up your mood

- “Okok- ummmmm. Ok so there was this one time where grandpa kicked me down into a hole at night and-“ (Luffy was abused /with love)

- whenever you tried to sleep, he’d pat your head softly to lull you to sleep, and he tried his VERY hardest not to make any noise

- he ends up making noise but- it’s alright, you still love him (I hope)

- “Y/n! Don’t think about green! Like- don’t think about bushes and stuff! Think about uh… Meat! Wait- no. Uhm….“

- You were getting even more sick at the mention of the color green.. And meat? Luffy no.

- “NO I’M SORRY! DON’T THINK ABOUT MEAT! THINK ABOUT UH- THE SKY? THE GOING MERRY! SUNNY?”

- with him naming random stuff extremely loudly, it was able to distract you from all those gross thoughts, good save Luffy

- you made it through the night (traumatized) but alive. You were glad Luffy was there to stay with you, even though he’s not the best doctor in town lmao

- he loves you, and he’d do anything to make you feel alright :)

- he’s very experienced with almost every sickness, and he’s read about almost every kind of medical book he has in his library

- but nothing prepared him for taking care of the person he loved, because books don’t cover that :)

- you already asked Dragon if you could rest for today, and that alone made sabo so worried. You never had to miss a mission.. This must’ve been really bad

- as soon as the ship docked, sabo sprinted, and I mean SPED towards the headquarters

- my man literally knocked poor koala over on the way 😭

- when he burst through the door like a mad man, he grimaced when he saw how bad you looked

- you were still sitting by the toilet, your face turning green in close intervals

- “Oh hey sabo- how was the m-“ *throws up*

- “Y/N?! ARE YOU OK?!”

- He’s about to faint, but he managed to drag the doctor out from his office, and haul ass back to you for him to check you out

- sabo never knew he could be so tense and anxious, he found out today that he suffered from major anxiety whenever something bad happened to you 😭

- The doctor explained that it was simply a really bad stomach flu, and it would go away by either tomorrow or the next few days

- sabo was glad it wasn’t anything serious! But still, he was worried about you, I mean… You weren’t looking great-

- He tried his best, but whenever you threw up, he felt sick as well- so he comforted you while closing his eyes and covering his ears (he’s trying)

- at one point he had to run off because he threw up too 💀 probably from both feeling horrible because you were going through this. And also, he’s scared of vomit unfortunately

- just because he’s scared doesn’t mean he’s not going to stay with you 24/7! He’s sitting with you, giving you whatever you ask and need

- he tries to talk about anything except vomit and the color green lmao- but he somehow finds a way to get back to it??

- “Yeah on the mission today- we were freeing some of our comrades and one of them- his name’s Steve. He was wearing this AWFUL green shirt and I swear-!” *throws up*

- “I’M SORRY- FORGET EVERYTHING I JUST SAID PLEASE.”

- this poor man is dying, but trying 👍

- like Luffy, this guy has never been sick. EVER

- but he’s an expert at sensing whether or not you’re feeling ok- it’s kinda creepy

- it’s like he knows if a sneeze is coming, and he says bless you early 0-0

- this time, he didn’t catch it since he was off the ship, kicking marine ass on an island

- when he got back, you were- let’s just say.. You’ve been better.

- Whitebeard was worried, and Marco took a look at you right away. No one was as worried as Ace though, this poor guy was on fire, quite literally

- he kept accidentally setting things on fire around him from how worried he was!

- “Ace, don’t panic. Stay calm.” -Whitebeard

- “I AM CALM.”

- no he is not calm at all

- Marco told you that this would just have to pass normally, and he could only give you some anti-nausea meds

- when ace could finally go into your room, he was asking every single question known to man

- “Baby are you ok? You need water? Hugs? Food? A bucket? Meds? Blanket? Marco to turn into a fluffy bird and for you to hold him in your hand?”

- “…what?”

- let’s just say if you need something, he’s on it

- whenever you throw up, he’s like- cheering you on?

- “Great job! Get all that nasty stuff out! You got this!”

- I mean. It helped I guess 💀

- he’ll give you cuddles, hugs, anything to help you fall asleep and get through the night

- you finally fell asleep on him after a couple hours

- but this poor dude needed to pee so bad at around 3am. But the thought of waking you up, only for you to start throwing up again made him so sad..

- he didn’t want you to have to go through it again if you didn’t have to!

- so he sucked it up, and held it until you woke up at 7

- “Oh hey ace.. I feel a lot better now, thanks for staying.”

- “Oh my gosh that’s great! But give me like- 10 seconds I have to pee so fucking bad-!”

- my man SPED to the bathroom, leaving a literal trail of fire 💀💀💀

- he was in there for a while 😭

a/n - ace is so sweet 🥹

[amethystina]

A health update (and a general explanation of my long Covid)

So while I've been pretty open about living with long Covid, I realise I've never taken the time to explain what that actually means for me and my quality of living. It's a phrase I toss around but I can imagine it doesn't feel all that substantial to a lot of you.

So I figured that now that I'm feeling a bit better (more on that later) I should do so. Partly because I figure it will make it easier to understand why I sometimes have to disappear for weeks on end.

So, if you're interested, feel free to keep reading under the cut :)

But be warned: It's long and kind of whiny. But also ends on a high note! So there's that.

The first time I caught Covid was around Easter 2020, long before there were any vaccines, which meant that I was hit hard. But no matter how bad I felt during the illness itself, the aftermath has been ten times worse. I've been living with my long Covid symptoms ever since, so for four years now. They worsened for a couple of months when I caught Covid a second time in February 2021, but have otherwise held pretty steady during those four years.

A lot of people experience different symptoms with their long Covid and, sometimes, they'll change as the weeks and months go by. I actually had a very interesting couple of months during 2022 when my sense of smell just went completely whack and everything suddenly smelled differently than it should. Like, I could be smelling an apple but it did not smell like an apple. It was a weird time in my life.

Anyway. My most common symptoms are fatigue, fevers, joint pain, brain fog, memory issues, incoherent speech, and lowered blood circulation.

(The latter actually kickstarted the Raynaud's syndrome I have on my mother's side so now I struggle with fingers and feet that will occasionally go white, bloodless, and completely numb at random intervals. Fun times)

The fatigue and fevers are the worst by far. For the past four years, I have had exhaustion fevers between two to five times a week. Or every single day if I'm unlucky. It's very much tied to how much sleep I'm getting, how well I'm eating, and how many taxing things I do each day. I need eight hours of sleep to be functional and anything less than that will most likely mean I'll end up having a fever before the day is over.

Unfortunately, I've always had issues with my sleep so, on most nights, I don't get eight hours even if I try my absolute best. Sometimes it's because I wake up too early and can't fall back asleep and, sometimes — because my life sucks — it's because my fever is so high that I can't fall asleep. Cue the endless cycle of too little sleep and fevers.

Because one of the main issues with these exhaustion fevers — and what makes them so difficult to manage — is that there's no way to lower them. Medicine has no effect whatsoever. Once I have it, I just have to suffer through however many hours are left until I can sleep and hope that it'll be gone in the morning. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.

And every day my energy level gets just a little bit lower and the fever a little bit higher. Some days, all I can do when I get home from work is to lie on the couch and stare at the wall because I'm too tired and in too much pain to even watch something. And, again, no amount of medicine helps.

It continues on like this for a while and, every third or fourth month or so, the strain eventually becomes too much and I fall ill. My body simply shuts down from the continued stress and exhaustion, to the point where I can barely get out of bed. And, usually, I can feel it coming. On top of the fevers, I start coughing, then get a headache, and then my nose gets stuffy. And, by that time, I know I have about two to four days before I get sick. It's so accurate that my coworkers have learned that when I give the sign, they have to tell me whatever tasks they need to be finished within the near future since I'll probably be out of commission for one to two weeks.

But I eventually recover, go back to work, and so the cycle starts again. And again. And again. And again.

For four years.

All of this has, unsurprisingly, affected my quality of life to a pretty significant degree. I can barely work, let alone spend time doing any of my hobbies. I can't really travel anymore and, if I do, I'll get sick from the exhaustion. Even the 50-minute commute to the office (which I have to do three times a week) usually results in a fever before the day is over.

This inability to travel was how I ended up missing my maternal granddad's funeral. My shitty relatives didn't tell us the date for when he would be buried until there were only two days left and even if I could have put myself on an overnight train to get there, I knew I would be in no shape to actually be at the funeral if I did. So I couldn't go.

I did go to sit with my paternal grandmother as she was dying but, as expected, I got sick and couldn't return to work for a couple of days afterwards.

I also have to skip most birthday celebrations and any events happening on weekdays since I'm usually too feverish or won't manage the required trip to get there. My life has shrunk so much I barely recognise it anymore. I don't recognise myself. I used to be one of those people who could do a million things at the same time and somehow complete all of them. I was firm, organised, and efficient.

And now I'm not.

(... or, well, technically I am — at least compared to many others — but not compared to how I used to be xD)

Point being, a lot of things have changed and I don't like it. But, with that said, I'm also well aware that I'm lucky to be alive and I'm fortunate enough to have a stable job and a roof over my head. So, all things considered, I'm still doing pretty well.

But I also can't lie and say that this hasn't affected me in a deep and fundamental way. My life has changed and, right now, I don't know if it'll ever return to what I used to consider normal. And dealing with that knowledge — and the grief and fear that comes with it — hasn't been easy. I have cried ugly, self-pitying tears over this many, many times. It's frustrating to have no control over what my body does and to constantly have to be careful of what I do so I don't exhaust myself. I am furious that this happened to me.

But, after four years, there's also a certain amount of acceptance. And while I'm annoyed by my new limitations, I try my best not to feel too sorry for myself. Instead, I try to adapt as best I can, even if I might not always do it gracefully.

That does mean that I sometimes push myself more than I should, though. Because, if I didn't, I wouldn't never produce anything. As depressing as it is to admit, everything I've given you in the past four years has been while I was sick. I don't think a single chapter I've written or drawing I've made has been untouched by this. I've become an expert at writing, editing, and drawing even with a fever.

That doesn't mean I regret it, though — quite the opposite. I think that if I hadn't had a reason to write and draw, I would have felt even worse. A lof of the time, the excitement I feel when I'm able to post a chapter or show off a drawing I've made has been the highlight of my week. It's an accomplishment.

But, that said, it's still hard. Writing in particular. It requires a level of brainpower I can't reach when the fevers are too bad. And so, sometimes, I just can't. I literally just can't.

And, back in January, as I was trying to edit chapter 39 of Who Holds the Devil, I honestly pushed myself too hard. I was so determined to finish it that I didn't let myself see just how bad I was feeling — not at all helped by how emotionally draining the content of the chapter was.

It was only once I finished the chapter and posted it that I realised how absolutely wretched I felt. Not because of the chapter itself, but my lack of compassion for myself, I guess? Because the fevers were bad, I was barely sleeping, and I was both mentally and physically exhausted. And, what was worse, I realised that I was displaying depression symptoms I hadn't seen in over ten years.

All of a sudden, I got annoyed as soon as a minor inconvenience appeared. Everything people said to me was dissected into its tiniest component. I feared that people were secretly hating me. I couldn't meet people's eyes anymore when I was talking to them. I didn't realise I was just sitting there, staring at a wall, until several minutes had already passed.

And, as the final nail in the coffin, I stopped talking about how I was feeling.

And that, right there, is my last warning that I need to do something — always has been, ever since I was a teenager. When I clam up completely, refusing to admit to the people around me that I'm feeling bad, that's when I'm about to spiral.

So, the very next day, I went to my boss and told her that I'm getting burnt out and I need to do something NOW or this was going to turn ugly real soon. Thankfully, my boss is amazing and, after a doctor's visit, I was put on partial sick leave. Right now, I'm working six hours a day instead of eight and, let me tell you, I'm thriving.

Or, well, as much as I can while still having long Covid.

I'm almost angry at how much better I feel because, if I had known, I would have done this a lot sooner. I actually have energy now! I've only had a fever about four times in a little over a month! That's insane! It used to be four a week!

So yeah. I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. The downside is that the partial sick leave is still only temporary and there are no guarantees that I'll be able to keep it. Though, if need be, I'll just have to ask my boss to rewrite my contract and change the amount of hours I work because, man, I don't ever want to go back considering how much better and happier I feel. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I feel like I've gotten my life back. It's not quite the same as before, but close enough to it that I kind of want to cry again — but happy tears this time.

And so I've spent the past couple of weeks just... living? When, before that, it felt like I was merely existing. I've been drawing a lot since that helps with the depression symptoms (which are almost completely gone, thank god) but writing has been harder. Possibly because I forced myself to do it during a time when I felt really, really bad and now I'm instinctively trying to shy away from it. But, since I know that's just my mind playing tricks on me, I'm going to give it another try this weekend. I want to write and I miss the stories I'm working on. And, hopefully, since I'm feeling a bit better, I can maybe get back to a more structured uploading schedule. But we'll see. As always, I can't make any promises.

