#but there's zero way ill be tired enough to sleep by then

[msdk-00]

i need to be knocked out with a fucking mallet at night. i don't think i've peacefully fallen asleep for months it's always through great exhaustion usually achieved by staying up past 3am

[drdemonprince]

I have almost no energy to move or to think. My eyes hurt. My head hurts. I’m constantly on the verge of puking. The room is spinning. Normally bouncing off the walls with the desire to exercise, try new things, and socialize, all I want to do is sit silently in the dark. I am incapacitated, in an inescapable way, by the demands of full-time work. I had forgotten for a while that I am so profoundly disabled, because I have been able to build a life around my natural rhythms and my inarguable sensitivities. But for just one week, I’ve been thrust back into approximating something of a “normal” working life, and I can’t handle it. Not even remotely. If I were to live by this schedule all of the time, if necessity forced me to work an actual full-time job with real, in-person, full-time hours, I would have zero energy for meal preparation, physical fitness, social outings, on-the-ground activism, or any of the random adventures that make life so worthwhile. In my schedule I’d scarcely find the time for doctor’s visits, tooth cleanings, trips to the DMV, birthday parties, conferences, runs to the post office, or any of the other small journeys that make it possible for supposedly “independent” adult life to run. My health, my relationships, my community, and my grounding in reality would dramatically collapse.

Working full-time is a sickness. And not just for especially sensitive people like me. The friends I know with full-time jobs are tired nearly all the time, and have had to give up on so many of their passions and fulfilling pursuits. Over the years some full-time workers I know have become a bit dull-eyed and distant, no passion in their voice, a ghost of their younger selves. They assume it is because they are growing “old,” but I’m older than many of them, and many people older than me are similarly able to bounce off the walls. We have energy if we get enough sleep, if we eat robustly and eagerly, and if life is filled with shared wanderings that we can look forward to. We need repetition, and comfort, and rest, but also ample space to dream, and the power to bring some of those dreams into reality. So many people under capitalism lack all of those things. Their jobs are a chronic illness they must cradle, manage, and make endless sacrifices for every single day. There is so much they can’t do. They don’t go on dates with their spouses because they’re falling asleep at 8pm. They’re behind on doctor’s appointments and haven’t visited their siblings for years. They’re too weak and weary to travel, to volunteer, to meet anybody new. All they have it in them to do at the end of the day is collapse in front of something familiar on the TV. And it is so normal that nobody even considers it a sickness.

The full essay is free to read or have narrated to you at drdevonprice.substack.com.

[demonsslayersstuff]

When You’re Sick (Male Hashira x Reader)

A/N: Head canons and drabbles about how the male Hashira take care of reader when they are sick. No major warnings, mostly fluff. Sanemi’s is written with a female character in mind. I’m gonna take a short break this weekend, so won’t post anything for a few days. Enjoy and have a lovely weekend!

A/N: Shout out to Shinobu and the mess she’s gonna be dealing with if reader gets sick 😂😂😂

Kyojuro Rengoku:

* Worries endlessly when you’re sick, but doesn’t show it. Immediately talks with Shinobu on how to properly care for you and if your super sick he’s legit carrying you to the Butterfly Mansion (🥲)

* This man is a space heater so has no issues cuddling with you when you’re sick. He’s holding you in his arms, massaging your achy muscles

* Takes the time to make your favorite tea or food and sits by you to make sure your keeping food and fluids down

* Tries to complete missions as quickly as possible in order to get back to you. Hates being apart when your ill, so as soon as he’s back your in his arms

You awaken to fingers softly stroking your hair. “Good morning little flame, how do you feel?”, Rengoku asks softly as you crack your eyes open. “Mmmm, a bit better, still tired”, you tell him, voice sleepy. “Let’s drink some water first and then you can go back to sleep”, Rengoku says, helping you sit up. He watches as you drink the full glass of water, before helping you lay back down. “If you’re not better by dinner, we are going back to see Shinobu”, he says as he lightly drapes the blanket back over your body. “M’kay”, you say, already half asleep.

Uzui Tengen:

* I’m not sure why but I see Tengen being more of a problem and less of a help when you’re sick. Like he’s worried but has zero clue on how to help you (😂)

* His wives are the ones taking care of you. They’re making you soup, tea, and keeping an extra eye on you

* Tengen does go out of his way to stop by and check in on you. Definitely see him spending a little extra time with you as you’re recovering. If you’re super sick he’s stopping by our g.o.a.t Shinobu to get medicine and medical advice

* I could see him coming to your room after a long mission and leaning down to kiss your forehead softly, making sure your resting well

It’s very late as Tengen carefully opens your bedroom door. He’d heard from his other wives that your fever finally broke, though you still needed time to rest and fully recover. He shuffles quietly towards your bed, grabbing the blanket you’d thrown off absentmindedly in your sleep. He covers you up before he leans down to give you a soft kiss on your forehead. He thumbs your cheek softly before sighing, relief filling his body. Tengen gives you one final kiss before sneaking back out of your room, he’d check on you in the morning, but for now he was going to let you get the rest you need.

Giyuu Tomioka:

* I totally see Giyuu being able to take care of you all by himself. He’s a very resourceful and thoughtful guy, so you’ll be well taken care of if your sick

* Honestly Giyuu knows you so well that you’ll have what you need without asking. You constantly have tea, water, tissues, etc around at all times cause he’s that prepared

* Personally takes you to Shinobu if your super sick and would definitely postpone or delay missions until your well enough to be on your own.

* Does not let you go back to work until you’ve received an all clear and even then he keeps an extra eye on you during your first mission back.

“Giyuu”, you call softly, throat too sore to speak at normal volume. You watch as your husband enters the bedroom, tea already in hand as if he knew exactly what you were gonna ask for. “Thanks”, you say gripping the warm mug, relishing in the warmth it brings to your finger tips. “Of course, need anything else?”, he asks before softly putting his hand against your forehead, noting the slight fever you still had. “No”, you respond with a light smile before sipping the hot drink. “When you finish you should try to get some more sleep, I’m going to run out and get you some more medicine”, Giyuu tells you. You nod your head as you shuffle back under the covers. He leans down to give you a quick kiss, “I’ll be back soon, sleep”, he says before slipping out the door.

Sanemi Shinazugawa:

* Idk why, but I see him totally panicking the first time you get sick 😂😂. Like running you to Shinobu only for her to be like bro, it’s the flu, let her rest and drink fluids

* After that he’s much more attuned to your needs and wants. Notices the first signs of your illness and stocks up on your favorite drink and tissues.

* Though Sanemi takes his job seriously, I could see him asking for a day or two off to attend to your needs if you were really sick.

* He’s at your beck and call. No matter how small the need is, he’s taking care of it. Sanemi is with you every step of the way because he knows you’d do the same for him

“Drink plenty of water and tea. Make sure you to sleep as much as possible”, Shinobu says before wiping her thermometer off. You nod your head and Sanemi keeps a watchful eye on you, knowing all you want is to just sleep. “Thanks, I owe you”, Sanemi tells her, walking her to the door. “She should be ok, but if her fever doesn’t break by tomorrow, bring her to my estate”, Shinobu says before she heads out. Sanemi makes his way back to you, taking note of your already sleeping form. He makes quick work, gathering the supplies he needs before he finds a comfortable position on the floor next to you. Sanemi spends the next several hours placing cool cloths against your forehead, willing the fever to break. His hard work pays off, as your fever breaks when the morning light spills through the window. Sanemi finally breathes a sigh of relief before gently kissing your forehead, careful to not wake you.

Iguro Obanai:

* Does his best for to care for you, but is a bit out of his comfort zone. Internally freaking out the whole time your sick

* Honestly probably just takes you to Shinobu cause he doesn’t want you to get worse. Even if it’s just a cold, he’s making sure you get seen

* Makes an effort to make tea and probably asks Mitsuri or someone else to help make you healthy food to help with your recovery

* Not afraid to cuddle or hold you if you want it. Feels like he can’t really do anything else, so he’s at least doing that

“Obi, can you cuddle me?”, you ask him hesitantly as you watch up pick up the tray of food you’d just finished eating. “Of course, everything ok?”, he asks you, worry in eyes. “Yes, I just…I just want to be held”, you say, looking up at him. “Of course, I’ll be right back”, he murmurs before quickly hurrying out of the room. Obanai is back in flash, slipping under the covers and pulling you to his chest. “Thanks”, you mutter, relaxing to the sound of his heartbeat. “It’s the least I could do, sleep, I’m not going anywhere”, he says before stroking your hair softly, lulling you to sleep.

Gyeomi Himejima:

* Honestly probably the most chill out of all the Hashira. At the first sign of your illness he’s telling you to get rest and to see Shinobu if you get worse

* Does not let you go on missions until you’re 100% better. Probably takes your missions on top of his until you can handle them yourself again

* Makes sure your well tended for. Makes your favorite tea and if he can’t be there to cuddle you, you best bet y’all’s cats are doing the job

* Doesn’t worry unless you are very sick. If you are he’s leaving you in Shinobu’s trusted care. Prays for your healthy recovery

You feel a tissue being placed into your hand after your big sneeze. “Thanks love”, you say before blowing your nose. “I think you should stay home tonight”, the Stone Hashira says as the two you sit down for dinner. “It’s just a cold I’ll be fine”, you tell him reassuringly, ignoring the ache in your back. “No, you stay home and rest, I’ll take care of your mission tonight”, Gyomei tells you with a soft but authoritative voice, which you know is his final decision. “Ok, thank you, truly”, you tell him, and he hears the gratitude in your voice. “No worries love, if that cough is not better by the morning please go see Shinobu”, he replies, hand finding yours. He squeezes it gently. “Ok, let’s eat”, you tell him, before focusing on your food, enjoying the peaceful dinner with your husband.

[mitternacht]

I’m back again with some ranting/thoughts about Fuuta, his character, and current mental state based on the T3 teaser because I could write essays upon essays analyzing this guy and I’m also tired of some of the takes I’ve been seeing about him on the bird app that solely blame Amane for his current state. (TW for brief sui. mention, talks of mental illness/delusions)

Starting off strong and controversial maybe but I can’t state enough how much I hate the “Fuuta killed Shidou” theory because it would be a complete assassination of Fuuta’s character. The entire point of his murder was that it was indirect and he has stated multiple times that he can’t stand physical violence. It makes no sense that he would up and kill someone now, even with how departed from reality he’s become. Now, him indirectly helping cause Shidou’s death is a gray area. I genuinely don’t think Fuuta would consciously assist with this, but he’s so far gone at this point I can’t say there’s zero chance he would. But as far as Fuuta carrying out the act, absolutely not.