But that's about it, I guess? I'm feeling better and, since I am, I've been doing a lot of things that I wasn't able to before (like taking walks — I take a lot of walks). And I'm still trying to figure out my new routine now that I work less. And while I still get sick sometimes (I am right now, in fact, due to lack of sleep on Tuesday night) I always find my way back eventually.

So yeah. If you've read this far, thank you so much for your patience 💜 I admit that I don't really enjoy writing things like these since it feels like I'm whining — I was very much raised not to take up space or complain when things are difficult (an unfortunate side effect to being the middle child with two disabled, high-maintenance siblings) — but I also prefer honesty and transparency. And I feel a little guilty since there are times when I've given pretty harsh responses when people question why I'm sick all the time or why I don't upload chapters as often as I used to, but without actually explaining why. So I guess it's time to be honest?

And the truth is that I've been constantly sick for the past four years. Not only due to my long Covid, but also the emotional and psychological toll of all the loss, grief, and pain I've been through. These past four years have been rough.

But I'm not saying that to gain pity or make excuses. I actually think I've done pretty well considering just how hindered I've been. I've improved my drawings so much and have written... god knows how many words. I'm honestly kind of scared to check xD But it has to be over 600k by now, maybe closer to 700k.

I think my only regret is that I haven't been able to engage with you all to the extent I would want. I wish I could be a more active and enthusiastic participant in fandom — to seek you out, hold conversations, and give you all even a fraction of the attention you've given me. I feel like I don't offer you nearly enough.

But I also know that I have to accept my own limitations. So, for now, we'll have to settle for whatever I can give, even if it's less than I would want. But I will keep on creating, trust me on that, because I'm stubborn as fuck and even if my pace is slower, I'm still determined to finish what I start.

And that's the note I want to end this on. I have suffered, yes — more so than I may have expressed to you all — but I've still managed to create some beautiful things. And while I mourn who I used to be and the fact that some of you have never known me at my best, I don't think the me I am right now is all that terrible. Do I want things to change? Yes, definitely. But do I want to change the choices I've made and the things I've accomplished in the past four years? No, I can't say that I do. I'm proud of what I've done, especially considering my limitations.

And, if you're reading this, thank you so, so much for your kindness, compassion, and support. Some of you are old friends while others of you are new, but I am grateful to every single one of you. You have made these past four years more bearable. You have made it easier to keep fighting. You have made it worth it.

Thank you 💜

[satureja13]

The Boys rode through the pouring rain across the Bridge over to Koh Sahpa. And the horses stopped by a stilt house. Jack: "Are we going to stay here? Woah! When I showed Ji Ho the beach after he arrived we saw a stilt house and we talked about how awesome they are and we asked Arturo if we can buy a lot here to build one..." Vlad: "Arturo told us. Kiyoshi, Jeb and I built it to make it up to you. It's not finished yet. You were only supposed to see it later. " (So that was their secret project!) So Kiyoshi built this house. For Jack. (Even Lunatic is stunned ^w^)

So Jeb built this house. For Saiwa. Sai had put all his hopes in that circuit board because he has no idea how he is supposed to look Jeb in the eyes again after they 'agreed' that Sai should give in to a fake relationship with Kiyoshi to bring him back from the tree. Because they thought Kiyoshi is Saiwa's fated mate. But he wasn't. Saiwa stared into nowhere... Before Sai could follow these thoughts further he got distracted by the noise of the singing birds. Why are they so loud? Bird... (They really are so loud here ö.Ö') He has no idea how to go on.

Vlad: "Look after them and try to finish the rest." (Yeah I know. Who would trust crazy Jack with looking after anyone? Usually he is the one they need to look after and care for. But Vlad trusts him. Because he knows the Jack behind his disorders and antics (and the ones who know adult Jack from our other stories know it too :3) And he knows that he can rely on him when it comes to it.) Jack: "You're leaving? What about the Bond?" Vlad: "Jeb and Kiyoshi need me. They are broken too. I will feel it when it's due to charge the Bond."

Jack: "When you feel it Ji Ho already suffers. He has the deeper connection to the Bond. Don't let him beg for it. The intervals are always the same when you don't use it's magic. Just come here in time and do it." Vlad: "Uhm. Ok." Vlad and his foolish pride and reluctance. Luci had been bolder... And Ji Ho often said that he doesn't mind physical intimacy with Vlad.

Then it was time for Vlad to leave - to look after Jeb and Kiyoshi... He is hesitating.

And Jack took Saiwa inside to give them time to get their stuff together. Oh my, after all they already did with each other they still behave like this...

Vlad: "The Bond. I will be back before..." Ji Ho: "Ok."

They held on to each other a bit longer than usual. Maybe the Bond hates it to see them apart or maybe they will miss each other. Who knows?

Vlad left and Ji Ho went inside. Ji Ho: "Oh. He's already sleeping. I hope he changes his mind about Tiny Can. I could really need some help from a therapist. Even if it's only an AI." Jack: "An AI is even better! He knows everything and is always up to date with the latest research and discoveries! He must have scanned countless articles, diagnoses, therapy approaches, research papers... I'm so ready to try it and get stuff fixed in my furry brain."

They sighed and turned around to take in the view. And just across the river there was the stilt house they had admired a few weeks ago. Just the one Kiyoshi, Vlad and Jeb built is so much more beautiful. Because they built it with love 💞

'There's a message in the wild And I'm sending you this signal tonight You don't know how desperate I've become And it looks like I'm losing this fight

In your world I have no meaning Though I'm trying hard to understand And it's my heart that's breaking Down this long distance line tonight

But I ain't missing you at all Since you've been gone away I ain't missing you No matter what I might say'

Missing You - John Waite Link above leads to the MV on youtube

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[resowrites]

Rogue’s Company - oneshot.

Summary: Henry and his wife become parents…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, mention/some detail of birth (I’ve tried to write as sensitively as possible but please avoid if you’re unsure), banter/British humour, language, dialogue heavy, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2095

A/N: This was supposed to go up next week but I’ve just got too much on. There are a few more pieces that I can post asap but I’m also happy to leave the story here - let me know if you want more.

Please note: as I've tried to write this story as both standalone oneshots and an ongoing series, I now have to use more imagery to flesh out this arc and I'm aware this may disappoint some of you. But I want you all to know, whether you're a regular reader of mine or not, I will always adore and support you no matter who you are or what you look like. Please also note: this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. Love you guys ~ R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Rogue's Company.

Her eyes adjusted slowly to the soft but unnatural light. At first, she didn't recognise the off-white walls, punctuated at intervals by bland pictures. After a while, she could hear a strange muffled sound. She realised someone was speaking. "Ollie? Are you awake?" It was Henry.

"W-where… am I?"

"The hospital, darling. You've been asleep the last six hours." Then it dawned on her. She'd given birth that morning.

"Where… where is he?" He smiled softly.

"He's fast asleep, as you should be. Come on, close your eyes." Henry smoothed her hair and hushed her softly, but a burning desire stopped her from slipping back into the depths of sleep. She had to see him.

"Where is he?" His brow furrowed slightly.

"He's just over there, darling. Don't you remember? He guzzled a whole bottle of milk and fell right to sleep…”

"Need to see him--" she tried to sit up slightly but pain shot through her stomach. Her grimace made Henry hold her down by the shoulders.

"Oh no you don't. You've got to try and relax for me darling, or you'll hurt worse." He eyed the buzzer above the bed, wondering if he should call the nurse. That morning suddenly flooded back to her. She remembered the high blue screen, the nauseating sensation as her stomach was pulled apart until… cries. Soft at first and then harder, stronger. They'd had a son. Her need to see him grew desperate.

"Darling, please. I must see him." Henry bit his lip but decided the only thing to do was to wheel the trolley over to her side. He did so painfully slowly, eager not to wake the little bundle wrapped within it. When Henry finally came to a stop, a smile spread across his face. Her eyes were glued to him immediately. Swathed in a white blanket and fitted with a tiny knitted hat, their baby boy was divine. His small fists were bundled up by his cheeks but his bottom lip stuck out, making his expression carefree.

"He's so lovely, isn't he?" He whispered though she could hardly find the words. Instead, tears filled her exhausted, heavy eyes. Henry gently wiped her face as her eyes screwed shut. "Oh darling, you're in pain aren't you?" When she didn't respond, he pressed the red button to the top left of her hospital bed. Moments later, an older woman in bright blue scrubs breezed into the room.

"Good afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Cavill! I was just about to check on you both. How are you dear? Is your stomach giving you grief?" But Ollie couldn't tear her eyes away from the small bundle to her left.

"Sorry, she's a bit preoccupied…" Henry nodded toward their son.

"Ah, well that's alright. I just need to do a couple of checks and then I can bring you both up some dinner if you’d like?" He tried repeating the offer to his wife but her attention was still fixed solely on their little boy. The nurse went about checking her as quickly and carefully as she could. She also gave her some stronger pain relief. But instead of feeling sleepy, Ollie rallied and became fully aware that she was now a mother. Her sobs came hard and fast.

"Darling, what is it?" The nurse patted Henry gently on the arm.

"It's alright, it's just overwhelming isn't it?" Ollie nodded, somewhat embarrassed that she was feeling so overcome. "I just need to take him for a few minutes so I can see how he's doing as well?" She felt reluctant for anyone to go anywhere near him, but she was hardly in a position to resist. He stroked her hand and reassured her when she could hear their little boy stir the minute he was placed on a table at the other end of the room.

"Is he alright?! You're not hurting him?!" Henry and the nurse chuckled.

"He's fine darling! And I'm sure once the nurse is done she'll let you hold him?" He looked over at her for confirmation.

"Yes, of course! But you'll have to support his bottom, she won't be strong enough just yet to hold him by herself. Let me see now, he's still six pounds, three ounces, and eighteen inches long…" Ollie craned her neck to try and get a better view.

"Has he still got two balls?" She swatted Henry with her hand but immediately regretted it when the sensation reverberated through her stomach. She gathered her strength to try and sit up properly. He dashed to help her.

"I'm fine love, stop fussing over me… are those measurements okay? It seems pretty small." The nurse smiled softly as she put their son back in his babygrow.

"It's somewhat on the small side but he's all good, you've got a very sweet little boy. Well, I'll leave you three to it. I'll be back with dinner in about half an hour, if you need help using the bathroom just buzz. For now, try and get some rest and when you're ready with a name, just let me know." She then smiled, handed their son over to Henry, and made her way from the room. For a while, he just stood holding him, rocking gently back and forth. His whimpering hadn't quite died down but Ollie couldn’t stand it any longer.

"Henry, I can't see him! Please, put him on my chest--"

"Alright, alright, here he is…" Henry ducked down, careful not to put too much pressure on either her chest or stomach. Immediately she was struck by his eyes - bright blue like his father’s. She felt her lip tremble. He just chuckled softly. "So… what do you think? He woke up an hour after you fell asleep and just gurgled away happily in his cot. He hasn't cried once!" She stared down at his little face and felt a strange sensation spread through her chest. It was pure, unconditional love.

"He's… glorious. Even though he looks just like you!" It was true. From the dark tufts of hair on his head to the strong jaw and double chin, there was no denying who his father was.

"Yeah, but he's got your ears, look," Henry rotated him slightly so she could see the side of his head.

"Well that's a relief…" They both laughed. “Wow. I can't believe we made that…" He laughed again.

"I know, I still can't even believe he's here! It feels like only yesterday you told me you were pregnant…" Henry kissed her cheek for what felt like the hundredth time that day. But her eyes were still glued to their son who was cooing to himself.

"Bloody hell… he's chatty like you as well."

"You should have heard him earlier, he was having a whole conversation with the nurse--" He lifted him up to place him back in the cot.

"No, don't. Don't take him away!"

"But darling my arm's going dead! I'm just putting him back down for a little while so you can rest…"

"Fine, but pull that trolley down a bit so I can still see him…" Henry did as he was told, smiling at her enraptured face.

"So, I take it you're pleased then?"

"Pleased? I'm besotted. I never want him out of my sight again--"

"You know you cried and cried when they had to take him away to clean him up?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Really? I have no memory of that…" A pit opened in his stomach.

"Do you remember him being born?" She tried to think.

"Only in fragments. I remember his cries, and that he was all slippery. Apart from that my head's still foggy." Henry crouched over and stroked her head.

"It'll probably come back to you as you recover. The surgeon also did a great job, the incision wasn't that big as he's only a wee thing--"

"It certainly doesn't feel small…" She winced as her mind fell back to the soreness she could feel at the base of her stomach.

"Well, give the drugs a chance to kick in, and if you don't feel better in a little while I'll call the nurse back. So, do we have a name?" A small smile curled her lips.