Now the biggest point I want to make and talk about, is that Fuuta has been exhibiting signs of psychosis since his T2 interrogation. It’s already clear from the T3 teaser that it’s gotten progressively worse and he’s now completely dependent on and enthralled to religious delusion, which is a common symptom of psychosis. None of this was Amane’s fault, mind you. She’s always been very open about her faith and Fuuta developed this religion-based delusion all on his own, he was already at his breaking point so it’s not really a surprise that he’s reached this point. It’s driving me insane that anyone is blaming Amane for these changes in Fuuta’s personality, and not understanding how severe an effect Milgram itself has had on Fuuta who was already not a very mentally strong individual.

And even then on top of his poor mental state, the huge amounts of physical pain he’s likely still been dealing with are probably not doing him any favors. You do not have consistently coherent thoughts with that much chronic pain and no relief for it.

Now the presence of hundreds of eyes in Backdraft, Fuuta stating in his T2 interrogation that he can’t sleep (sleep deprivation being another cause of psychosis) because he feels like he’s being watched (perhaps causing hyper-vigilance) and hearing voices (which seems to affect him more strongly than any other character who’s mentioned the voices), the physical trauma he endured, the mention of “succumbing” (aka killing himself) in Backdraft, his sudden mood swings/random aggression and disordered speech in his T2 interrogation, like it’s. All telltale signs of psychosis and religious delusion was almost always going to be the next step unless he succumbed to despair and died. Again, at no fault of Amane’s. Fuuta needed something to cling to, and he found it.

T3 Fuuta is going to be extremely detached from reality and is likely going to have delusions of grandeur or a superiority complex as well, since those commonly come along with religious delusion. I’m almost resigning myself for him get a Guilty verdict for T3 because it’s going to be a massive shift from the character we know and Es is probably going to have an extremely difficult time trying to communicate with and understand him as he is, which might be frustrating to people. All of this combined with his strong sense of justice is…. likely going to go badly for him in terms of winning us over to vote him Innocent. I’m expecting a similar reaction as T1 Muu to T2 Muu honestly, I feel like it’s going to be a similar kind of shift in character.

Not to mention. How do we think he’s going to react to Mahiru’s death by the way. Not great I’m sure.

Anyways. At the end of the day I’ve loved breaking down Fuuta’s character since T1, he is so much fun to dissect and he has consistently seemed to be the character most heavily and negatively affected by Milgram’s environment which is so fascinating to me. I’m really excited to see where they go from here with him.

I do also adore the 0308 sibling dynamic even though I desperately wish Amane had a mentally competent adult in her environment that she trusts because she desperately needs one. The toxic codependency they’ve probably formed is going to be hard to watch as well.

[selarina]

A Patch of Blue

-> Gojo Satoru x Reader

Summary: Set against a backdrop of a rainy day, Gojo Satoru apologises.

Content Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship, fluff, sensory overload, exhaustion, sleep deprivation, hickey, kissing, reader is implied to be a jujutsu sorcerer, canon divergence

Word Count: 1.7k words

Author's Note: I’ve always been scared of writing for Gojo because his characterisation in the canon is so layered & subtle but here goes nothing. Reblog or leave a comment if you like what you read <3

Read on AO3

You feel the bottom of your pants getting wet as you sit. The water slowly seeps its way onto your skin, battling through your pants and your underwear. 

You feel it on your thighs now, your knees, and your ankles and you think it's the ankles that bothers you the most. The water is slowly seeping through your very thick socks. You can't help but squirm in place, it's always an unpleasant feeling but now you don't have a mission to distract you from the sensory nightmare it is.

Thwap! 

And your head is up in an instant. Your hands loosened around the blazer that was hugging you tight. Just in case it's a fight and recently, it usually has been. 

You squint and your eyes take in the scene in front of you — nothing seems to be there other than a bunch of trees and a few newly formed ill-sized puddles of water. No sign of anything living or moving. You hear another swap, and your eyes zero in on the moving figure.    You squint harder as it swivels its way through the trees. Rather slowly for something that’s about to attack.

A second passes, and you're deciding if you're going to give the assailant the privilege of fighting you or if you want to finish this off all with one snap. 

A few seconds pass as you deliberate, blank face as your eyes begin to droop. Knowing how today is panning out, you have an inkling that this will end in mere seconds. You're finding that you do not have the kindness to give them a fight today — far too tired, and far too angry.

A few more seconds pass as your hands let go of the blazer, completely this time. Almost immediately, it starts breezing in the wind, trying its hardest to clutch onto your back. It’s subtle but enough for you to feel it but not enough for it to fly from its place on your shoulders.

The next second passes and you spot the horns. A deer. It was just a dear. You feel your body slowly giving you permission to relax.

Your eyes come back down, a bit embarrassed even though no one’s around to witness what just happened. 

You think about what you can do now. Go back in, and join your friends, power through the afternoon, or leave. You could just leave, you tell yourself. You've gone through enough as a group to know that no one will say anything, apart from a few worried "Are you home?" questions that is. 

But you don't like this, you don't want to go home like this. Not when the weather's so nice. It's thundering, and you have a feeling you'll sleep well tonight if things are sorted before you can leave.

You look down and notice how the rain has stopped falling on your shoes, and your thighs, and you don't have to look at your hands because you no longer feel the droplets. You look only a bit away from your shoes and notice that the puddles remain brimming, still overflowing and forming little streams that flow against the mud. 

You don't look up, and you can't tell if it's because of shame or sheer pettiness. You decide immediately that neither is better than the other.

"Can I sit?" His voice is soft, so unlike him but also very much like him. He's always reserved this part of him, it takes a lot for him to peel off all the many layers. 

You look up now, finally ready, all you needed was a second or two to get out of your head.

He's standing right behind you, the umbrella is away from him and it’s placed over your head, and he's completely exposed to the rain but not a single drop of water is falling over his imperfectly styled white hair. 

It stands out, not just against the wet scenery of the green around you, but always. You don't know if it's because natural white hair is so rare or if it’s because he’s just him. Oozing singularity and always maintaining a sense of otherness. 

You think it's mostly because he is who he is.

You don't try to smile when you nod. Your hand reaches up to take the umbrella as he brings it closer. 

He follows suit you realize as you hear the soft splash like he just sat down. 

The two of you sit there in almost complete silence. The sound of rain accompanies the two of you, the occasional sound of a bird doesn't alarm you anymore, and you feel one with nature, one with him. 

And the tension from early on almost dissipates, but then he speaks up, in the same low voice, "I'm…”

You don't say anything. 

He attempts again, “You know…”  You do, but he won’t say it, and you know it and you stay and you think that's why this is happening. You know and you love all of him, you’ve said this umpteenth number of times but you still feel disappointed and you don't know how you can feel justified in your feelings. 

If anything this is your fault, you start to think. It's not logical, not one bit of it, and you can’t find yourself wanting to logically deduce a way out, not like always.

"I know. I'm sorry," you say because you are. Of all things, that is the most important thing you want to say.

You turn, just slightly towards him to look at him. He’s looking ahead at a puddle a mere feet away. He doesn’t say anything so you continue looking at him as you wait. The soft blue shirt ruffles onto his chest against the wind. Your eyes flit up, you can barely see it but you see a peak of the bright blue hidden away behind his glasses. 

“Me too,” and your brows raise up in surprise. He’s not one for apologizing, not when most things about him are so deliberate. 

“You are?” You ask you think you would be fine even if he didn’t apologize. You know who he was before you started dating him after all.

“I feel that way,” he says, firmly. His eyes are still intently directed at the puddle. 

“I see,” you say, turning to look at the same puddle. “Thank you for telling me.” 

You smile.

You turn back and he’s looking towards you this time, his demeanor so different from mere seconds ago. His body is no longer hunched, and his face is no longer serious. 

You smile harder.

“Now now! Can I please take us home?” he asks. “This party is so boring!” He almost whines, akin to a cat in need of immediate sustenance.

You pull his blazer closer around you — since you’re no longer numb, you start feeling the chill now.

“Okay, Satrou. Let’s go home,” you say, unlike your usual answer to such requests from him. You feel the urge to indulge him today. 

You stand up, the umbrella shakes off the drops of water as you do. You frown, seeing your shoes get wet but you suppose sitting in the rain for a while has done enough damage to it anyway.

You look up, and he’s standing right in front of you. Just a mere inch away, and standing under your umbrella now. You notice that some of the raindrops start staining the back of his shirt.

“Hi,” you feel his breath against your skin. He smiles. 

“Hi,” you smile back.

“I don’t have the patience to drive all the way back, and I really really do want to kiss you,” he says.

“You can kiss me right here,” you speak softly, not needing to pronounce your words when he’s this close.

“Well,” he drawls out as he smirks. “If you insist.”

He dives into you, his kiss is searing against your lips but it is, much to your disappointment, short-lived. 

His dry and soft hands come up to your neck, wiping down on the expanse of your skin in order to get rid of any water droplets that haven’t dried up yet before he dives back into the crevice of your neck. He starts leaving soft pecks before he eventually bites.

You immeidtely hiss, “Satoru, not here!” 

He doesn’t stop as he continues sucking on your skin, your hands come to his hair, and you fight against the urge to softly card through his hair like you usually do. Your hands dig in, holding onto a fist full of hair before you squeeze.

“Satoru,” you try again. “Someone could see. Shoko already suspects something.”

“You said I could kiss you right here,” he mumbles, leaving soft kisses over the hickey like he usually does. “And I’m sure Shoko of all people already knows.”

You groan, “Not like this, Satoru.” 

He backs away. “Then let me take us home,” he says, pouting. 

“It’s going to take us 2 hours,” you say, and you don’t want him to drive like this — sleep-deprived and exhausted.

“Could take a split second if you just say please,” a cocksure smile on his face as he squeezes your hips.

“You want to teleport us back?” You groan, your voice is soft now, “It’ll drain you out, baby. We fought for 2 whole days, and you haven’t had a wink of any sleep.”

“Sure, I did! But didn’t you hear me? I really really want to kiss you. I’ll be more be fine,” he says.

“Fine, as long as we get to sleep in a bed that’s not made of stone,” you roll your eyes but you’re grateful you get to go home. Your hands come up to pull his chin, and you squint your eyes, feigning seriousness, “But only this one time are we ditching them.” 

“If you insist,” he says and smirks as he usually does when it’s a challenge he’s willing to more than outdo. 

One moment the air around you rises, the clothes on your body fluttering against you, and then — Swoosh. 

You find yourself in his room now, the comforting and starkly dim yellow light clouding your vision, and before you even begin to access the rest of your surroundings, he’s pushing you up against his wall, embracing you in a kiss.

[gay-for-the-snz]

Secret Santa #2

Prompt: "sneezy cuddles but there’s absolutely zero guilt involved, everyone is into it"

Platonic sneezy cuddles, set in canon setting, with a friend's OC as well ^-^ 2.6k

⁂

She hears the sound of the front door open and shut downstairs, the clatter of something hitting the floorboards noisily. She can imagine it in her mind's eye, the way the dim light of the lamps plays across him, the way he's limned in gold like a saint as he sheds his overcoat and gloves.

His footsteps are heavy as he ascends the staircase, heels clicking slowly up the steps and down the hallway towards her room, muffled by the intermittent carpeting in his path. There's a gentle knocking, but he opens the door even as he does so. He's back-lit by the sconces, little more than a bedraggled silhouette as he leans in. "Cerine?"

A smile plays on her lips as she pretends to sleep for a second longer, before putting the poor creature out of his misery with a response. "I'm terribly sorry, but she seems to be asleep."

The weight of Elliott's frame, lithe as it is, makes the mattress sink as he sits on the edge of it and begins the process of shucking his boots, deft fingers stiffened with cold as he undoes the laces. "She'll be in for a terrible surprise when she wakes, then."

Cerine rolls over, sitting up and putting a hand on his arm. "God, you're frigid."

He responds with a mirthless little chuff, placing an icy hand over hers and earning a squawk of protest. "We've passed the lacre, but I doubt we'll be free of the chill for some time yet."

"If you're joining me, you'd better have socks on."

"I'd do nothing less for my wife."

"I'd demand nothing less of my husband."

He presses a kiss to her temple, before disappearing down the hall to his own rooms to change. The sounds of him getting ready are a comfort to her, the footsteps wandering around his room, the opening and closing of drawers and armoires--

"ddzzhue! edzzhhyue!"

--the muffled sounds of illness from behind closed doors. Perhaps his voice had had a rasp to it when he'd spoke, soft and low in the wee hours, well before the gas lamps will be lit for daylight.

He returns clad in his nightgown, and a thick robe over the top of that, his hair freed from the braid and hanging in a thick curtain well past even his hips. Rarely does he sleep like this; he must be hoping that she will offer to brush it out, to lull him into sleep with the act. "Darling?"

"Muse?"

"I'm afraid I may be coming down with something."

"Caught, more like. Come lay down, the bed is lonely without you." It's rare, truly, that Elliott isn't in some state of convalescence. She doesn't mind, nor does she think there's anything to be done for it. It's part and parcel of their friendship, and never precludes him from the two of them wrapping into one another's embrace beneath the blankets.

That never precludes him from ensuring that he's permitted, of course.

He's frigid when he crawls beneath the blankets with her, shedding his robe--reluctantly--and letting it hang from the bedpost for the morning. "Your day was good?"

"As good as it can be, cloistered in my studio. Warren came to paint with me, so it wasn't entirely lonely. Arthur came to inspect my progress, and offered his criticism in the form of sleeping in my lap so I couldn't get up, so he ensured I remained productive rather than wandering off." There's a warmth in her chest at the thought of the pair of them keeping her company. "Yours as well, I hope?"

The noise he makes is non-committal, paired with a tired shrug. She starts carding her fingers through his hair in lieu of a brush. "I'd be remiss to complain. We've been delayed in setting out--some error with cargo that has to be sorted. The Captain doesn't seem to think that it will be a swift correction--we have no idea when we'll be able to actually put to zee. Soon, hopefully--I do rather enjoy receiving my wages."

"I'm certain things will work themselves out soon enough. There's always some minor catastrophe before a long voyage, is there not?" She doesn't want him to go. She doesn't say this--she never does, and never will--but every time he goes, all of London seems a shade dimmer. Blues and greys become more prominent in her works, the City quiet and lonely without his presence in it. The house itself seems to reflect this loneliness, everyone more lethargic or irritable without him there to ward it off.

"I suppose you're correct. It will be longer than usual--we'll be making a stop by Hunter's Keep, and out to the Salt Lions, and then to Venderbight before we can return home."

He settles in closer against her, the feeling of his back pressing against her chest bringing her back to the moment. She could paint them like this. She can picture the expression on his face, weary but contented, envision the brush strokes that would bring this moment onto a canvas. Her hand rubs one of his arms briskly to warm him. "What would ever bring you to the Salt Lions?"

From this close, she can hear the slight rumble in his chest when he breathes, clears his throat softly. "I haven't the faintest. The Captain merely said that we had a contract, so thither we shall go."

She pulls him closer to her, nestles her chin atop his head. "I'll miss you."

The warmth of the moment is done under by the chill of his body against hers, the feel of his bare skin where it meets hers. "I know. I'll miss you dearly as well. I'd write to you if I were able, but I'll return safely to you, as soon as we can. We won't be gone more than a few weeks--three or four, no more than five."

"Will you--"

"hH-! 'DZzhhue! eEZZHhue!"

She can feel the jump of his body, the breadth of his shoulders as they rise in the scissoring of his breath, and then shudder as he ducks into his handkerchief. He isn't finished yet, she knows. She can't hear his breathing for it, but she can feel the tension in his frame as he waits for the paroxysm to resolve itself. Even if she weren't able to feel it, she would know he's yet to have finished--he's rarely satisfied with a paltry two.

"h-huh--uUZzhhieww! 'ZHyuue! Hh...h-huH--!? ...uUDZZHhieww! ...oh, please excuse me."

The rigidness drops from his frame as he settles back in against her with a sniffle, betraying the congestion that's settling into him.

"Bless you, love."

He cranes his neck to catch her eye, a wry smile on his lips. "You'll miss even this?"

"There's no sound sweeter." Beneath her fingers, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, she can feel the first stirrings of a fever. "Will you still sit with me in my studio tomorrow?"

"Of course. I gave you my word, did I not?"

"You did, and I would never question your honor as a gentleman. But perhaps you would instead want to spend tomorrow resting?"

"Ah, no. I can't. I shouldn't. There's too much to be done."

He takes her hands in his when they snake around his waist to hold him, settling them on his stomach and pulling him closer in against her. Her lips find his temple to press another kiss to him. "Must you?"

"...er, yes, I must."

"Are you certain?" The silence that meets her is enough of an admission that she doesn't push the matter any further. "Sleep well, won't you?"

"I will, if you're here beside me. Goodnight, Cerine."

"Goodnight, Elliott."

He must be feeling poorly, because in short order, the fidgeting gives way to steady sleep. Rarely does she experience him so still; even in sleeping, he finds a way to always be in perpetual motion. He is a man for whom stillness, quiet, are enemies to be fought from the depths of his being.

And yet, here he lays as still as a statue in her arms, the rhythm of his breathing and the steady rise and fall of his chest the only signs that he's not the victim of some mysterious malady that's claimed his vitality.

More curiously, there he remains throughout the night, still tucked beneath the blankets and at her side every time she wakes. To know that a man for whom midnight promenades are expected and routine, for whom 'still' has never been a descriptor, is here like this...it frays her nerves.

The warmth of his body isn't the horridly febrile thing she expects, no matter how many times she lays on hands to feel at his cheek, at the back of his neck, at his forehead. The only thing she finds is that his hands move to hers. That he nuzzles into her touch. Even in sleep, he responds to her, to her presence.

Even in sleep, he loves her.

It nearly brings tears to her eyes, so she gets up instead, busies herself with some inane task to occupy her until she can retrieve the sketchbook and pencils. She drags the chair that stands faithfully beside the vanity over to the side of the bed, and seats herself in it to study him as he sleeps.

The light from the candles at the bedside suffuses him with a soft golden glow, bathes him in the warm, flickering light like he himself is luminescent. The glow of the lost sun is within him, just beneath the surface of his skin, a nascent dawn wrapped beneath the pile of carefully crafted quilts that he's presented to her over the years. Her heart aches.

The only sound in the house is that of their breathing, and the scratch of lead on paper as the scene before her begins to find itself among the rough lines smoothed over with her thumb. One of the times she looks back at him, she startles to realize that those eyes, deceptively astute, are trained on her.

"May I see?"

Like a child who's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she offers him the paper to inspect. He takes it in his hands gently, looking over the drawing with appraising eyes.

"You've forgotten something." He looks up at her, brow furrowed sympathetically. "Right here." He taps the paper as he holds it back out to her, fingertip rested on the blank space behind his shoulder. "I do believe that this is where you were meant to be."

Relief washes through her, and she accepts the hand that takes one of hers, gives it a soft squeeze. His skin is still warm with sleep as it meets hers. "I couldn't sleep."

"Was I stopping you? If it was my snoring, forgive me. I can go back to my own bed if you'd rather--"

"No, no. Don't trouble yourself over it. If your snoring kept me awake at night, I would never sleep with you in my bed." Her eyes soften as she looks at him, feels his hands on her wrists in the gentle request to come back to lie with him and rest. She allows herself to be pulled towards the bed by him, to be wrapped into the layers of heavy quilt and into his arms in turn.

He nuzzles in against the back of her neck, pressing a delicate kiss to the nape before settling in comfortably. A memory bubbles up, more a notion than anything crystal, of how nervous they'd been around one another at one time. The idea that they may offend the other with their forwardness, that they may make some social misstep, the likes of which could never be recovered from. And now here they are, sharing a home, sharing a life, sharing a family.

"hh..."

And, soon, sharing a cold.

His breath tickles her neck as it stutters behind her, a hand brought up hastily to pinch it into something nearly inaudible, save for the congested, purely vocal "choo" he tacks onto the end of each one in the series.

"Elliott..."

"Ye-heH-es?"

She rolls onto her back to look at him, just in time to catch the expression on his face as he teeters on the brink of it. The soft pink that was just beginning to creep in along the nares when he'd gotten home and had attributed to the weather is still present, and blushing deeper in protest at the rough treatment. He curls in on himself with it, pinching it off into a wholly unsatisfying nothingness that makes her wince at the sound of the attempted snuffle afterward.

"I've told you you don't need to do that. Look at you, you're miserable."

"But--"

"Elliott..."

He looks askance at her insistence, but she knows well that he would never truly question her desires. It is something that haunts her mind late at night; the knowledge that Elliott is not one who would ever say no to any of her desires or whims, if only she asked. That she mustn't take advantage of his generosity and goodwill towards her to put him in a position where he ought to say no but finds himself unable to.

"Come here, you foolish man." With all the tenderness in the world, she gently cradles his face in her hands...and then reaches to brush the edge of her nail along one rosy nostril.

He pulls away with a mixture of bafflement, betrayal, and distress, before he immediately crumples with a pair of sneezes he can do little else but to angle away from her and between their bodies. "eDDZzhh! hEHZZHhyue!"

"Bless you. Isn't that better?"

He doesn't answer except with a shaking gasp, and this time she does let him free from her grasp. He ducks into cupped hands, his handkerchief having been lost somewhere amidst the layers of bedding like so many others. "hyiIZZHhieww!" His breath catches for a fourth, but this one seems to evade him, leaving him with an unsatisfied sniffle. "Augh, God bless me." He sniffs, gently curls a hand to touch a knuckle to his septum. "Forgive me."

She slides open the drawer of the nightstand, and offers him a clean handkerchief from within. He accepts it as if she's offered bars of gold or jewels of inestimable value. "You are always forgiven."

"You're far kinder to me than I deserve. I'm a boor, truly."