"Yep. Hal."

"Hal?"

"Yeah, don't you like it?"

"Of course, but why that name?"

"Don't you know your Shakespeare? It's short for Henry. You know, as in Henry IV? And you call yourself an actor—"

"You… you wanna name our boy after me?"

"Well, technically Henry V…" She smiled mischievously but he was too choked to speak. "What I also like is that it rhymes with Kal." Henry snorted.

"Hmm, are you sure you don't want to wait until the morphine wears off?" She gave him a knowing look. "Fine, Hal it is! But if he's named after me then it's only fair he's named after you as well--"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean his middle name should be Oliver. What do you think?"

"My name isn’t Oliver, you little shit!" She went to thwack Henry only for the pain to pull her back to the bed. He smirked.

"Mmm, it’s gunna be a fun couple of weeks… and technically it is! You were named after Oliver—"

"Yes, yes, alright. Hal Oliver, it is. Poor little sod. Well, in for a penny, in a pound, let's use another of your names—"

"What, you mean Dalgliesh?"

"No, you twat, William." Henry snorted but felt pride swelling in his chest once again.

"Hal Oliver William. You know that spells 'How?' He could go by Howie—"

"Yeah, no." He laughed.

"Well 'Hal's' perfect, just like him. And his Mum." Henry leaned closer to kiss her on the forehead. "Well done, darling. I'm so, so proud of you."

"I'm just grateful he's here and doing okay--"

"Me too. Can you believe we're parents? It feels so weird!"

"It does. But in a way, it also feels like he's always been here, as a part of us… I know that doesn't make sense."

"No, I know what you mean. I just couldn't imagine life without him now. We're a family of five! Oh my God, my mum and dad are going to be so thrilled—"

"Have you told them yet?"

"Yeah, though I haven't sent a picture. I wanted to wait until you were awake. Shall I take one of you holding him? That way we can send it to everyone?" She smiled and nodded. But just as he went to pick up their son, the nurse shuffled back into the room wheeling a tray of fresh sandwiches and a bowl of strawberries. "Oh, great, I'm hungry." Ollie giggled and the nurse smiled in her direction.

"Well, I'm glad to see you looking a bit brighter! Just let me quickly check you over again and then I'll get out of your hair. How are you feeling now?"

"Elated," she sighed.

"He is a gorgeous little thing. The spitting image of his father, right down to the chin!"

"It's alright, I still love him…" Henry and the nurse burst out laughing.

"So, have you settled on a name?" They smiled at each other.

"Yes, our son is called Hal Oliver William," her voice broke.

"What is it, darling?!"

"It's nothing, it's just… that's the first time I've ever called him our son." He brushed the tears from his own cheeks and gave her another kiss.

"Aww, that's wonderful! I'm so thrilled for you both. And it looks like you're recovering well, your blood pressure's good too. When you're feeling a little stronger, you can have a walk around and take a shower. All being well, you can all head home in the next day or so. Well, I'll leave you three in peace. Just buzz if you need anything." In a whirl, she was gone. Henry began breaking the sandwiches into smaller pieces so he could feed Ollie directly. Normally she'd have fed herself but she was grateful for the help as her whole body still ached from the procedure.

"There we are, just try and have a little bit for me." He beamed at her, still feeling shocked and relieved it was all over. Henry knew their lives would never be the same, but already parenthood was proving to be so much better than he'd expected. He felt like the three of them could take on the world. "Well, my darling girl, are you happy?" She swallowed her small mouthful and gazed up at Henry.

"The happiest I've ever been in my whole life."

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@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @livesinfantasyland @jackjanira

[alienglowgarden]

misc IWATEX drabbles

Hi, so I've been writing a certain fic and have amassed quite a bit of different random scenes which I may or may not use... and I thought,,, it might be fun to share some. N if people like them I'd certainly love to do/share more uwu

1. In which Sol suffers a bad case of burn-out after facilitating peace with the gardeners and decides to take a sabbatical.

Anemone hears it from Tangent, who says it as matter-of-factly as anything: Sol has disappeared. To be fair to them, it was a planned, voluntary disappearance. Anemone hasn't seen Sol in 3 years, and yet the pang of hurt she feels is as fresh as the dew on her boots. Already impossibly far, they have moved into some new to her unreachable realm, drifting ever farther and farther away.

Sym never quite learns to lie outright, so he cannot tell them honestly if Sol is happy or not. Only that they are getting better. They are trying. They are trying to get back to everyone and themself. Even if to all of them it looks like doing the opposite.

Once, Sol uploads a 20 minute long soundscape to the holonet. It is entirely taken up by the sound of crashing waves. Something about it makes her realize its not an old recording of Earth- its Vertumna. Sol is at the ocean. Their voice hums underneath the nature sounds, going in and out at various intervals as it follows one pattern, then loses it only to start trailing another, lulling one into a sense of calm and just the lightest sting of loss. Reminds one, gently but insistently, of the vast distance between her and Sol.

Their voice is salt-cracked and hoarse. Now a stranger to language, their tongue bends only for the small, simple sounds.  Are they eating well? Their mouth cannot answer. It must be inferred from the thinness of their breath.

  Does salt crust the corners of their eyes?       There is no way of telling.       Are they cold?      Do they sleep?      Are they shivering?     Do they think of her?    Are their pets well-fed?       Do they miss their mother?     Are there holes in their shirt that need mending?      Does the scar still itch?       Have they shelter?  A home?     Does it get lonely?    Is she at fault?      Will they ever talk to her?        Did they catch Echinacea's first steps?       Do they watch the videos and follow along life at the colony?      Is their knife still sharp?      Are they drinking enough?     Do they sleep better now than they had before, at home?    Is it enough to keep them from the nightmares?

2. Dys & Sol

Where Dys was fearless, emotional, Sol was calm, always measured. Their conflicting natures again grinding against each other until they finally ground each others edges smooth. Eroded enough to stand beside one another. Shoulder to shoulder. A protrusion laid into the groove, spike fitted against spike closing into a gapless vice, puzzle piece in puzzle piece. Still not smooth enough to play well with the others.

Sol always wondered about that. How these two unlike objects could come so close and find what was lacking and what could be given in turn.

Belief the chiefest among those necessities. Belief was hard to come by from anyone else who was not the playground seer or the cryptid of stratospheric. They traded it between each other like tokens, like currency which once their ancestors had sought just to be able to survive. The stakes here were just as dire.

Belief was a powerful thing- it could make or break you. It could make you whole or leave you forever unfulfilled, left to feel around blindly for every shadow of its shape as it eludes you time and time again, as it is buried down deeper by the disappointment and the falsities.

"Fine, don't believe in the colony. Believe in me."

"I do, Sol. But you're just one person."

3. ...and another one why not.

He finds Sol balancing on the edge of a wall near their lookout tower. They grin at him, they're in a good mood. This might be bad. They  waggle their eyebrows in challenge, then extend one leg over the edge of the wall.

“Dare ya,”

They start and don't even finish the sentence. There’s no need. They already have Dys’ undivided attention.

He smirks and scoffs. “As if I’ve never jumped off the wall, please Sol. That’s baby stuff.”

For a moment he watches them  pause and look out across the Vertumnan wilds, tensing imperceptibly. Or, no, not quite. It looks more like they’re frozen in place, like none of their limbs were ever designed with movement in mind. Their pupils don't even twitch, they don't blink. The action is both painfully familiar and alien, as if they’re one of…

Then all at once, they’re alive again, interfacing with the physical world. Their body careens forward and their grin goes down, down, down…

He rushes forward. He’s just in time to jump off the ledge as the toes of Sol’s shoe leave solid ground. There's no way he can be outdone by Sol. Sol who by all accounts should be capable of experiencing fear but does not only on account of that they're totally and irreversibly insane. There’s nobody he’d want to be with more in this moment.

Sol, of course, knows they will be fine. They were careful, they checked. No bad feelings, no premonitions. Just tuck and roll.

4.[COULD YOU HELP ME RELAX?] (Sol x Sym)

"I'm just so tired Sym. I feel so old; barely like a person at all."

He pulls them down as he habitually does, using his arm as their headrest.

"No matter what, you'll always be the one I love," he says soothing.

"No, I know- its just-" they groan rubbing their face in frustration and exhaustion.

"Oh, should I be offended? Am I not enough for you, sugarbug?" Sym teases.

Sol grins in a kind of half-defeat, half-relief that he won't make them actually get into the meat of it. They're far too worn for that now.

"You know what I mean." This, they say with the smile still in their voice.

"I think I do. I'm sorry I cannot do more at this moment. But, when the time comes, you will make the right choice, I know it. I believe in you, my love."

Sym finds himself not for the first time feeling guilt over the clarity of purpose he has as opposed to his chaotic human friends.

Though maybe that's not the issue with Sol at all, maybe it's the opposite. Because they do have a purpose coded into them. It's simply too much for one person to bare. He knows he is part of that issue as much as he'd wish to remain a truly neutral party.

He can't do anything more than kiss their temple as he smooths back their hair, his helplessness expressed in this gesture oddly human. For all his vast knowledge, the soothing motions of a social pack animal is the best he can offer.

"That was just what I needed," they say too soon, tension pulling them up like a whip, as if the words themselves were some sort of trigger. They kept going regardless. Before he could have ever even administered his Gardener magic to them. Does this mean they don't feel its effects at all anymore? Could they not tell the difference between a comforting word and supercharged chemical reaction?

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: Sam forcing you to go to bed

Okay. So you'd gotten a little obsessive. And, sure, that tunnel vision drive had robbed you of a real night sleep for three days straight, resulting in unplanned naps at an hour intervals at most, adding up to two whole hours. But was it really fair that your body demanded sleep when Sam and Dean habitually did the same thing? And that's how you got to day four, hallucinating every time you looked at something too bright or too dark. 

"Y/n…?" Sam called out softly after coming into the room to see you staring blankly at your hand. "You alright?"

"Huh?" You could barely pay attention to him, much less summon the mental stamina to craft a proper response.

Sam hesitated. "I asked if you were alright…"

"Uh huh."

Sam glanced back, wondering if he should call for Dean, then decided to approach you first instead. "What's going on?"

"This spot on my wrist."

"Spot?" Sam blinked in surprise when you clumsily shoved your hand in his face. He gently took it wrist. "I see it. What about it?"

"It's a spider."

Sam's brows knitted. "What?"

"All spots are spiders."

"Uh…"

"Spider. Spider. Spider." You repeated, poking the visible moles on his skin. "It goes away when you touch it. Then reappears!"

"Are you high or something?"

"Let me take off your shirt." You didn't wait for permission, sliding your hands up his hard abs. You would have enjoyed it more if your brain didn't feel encased in cotton, but as a solid to your future self, you made sure to indulge in the experience.

"Why the hell are you taking off my shirt?" Sam's voice cracked as he startled back, hands wavering in the air, unsure of what to do.

"You have the cutest mole right… here." You caressed the curve of his neck.

Sam's breath hitched and his throat worked as he struggled to reply. "You didn't need to take my shirt off to see it- Y/n!"

You opportunistically slipped under his shirt, kissing the spot. "God, I've always wanted to do that."

"Have you been drinking?" Sam jumped back when your hand dipped under his jeans. "Jesus, Y/n! What the hell?"

You blinked at him, mind blanking. 

"Y/n?" Sam stepped forward cautiously when you didn't respond. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Yesterday maybe?" You felt yourself swaying, but it didn't feel dangerous even when Sam jerked forward to keep you upright.

"For how long?"

"I don't know math." You scowled indignantly. "How dare you, Winchester? -Like twenty minutes or something."

Sam sighed. "How long has it been since the last time you really slept?"

"Um…" You closed your eyes to think and the swaying got worse. "Anyways. Take off your pants."

"What? No." Sam frowned. "Try to concentrate for a second."

"How can I supposed to do that?" You whined shamelessly. "Real Y/n wants to see the goods!"

Sam flushed and it took clearing his throat twice to find his voice. "Real Y/n?"

You nodded. "Awake Y/n. Not sleepy Y/n." You grabbed his waistband. "There's a pot going on amongst hunters about how hung you are. I'll keep it a secret if you do, but shouldn't I know since we're friends? You can't keep secrets from your friends."

"Okay. Bedtime for you." Sam threw you over his shoulder when your fingers started to graze downward.

"I'm not sleepy." You pouted. "My brain is too awake."

"I'll give you warm milk or something. Just get into the bed and stop touching me." Sam's voice was hard. 

You stopped sliding your hands over the lines of his back muscles sulkily. "You're so bossy. Isn't it your fault that you're so damn fine? Take some responsibility! Coming out of the shower with nothing, but a towel on…"

"I didn't know you were there!"

"That doesn't make me not want to lick every damn drop of water off of you." You suddenly became cheerful. "Stay hydrated everyone."

"Please stop talking." Sam swallowed hard.