Her hands weave through his hair, pulling it away from his face and combing it out. "If I spoke about myself that way, you'd truly have a fit. Why speak of yourself like that?"

He doesn't respond, but she can see the bittersweet smile on his face. To admit that he feels unworthy would be an invitation for further reassurance, something he doesn't want. To admit that she's correct and he oughtn't speak of himself that way would be an admission that he must change his ways, something he also doesn't want. He is trapped between his own self effacement and his desire not to burden her.

Instead, he offers a soft, "would you braid my hair?"

She's more than happy to comply, fetching the comb from the vanity and sitting him in front of her. The comb runs through his hair, catching on the knots briefly before it begins to move smoothly. "I love you, dearly."

"I wish I understood it, but I'm eternally grateful that you do. I hope to never make you regret it."

She pauses her brushing to wrap her arms around him, resting her cheek against the hollow between his shoulders. "You never do."

[isthe-protag-cluelesstho]

Okay, probably not a hot take, but imma scribble about it anyway,

I honestly think Cale Hetinuse/Kim Rok Soo has chronic pain/fatigue.

Like, everybody loves the whole coughing up blood/wet meow meow thing he's always doing, but personally? People who are that nonchalant about Shit Happening To Their Body, are typically people who are waaaaay too used to Fucked Up Shit Happening To Their Body,

It's just a head canon, but as someone who is chronically in pain, I absolutely do some of the stupid shit CH/KRS does, like carrying stuff I should NOT be carrying, or continuing to Do Things even when I should be sitting and resting. I also know several people who (like me) can be experiencing level 4-5 pain and not show a hint on their face/through their actions besides maaaaybe moving a bit slower/stretching more

And we know KRS has been on his own since he was itty bitty... And then he grew up in a world hell bent on killing everyone. I can't help but think that a tiny child with no one to help him with the general cuts/bruises/little hurts of childhood would 1) have zero frame of reference for what "okay" actually looks like 2) probably has never really received medical care beyond emergency assistance (which does jack for chronic conditions) and 3) has NEVER really had someone in his life long enough for them to catch his way of coping with pain (my very close friends can hear when I'm hurting/tired, everyone else only notices if I am visibly incapacitated)

So, Kim Rok Soo ends up in a world/body that "technically" hasn't experienced his life, HOWEVER fibromyalgia and PTSD are like goddamn pb&j. It's a condition that is deeply tied to a body's stress response. And what does Cale say once he has the Heart? "I feel BETTER"

And that just speaks to me of a person who is so used to pain, that it no longer really registers... I had daily headaches for 7 years, it wasn't until I moved and got a new primary that I found out that more than 4 headaches in a month was considered a concern... I got on some migraine meds and actually stopped having that daily headache, something id just accepted as "how my body works" gone,

I personally don't consider pain at a 1-2 as particularly bothersome, it's more like a general annoyance. Onces it's up to 6-7 it's hard for me to move, and yet I often will still do so, despite the pain. It's only at 9-10 so I stop moving entirely and focus on just weathering it. Usually when that happens, I sleep so much after as my body tries to recover.

And when I read Cale, so casually continuing forward, despite the work he takes on himself, after the constant planning and prepping and ass kicking, all I see is a person who has lived so long with his body's suffering that it's just background noise. Yeah, he coughed up some blood, but the pain is back to "normal" so how can he raise a fuss? He killed 3 monsters with a dislocated shoulder that one time, this? This is easy. And despite claiming his body is weak, he refuses to truly accept the help and rest he needs because (like I used to) Cale thinks "this is just how my body works"

Sometimes, I cannot remember how I lived prior to my pain. Sometimes, I cannot imagine a world where I do not spend half the night attempting to force my muscles to relax, so I can actually sleep. I cannot imagine a world where I am able to do everything I want in a day and not collapse at the end. And I see so much of myself in how Cale continues to move despite the weight of the ancient powers, the expectations of the gods and his own personal hopes. He seems like a character doomed to continue walking, his bones broken but refusing the care because whats the point if everything still hurts the same way in the end?

Anyway, Raon should invent a cure for chronic illness and force Cale into a year long sabbatical

[theantarwitch]

About medicine in witchcraft: Health spells, Professional Healers and Unprofessional scammers (And two healing spells from me)

Lately I have been seeing a dangerous amount of medical dangerous videos in our usual witchy spaces (specially in Instagram, since I refuse to use TikTok) and that bring me here in one of my long rants who nobody really cares. But, as a healer with lot of medical background, I have to.

First, for the love of your deity, don’t take these damn vids seriously. I’m not a doctor but I know enough that a huge ton of what they put there is medical misinformation dressed as mystical powers.

I’m not asking you to become a doctor, but at least remember: Physical symptoms are NEVER caused by one single illness, and you HAVE to rule out all the possible physical illness before even consider it a symptom of your superpowers.

Yes, some minor things like a random ear ringing or a random tingle on your hand doesn’t need you to run to ER, but at least THINK about mundane causes to it.

Your ear ring? Are you using headphones a lot? Loud music? You shower and water entered on your ear? You are taking meds? Stress? Your neck is stiff and affecting your inner ear? You are neurodivergent?

Your hand tingle? Is the same hand in what you use your phone 20 hours at day? You sleep over that arm? Your shoulder is stiff? You use a mousse a lot? You practice a sport and the nerves are tired? Did you drink coffee or Red Bulls?

And I’m not even mention REAL illnesses, this is just a bunch of mundane causes! So how you dare to believe in more deeper topics of spiritual stuffs, if you have zero critical thinking in something so mundane and basic as your own body? How you plan to be an efficient witch if you don’t even doubt about these things? How you even dare to talk about your deity if you believe anything as a sign?  

An advanced witch bases their path in three big needs:

Need of study (Books or google, spend months or YEARS reading and learning)

Need of critical thinking (Think, think and ask, be curious and compare data, question it)

Need of wise skepticism (Don’t fall into the “The government want me to believe this but I’m smarter” or “Vaccines do harm, people don’t need calcium, there is brick’s dust on ketchup” kind of mindset (Yes, these are things I heard). That’s not skepticism, that’s being a Facebook Boomer Mom. Skepticism is question everything and to always be suspicious, but is neither “don’t believe in anything because I’m so smart that I can see the lies”.

And healers, my beloved healers. As one, I have to say it on the most real way: LEARN SOME MEDICINE. Specially before to do public claiming that can really hurt others.

Why learn medicine? Because as happened once… A lovely lady did a spell to lose weight. She got gastroenteritis and spent a week on the bathroom. She lost weight? Yes. In a dangerous unhealthy way? Yes. She recovers her weight back after go to the doc? Absolutely.

The body is a fine machine, a ton of process, hormones, parts, that you will always ignore and omit.

Another big mistake: “Spell to Boost my Metabolism”. Do you even know what a metabolism is? What it does? Do you even know that it has three main functions of metabolism? (Conversion of the energy to run cellular processes; conversion to building block of proteins, lipids, nucleic acids, and some carbohydrates; and the elimination of metabolic wastes). When you “boost your metabolism”, what you are aiming to do? You even know what your body need of these three…

“Spell to boost my Immune System”… Again, what part? Do you even know that your immune system is “slow” or it is just working against an illness as it should? (Reaction is not the same than an immunodeficiency) Are you aware that your body can be doing great and you will be pushing to get an overactive immune system? (And getting Asthma, Eczema, Hay fever, Food allergy and any other kind of allergy, Lupus, Type 1 Diabetes, Inflammatory bowel disease, Celiac, etc.).

Please, if you use “detox spell” in any way, just stop. Period.

If you are not willing to spend a couple of weeks at least in the damn Wikipedia, or you are in a rush, at least aim big and general, do a classic “Health/Healing spell”, that is focused on that, bring health where is needed. “My body gets healthier. My body gets health where is needed” It can’t go wrong, since you purposely don’t specify where or which part, you just do a “Somewhere I need it, and since I can’t know it, the Cosmos may know it and aid me”. If you need spells to focus a healing in a body part, maybe you need a doc, not a spell…. (Get a doc. If is so simple to not need a doc, then your body will do it without need a spell anyway)

You can also do the same with Physical Strength Spells (again aiming to boost what you don’t know what it needs to be boosted and avoiding to boost something that it DOESN’T NEED IT).

And if you are a Healer who really want to have a 90% of effectiveness on focalized and specialized healing spells, then time to study. You will need to know about hormones, chemicals, physical process, all the systems, nerves, bones, nutrition, meds… And pretty much being able to discuss with you client (to put in a way) about literally all their medical history.

And a gently offer to anyone who actually read all this shit, I give a couple of “simple” ideas for you all:

Regeneration Spell: Just a Healing spell, aimed to “attack” where is needed, but it focusses in a cellular level. General Healing spells usually are so general that include things like disposal of waste, mineral absorption, water absorption, digestion, hair growing, skin growing, muscle develop, and pretty much EVERYTHING that’s happening on your body right now, even including the gut bacteria. A Regeneration Spell will focus in each single cell of your body, from skin to bone, to neurons, to T Cells from your immune system. All. Something that your body do (except with the neurons) but that get slower with the age. This spell focus on restores damaged or missing cells to full function (you can help it to happen better with a good balanced diet, some basic exercise, proper sleep, and trying to reduce stress)

Big warning. BE SPECIFIC “My cells will get regenerated where my body need it to be healthy and in full function” or something like that. Why SO specific if the healing spells are general? Because Cancer.

Yes. Cancer. A cancerous tumor is failed cell of your own body. Our beloved bodies kill around six infected or cancer cells each DAY. Eventually (if you live enough or if your immune system gets weak) one of them will grow your body be on troubles. If you do a regeneration spell without that proper aim, you will also help to any cancer cell to regenerate, hence you can cause you a HUGE DEAL in a future. Will not happen 100% of the cases, many of these tumors can be not cancerous (benign) yet give you problems.

How do the spell? Just as any healing spell. Do your way.

Homeostasis Spell: What’s is homeostasis? Is the condition of optimal functioning for the organism, a state of steady internal physical and chemical conditions maintained by living systems. Is a stable self-regulated process of equilibrium between interdependent elements. In simple words, is the perfect state of full pure health of your body. Is a healing spell without the “but”.  

What it affects? ALL in the most basic small internal way. Body temperature, fluid balance, the pH of extracellular fluid, the concentrations of ions, blood sugar, oxygen, hormones, etc. If the body do it properly, then is balanced, in an optimal functioning, hence healing itself without big issues.

This spell helps specially (or BOOST) the body on regulate itself despite the many changes in the environment, diet, or level of activity. In this case, you don’t need to be specific, since homeostasis seek for health naturally. Do your regular healing spell but like “My body reach homeostasis”.

So. Rant and all made, I think is time for me to shut up. See you around, and check if you need drink water, sleep, rest, stretch, food, meds or hygiene!

[aneurinallday]

The Tale Of When Aneurinallday Had Pneumonia That One Time

In March, my sibling took me to a concert and I got a bad "cold". I thought I was getting better when the fever, nausea, and other cold symptoms stopped, but the cough just would not go away :>

I literally couldn't sleep because of the non-stop coughing which got worse when I lay down. I even tried sleeping while sitting up and leaning forward, but it didn't work.

I had no appetite, and couldn't eat anything except some yoghurt and puréed fruit. I had zero energy, and I got exhausted just going up the stairs. I was 100% miserable. After 10 days my fam was like, right, this ain't no cold, you're Sick with a capital S.

So in the morning I went to the GP, and as soon as I stepped in the GP office, he was like "well, I can hear what the problem is" because I was wheezing. And he did the stethoscope, and told me I had pneumonia and my lungs were absolutely full of phlegm.

I was kinda scared, because my mum once knew someone who knew someone who died from pneumonia, so I wondered if I was going to die :<

So he sent me straight to the hospital (the directions were bad and I had to walk all the way around for 20 mins while wheezing)!and they put me on an oxygen tank and gave me antibiotics and stuff.

They took 3 or 4 different blood samples, AND THEN LOST THEM, so they had to take the blood samples again. I did a chest X-ray too. But there were no beds available, so I had to wait hours for a bed.

First they put me in the lung ward (I think) which was full of elderly people. The old lady in the bed next to me was straight-up dying and I had to pretend I couldn't hear her family crying and saying goodbye. It was very awkward and upsetting so I put my earphones in and listened to music. But I don't know when she actually passed away, because that night I got taken to a different ward, where I stayed.

Things I didn't like about being in hospital:

being an ill person

being surrounded by other ill persons

constant noise, it was very loud at all hours because of all the beeping and suffering

icky bad food

very tedious - I was too tired to read books or watch TV, so I just rested all day and listened to music in my earphones

my bed didn't have any curtains and it took several days for them to put curtains up so I could finally get changed

I couldn't shower because of my tubes and plasters and stuff

my oxygen tube wasn't long enough to reach the bathroom, so I had to carry my oxygen tank with me to the bathroom

I had BIG injections of antibiotics three times a day, so my hand and arm developed bruises from being jabbed all the time

I kept having nosebleeds because the oxygen made my nose so dry

Things I liked about being in hospital:

All the nurses were really nice and took good care of me

They gave me ICE CREAM EVERY DAY!!

Being wheeled around the hospital in a wheelchair. It was like being on a very slow ride.

Also, apparently the fact that I had pneumonia in BOTH lungs was so fascinating and interesting, that they actually brought in some medical students to examine me and ask me questions. They even asked my permission to look at my chest X-rays. So that was cool?? I guess???

Then one day the doctor was like "well you are not recovered yet, but if you stay in hospital there is too much risk of you catching covid or something from the other patients, so it's best that you go home" so I got sent home.

And after a few weeks I went back for another chest X-ray and they said Yay you are healed :>

The End

Oh and then my family got sick immediately after, and we all missed my uncle's funeral :<

[practically-an-x-man]

Share Your Burdens (Indigo x Hux)

Summary: When Zero falls ill and Indigo doesn't have the money to treat him, an offer of help comes from an unlikely source

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: Pre-relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, light angst, acts of kindness, pining, happy ending

Crossposted on AO3

____

~ HUX ~

He strode into the galley with fast steps, skirting around throngs of people in his way. Most stepped aside as they noticed him coming, and the only ones that remained were those facing the wrong way or otherwise too distracted to notice. If he were truly in a rush, he might have been sharper with them. But he knew from his conversations with Indigo that mealtimes were often the only break from work they got, and… he could find it within himself to be a bit more lenient, it seemed.

And he was hungry. Not for food - his appetite came and went, and stress currently had him on one meal a day, if that - but for conversation. He’d gotten into the topic of speaking with Indigo almost daily, and found that even a brief conversation did wonders for his mental state. Speaking with her was both a routine and an escape: he could bounce ideas off her if he needed, or give that endlessly-cycling corner of his brain a reprieve as she told him about… well, anything. So many conversations in his life turned to the war, the ship, the cycling of duties, but Indie seemed more inclined to speak about the mundane and hopeful. It was refreshing in a number of ways.

Yet as he approached her usual table, already populated with a few of her usual comrades, he saw no telltale white-streaked hair amidst the group. Hux briefly scanned the crowd ahead of him, thinking she may have gotten caught up in line, to the same result. Indigo was distinct. He’d have spotted her. 

“Excuse me.” he said, wincing inwardly at the way Indigo’s friends jumped as he approached the table. Lita swiveled to face him almost immediately, while Jules appeared all but frozen - spine straight, mouth shut, fork held forgotten between his fingers. Hux cleared his throat, shouldering his way through the awkwardness of it all. It was better when Indie was here. She had a habit of dispelling the tension for him. He still didn’t belong amidst their little group of friends, and he knew that, but he wasn’t often placed under their direct scrutiny. 

“I don’t suppose any of you have seen Indigo today?”

“Oh- uh, I think she’s still working. She was up early too, said she was trying to get a little overtime.” Lita answered, avoiding his eyes but still having the decency to give him a clean answer. He appreciated that about her. He had to admit, Indigo chose her friends well. 

“Where was she working?”

Only then did Lita hesitate. 

“Is she in trouble?”

“Not in the least.”

“Corridor H, I think. Working on ventilation.”

“Thank you.”

He thought he’d managed to avoid anything heinously uncomfortable, and excused himself before the conversation could begin to slide away from him. Hux paused on his way out, enough to snag a bottle of water and some kind of prepackaged snack bar from the kitchen, then continued on his path. 

He nearly missed Indie when he passed her. She had disappeared into a vent inlaid in the wall, only her work boots and the dull gray sleeves of her jumpsuit visible from the hall. If he hadn’t been given that direction from Lita, he’d have failed to notice her entirely.

Hux cleared his throat, hoping to startle her as little as possible. 

“Indigo?”

“Just a second!” she called back to him, her voice echoing strangely down the ventilation unit. There was a fresh clatter from within the wall, followed by a series of even stranger noises, and then Indie clambered her way out of the vent. 

“Oh. Hi.”

She looked tired. Haggard, almost. Like she hadn’t been sleeping well. Her posture was stooped, fatigued, and the smile she offered him seemed strangely hollow.

He wasn’t the best with this. Everyone on the ship appeared tired and stressed, at least to some degree. It was the norm, the nature of war, the nature of the Order. Even he himself was running on nominal sleep and bountiful stress, and little more.

But he knew Indigo, a little more every day. Perhaps not implicitly, and perhaps he’d never have the honor of knowing her to that level, but… he could recognize that something was troubling her. That was a start.

“You weren’t at lunch.” he said, feeling that that was a safe enough start, “Is everything alright?”

Indigo opened her mouth to respond… then snapped it shut again. It took her a while to find a response. Hux fought the urge to shift on his feet, wondering if he’d overstepped. 

“Zero’s sick.” she finally said, and then the words came pouring out of her, “I don’t know if it was something he got into, like an allergy or a toxin or something like that, or if it’s something internal, and the regular tech won’t even see him until I have the credits to get him treated… So I’m just, y’know… working overtime, trying to scrape together as much as I can before he gets worse.”

“The Order should grant you medical insurance, especially now that he’s registered as a service animal-”

Indie shook her head. 

“The insurance only covers work-related injuries. Even if I could convince them to extend that to Zero, there’s no way to prove this was caused by something work-related.” she explained, wringing her grease-stained hands together until her knuckles went pale, “So I’m stuck. Excuse me, I- uh, I have to get back to work.”

She slid herself back towards the wall, preparing to climb back into the vent. Darkness had fallen over her face, her eyes red in what was either exhaustion or narrowly-restrained tears. Either way, it made Hux’s heart pang. He didn’t enjoy seeing her like this - least of all when she’d cemented herself as such a bright spark against the rest of his life.

“I’ll take care of it.” he blurted, nearly losing his composure. Indigo paused, half-in and half-out of the vent. 

“What?”

“I take Millicent to a private med-tech here on the ship. I could request that he treat Zero for you as well, and place any charges on my own file.”

And you could rest, he thought, though he couldn’t bear to speak it aloud, And save your credits. 

He wondered if any of those thoughts were appearing on his face. She always seemed so adept at reading him. 

Some part of him wanted her to notice. Some part of him was screaming for her to see that intent, beyond the shallow stiltedness of the words. He couldn’t bear to give her more - not with his reputation, not with his rank, not with so much stress and steel surrounding them - but he wished she could see the way he appreciated her for everything she did. 

Indie clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes darting from place to place as she caught up with his words.

“Wow, that’s- that’s incredibly kind of you, and generous, and I just- thank you, you have no idea how worried I was about him, and-” Indie stammered, and he could see the hope blossoming in her eyes at the sight of this solution. Then her face did a curious thing: quashed that hope, wrestled it down with a visible effort, and she shook her head. “And I… can’t. Thank you, but… I shouldn’t.”

‘I can’t’ and ‘I shouldn’t’ are two different statements, Hux thought, and tugged uncomfortably at the sleeves of his coat. This hadn’t gone the way he’d expected. 

“Why not?”

Indigo sighed and began packing up her toolbag. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“I just… I feel like I’m taking advantage of you with all this.” she said, “I mean, I know you excused me from the address as a thank-you for what happened in the elevator, but you got me Zero’s paperwork, and then you made all those scheduling revisions, and the new on-call regulations… I don’t know, it just feels like you’re doing so much for me and I’m not doing anything to return the favor.” 

He frowned at that. Sure, she didn’t have material goods to exchange the way he did, but that was why he’d taken to extending his own resources the way he did. And it wasn’t as if he was spoiling her. Everything he did fell somewhere between keeping his ship running smoothly and helping a friend in an emergency. It could hardly be deemed preferential treatment. 

“If you’d been taking advantage of me, I’d expect much more than paperwork and medical aid.” he responded, hoping that he spoke briskly enough to hide the flicker of emotion behind the words, “Or at least that you’d approach me for that aid rather than working yourself to exhaustion. And besides that… your productivity’s doubled now that you’ve gotten Zero registered, and the new protocols benefit the entire staff. If you can’t think of it as a favor, think of it as my… maximizing this ship’s efficiency.”

He liked the wording of that. It wasn’t cold, just… clinical. It fell exactly where it needed to fall: where she could accept this gift, get Zero the treatment he required, with minimal guilt or emotion attached. She could continue to accept his gifts, so long as he insisted they weren’t truly gifts. He could manage that. Easily.

“Think of it this way,” Hux continued, “I’m out no credits for getting him treated myself. The Order provides me with that insurance, and I have no other use for it at the moment. Millicent’s been well. And if you choose to go your own way with this, where does that leave you? Either you work yourself into exhaustion trying to pull together the credits, or this worry over Zero stunts your focus on its own. Either way, your work suffers, and you suffer along with it. Is what I’m offering truly generous, or is it just… the simplest solution available to us?”