"I'll show you yours, if you show me mine." You offered.

"That's not-" Sam broke off with a sigh, then pushed open your bedroom door and set you down. "Get some sleep." He sighed again when you stared at him in blank confusion. "Sleep, Y/n. Please?"

"I forgot how the bed works." 

"You forgot…" Sam covered his eyes with his hands, scrubbing his face hard. "Go lay down."

You walked backwards until your legs hit the bed, then toppled inelegantly on the mattress. Sam's face fell. Begrudgingly, he scooped you up and laid you further back on the blankets. He rolled you up tightly in an impromptu swaddle before you could do anything else.

"I'm a burrito. Eat me."

"Go to sleep, Y/n."

"But you and Dean stay up all the time." Your face crumpled with a wave of sorrow.

Sam softened. "You aren't us." 

"But you won't want me anymore."

Sam's lips thinned with an empathetic smile. "We can talk about this later."

"You've got a cute mole by your nose too."

Sam turned off the light, but didn't leave. A moment later, you felt him sit next to you. "I never had anyone try to help me fall asleep, so I'm not really sure how to help you, but… I saw this in a movie once. A mom putting down her kid…"

You relaxed instantly as his fingers brushed back your hair in long, gentle strokes. Sam smiled at your satisfied hums.

"Good night, Y/n." Sam said softly when your breathing slowed.

[gascon-en-exil]

Have you ever fucked anyone that was less than 50 years old…doubt it

I get that this is supposed to be an insult, but - have you ever had sex with anyone over fifty? Visions of scruffy silver daddies with fat dicks and fatter wallets aside, it's typically not as glamorous as all that. Consider -

Realizing that you have very little in common with someone a generation or more older than you, and yet still needing to keep conversation flowing over dinner or drinks. Often this boils down to pretending to listen to a man ramble on for 20-30 minutes about something I absolutely couldn't care about in the slightest, all while nodding and smiling and asking questions at intervals to keep him talking.

When they fumble over a socially acceptable way to refer to their relationship with you. I've been a "son," a "nephew," a "personal assistant," an "protégé," etc.

When you feel like you should have become a nurse with as much as you're expected to engage with their prescription drug cocktails, CPAP machines, and assorted other medical needs.

When daddy kink doesn't work because either they're not into it, they don't understand the concept of roleplay, or they want to be into it but aren't creative enough for dirty talk.

When they need to be pumped full of Viagra/Cialis to even get it up, but of course still expect you to be patient and perform whenever they're finally ready.

Related, when it takes them an eon to cum but you just have to keep going or otherwise they're not going to be as satisfied and are less likely to want to take you out again.

When they're bad at sex, at times in ways that might actually be painful...but trying to teach or correct them is awkward because they're more than twice your age.

And of course, when even the longest-lasting arrangements inevitably end because you're getting older and thus no longer attractive to them, and they've found a younger replacement.

I'm not actually a gerontophile, and most of the time my genuine physical interest in these men is minimal. Still, I've undoubtedly had my share of interesting experiences from sleeping with predominantly older men, and I do take professional pride in my capabilities both in and out of bed. I question if you could do half so much, trolling anon.

But to answer your ask, I do occasionally sleep with men closer to my age for a variety of reasons. The only sincere marriage proposal I've ever received was from a man just three years older than me, and in the broader world of kink I've entertained plenty of men under 50. I'm quite versatile in many respects.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Can we talk about Turntail? Like I knew Queen the First (fifth? Miss Birdsong? Do you have a nickname for her that I’ve misremembered…) obviously had the voice of an angel, but these RUNS she is doing on this song?! They are so convoluted but she sings them so TIGHTLY?!?! And PRECISE?!?? How do I get more heart eyes over her, holy hell what a talent

You know what. It's currently past 3am and I'm playing Zelda because I can't sleep (running on sick hours over here), so yeah absolutely we can talk about Turntail 😌 Also, I don't really have a nickname for her, I just call her Miss Ma'am hahaha. Miss Birdsong is great, I'll borrow that.

(okay it is now past 4am i spent WAY too much time gushing over them sorry lol)

HONEY. THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING. If you think she sounds amazing as a BACKVOCALIST, then you're in for a treat to hear her as a main vocal of her OWN BAND HELLOOOOO.

I remember a few months ago in one of their (live? Q&A? one of them) instagram things, someone was commenting on how great she sounded, and one of the guys was like "yeah, and she didn't even get training, isn't that so annoying?", it was hilarious 😂 Miss Ma'am is a natural - no wonder Vessel got her (and the babes) to back him 💅

Turntail is fantastic, I've had it on repeat since Thursday. Their music is so interesting and unique, and a great of it is because of her singing. She does this crazy runs and unexpected intervals like it's nothing, and her tone is so so SO clear and stable. Her lows??? Like, honey can go reeeeal low and smooth and real high and crystalline in seconds just like that??

This song in specific, I super appreciate the eerie, melancholic vibes. It's such a great successor to The Collapse (their previous single), but somehow even better. And can we talk about that sexy bassline??? Johnny boy went HARD on it (like he always does. Same with my drummer boy Matt, he's fantastic. Also he writes a lot of the lyrics alongside Lyns, he's fantastic). I love the breakdown bridge and that last chorus so SO much. And the piano??? They always have the most heart-wrenching, soul-crushing, beautiful piano melodies, and yet I get pikachu faced everytime. What can't the queen do. Also, this is the first time they're using a voice effect-tune-thingy so, interesting choice there. The babes sound beautiful as ever too 💖

While my favourite thing from them is still the 1st ep (The Thing With Feathers - please please PLEASE go listen to it. The Downpour and The River are my favourite songs of them, they're so amazing, please I am begging you, you'll love it), you can absolutely hear how much better they get with each new thing they put out. I'm so so excited for when they finally release a full length album, it's been a long time in the making.

If you listen to their latest ep, Dancing In The Face Of Danger, you'll see that they went for a more upbeat vibe (notable on Pyre and Ever The Optimistic), so it feels great to hear the Sad Vibes™ again. Nothing against upbeat stuff (Pyre is one of their best songs fr), but I am an emo at heart sooo... yeah. Miss Birdsong sounds like an elf or some other woodland creature - idk if its just me but you can hear traces of folk music in it and ugh what a combo.

Super super reccomend you hear them live. There are a few recordings on YT, and some of them do feature one or both of the Espera babes too.

(not gonna talk about how once again i missed their concert 🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂 it was today/yesterday 🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂 i'm fine really not salty at all 😃😃😃😃😃😃)

Also - do not sleep on their Diamond Eyes cover. Genuinely does NOT feel like a cover AT ALL. Covering Deftones is so daunting because of how unique a they are, and by god those beautiful bastards did it. I do very much prefer their version to the og, she really shines vocally there.

[void-ink-studios]

Lost but Loved, Forever and Always

Don't be alarmed by the title, no one dies in this fic.

I wanted to do this for quite a while. Prismo has been constantly comforting Scarab. It's time for Scarab to return the favor. We're talking about Jake tonight.

And, this is my own catharsis. I've had more death and health scares in my close family in the past 3 years than I have my entire life. So... this is to them, I guess.

So... yeah. Enjoy you guys.

TW: Suicidal Ideation and Alcohol Abuse

Word Count: 2,700

Prismo was missing.

This was a new worry for Scarab. He was usually the one to disappear into the Time Room's lower chambers, usually to recuperate his aching shoulders.

But it was Prismo missing today. Scarab hadn't seen the Wishmaster nearly all day, not since the one wish maker wandered in. Even then, Scarab's companion seemed very... withdrawn. Quieter than he'd ever seen him, at least not since before Fionna and Cake.

Prismo's energy had been draining out of his spirit over the past few days. He started going quiet at random intervals, with seemingly no trigger.

Scarab was fretting.

He was not used to fretting. Prismo always seemed... untouchable, emotionally speaking. Unflappable in the face of it all, always a lazy sort of happiness radiating off of him. But... this was not anything the beetle was used to.

He wondered if he should search for Prismo... The Wishmaster had gone looking for him more than once, he should return the favor. But what if he didn't want to be found?

Hmm...

Maybe he'd go find Prismo, then back off if he wasn't wanted. Yes, that sounded like a decent plan.

He closed off to entrances to the Time Room for now and scuttled down into the basement.

Okay, where to look... Scarab's first thought was the pickle room, maybe he was just working on a new recipe? It wouldn't explain the melancholy, but it was a start.

So, to the pickle room Scarab wandered. He idly thought about how well he knew his way around this section of the Time Room now. Oh, how himself from a year ago would have cringed...

Okay, pickle room is empty. No evidence of it being used.

Come on Scarab, you're an Auditor. You've tracked down things that could teleport across the multiverse. You can find one messy Wishmaster who can't leave the Time Room.

He took another look around. There had to be something, anything in here...

Wait, there!

There was a missing jar from the shelf, a trail of brine on the floor. Bingo.

Scarab followed the trail, the faint smell of alcohol slowly seeping into the air. Or, maybe it was stronger, but he couldn't tell. Either way it was... concerning.

"Prismo...?"

Hmm...

He doesn't recall coming this way before. The walls of the Time Room seemed to be coming more unstable the further he searched. Walls with random notches in them, the floor becoming trickier to navigate, drop offs appearing suddenly, walls sliding into each other.

Wait a moment...

Wait, this was familiar. This was where the chase for the Crossovers ended in the Time Room.

Which means...

Scarab found himself staring at Prismo. Both forms.

Prismo, the Wishmaster, staring down numbly at Prismo, the Dreamer.

"...Prismo...?"

Prismo looked terrible, for lack of a better word. He looked tired. Scarab wasn't sure how a dream could look tired, and yet, here he was. He looked... empty. Just staring blankly at his own body, slowly drifting up to Scarab. And, even with his own crippled sense of smell, Scarab was smacked in the face by the harsh smell of alcohol and vinegar. There was a half tipped over pickle jar in the corner.

"...hey..." he murmured. Just like his gaze, his voice was... empty. He said nothing else, drifting his gaze back to his sleeping body. He took a silent swig from a bottle.

"Uhm... What are you doing down here...?"

"...Thinking."

Scarab made a few tentative steps closer to his partner.

"What about?"

Prismo remained silent.

"Prismo...?"

"...You... wouldn't get it."

"I wouldn't?"

"You don't... talk to people. Talk to mortals." His voice sounded wobbling, his voice trailing up and down. Drunk. Prismo was drunk.

Scarab had never seen the Wishmaster... drunk. Tipsy on Star Punch. Maybe a bit too loud and cuddly after a game night with the guys. But this was just... sad.

"You're right, I don't talk to mortals. But that wasn't what I was asking. I was asking what you were thinking about."

Prismo didn't look up. It was honestly making Scarab nervous.

"...You ever think about how long immortality is...? Like... compared to the shorts that pass by upstairs everyday?"

Scarab blinked, pondering.

"I do, sometimes. It's... inevitable with beings like us."

"Hmm... Beings like us..." Prismo sighed blinking tiredly. "They're like... like a blink... Like a spark and then they're gone..."

"I suppose..."

"...Why am I still... here, Scarab? Like... I'm what, hundreds of thousands of years old? I think that's too long, don't you? I died at some point... I sometimes... wonder if I should've stayed that way."

Scarab felt his chest seize, suddenly also very fixated on Prismo's sleeping body. He... he wouldn't right...?

"I... I'm thankful that you are still here, Prismo... More so than you might think..."

"Hmm..."

Prismo took another drink.

"...I'm only alive because of a mortal..."

"Really now...?"

"Yeah. It was... well, super off the books. Wasn't even pinged by the Organizer... Not supposed to get involved with mortals and all that junk... But... well, he was one of my best friends... and... well, that's all I've got left of him."

Scarab gave him a confused look, approaching Prismo's body. It was unnerving, seeing the warm, soft old man the beetle loved so fondly being so still and silent... Wait, was that... fur?

Yes, right there, at the edges of the beard and hair were little whisps of yellow dog fur.

"What on Glob...?"

"Yeah... I got killed, and he helped me with my backup plan. Long story. Complicated. But, a copy of him became... me. It's his dream and memory of me keeping me alive. And... well, the original passed away. A while ago. And... Well, this is all I have left of him. Just... staring at him, looking like me, but that's not even really me..."

Prismo was spiraling. Scarab could hear it in his voice, he was spiraling.

"Prismo-"

"And what was it for? He's... He's stuck here or he's dead or he's a monster or whatever else, and for what? For... me? For everybody's pal Prismo. What a joke."

"Love, what-"

"I got nothing, Scarab. I've tried to have something. But... what do I have to show for it? The banjo? Fucking pickles? A hot tub? I got nothing."

"Prismo" Scarab hissed, sternly, gripping his upper arm, stopping Prismo's spiral.

"Prismo... how long have you... thought about this?"

"...I dunno, man. It comes and goes again..."