Us. The word burned on his tongue. And to think, he’d tried to keep his words devoid of emotion. Surely she could see the way he’d begun to care for her, despite his best efforts to bury it?

He thought he could see the same in her, that care, though Indigo seemed to extend that same kindness towards everyone who crossed her path. It couldn’t be deemed special, couldn’t be deemed a connection to him, much as he inwardly wanted it to be. She was just a good person. A much better person than he, and by no stretch of the imagination.

“Really, Indie, it’s not much. By tomorrow we can have placed this all behind us, if you’ll allow it.”

“I still feel like I’m taking too much from you…” Indigo muttered, avoiding his eyes.

“What are you taking from me?” he pointed out, “They aren’t my own resources, it’s the Order’s insurance. And for the service of the Order.”

“Your time. Your energy. Your records. And… let’s face it, your reputation’s already going to take a hit just from how much you talk to me, if you keep doing things like this then people are really going to talk-”

“Indigo. Zero is important to you. I’ve offered a solution. Take it.”

He watched something pass through her eyes - something soft, something warm, like she’d peeled away all of his outer layers and had taken a glance at what lay beneath. Hux himself wasn't even sure what that was. Certainly not something to be proud of, if it was anything like the rest of him.

But her eyes were gentle, as they so often seemed.

For an incredibly brief and incredibly vivid instant, he desperately wanted to kiss her.

He expected yet another sleepless night ahead of him, attempting to unpack that particular train of thought. 

Hux cleared his throat, shoving that and all the emotion it contained out of his mind entirely. 

“I’ll stop by your quarters at thirteen-hundred to pick up Zero.” That would give her an hour to prepare, and him an hour to collect himself. “Does he have a carrier?”

Indigo shook her head.

“I’ll bring Millicent’s. I’ll see you then.”

“Right, I’ll- I’ll see you then.” she said, her voice watery with narrowly-suppressed emotion, “Thank you again. I really… I can't even begin to thank you enough.”

Just keep speaking to me. Just keep treating me like a human being. Just keep… being my friend. You’ve shown me more than enough kindness. This is nothing.

“It’s nothing, Indie, really,” he said, only choosing to voice that much of his thoughts. Any more than that would be… dangerous. He finally remembered the water bottle and snack bar in his hands, and awkwardly held them out to her. “Oh, and- here. Figure you haven’t eaten, given you weren’t at lunch.”

“Yeah, you’re- um, you’re right. Thank you.” she said, reaching for the items and holding them against her chest. Hux nodded once, the action feeling strange and vaguely unnecessary, and took a step further down the hall. Each footfall echoed down the chamber, though it only seemed to magnify the silence surrounding him. Indigo still hadn’t moved.

“Hey, wait- can I ask you a question?” Her voice stopped him halfway down the hall, and he turned. Indigo offered him a shrug and something like a smile. “A personal question.”

“You still owe me one for the day.” Hux responded, a mild attempt at brevity. He quite liked their little game, actually. One question per day, piece by piece learning more about each others’ lives. If nothing else, it gave him an excuse to seek her out, to earn even a few brief minutes of conversation. 

“Why are you helping me? I mean, really, why?”

He took a moment to collect his thoughts, to ensure that nothing unwanted slipped free of his lips. He had to be so careful around her, and in so many new ways.

“Because you’re a good person, Indigo. And I hate to see you tear yourself apart for something that can be resolved so easily.”

Even that much was more than he’d expected to admit to her. She had a way of disarming him, and he… wasn’t sure he enjoyed it. Not yet. Not here. 

But he couldn’t take the words back, and he couldn’t bear to face her response, so he simply turned and left the hall. 

After all, he had work to do.

____

Hardly an hour later, he found himself in the medical wing, cat carrier in-hand and beelining for the med-tech’s private office. His second encounter with Indigo had only cemented his decision - Zero had been sprawled on the bed, lethargic, his whole body ceaselessly trembling. He’d hardly even lifted his head when Hux entered the room, and his body was limp as Indigo lifted him into the carrier. 

He left Indie’s quarters with two thoughts. The first was gratitude that Millicent had never come down with so severe an illness. It was frightening enough to witness Zero this way, even for a pet that wasn’t his own. 

The second was that, for once in his life, he was positive that he was doing the right thing.

“Good afternoon.”

“Hello, General.” the man behind the counter responded, tugging on the sleeves and lapels of his uniform as he spoke, “What may I do for you and Millicent today?”

“Actually, I had a different request.” Hux responded, and placed the carrier on the table. Zero chirped softly from inside, and confusion darted across the med-tech’s face. That sound certainly didn’t belong to a cat, or any other familiar animal. “This animal belongs to a… colleague of mine.”

It felt strange to say friend, not because it was an untrue description of Indigo, but because it seemed odd to admit that budding fondness to a near-stranger. He cleared his throat and pressed on, refusing to dwell on that strangeness. 

“He’s been unwell, and I’d like you to check him over. Do whatever you must to treat him. Place the treatments on my records for the Order to deal with. Make this your priority - he needs to be returned to his master by tomorrow at the latest.” 

He thought about elaborating on the matter of Zero’s separation anxiety, especially given its particularly morbid severity, but decided against it. His authority as general would be more than enough to get this resolved quickly, with as little marked on the record as possible.

The med-tech nodded and reached for the carrier, clearly trying to catch a glimpse at Zero through the slats. 

“Does it bite?”

“Any creature has the capacity to bite.” Hux responded automatically, then corrected himself and shook his head, “He’s anxious but very well-trained. Resolve this quickly and there should be no issues. And… assess his nutrition and give him a full dietary panel. He seems thin.”

“Um- the insurance only covers necessary treatments, you’ll have to pay for the nutrition panel yours-”

“Very well. Charge it to my account.”

____

As promised, he received a ping from the med-tech the following morning, and promptly collected Zero to return to Indigo. Once again, the whole endeavor made him grateful for what he’d offered. With the primary med-tech and Indigo’s limited funds, the issue would hardly have gotten resolved so seamlessly. As it was, Zero was dazed but otherwise unharmed, and all of this would become merely a memory. 

“Indie?” he asked, standing just outside her door. It slid open almost immediately, her anxious face appearing on the other side. 

“How is he?” she blurted, then shook her head and corrected herself, “I mean- come in, sit down.”

“Zero is fine,” he answered, calmly stepping into her quarters as he spoke, “It seems he got into something he shouldn’t have, and the med-tech had to clear his system of it. He’ll be back on his feet in no time.”

Indigo just nodded, though the expression on her face more than made up for those unspoken words. Hux noticed, looking at her again, the incredible tension in her body. He doubted she’d slept at all last night. It seemed Zero’s separation anxiety went both ways. 

Though he couldn’t blame her for that. If it had been Millicent in Zero’s place, he was sure he’d have the same indelible insomnia.

“He said Zero’s species is incapable of regurgitation, so he had to resolve the issue surgically. He’s still under some sedation. I’ve given you the afternoon off to look after him.” Hux said, simultaneously unlatching the carrier so Indigo could retrieve her pet from inside, “He’s also ordered a weekly nutrition panel. Apparently Zero’s a bit malnourished. I’ll come to collect him next week, same time, for the next treatment.”

“And all that’s covered by your insurance?” Indigo asked, an almost guilty suspicion coming into her eyes. She reached into the carrier and gently scooped Zero into her arms. The small creature purred, curling himself in against her body with dazed, anesthetized movements. The small incision on his abdomen, pinned shut with a chemical sealant, stood out starkly against his pale silver scales.

“Of course.” Hux lied, “My job does grant me some perks, you know.”

That drew a hollow smile from her, perhaps for his attempt at humor, and Indigo nodded. 

“Right. Thank you. I know I’ve been saying it a lot, but… I mean it. I really don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Indigo adjusted her grip on the creature, holding him protectively against her body. 

“How long have you had him?”

“Eighteen years.” she said, looking down at the creature, “Nobody really knows how long they live, but he still seems young to me.”

“And you adopted him while you were on Corellia?” he asked, but immediately shook his head, “Sorry. One question. I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

“No, it’s… you saved his life. The least I can give you is a few more answers,” Indie replied with a breathy laugh. She crossed the small room and perched herself on the edge of the bed, then gestured for him to sit beside her. It took all of his confidence even to obey that simple instruction.

“Short answer… yes. Corellia. Only a couple years before I left. Longer answer… I found him when he was a kit. He was hiding in the back of my- um, my… guild’s shop, the shop I worked in, and I knew if my ma- mentor found him, he’d be killed. I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to feed him, I was barely able to feed myself, but I couldn’t live with the idea of leaving him to die like that. I knew they were tradesman’s animals, bred to be intelligent and easily-trained, but I didn’t know about his separation anxiety until later. I guess…”

She ran her fingers down Zero’s feathery ruff, and the animal let out another faint purr. His clever little paws paddled in the air, briefly catching on Indie’s hands and clothing. 

“I guess I just meant to keep him until I could find somewhere safer for him, but then I learned about the separation thing, and he was already learning to help me out in the shop… I couldn’t just let him go. And now- hell, he’s been my companion for longer than any human in my life, so there’s something.” she said, then turned to face him a little more, “Would you like to pet him? His feathers are really soft.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, only if you want to. But you’re not going to hurt him. And he won’t mind.”

So he dared to reach out, and carefully brushed his fingers down that multicolored ridge along Zero’s spine. She was right: those feathers were awfully soft. And the motion earned him the same sort of contented rumble that the animal had given Indie. Hux blamed that on the anesthesia - he was too dazed to tell the difference between them, in this state. Surely he wouldn’t have purred otherwise. The only time he could remember the creature allowing him to touch it was the day of the last Resistance attack, the day of Indigo’s concussion, the day Zero had come to find him amidst the chaos.

“How’d you get Millicent?” Indie asked, still stroking Zero’s feathers in idle, distracted motions. Her fingers tangled briefly with his own, and Hux fought the urge to jolt away. Indigo didn’t seem to notice. 

“It’s a much less exciting story than yours.” he replied, “A few years ago, I found myself seeking a bit more companionship, so I stopped by a shelter when we next went planetside.”

“She’s a rescue?” Indie asked, then caught herself in much the same way he had, “Sorry. One question.”

“That hardly qualifies. Yes, she’s a rescue.”

“Hm. She’s pretty, for a rescue. I thought for sure she was a purebred, like from a breeder and all.”

“She may well be a purebred. I’ve never bothered to get her tested. I chose her for her temperament above all else. I needed something quiet, well-behaved, to live with me here on the ship. And aside from her tendency to slip out the door if I’m not careful, I’ve gotten exactly what I wanted.”

When he ceased speaking, he found an interesting expression on Indigo’s face. 

“What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just- you’re really opening up about this. It’s, um, it’s kind of nice.”

Later, he would wonder if this interaction was perhaps the catalyst for everything that came after. He’d long since grown tired of the war, particularly in Kylo Ren’s immature, prattling idea of “leadership”, but he hadn’t yet found something to fill that gap in his ambition. He had nothing to pull him out of this semi-assured life he’d built, nothing to give him the confidence and drive he needed, and if he didn’t find it soon, he’d stagnate here until he met a lonely and unpleasant end. The problem wasn’t in noticing this, but finding a path out. 

And here… he’d found it. He wanted to give Indigo a better life than this. He wanted her to have security for Zero that came in more than just loopholes and favors. And he wanted the same security for herself.

Perhaps he deserved to die. He’d known that for a very long time. There was blood on his hands, and much more than he was due. It had been years since he imagined making it out of this war alive. He couldn’t use the thought of his life to drive him away from this. He deserved every ounce of what he had coming to him. 

But Indigo? 

She deserved so much better than this. 

And that was something he could fight for.

[cloudd-nyne]

More venty stuff don't worry about it

(Could be triggering for EDs so warning for that)

Fun new developments: extremely tired despite getting more than enough sleep. Like i am yawning nonestop despite sleeping 8 hours.

Also appetite is completely gone. I ate food and barely tasted it (not in a omg covid way but in the "i can taste this in my mouth but i am having absolutely zero reaction to it" way)

Like i feel no urge for food at all. I get thirsty and have been drinking plenty, but food is a big no. My body has just shut off the hunger department.

I keep trying to eat anyway but i can barely get anything down without feeling like ill throw it back up so. Shurg.

I feel so stressed. Work is the last place i want to be right now im so tired i just want to go back to bed and lay there doing nothing.

My brain wont feel any better but it wont be work at least

[halfmouse]

It wasn’t as though you were someone who actually watched horror movies often. Rather, you knew enough about them, and what happens in them, without even having to watch…to know that your friends were about to deal with some kind of horror movie situation.

“Oh, come on,” said one of them, a smirk on her face, “You’re not scared, are you?”

“Me? Well, okay, a little,” you said, trying to hide just how sketchy this trip sounded to you, but also, at the same time, convince your buddies that maybe camping behind an abandoned shack they found near a beach nobody swam in for decades seems like a bad idea.

These were your friends, and even if horror movies were fake, there was probably a reason nobody was in that shack, nor in the lake, nor even behind the shack.

Real life had plenty of horrors in it.

“Oh, please,” said another friend, rolling his eyes, “You think something’s gonna get us?”

“Y’all really think behind some crappy old run-down shack that has had no occupants since the 50’s, where the locks are rusted shut, is a good place to go camping? Y’all really wanna be right up next to the beach of that lake, where the only living thing seen in there is blue-green algae? You know what blue-green algae is, right? It’s toxic and nasty, and you wanna avoid it. Just like the rest of this situation. I’m staying home. Be careful out there, I guess. Seriously. I do care about you guys.”

“We’ll be fine,” said the third friend. They were the most sensible of all three, and hopefully, they would keep the others out of harm’s way.

“Call me if anything goes wrong,” you say, no longer bothering to hide your worries.

As soon as your friends get into the third friend’s car, you turn on the news on TV, and you make sure your phone ringer is turned up all the way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few hours had passed since you last spoke to the others. No calls, nothing on the news, and your eyes were starting to close all by themselves. Yet you were concerned enough that you kept trying to pry them open, in case you missed something.

You look at the clock on your phone. 9:08 P.M.

To keep yourself awake, you begin playing some fast-paced videogames on your tablet, ones you normally wouldn’t play at such a late hour, because they have a tendency to keep you engaged to the point of being unable to sleep.

If your friends interrupt your gaming session, so be it. The cute critters on the screen will bounce back at the push of a button. Your friends in real life won’t.

Trouble is, at some point, you become so tired, you start falling into obvious traps, ones you had memorized the locations of in the light of day. Ironic, that.

You look at the clock on your phone. Midnight.

“Holy crap,” you mumble to yourself.

You tell yourself that no news is good news, and you let yourself go to bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your phone rings at 6:00 in the morning. You answer it.

“Hey,” says the sensible non-binary pal on the other end of the line, “remember how you said to call if anything went wrong?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“Well…” they reply, “…we think we’ve possibly stumbled upon an actual cursed necklace.”

“Cursed necklace?” You were expecting something else, like the shack crumbling onto someone’s tent, or someone getting really sick from the algae, or something else…real. Was this a prank?

Real life had plenty of horrors.

“Yeah,” says your friend, “I wish I were kidding.”

Oh. They’re serious.

The odds of three people experiencing the exact same mental health symptoms at the same time in the same place were low, but not zero. And you had plenty of experience with such issues, including from your own mental illnesses, to know that it’s not a good time.

Real life had plenty of horrors. Including your own brain turning against you.

“Try to stay calm,” you say, “and tell me exactly what you’re seeing happening with this…cursed necklace.”

“Arri found the necklace, and Ryan tried it on. As soon as he tried it on, the stone on it started flashing. Eye strain city. And then a pine cone fell on Ryan’s head, and then another, and then some more, until all the pine cones fell and Ryan was buried. Arri and I had to dig him out. Then Arri took the necklace off of Ryan and put it on herself. Suddenly, her tent blew away in the wind, ripping the stakes out of the ground with it. And, on God, I took that thing off her, and even just touching it, it felt evil.”

“Put the necklace somewhere other than on a person, and leave it where it is. I’m on my way.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When you finally arrive at the shack, you find that your friends are not, in fact, experiencing mental illness symptoms. That’s good. A cursed necklace feels easier to deal with, to you, anyway. You can’t just put your ailing brain in a napkin and lay it on top of a pile of pine cones and hide from it behind a tree, after all.

Though perhaps some therapy may be required, anyway.

After all, Bug, Arri, and Ryan were all currently cowering behind a tree, shaking.

Real life had plenty of horrors. Including, apparently, an actual, honest-to-God, cursed necklace.

“Wanna come spend the rest of our vacation at my place?” You offer.

Your friends nod vigorously, and the two remaining tents are quickly packed up. Nobody took their eyes off that necklace.

Soon enough, the two vehicles each had two occupants, headed for your house.

Real life has plenty of horrors, but friends make it easier.

getting horror movie vibes from the trip your friends were planning, you decided to simply stay home.

[nightcoremoon]

I can’t build my life around the suffering of people I’ll never meet in places I’ll never visit. there are enough people in my sphere of influence that are suffering. I can’t sit in the dark and scroll for hours because of things happening across the world that I will never influence and will never influence me. there is too much to do in my own life to let the emotional paralysis of a world beyond what the human brain was ever meant to handle dictate how I should think and feel. I can be sad for people who live in worse conditions than I, but I can’t ignore the people I see daily. my decisions cannot remain sheltered in idealism while rejecting reality. i would love to hold hands and sing kumbaya under a rainbow of stars in the summerland but unfortunately we’re gonna have to shed our mortal coils before that can happen. while I’m stuck here on this plane I’m going to spend my life mitigating the sadness and hatred I see around me. i am going to die a filthy liberal.

disabled people deserve better. trans people deserve better. brown people deserve better. and women deserve better. the choices I have are democrats and republicans, and fuck you if you have a problem with me choosing the policies of a big government that controls corporations over big corporations that control the government. the left is the group that will at least pretend to allow me and mine to exist without being attacked by society, compared to the right who I don’t even need to give reasons why they are a thousand times worse in every conceivable way, and if I do need to give you a reason then there is no reason you will listen to because if you have not already decided to agree with me, then you are the right. you are already conservative. you are already a republican. you are already my enemy. if you need to be convinced by me that I am entitled to this perspective and am in fact in the moral and ethical high ground, there is no reaching you.

libertarian, centrist, pastel communist, apolitical, you are all equivalently aligned with the nazis of this fascist alt right.

you have all chosen neutrality. you have all allowed me to die. you have rejected and abandoned my people already. you’ve given up and resigned yourselves to complacency. complicit with the sad state of affairs your decisions have lead us all to. valuing getting gold stars and gaining clout on social media over deciding to support a system that won’t just let people die from preventable illness. you have chosen the same as I, to only visibly give a shit through action about your neighbor.

I won’t give money to refugees of war because I have very little money to give. i can’t even afford health insurance for psychiatry to get me the things I need to do anything aside from eat sleep and try not to kill myself. I have no agency on the world’s affairs, hell I don’t even have agency on my own. nothing I do will ever affect more than a dozen or so people at max. I am sick, I am tired, and I am no longer performing.

gaza is going to die under trump. i am letting go of the hope that maybe they could pull through under harris; it really had me going for a second, that brief month of ceasefire, and I thought perhaps maybe the pastel commies on here are all right about how the election would have zero impact on the palestine situation. but they were wrong. now we will never truly know whether harris’ administration would have done anything. fix it. make it worse. remain totally neutral. that’s no longer a factor that can affect my judgment. but I know this for sure. harris’ administration would have been better for everybody else in the world. and if you disagree with me on that, I mean this with every fiber of my being: you can die and I will feel nothing. you can move to the United Kingdom and get three fucking corgis. you can jump off a bridge. both situations will result in the same ambivalence. you no longer matter to me and your existence is no longer a factor on my life. all that I care about anymore is the people I love whose lives have been noticeably worsened by musk’s presidency.

i will pray for gaza just the same as everyone living in gaza. and I will hope that they survive and pull through. and if the best occurs and this war ends and the genocide is stopped, I will be happy. because I don’t want innocent people to die. but if both trump and harris will have ended in the death of the rich culture of palestine, it sucks. it sucks just like russia killing ukrainians. it sucks just like the sudanese genocide. it sucks like rwanda. it sucks like the armenian genocide. it sucks like the holocaust. it sucks like leopold. it sucks like the spanish inquisition. it sucks like every atrocity committed in the world that happens because most humans are bastards. it sucks. but that’s life. people die. all governments are evil. yes even your precious third party candidate. hatred reigns. women are trafficked. children are mutilated. addictions will claim lives. cops will murder black people for no reason. bad things will happen just as they always have and always will. nothing matters besides what you decide to make your life into. and I’m going to make my life about the good things in between the bad things. friendship. family. love. I’ll express sympathy for victims of crime and oppression and bad luck. but I’m never going to fix anyone else’s problems under the best of circumstances. and mine are pretty fucking shit now. my first priority has to be myself, my second my commune. when things are stable for me and I have the prescriptions to help manage myself, and I succeed in helping manage all the people in my immediate circles, and my life is privileged and happy and not in immediate danger, then AND ONLY THEN will I put my all into ensuring the ease for others to access it.

and then when all humans in the world aren’t under threat of war, then- AND ONLY THEN- will I become a fucking vegan.

but until then? well, AOC 28. see you cunts in three.five years

[the-nymphvallien-universe]

This one's a long one, so like, strap yourself in I guess.

cw: mental illness, self-harm, alcohol mention

When existence is overwhelming, I like to lay in the dark.