"Prismo. You know I, and many others, would be... heartbroken if you disappeared. Many were the first time. Even when I had my grudge, I felt... empty when you vanished."

"I... I know, I guess... Maybe that's why I haven't... done anything. Not yet, at least..."

Scarab warbled, nudging his head against Prismo's shoulder.

"...I might not know much about your... mortal friend... but I don't think he'd want you... wallowing like this."

"Oh, what do you know" Prismo snapped, startling Scarab. "You don't know him! You don't know how this feels!" His eyes flashed purple, a black color pulsing through his whole body before returning to normal.

Scarab took a few frightened steps back, looking up at the Wishmaster with wide, uncertain eyes.

Prismo's eyes sparked with immediate regret. He looked at the bottle, then back to Scarab. He groaned in frustration, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I just... I don't know how to be when I'm like this... I've... I've never felt like this before Jake... I don't know man..."

Scarab chirped out a soft sigh, feeling emboldened to come closer. "...It is not exact, but... I do know a bit of what you're feeling, Prismo..."

"...You do?"

"Mhm. So. How about this. You tell me about this... Jake. And I'll tell you about Cricket. We'll mourn together."

Prismo seemed to be considering.

"...Can we... stay here with him...?"

"If that's what you'd like, love. But let's not loom over him, okay?" Scarab gently tugged Prismo's arm. And he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when the Wishmaster allowed to be tugged. The beetle retireved the pickle jar, and the two sat down, leaning against each other.

"So... Jake?"

"Yeah... Jake the Dog."

"...How'd you two meet?"

"A wish. His brother, Finn, they were chasing their universe's version of the Lich into my Time Room. The Lich wished for the end of all life, and I granted it. Finn wished for the Lich to have never existed. They both got warped to their new realities. And then there was Jake..."

Scarab tilted his head. He'd heard of the Lich. One of those beings he'd have liked to take in, but couldn't. Vital to reality and all that nonsense. He didn't know Prismo met him before the incident with the Citadel.

"Jake... Well, I think he was in shock or something. He... seemed confused. Didn't know what to do, what to wish for. He nearly wished for a sandwich, but I talked him out of it. Like, I could just make a sandwich, no need to waste your one and only wish on it. So... we just hung out. We watched Finn's wish altered reality for a while, and we talked. Mortals never really... stick around long enough to talk. To know me as anything other than 'Almighty Prismo.' He chilled with Cosmic Owl and me. He had some of my pickles, said they reminded him of his dad. And I just... couldn't stop smiling. Some... some human part of me hoped he'd never make a wish, just so he could stay..."

Scarab could hear Prismo's voice shaking, so he pressed his head against his upper arm and nuzzled, chirping quietly.

"But... Something in Finn's wish reality started going wrong... He started to panic. I... I definitely broke protocol on this but I talked him through his wish. The wish that would make things go back to somewhat normal, and he was gone. I sent him some pickles, invited him back, but... Well, I never thought he would. No one just comes back to the Time Room, not unless you're a god. He got his wish, why would he want to come back? But... he did. Again. And again. And again and again."

Scarab wrapped around Prismo's arm, nuzzling softly as the Wishmaster sounded on the verge of weeping.

"He became one of my best friends. He was... something special. He'd level with me like a person. He didn't have this... weird, distant respect that everyone first comes at me with. He treated me like a person and... well, that was special to me. More so than I ever really noticed... not until he was gone for good.

"When the Lich killed my human body, Jake was the one who volunteered to help bring me back. That's him, sleeping in the bed. It's him keeping me alive. And... I don't know, I don't know how I could possibly repay him for that... I can't just bring him back to life, he belongs to Death now... and I don't think he'd want it. He's on the highest Deathworld, and he deserves to be there. I'm not gonna take him away from paradise just for my sake..."

Prismo trailed off. Scarab assumed he was done talking now, as he gently massaged the Wishmaster's arm.

"Thank you for telling me, Prismo. He does sound special. And I'm sorry you have lost that."

"...I can't talk to the others about it... They'd just say I was stupid. It is stupid, getting that attached to a mortal like that. So... you're the first person I've told, I guess."

"Is this... Finn still around?"

"I think so... Humans live a lot longer than dogs. I see him on the screen wall every once in a while."

"Have you thought to talk to him? I'm certain he's mourning Jake just the same as you. It might be nice to share memories of him."

"I dunno... I don't know if my heart could take it if I got attached to Finn..."

"Hmm... That's understandable, I suppose..." He reached up, gently rubbing away the tears from Prismo's cheek, nuzzling it lightly, even trying his best to kiss it.

"So... Who's Cricket?"

Scarab hummed. Time to hold his end of the deal, yeah?

"Well... My situation with Cricket doesn't align exactly with yours... I knew Cricket from when I was still mortal, rather than meeting them in the middle of eternity. But... well, they were my best friend."

Prismo's eyes widened at that.

"Cricket and I were neighbors, in the mounds. You tend to bond pretty quickly with those burrows around you, but Cricket was my first and best friend when we emerged. They farmed mushrooms while I patrolled. Our routines would have us pass by each other a few times a day, and we'd both get into heaps of trouble for slacking off to chat."

Scarab chuckled at the memory, trying to picture Cricket's face... Glob it's been so long...

"I told them everything. We told each other everything. What we thought about our other friends, who we thought we fancied, what might've been up in the stars, all of it. Thinking back, they actually remind me of you, in a lot of ways. They had this... magnetism about them, it made it easy to talk to them, they were charming and relaxed in ways I wasn't. I... I suspect, if my life turned out simpler, we could've been mates."

Prismo gulped at that, leaning down to listen.

"But... well, then I saw the mouth in the void. They helped me research, they helped me train, they helped me get that audience with the Pantheon. They gave me a crushing hug when I went to go fight. And they were the last I spoke to when I ascended. I promised I'd come back for them someday..."

Scarab rubbed his mandibles together, hesitating.

"I... I've said I haven't seen my home since then. But... that was a bit of a lie. I did go back, once. But... I hadn't realized how much time had passed between me leaving and coming home. What felt like, maybe 5 years to me was... almost 70 for them. Eternity messes with your sense of time like that. I never saw Cricket again. It's been so long; I feel guilty I can't clearly remember their face... I remember a few things, though... they had a deep blue shell, their antenna were long and curled, they laughed loud enough to get neighbors to complain about our late nights... But I can't remember their face. Not clearly anyway."

Scarab sighed, leaning into Prismo's open arm.

"...Does it ever get easier" Prismo whispered. "Knowing you've lose someone that important...?"

"...I'm not sure if easier is the right word... It never really stops hurting, when you think about it. But... it becomes a part of you. A part that prickles and catches you off guard sometimes, but a part of you none the less. You eventually evolve the hurt. The hurt mixes with everything else you felt about them. The hurt of the loss blurs together with the warmth of memories."

"Oh..."

There was a long silence, as Prismo looked between the body sleeping on the pedestal, and the drink in his hand. He gently set it down.

"...I might not know much about Jake. But I can tell he was special. It's okay to feel that hurt when you lose someone special. But... don't let it drown the warmth you felt with them. Remember them. The hurt just... tells you how much they were loved."

Scarab felt the tingle of light as Prismo wrapped around him completely. He could feel the Wishmaster's chest struggling to heave. The beetle shushed him softly, petting his talons against what he could reach.

"...One second" Scarab whispered. He conjured both himself and Prismo a small glass of Star Punch. He picked his up. "A toast. To Jake."

Prismo blinked wetly, a shaky hand reaching for his glass. "To Jake. And to Cricket."

"To Jake and Cricket. Lost, but loved, forever and always."

The two clinked glasses and took their drink.

Scarab knew talking about this would bubble up old emotions. That cloyingly harsh coldness, fighting with an aching warmth. Thinking too long about his home did that, sometimes.

But, it was worth it. Worth it to remember his friend. Worth it to bring some comfort to his partner. Worth it to bring some light onto the peacefully sleeping body across the room.

Lost, but loved.

Forever and always.

[masterwords]

it's here in the ashes

Summary: Sam Cooper was many things. He was an exemplary leader, an intuitive field agent, a brilliant mind. He was a calm presence amid a raging storm, someone who always knew what to say and when to say it...but more importantly, when to keep quiet. He was many things, but if you asked Hotch he’d probably just say that Sam Cooper was a great friend. This is just a snapshot of that friendship. (Coda to 5x01, my usual haunting ground)

Pairing: None (but you could say Hotch/Morgan...it's heavily implied but not explicitly said, basically just like canon)

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: religious (christian) overtones, church, stab wounds, medication, pain (post foyet stabbing y'know y'know)

Notes: I've wanted to write more about Hotch & Sam's friendship. Sam, if you don't remember, is from 5x18 - The Fight and the Unit Chief of the Red Cell team in the spinoff Suspect Behavior. I'll probably start a whole series dedicated to all these one-off characters that are so beloved to me so they're all in one place. Hotch needs friends, yo. And anyway, he's so cute with Cooper that I really need to explore more of that.

No one came to see him after he was released from the hospital.

The team were busy, they sent texts and more than once take-out meals so he didn’t have to cook, but no one came by. He knew it probably had a lot more to do with him than them. He could picture Garcia worrying herself sick over whether to pop by to check on him or bring him a plate of cookies, and he could picture Dave telling her to do what she thought was best. Well, that resulted in a lot of well meaning texts and nothing more.

He was fine with that, too. He didn’t particularly want company. Didn’t much feel like conversation, like being under the watchful eye, like being pitied.

Jessica was coming by, out of some strict (and utterly insane if you asked Hotch) sense of duty more than anything. She was angry at him for sure, angry and indignant but she helped him change his bandages and made sure he took his medications. “For Jack,” she muttered when he asked her one particularly bad night why she insisted on showing up every single day when he knew she didn’t want to be there. When he knew she had better things to do. Her neighbor was feeding her cat so she could clean up wounds on a man she could barely stand to look at. “Because he’s going to need a dad to come home to. Now swallow the damn pill and go to sleep.”

Her anger lasted about a week. She never had managed to focus on one thing for very long – her fire burned hot and fast. She’d picked him up from the hospital and brought him home, and for that whole week she was frustrated and short with him, asking him why he didn’t just call his mother or Sean to come and help because he was more or less incapable of just about every activity of daily living. He stubbornly maintained he could do it on his own, and for what it was worth, he did. Not well, and he definitely shouldn’t have been doing any of it, but he didn’t see as he had much choice in the matter. She knew it too, and that fact alone kept her coming back to check, afraid one day she’d show up and find him face down on the floor bleeding out. So, it was a week of burning anger and then slowly it melted into something not so hot. Not so sharp. She began sitting with him for an hour, turning on the TV or cleaning his bathroom, asking how he was feeling with more than just a clinical interest. Remembering that she did love him too, in spite of his rampant stupidity. In spite of his...well everything about him.

But he didn’t seem to make any real progress toward rejoining the living until Sam Cooper showed up on his doorstep.

“Hi,” he said, extending his hand to Jessica with the bright smile of someone who sleeps and eats and works out at regular, healthy intervals. Something foreign at the moment to both she and Hotch who had more or less become couch potatoes. She was eating enough for two (there were a lot of feelings to be stuffed into a bowl of cereal that quickly became two bowls at 10pm whens he couldn’t sleep), he wasn’t eating at all (meds and pain and stubborn refusal to do anything that resembled living). It wasn’t a great situation. “I’m Sam, a friend from work.”

“Sam Cooper,” she said with a tired smile. “I’ve heard stories. I’m Jessica.”

“Right. Ex-wife’s sister?”

“That’s the one. Do you need something from him? He’s asleep right now.”

Sam smiled again and shrugged. He carried himself with such a laid back swagger that she couldn’t help the way her own shoulders loosened in his presence. “Nah. I just wanted to check up on him. Thought I’d give it a week or so for him to be home before I came knocking. He can be a little skittish.”

“Oh, yeah, well...why don’t you come in? I’m sure he’d love to see you. Or anyone really that isn’t me barking at him.”

“Has he had many visitors?”

“Well counting you and me...two.”

Sam nodded and clasped his hands behind his back, fingers gently pulling at the prayer beads he kept around his wrist as he took in the apartment. He’d been here more than once, helped Hotch move a few boxes here and there. More to check up on him, support him through his time of need than actual help – he’d had movers do most of the heavy lifting. Ultimately the place didn’t look much different but it felt different. It felt wrong. He could see Foyet there by the washer, feel his presence as he got to know the intimate details of Hotch’s place while he was away...how long was he here? Did he leave anything behind?

The apartment smelled stale but clean, closed windows and bleach. There were banker boxes piled up where he supposed a china hutch or some nice piece of furniture might look better, and there were case files covering a table that was more for show than for eating. He thought about Jack, wondered if he might find some renegade legos stashed beneath the couch or a crayon on a bookshelf. He wondered if Foyet went into Jack’s room, if he dug through Hotch’s entire life while he was away.

“That’s about what I expected,” he said finally, as if coming out of a long trance.

“Really? I honestly thought that his team would be here all the time. The way he is about them, you know? That they’d be hanging around and getting him to work and…”

“I talked to Agent Morgan this morning before I made the decision to come by. He said he’s been texting with Hotch every day but he’s afraid of opening up too many lines of communication because Hotch needs to rest and heal, and his instinct is always to pour himself into work as quickly as possible.”

“So they’re protecting him from himself by not coming? Is that what they think they’re doing?” She couldn’t mask her disgust. He gave up his marriage for them and they couldn’t even bother stopping by to check on him.

“I said that’s what Morgan said. I don’t know about the rest of them, don’t really know ‘em. Morgan comes and works out in my gym every day. How is he?”

“Well. He’s lonely and grouchy. In a lot of pain and pretty angry about it.”

“How long have you been here?”

“All morning. I practically live here now.”

Sam continued his pass through inspection of Hotch’s place and frowned at the spot on the carpet that was covered by an out of place looking rug. Jessica wouldn’t look at it. “That’s where...I guess they couldn’t get the stain out…I brought a rug from my place. I know it’s stupid, putting that there. It’s a bath mat, it looks silly it’s just…they said it would be a couple of weeks before they could get someone out to replace that spot with new carpet.”

“You should go, take some time to yourself. Have some lunch, a nap, something. I’ll handle him when he wakes up.”

She scrunched her nose and he had the distinct impression that she’d known Hotch a long time, a very long time, and through her aloof exterior she cared very much and maybe didn’t want to leave. She was protective of him, that was for sure.

“If you want,” he followed it up with a cautious smile. “I only want to help.”

That made her features soften into a halfway smile. “I could use a shower.”

Sam busied himself by putting away all of Hotch’s case files, clearing off his table. It was a task Jessica had mentioned wanting to do but not knowing where to start. “I think he just leaves them there because they make him feel something. He doesn’t do anything with them. I covered a few up because the pictures were…” she shook her head in disbelief. “I covered them up. That probably makes me a terrible person.”

“You said they’re going to be a couple of weeks on the carpet replacement?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t let him come out here and see that every day. And I know it sounds stupid because they cleaned it really well but if I can see it...I feel like I can smell it.”

“Doesn’t sound stupid. I can smell it. I’m going to make some calls, we can get that taken care of.”

“They said that it got into the sub floor and all of the padding, the whole thing has to be replaced. He was there...it was…”

“I understand. I’ll take care of it.”

Sam’s presence was calming to her, and when she finally slung her purse over her shoulder and left she felt almost at peace for the first time in a week. (Had it only been a week since he’d been home from the hospital? It felt like a century, and maybe it was when you measured it in calculated breaths and medication timers and bandage changes.)

By the time Hotch was shuffling down the hallway with all the grace of a starved zombie, not the 28 Days Later kind but the long suffering Romero zombies, Sam had tidied up all of the files and moved himself on to perusing the bookshelves until he found something that was just dull enough to stare at until his friend woke. He didn’t want to get engaged in anything, he wanted something easily cast aside. Something that would hold his attention with only the lightest grip. Hotch’s book collection had plenty to offer in that regard.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Sam said with an easy smile, setting the book open-faced on his thigh. Hotch stared at him, unblinking, sleepy-eyed, pale and worn like an old bed sheet hung out to dry. He’d seen Hotch in plenty of bad situations but he’d never seen him so listless, so drained. So empty.

“Where’s Jessica?” he croaked in a voice that hadn’t been used for much more than moaning or complaining in the last few days. Jessica said he didn’t string many words together, one or two was about the limit of his conversational skills – everything else was more or less a series of whines, whimpers or grunts.

“She needed a shower. I stopped by at the perfect time I guess.”

Hotch grunted his disapproval at being blindsided by a change in caretaker and resumed his shuffle toward the kitchen. Sam watched with some intrigue, wondering how capable he was of whatever he had set out to do. He knew damn well Hotch wasn’t going to ask him to help, and truthfully he thought it was probably better if Hotch did things for himself. He suspected that Jessica was doing more than necessary, either out of fear or guilt or love it didn’t matter.

It was a glass of water he was after, and he managed after a full minute of trying to figure out the best way to raise his arm (one side was easier than the other, it turned out) and then it looked like he was going to be sick after the first drink but he continued anyway. Sam watched with interest while Hotch seemed to forget he was there momentarily, hunching over at the sink, resting one hand against the ledge and dropping his head. Sam thought about stepping in, about asking if he could do anything to help, but he knew Hotch well enough to see the folly in that idea. He let Hotch come to him, instead. Slowly he made his way through the kitchen, eyes dragging with suspicion over his newly cleaned table. He didn’t like it. Sam didn’t care.

“Did you do this?” he asked, reaching out with one unsteady hand to grab hold of the back of a chair. It was as far as he could go, and he fell heavily into the seat with a barely contained groan.

“Looks like it smarts,” Sam said, ignoring Hotch’s question. He knew the answer anyway. When Hotch didn’t acknowledge his comment, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and looked at him earnestly. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, and I’d rather not have to say it but I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“I know.”

“So you pushin’ everyone away who wants to help?”

“They have better things to do. Agent Reid is also out, they’re short staffed.”

“We’re pickin’ up the slack. I’m working with Rossi and Morgan to divert your case load. We got it.”

Hotch nodded appreciatively. “Thank you. I’m hoping to return within the month.”

At that, Sam laughed. Hotch didn’t find it amusing. “What?”

“A month?! Hotch. Come on. I saw the pictures and the hospital chart – now, now, don’t get your feathers all ruffled, Rossi asked me to take the lead on your case. He didn’t want anyone from the team doing it, and he was adamant that an outsider shouldn’t do it. I guess you could call this a professional visit…”

“Yeah?”

“Well. In a matter of speaking.”

At that Hotch smiled. Sort of. It was just a little twitch at the corner of his mouth but it was something, probably more than he’d done in a while. It looked unnatural and stiff. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve got something I need you to do with me. You up for a walk?”

“Do I look up for a walk?”

“You look like a ghost. You can’t haunt this place forever. You need some good old fashioned vitamin D...come on. Three blocks.”

Hotch knew where they were going, and he wanted to protest. Not for any real reason in particular, he’d been thinking of going himself. He loved it for the same reason Cooper did – it was peaceful there. Quiet. He could sit and hear himself think without the echoes and ghosts in his apartment, or he could sit and do nothing but stare up into the light refracted through brilliantly colored stained glass windows and marvel at the way that made him feel.

Small, it made him feel small. That’s what he’d tell Sam, if asked. And no, that wasn’t bad. In fact, as the world swirled around him, as his team texted him and people whose names he barely knew delivered flowers and baskets of well-wishes and foods he wouldn’t or couldn’t eat (but his neighbors would, and Jessica would) all he wanted was to feel small and insignificant again. Foyet had robbed him of many things, and right now if he could just feel small he might be able to see his way into the next day and the day after.

“You know where I’m taking you,” Cooper said, affecting a slow pace. Much slower than his usual clip, and still it wasn’t really slow enough for Hotch’s sluggish body. His bones were heavy, poured with concrete. He wasn’t really walking so much as dragging himself down the sidewalk. It was a strange lumbering walk, no real grace to it, stiff hipped and hunched at the shoulders. “You know exactly where we’re going.”

“I do,” Hotch replied, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket to hide their tremble. They shook a lot lately, maybe medication side effects, maybe nerve damage, maybe just that he was scared and hungry and sick all the time. The reason mattered very little to him anymore. It just was.

“Have you been already?”

“No.”

Cooper hummed and slowed his pace one click more, a welcome reprieve. Hotch slowed to match and took a deep breath.

Three blocks, only three blocks, but Cooper stopped and took a seat on a bench beside the bus stop a little over a block into the walk and Hotch followed. They didn’t speak while they sat, just stared across the street and watched the little coffee shop ebb and flow with the day’s patrons. Children being dragged in by their parents while they prattled about something that was very important to them and of little import to the parents on a mission for caffeine. A couple holding hands. A group of school aged girls. Some of Hotch’s neighbors, elderly couples that had formed a sort of walking group in the last few months. He’d joined them once or twice after being badgered relentlessly at the mailboxes for being a shut in. The problem, he told them, was that he spent so little time in his home that he desired the luxury of being a shut in. Still, he did need coffee so he reluctantly agreed.

After a few minutes, Cooper looked at Hotch expectantly and stood.

They made it to the church without saying another word, and Hotch stopped at the base of the steps and turned his whole face toward the sky. He stared at the steeple as it rose into the clouds, touched the heavens. He sucked in one quick breath and grabbed the railing before hoisting himself up one step at a time like he was climbing Mount Everest.

The last time he’d come, it was Easter. He had Jack’s little hand in his, it was his holiday weekend and they didn’t have a case. It wasn’t his first choice of holidays to have his son, but Haley wanted Thanksgiving and Christmas and since those are family holidays and Hotch didn’t care for spending much time in the company of his own, he’d taken Halloween and Easter. Well, that had been almost half a year before and he’d walked by these steps plenty of times and thought about coming in but he never did. There was plenty of guilt associated with that, just add it to the pile of guilt he lived with over everything else in his life.

It was creeping up on October now, and he knew in his heart that he wouldn’t get to have Halloween with his son. He might never get another holiday again – did he appreciate Easter for what it was? Maybe the last? He didn’t think so.

“Need some help?” Cooper asked when Hotch was halfway up. He shook his head and set his features with determination.

“I’ve got it.”

“Good.”

Hotch would have been content to sit in the back pew and stare silently forward, he had the best view of everything from there but Sam moved toward the front and he followed. This was Cooper’s adventure, after all. He’d done nothing but wake up and go to sleep, exist in a medicated half-life for a week now and if this was the way to regain his life...well he was willing to try it.

“It’s peaceful,” Sam said sitting down. Hotch took the seat beside him, close but not too close. Sam scooted closer to him, until their shoulders touched and he leaned himself back casually. Like this was his sofa at home and they were all set to watch the football game. “You made it.”

“Did you doubt me?”

Sam smiled. “I did, actually. You look like a man who hasn’t walked more than twenty steps in a week.”

“I am. I guess it’s like riding a bike.” He found that the smile he offered Sam wasn’t forced this time, and that lightened the tight feeling in his chest some. It was amazing the power some people held. That just Sam’s presence and faith in him, in his ability to still be the same man he was a week ago, would almost make him believe it too. Sam had always had that effect on him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

His answer was always yes, but he hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Sure.”

“Did they ask you if you wanted to head up a Red Cell? Before they gave it to me? You were the natural choice.”

That wasn’t the question Hotch had imagined he would ask, but now it made sense. He was thinking about Foyet, about how all of this transpired and wondering if Hotch had any regrets about being so visible. About heading up the A team when he could have gone under the radar.

“They did.”

“And you said no?”

“I did.”

Sam leaned forward, fingering the prayer beads now dangling from his hands. Hotch watched in a sort of trance, the way his thumbs moved over the beads was rhythmic and enthralling. Hypnotic.

“Why? You like the red tape or what?”

He was in a church, and as such, he felt compelled not to let a lie dance on his tongue. Not to entertain those types of thoughts. Sam deserved his honesty. “I need rules. I need the red tape, even if I mean to fight against it sometimes. I need checks and balances. Sometimes I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t have them.”

Sam could respect that answer, but then, he found it wasn’t hard to respect most of the things Hotch said or did. He needed rules because he feared his own darkness, and knowing what he did about Hotch’s past it made sense to him. Still, knowing Hotch as well as he did, he expected that he’d do just fine without the red tape...he didn’t trust himself, but he should.

“Do you regret it?”

“You mean do I regret it now that I’ve been victimized by the very thing I just said I needed?” That had been on Hotch’s mind. The rules. Arrest Foyet for what he did, make it right. Do what Shaugnessey didn’t, you hunt him and you catch him. But then...how long did that last? And was playing by those rules just playing into Foyet’s hand? This cycle was endless and it was killing him slowly, seeping from him what little sleep his exhausted body would allow him. And now he waited to see if Foyet killed again, and worse, who it was if he did. He was watching, Hotch knew that much. So was the FBI, he knew that too. There was a car parked on his block 24/7 with some poor low level Agent sent on an endless mission to stare at his apartment building as if Foyet would come back there. And were he and Cooper followed down here to the church? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe Cooper cleared this whole adventure before even showing up.

“Not exactly, but sure. That’s where your mind went, I’d love to follow that rabbit down the hole. Assume I mean it that way. Do you regret it?”

“I hadn’t really considered it. Truth be told, I haven’t thought about much except that night.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sam laughed. He did so with his whole body. “Fair enough. Morgan said you weren’t talking to anyone about it. But you know, you will have to talk to me about some of it...at some point. I am the official Case Agent.”

“How much have you spoken with Morgan?”

“Everything I just said and that’s what you take from it? Are you jealous?”

Hotch frowned, not sure how to answer that. Especially in a church with a man holding prayer beads. He trusted Sam Cooper implicitly, but his stomach lurched painfully.

“I’m teasing,” Sam said, as if Hotch didn’t catch that part. “He comes by my office every day. He’s struggling, Hotch.”

“Comes by your office for what?”

Sam definitely detected a hint of something in Hotch’s voice that sounded like jealousy. Not the kind that holds hands with suspicion or anger, just the kind that makes bedroom eyes at hope and despair.

“He’s coming to work out. To blow off steam. I’ve been training him in Kali, if you must know. He needs an outlet.”

Hotch smiled at that. “Better him than me.”

“You’re next.”

“I’m not cleared for strenuous activity or lifting more than 5lbs for at least the next three weeks...sorry.”

“I’ll mark it on my calendar. You need to double down on your hand to hand training.”

That didn’t sit well with Hotch and Sam could tell he’d crossed a line, if only unintentionally. He hadn’t lost the battle with Foyet because he couldn’t fight hand to hand, Foyet had the element of surprise and a gunshot that deafened and disoriented him. He had it all planned out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you could have done anything to prevent what happened. The man was in your home waiting for you, there was nothing more you could have done than what you did. You stayed alive.”

A woman’s voice echoed from somewhere above them, and then a man’s voice followed. Nothing more than sound waves bouncing off of statues and stained glass, not real words, but Hotch’s attention was drawn to the origin of the sound and he felt the hot sting of tears welling up in his eyes. Sam placed one hand on Hotch’s shoulder and the prayer beads fell against his chest, making a small wooden rattling sound that he felt deep in his bones.

“You stayed alive, Aaron. Maybe that’s why I brought you here. I nearly lost a friend, and I’m eternally grateful that I didn’t.”

“Why?” Hotch rasped around the thick feeling of emotion choking him. Why did Foyet want to keep him alive? Why had Foyet chosen him? There were no answers he could find in any of those files. Nothing he could use to make sense of what happened – what Foyet did to him, the parts that were in the file and the parts that wouldn’t be. The parts he remembered and the parts he didn’t.

“That information is above my pay grade, I’m afraid.”

“Has Strauss said anything to you?”

“You know she doesn’t want anything to do with me, not since the Director said my team reports directly to him. She felt slighted and I don’t blame her but I sure am glad. She asked me to help your team out. That’s about where it ended.”

“I think she’s hoping I won’t return. That I won’t pass a physical.”

Sam hummed and stood, beckoning for Hotch to follow him back out into the sunlight. “You’ll pass. I’ll make sure of it. I just need you to do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Call Morgan.”

Hotch looked at the stairs and grunted, reaching out for the railing. It was hot, the sun had baked it in the time they were inside and it burned against his palm as his fingers curled around it.

“For what?”

“Check up on him. Ask him how things are going. Ask him to meet you for dinner at that restaurant you both like, the little pho place across town.”

“I’m not cleared to drive.” It was a pitiful excuse, weak and lacking all feeling. He would drive if he had to.

Sam took Hotch’s arm and helped him down the long bank of stairs, much harder to maneuver down when he was tired than it had been to get up. His legs felt like jelly and more than once he nearly tripped.

“Then invite him to your place for dinner. Surely you can order a pizza. Or are you just opposed to seeing him?”

“I’m not...opposed...I’m just…”

Sam stopped and turned Hotch toward him. Anyone looking from the street might get the wrong idea. It would be easily read as a moment from a Hallmark romance.

“You need him, and he needs you. If you think that his opinion of you has somehow changed because of what happened, I’d say you’re not giving him enough credit.”

Hotch didn’t have a response to that, but the look on Sam’s face and the way he continued to lead him down the stairs and back to the apartment told Hotch it wasn’t necessary. It was food for thought, not a set up for an argument. His beads were in his pocket now, the outline could be seen against the denim, and Hotch noticed that Sam checked his watch. It was the third or fourth time he’d done that since they sat in the pews. He’d noted it as odd, but his mind was too hazy to focus for any length of time on small details like that. Now he was suspicious.

“Are you late for something?” Hotch asked, staring ahead at his building as it loomed. Grew closer, larger, the thought of his couch and his bed growing in strength. His legs burned like he’d run a marathon. It was amazing how quickly physical status changed, how fast he could go from peak performance to broken.

“Right on schedule,” he said, slowing his pace a little and smiling. Hotch didn’t trust it. Something was happening. Something outside of his control, just like everything else lately.

Sam held the door of the building open to him, and Hotch entered with some apprehension. Something was waiting for him and he didn’t know what but he didn’t enjoy surprises. And Sam knew that. It didn’t seem to matter.

The door wasn’t locked. Hotch frowned. He knew he’d locked it on the way out.

“Trust me,” Sam said, nudging the door open. Hotch just stared at him, wondering what was going on and not liking anything his mind came up with. “I asked Jessica to come back to let a friend in. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry. His apartment was broken into just a short time ago, a blink of an eye, and Sam says don’t worry. Hotch found he had a few issues with that statement, but Sam smiled at him and he had no choice but to try.

It was Derek, Hotch knew it right away. Before he saw him. The minute he stepped into the doorway he could smell Derek’s cologne.

Derek was in his apartment, on his hands and knees, smoothing out the last of a piece of carpet with a seam roller. The stained piece was lying nearby along with the discarded pad, the last real physical reminder of what happened that could be removed and replaced. The rest Hotch would carry with him forever as a part of him, there was no seam roller that could smooth the edges of Foyet’s masterpiece. Hotch stopped short and found it hard to breathe at the sight. Sam just nudged him inside so he could shut the door before helping him to the couch. It was clear that the day’s outing had exhausted him, a sad thing to witness in a man who was previously fit enough to give just about anyone a run for their money. One night, one man’s evil and it was all undone. For how long, Sam didn’t know. Couldn’t tell. One minute Hotch seemed motivated to bounce back and the next he seemed too far gone. Still, he had faith.

And that faith started here, with Derek. That’s all Sam knew for certain. These two, they’d always been tied together. Hotch was Hotch and Derek was Derek, but when they were together they were unstoppable. Derek would make Hotch want to come back, that was the simple truth.

“I ordered you a pizza, it’ll be here in twenty minutes. Let me take that to the dumpster on my way out.” Sam indicated the stained carpet remnants eagerly. Derek balked but eventually decided to hand it to him, brushing his hands on the thighs of his paint stained jeans when it was out of his hands. Like he was wiping Hotch’s blood from his palms. “Hope you like Vito’s.”

“Rossi would kill you for ordering from them.”

Sam laughed and nodded. “I suppose that’s true. He can come by my office if he has a problem with my pizza choices. He knows where to find me.” Slowly, Sam turned to look at Hotch who was solemn on the couch. Trying to reawaken himself or settle himself, it was hard to tell. “You too. Three weeks, it’s on my calendar.”

“How’s it look?” Derek asked, the first thing he’d said to Hotch since they showed. He was looking pointedly at Hotch, and in that moment Sam decided to slip out silently. Hotch noticed but turned to look at the carpet, knowing Sam would rather not have any fuss about him leaving. His work was done, but they both knew he’d be back. Probably a lot. He was the Case Agent, after all. Hotch’s return to duty was securely in his hands.

“It looks…” he said quietly, searching for the word. He didn’t have one. Maybe one didn’t exist. Was there a word in the English language (or any really) that said what he felt looking at that spot and knowing what had happened there but not having to see it anymore? “Thank you.”

Derek grinned and nodded, beginning to pick up the tools he’d set all around his workspace. They hit the old metal toolbox, the top engraved with the initials HM, with a crash. Metal on metal as he tossed them into place – he’d organize it all later. Right now, he had to clean up. They had pizza coming, and he was about three days overdue for sleep, but he was here in Hotch’s apartment and that was exactly where he wanted to be. Where he needed to be.

“I’ll take it.” He kicked the toolbox out of the way and admired his work for a moment before letting out a contented little sigh. “I’m gonna go hop in the shower. I’ll be out before the pizza gets here.”

“Derek?” Hotch whispered, clamping his hands over his knees. He made eye contact with Derek and held it earnestly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. There was pizza involved and I didn’t have to cook or buy. Easy decision.” He paused after grabbing his go bag, filled with something clean to wear and toiletries, and smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.”

[daxite]

dude

i've been struggling on how to write this, but on saturday i lost one of my closest companions

i didn't post too often about dude on here just because i usually don't post things about my life on social media that much in general, it's something i tend to keep in friend circles on discord lol, but he was my rabbit who i had for about 8 years, since i was around 16/17, and i had an extremely close bond with him

dude was originally owned by my friend's family, he was brought from a small family-owned pet store and was the last of his siblings left, he didn't have any fur patterns so nobody wanted him despite him being such a beautiful and loving rabbit, he was there until he was 6 months old and put on a discount lol

for the first couple of years of his life dude didn't really get much attention, it wasn't until my friend and i took him into our own hands where he finally got the love, space and attention he deserved

i remember the day when he first moved into our room and how happy and excited he was, zooming around and binkying up in the air everywhere, i remember just spending pretty much that entire week sitting on the floor with him, playing with him and getting to know him

over the next few years dude bonded with both of us extremely quickly and closely, he'd spend most of his time cuddling with us and playing around the room when i moved back in with my family he was even more excited since now he basically had an entire house to run around which he absolutely loved, i really can't exaggerate just how happy and playful he was during the years he spent here especially

we didn't know his exact age, but dude was around 11 years old, he would've been 12 in november, which is already very old for a rabbit, but considering that he was a mixed giant breed (half-flemish giant, half-silver fox), he was insanely old and did incredibly well for his age, most giants and giant mixes don't live longer than 8 or 9 years due to their size

over the past year or so i had noticed he'd been slowing down a bit, not really running around as much, couldn't really jump up or down off the bed anymore, developing a bit of catarax, so i knew his age was catching up to him, especially over the past few months, he'd been struggling to groom himself and wasn't eating as much

on thursday we took him to the vet, he was given some painkillers and fibre supplements, but there wasn't really much else they could do as they weren't sure what was up with him other than he was just getting old

i won't go into too much details about what specifically happened when he passed because it was very upsetting, but i noticed he wasn't doing well at all around 5am, i stayed up with him until around 8am checking on him and just sitting with him tried to get some sleep but kept waking up at basically 30 minute intervals because i was too stressed out about him, he managed to hop right next to the bed besides me and sleep a little, which had always been one of his favourite spots to sleep in since we got him

i woke up again at around 11am, checking on him and stroking him, it was then where he made a little squeak and i picked him up out of concern, and unfortunately he passed there in my arms

we were considering taking him to the vet in the morning, but there wasn't anything that they could have done other than likely put him down, ultimately i'm very glad that we didn't and he was able to pass on his own terms, as peacefully as he could have given the circumstances, in one of his favourite places as i comforted him

i've always loved rabbits since i was a kid, but i never realised just how incredibly close, loyal and loving they can be until dude, it does break my heart to see people discount them so much because they write them off as less intelligent or that they won't love you like something like a dog can, despite them being extremely clever and being able to bond ridiculously closely with their owners, dude was the peak example of that

not only was dude an incredibly loving, sweet and friendly rabbit, he completely loved everybody who he met, but he was also an absolute freak lol, always lying down and squeezing himself into the most ridiculous places because he found them comfortable

precariously wedging himself against and under movable chairs was one of his favourites and it was terrifying every time lmao

because of his breed, dude also had a very weird coat, since he was a silver fox mix, his fur was layered very differently to other rabbit breeds, he was incredibly beautiful but an absolute pain with molting lol

you can see in this photo with how weirdly his fur was layered, since he was black it was pretty hard to see most of the time

dude was generally an extremely healthy rabbit, never had any issues whatsoever, the biggest scare he had was when he pulled out one of his claws by accident a few years ago, he was perfectly fine and we were able to just treat him with some anti-septic powder for a few days at home i still have that claw, i'm probably going to use it in a mini terrarium in memory for him

given he was so affectionate, dude really loved licking people, especially my friend and i, before him i actually had no idea that rabbits lick people out of affection like dogs do, it was incredibly sweet though for some reason he loved licking toes above all things like the freak he was lmfao

this is only scratching the surface about dude and how much we all loved him and the kinds of things he'd get up to, i really cannot truly put into words how special of a rabbit he was, i've never had a bond that strong with an animal before and i don't think i'll ever have something quite like that again, he was genuinely one of the best things that has ever happened in my life and i'll always hold him incredibly close in my heart and be forever greatful for being able to spend that time with him and how wonderful he was, rest in peace little man

[teqshark]

Minecraft Hardcore (0-10)

Might not be as many houses as I originally anticipated but I started up a hardcore world on bedrock on a whim so I thought I'd document my exploits here. Maybe next time I can actually remember to get screenshots during the interval but oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. All images were captured on Day 10. (Spoiler alert: I survive the 10(11?) days). Without any further ado, all worlds start with...

Day 0: Yes, we're counting Day 0. I spawned at the origin (0,0) in a forest so I was just surrounded by oak and birch. I wasted no time in chopping my first tree so I could craft a wooden pickaxe and wooden axe. Before I left the forest, I nearly broke the axe getting wood but didn't fully break it. I like to keep the first tools I make as a memento to how far I've come. Gathering logs took up half the day but I was still able to explore a little bit before dark. I found a shallow cave in the side of the mountain that I could take shelter in. I dug right into the cliffside to get some cobblestone while I wait out the night. I knew I wouldn't be living here permanently but I thought I'd make it at least resemble a home of some kind so I made a door and some fences for a little balcony out by the door. I also crafted some slabs to make the way down a little easier and then the sun began to rise.

Day 1: I left the sight of my first home and quickly got into a tussle with a skeleton. I hadn't been able to make any armor yet so I went down to about half health(I don't remember exactly). I ate my last lamb chop and decided not to go sprinting around since I was low on food. I quickly found a plains biome and with that, some animals I could turn into food. Then I stumbled across a horse. I saw a lot of snow in the distance so I wanted to make some leather boots so I wouldn't sink into the powdered snow and freeze to death. After asking my friend, the horse did not make it but it's leather was enough for the boots. Right as I noticed a village of sorts, the sun began to set again. However, I had a bed this time so I quickly went to sleep before any hostiles could spawn.

Day 2: I woke up, broke by bed, and went to check out the village. It had generated on a hillside which was interesting since only half of it was visible from where I slept. Once I got there, I realized it was actually an abandoned village. They're rare but it wasn't my first time seeing one so I just tried to take what I could. In the blacksmith, I was able to get an iron helmet and chestplate which really boosts your confidence. I began searching some of the other buildings and I noticed my inventory was nearly full of junk. I thought it might be time to settle down when my friend had reminded me of the previous update. A couple weeks ago, bundles had been added. For those unaware, a bundle allows you to hold up to a stack of various stackable items in one slot and all you need to make one is string and leather. I didn't have any string so I dropped back onto the blacksmith roof to destroy a cobweb. After creating one, I was able to reopen about half of my inventory slots. Across from the valley this village lied on was a lightly snowed peak which I briefly considered living on. After making my way over, I chopped down a couple spruce trees since I wanted to start on a cabin. This plan quickly fell through because there wasn't much space and terraforming early in hardcore seemed like a death wish. But still, it was getting late so I placed down a campfire to cook the animals I'd slain as well as a couple logs by the fire to really complete the campsite. Once everything was cooked and I took out another skeleton that wanted me dead, I went to bed wondering where to go next.

Day 3: I started by heading over to the trees I'd cut down to gather the saplings it dropped. I only ended up getting 3 but it's fine since they grow and produce more. After walking for a little bit, I saw another village, this one actually being inhabited. In the cliff next to a campfire, I finally found some iron ore so naturally I grabbed that while I cooked up some animals I killed. Not only did this village have a lot of crops I should steal harvest including carrots and potatoes, it also had 2 blacksmiths and with chests containing iron tools and some obsidian(it's a surprise tool that'll help us later :) ). By the time I'd seen everything, it was already night and I slept once again.

Day 4: With plenty of food for my journey and a stack of potatoes to farm, I went on my merry way. This may come as a surprise, but after a little more meandering, I encountered village #3. This one was up high on a meadow with a river separating it so I made a boat to reach this one. They didn't have a blacksmith but I was able to find some hay bales which I took with me because they can't defend themselves. I will specify that this one was a plains village and thus had the iconic cobblestone church as seen below.

One thing I enjoy about The Village and Pillage Update that dropped in *does a Google search* 2019 is that the plains also have a second church-like building.

Now idk if this is actually a church but both buildings contain brewing stands and those turn villagers into clerics. Personally, I like the thought of there being multiple different Minecraft religions among the townsfolk. Anyway, as I was exploring the second church as shown above, it started to thunder so I decided to sleep it away because playing in the rain is just a little annoying.

Day 5: Shortly after sleeping, I had decided to get off for the day because the first play session was starting to drain a little bit. However, I did get on the next day and got right back to looking for somewhere to settle. I didn't get far from the village before noticing the meadow had shifted gears. In and around the village there hadn't been a lot of flowers, as is a key characteristic of the biome. However, I noticed the ground was suddenly filled with alliums.

I had never come across a meadow with this flower before. I thought they only spawn in flower forests, but I was wrong. After a little bewilderment, I decided somewhere around here would be the place I set up shop. I managed to find a decently flat area so I made a chest and started to unload the inventory of non-essentials. I also put down a crafting table, furnace, and a smoker I borrowed from village 1. Smokers are like furnaces except they only smelt food but quicker than a standard furnace or campfire. I noticed the sun was starting to get kinda low so I quickly began setting up what I like to call The Gridlock. I'll save that for Day 6.

Day 6: Now, The Gridlock. This will require some explanation. Prior to 1.18(Caves and Cliffs pt. 2), hostile mobs were able to spawn at a light level of 7 or less. After the update, a light level of 0 is now required. Torches produce a light level of 15 when placed that decreases once per block the light spreads to. The Gridlock is the name I associate with placing a torch every 10 blocks on my land so that nothing can spawn. It's like The Lion King, everything the light touches is mine. I spent a little of Day 5 and about a third of Day 6 placing torches so that hopefully, nothing can sneak up on me while I'm minding my own business. I also spent part of this day to smelt the little iron I had and make a bucket. This is one of the most important items throughout the cycle of the game and I needed water. Luckily, there was a river down the side of the mountain I didn't come from so i went down there, got a bucket, and placed it down back up at my base. It was a surprisingly long journey so for the second bucket I needed(I'll explain), I decided to get a water source in one of the caves I saw. After a little scrounging around to find it, I now had 2 buckets of water and a little bit more coal because I couldn't help myself. Now, for those still wondering, I used the 2 water sources to create an infinite water source. That's right, some figurations of water make it so that you simply never run out. Most people opt to create the 2x2 but I instead use the 1x3. As long as I take buckets from the center, it will never run out. I inlayed it next to a terrain change and put some trapdoors over it so I don't fall in(as shown later). Next, I used my new power to create a potato farm. It fit perfectly inside one square of the grid and I outlined it with the alliums since they're everywhere and I had to clear some to make the farm. Sometime during its construction, a wandering trader spawned. I had 4 emeralds from stealing borrowing from the villagers so I thought I'd see what he was offering. I ended up buying some moss and an orange tulip. I then bonemealed the tulip to make more and then took one to dye my bundle orange. I proceeded to create a magenta one since 2 bundles are clearly better than 1. Finally, I decided to plant the spruce saplings I obtained in Day 3. By that, it had somehow started to rain again which was absurd since it had been like 2 days but luckily I was able to sleep it away.

Day 7-8: With basic housekeeping done, I decided to set out for a nice cave to start mining for resources. I found one that was nice and away from everything and I noticed very early on that there was a LOT of copper in this cave. I've been watching a playthrough from ItsMarloe on YouTube and he uses a lot of copper in his builds so I thought I'd give it a shot. I mined every single coal, copper and iron ore I came across. Every time my inventory was nearing full, I compressed the resources I collected into blocks so that I could keep going. About halfway through my expedition, I stopped to smelt the surprisingly little iron I had acquired and finally make myself some leggings. Around this time, I killed a zombie that dropped a chainmail helmet. While chains are now an item, chainmail armor cannot be crafted, thus making it a rare find. After about another 15 minutes, I decided that was enough caving for this session. I had gone through multiple iron pickaxes on the copper alone. Despite the low coal yield, I did get a fair bit of coal and didn't venture deep enough to find anything else. One thing I started doing with this adventure was only putting torches along the right walls of the cave. It's a productive way to ensure you don't get lost underground.

Day 9: I emerged from the cave about halfway into Day 9 so there wasn't all that much to do. I started by smelting the iron I manage to get and using it to make myself a stonecutter, which makes crafting different stone blocks easier, and a blast furnace, which smelts ores faster like the smoker with food. This will be helpful for when I finally decide to smelt up the copper because currently I do not have nearly enough fuel to smelt it all.

As you can see by my surprisingly blurry screenshot, I mined just over 5 stacks of copper blocks. That creates 2,889 copper ingots. I didn't mine that many ores however, because copper drops multiple raw copper even without the Fortune enchantment, but I still mined quite a few. In the bottom left of the chest, you can also see the 23 blocks of coal I collected. even if I used all of them, it wouldn't smelt all the copper so I'll leave that until I can actually finish smelting all of it. I saw I had some daylight left so I decided to make a carrot farm right next to the potatoes, allium border and all. I didn't have nearly as many carrots as potatoes so that one is gonna require some work yet.

Day 10: I woke up for this one and it occurred to me: I have a camp, but not a house. I intend to build one right in front of where my camp is so I spent some time just clearing out some flowers because A) they'll be in the way and B) I thought picking flowers would be a nice little treat for surviving 10 days.

It's nothing crazy because I only have iron tools but I plan to make something nice. This image really shows just how big and surreal the biome is. I'll eventually cover the entire thing into the Gridlock but maybe that'll be when I have more resources. I spent the rest of the day obtaining these other pictures of my little camp.

Here we have the farms, the trees I planted and a different wandering trader. I checked, he had different trades.

And then we have the assortment of blocks I currently call home. Under the trapdoors is the infinite water source which I think tucks itself away very nicely.

That's a wrap on my progress for this world. Please comment any suggestions or questions you may have. I did my best to recount all notable events in the order they occurred. Some might be a little out of sequence but I believe I at least covered it all. Next long post will be regarding days 11-20 unless something else takes the spotlight ;). Thank you for actually reading all of this. If you skimmed, that's fine. I know it's a lot. Until next time 👍

[angelofthemornings]

You know, a lot of evidence points to this being a glutamate thing. For instance, on days when I can't do anything the human voice feels like nails on a chalkboard to me (sorry if anyone reading this is human) and worsening sensory issues is linked with glutamate issues. I wonder why the hell it seems to be *cyclical* though. I can't find any correlations between my behaviors (like getting less or more sleep) and my bad periods. Interesting that before I got on my seizure medications (which inhibit glutamate) I didn't have good periods at all, I was just a worthless lump except for during a really solid manic episode. (What contributes to manic episodes? Glutamate dysregulation.) I might merely be taking my meds at inconsistent intervals or something - maybe if I go fifteen hours before my second dose instead of twelve for even one day it screws everything up for a bit - and I really should be tracking more of my behaviors.

...Or hypomanic episodes, whatever. My last therapist got annoyed and corrected me if I said manic instead of hypomanic, I think she thought I was being dramatic. (I *have* had manic episodes, which is why I have type one bipolar, but very few of them.) They almost never distinguish between mania and hypomania in literature on the disorder, just in clinical practice, so I'm not really used to it. Always seemed kind of useless terminology to me, too. "Episode where you're fucked up but not as fucked up as other people can get" is sort of a weird thing to say. Treatment is similar to identical and it's not like we're not all suffering. Does it accomplish anything other than giving people with type two imposter syndrome? I always felt bad for type twos. (Also, there's historically been an argument over whether I have type one or type two - I was initially diagnosed with bipolar one, but during my last manic episode, I was in Alaska and basically acting like a mumbling homeless guy and wracked with psychosis and even my vision was fucked, I had this bizarre tunnel vision, but I was like, doing work with ease. FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE. Was I doing it well? No, I was borderline incoherent, but at least I was showing up. And because I had okay occupational functioning some subsequent practitioners have been like, "eh sounds more like hypomania then." Others agree with type one. It's confusing and subjective.) (Although, as the actual guy having the episodes, believe me, I can feel the difference between hypomania and mania, should such a thing meaningfully exist, or I can just say that some episodes are merely troubling and some episodes I've gone completely bugfuck and it exists on a continuum.)

At least my whole care team has gotten on board with the idea that I'm not secretly having depressive episodes (or trauma I haven't noticed, or anxiety I haven't noticed) and they're taking me off the antidepressant carousel. I'm grouchy due to Slav nature but I generally feel upbeat and happy, the *only* depressive symptom I have during bad spells is the inability to do shit. (And maybe like, insomnia, but I have insomnia during good episodes too.) I hope to hell my new therapist ("please fill out the intake forms as soon as you can, we're getting a lot of referrals due to the elections") doesn't insist on it; if she or he does, I have about half a dozen papers to show them about functional decline even after successful mood control in bipolar patients (if that doesn't convince them I'll be very mad).