On my back, eyes closed, no noise at all. I’ve been doing it for years.

It’s a hit-or-miss strategy, really. Some days it’s a nice break from the outside world, and I finally feel like I can relax for once. Other days it turns into a negative feedback loop where I am painfully aware of my own weight against the mattress, and my clothes start to feel like sandpaper against my skin. Those days are Not Fun.

But most days, like today, I am simply too drained to feel anything at all.

Acting human takes energy, energy that I seem to have less and less of lately.

Panicked states take even more energy, energy I very much do not have, but with the way things have been they seem almost inevitable.

Maybe sleep would help, if my nightmares didn’t counteract any benefit I had gained.

I’d say something’s wrong with me, but honestly it’s easier to count the things that are right.

Lying here doesn’t seem to help much, but it’s not draining either. I’ll take a net zero over a net negative any day, so I figure it’s best if I just stay here until—

uh...

until...

“You’re in the dark again.”

Her tone’s observational. I’m hoping she’s just passing through. I give some non-committal reply.

“You’ve been doing this a lot lately—”

Oh no, I know this tone of voice.

“—I know you said it helps you relax but,” she pauses, “Are you feeling alright?”

It’s a trick question. I know I’m not alright. She knows I’m not alright. We both know I’m going to lie. And it’s going to be such an argument when I do.

She sits down at the end of the bed, and I know she’s in it for the long haul.

Doesn’t she know how tired I am...

“Yeah, I’m fine.” My voice is faint, floaty, definitely not convincing.

To my surprise she doesn’t dispute my statement.

In fact she doesn’t say anything at all.

We sit in a still silence.

Perhaps she’s thinking how best to expose me.

But in the meantime...

I take deep breaths, and I close my eyes.

The world slows down.

My muscles relax.

okay.

i’m finally okay.

“What do you do in here all day?” Atsume’s voice startles me out of my rest. I jerk upwards before lying down again.

“I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling.”

“...That’s it?”

“Mm-hm.”

“You don’t even listen to music?”

“No.”

“Don’t you get bored?”

“Not really.”

She falls silent again. I keep waiting for the argument to start.

I sit up. Atsume’s hunched over and fidgeting with her shirt.

“Are–  are you nervous?”

She glances back to me for just a moment, her brows furrowed.

“I’m just... I’m not sure it’s particularly... healthy, to lie in bed all day doing nothing.”

“Well— of course I know that... I just—”

She turns back to me. “We should do something! Go somewhere. Even if it’s just walking around the park for an hour. I think it’d be good for you.” She grabbed my wrists to pull them towards herself. She continues with such hope in her eyes it sends a pang of guilt through my chest. “I know going outside can be overwhelming, but I think you can do it.”

Oh Tiansei, she’s trying so hard...

I pull my wrists away. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

The hope vanishes from her face. “You don’t even want to try?”

“It’s not– it’s not that I don’t want to. I just– I don’t have the energy to do anything anymore.”

Tears threaten the corners of my eyes, and I know the argument is about to start.

“Well, maybe if you slept more than two hours a night—” Her tone is calm but her statement drips with passive-aggressiveness.

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“Yeah but– you have to sleep eventually.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t help. Nothing helps.”

“Well, of course it feels that way, you barely take care of yourself. You barely eat, or sleep, or do anything.”

“I’m trying my best!” I snap. “Forgive me if my best isn’t good enough for you!”

“I know that, I know you’re tired, but I think just a little action will go a long way.”

“Going outside isn’t a little action when your brain hates you.”

“Yes, but if you—”

“Atsume, you don’t understand! I’m not the sort of tired that can be fixed by full night’s sleep and a meal. I’m the sort of tired that makes just getting those things an insurmountable task.” My tears are coming in full force now, and I wish they weren’t because they make talking so much harder.

“And I– I don’t think you’re ever going to understand it. You don’t have to fight your mind at every single turn. You’re never going to dread sleep over what fresh nightmares it’ll dream up. Or push it aside as it tells you everyone can see through your facade. Or– or– bat away intrusive thoughts like flies like– like the unending compulsion to–”

“Stop, Sonwy, you don’t—”

“I’ve been fighting it for the better part of thirty years, Atsume! And I—” 

I stop to catch my breath, I’m practically hyperventilating. 

“I’m exhausted.”

My voice breaks on my last word, and I can’t stop myself from crying. It’s pathetic, it’s embarrassing, and it’s another breakdown I’ll never find the energy to recover from. Atsume reaches out to comfort me but I don’t want it.

“I’m fine!”

It’s a complete lie, she knows me well enough not to fall for it.

Fortunately she also knows me enough not to push it. She let’s me sit in a merciful silence as I slowly collect myself.

She’s never going to understand. It’s a stab to the heart.

So I spill like blood from the open wound.

“Do you know how much I’d give to not have to fight it anymore?” I start in a quiet, defeated voice. “Do you know how much I’d give to be happy? Do you know how much I’d give to be normal, like you?

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to be this way. I didn’t do anything wrong.

“This isn’t fair.

“...I don’t deserve you.”

I begin crying again against my will. I hide my face. As if she can’t tell.

“I don’t deserve anything.”

But she doesn’t say anything. She just sits there looking concerned. She doesn’t even try to reassure me.

So I continue.

“I try so hard, just to survive. I used to wonder how people got up in the morning. How they worked and made friends and kept relationships, all while ignoring the voice inside their head screaming at them. How they managed it all without breaking down at the end of the day.

“I think I burst into tears when I realised they weren’t fighting at all. Life wasn’t hard for them. 

“I remember I felt so alone then. It didn’t matter how much people said I wasn’t. No one would ever understand me, because they’d never feel what I felt. 

“No matter how close someone got to me, no matter how many times they’d seen me like this, no matter how many times I’d explain, there’d always be this bubble preventing them, they’d never—”

I stop. She’s just like all the others, isn’t she?

“Do you really, truly understand what I mean when I say I don’t feel human?”

She considers her answer. I already know it, but I hope she at least understands the question.

“No,” she says finally, with remorse.

It still hurt to hear it.

“Then I’m as alone now as I was back then.”

It hurt more to say it.

So we sit in another silence, broken up only by my sobs.

I’ve done it. I’ve broken her. There’s nothing more she can say to me. The best she can do is shuffle over and rub my back in an attempt to soothe me.

And yet my heart still bleeds.

“I think it’s why Todoroki and I were such good friends. He hated himself, too,” I speak quietly between shaky breaths. “For not providing enough to his family. For being a bad father. For not being good enough for his wife. For his weight and his appearance. But mostly for his alcoholism.

“I didn’t relate to his struggles, and he never related to mine. But we were both walking parallel down the same spiral.

“When I told some friends in college I only drank to numb my senses and forget I was alive, they almost seemed disgusted. They told me it wasn’t normal, that I should seek help. And they were probably right.

“But Roki understood. He understood binge drinking to cope with the sheer disgust of being human. The only difference between us is that I stopped for my own safety, and he didn’t.

“It was amazing to finally feel understood for once, but we were never going to help each other get better. I love him,” my voice starts breaking through tears again, “but the blind can’t lead the blind. But you...”

Her hand isn’t soothing.

Her presence isn’t reassuring.

“Oh god, Atsume! You’re going to burn yourself out trying to help me! I know I’m past saving, I keep trying to tell you because I’m terrified you’re going to find out the hard way!” My voice gets higher and higher. “I have to push you away because I don’t want you to get hurt and I know it’s selfish to want you to stay because I know you’re my only hope.”

She holds me in embrace. A literal shoulder to cry on.

She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.

“I’m sorry,” I cry. “I’m sorry I can’t be better.”

“Do you know why I love you?” she finally asks in a low voice.

“No,” I squeak. She sighs.

“You have such light in your eyes when you smile. When you laugh. When you’re having fun. And... there’s passion in your voice, when you speak. I love to hear it.” Her voice is breaking.

She pulls away and I see the tears glistening in her eyes, betraying her smile. She brushes my cheek.

“There’s a spark in you. I’ve seen it before. And it’s beautiful. And it’s happy. And I want to see it again. I want to see it all the time.”

The ball of guilt inside me coils in on itself to become a ball of lead.

“No...” I whimper.

“I know it’s not going to happen overnight—”

“No, no, no, no, no,” I cry as I curl up into a tight ball. “You’re wrong, you have to be wrong.”

“Darling—”

“There’s nothing– there’s nothing else– it’s just this– it has to be—”

“I– I– I know it’s hard to tell right now, but– but I promise it’s there,” she stammers. “And– and– and even if there isn’t there are more reasons. I still love you.”

“No, no, no– you can’t– you can’t– you’re not meant to– you’re not– you’re not.” I devolve into a mess of sobs and tears and hyperventilation and it hurts.

She loves me and it hurts.

She loves me and it feels like a stake to the heart.

She loves me and she won’t listen when I tell her not to.

She loves me and she’s trying so hard to help me.

She loves me and I’m going to ruin her life by being in it.

She loves me and I almost wish she didn’t.

She loves me and I don’t know why.

“You’re not meant to love me,” I sob. “No one’s meant to love me. Why else would it hurt so much?”

“Darling, no! No, no, no, no, Sonwy—”

“I’m not– I’m not human. I don’t– I don’t deserve—”

“Yes you do! Even if you’re hurt and broken, you still deserve love like everyone else.”

As I cry harder than I have the energy for, she comes to a realisation.

“No one’s told you that before, have they?”

I shake my head.

I don’t want to believe it.

[theendofuno]

GWAAH ok uhmm extra stuff i wrote ill try my best to correct any errors since i wrote this not really focusing on posting buT cant guarantee it'll be good anyway erhmmmm

i feel too socially awkward to this idk HSDBHJSDKS

*Uno isn't responding well when people try to help him, they will always bite whoever gets close enough and if they try to grab him he'll scratch them real bad, which happened to Azin (he got some really fucked up cuts on his chest)

*they don't seem to want to be close to anyone and will always disappear when they want to sleep to avoid people trying to grab him to help

*Sieghart seems to know how to solve it but Uno is in a later stage, which help (and the lack of it) can be fatal and Uno absolutely refuses his help since it started

*no one can hold a conversation with Uno since months, last time someone heard his voice talking was when he apologized to Zero, but he's always hissing or crying in pain when he thinks no one is close

*Uno has been seem hitting his head constantly against trees, probably trying to break the black horns, which didn't got any positive result other than a concussion (who was never treated) (not that im re-reading this it seems like the concussion is a positive result but ITS NOT WHAT I MEANT i just dont know how to phrase this in a better way)

*no one knows for how much long Uno will be alive

while canonically is known Uno's curse is surrounded around his feelings, no one knows why or how so what im about to tell you it's only on Uno's mind and (prolly) no one will ever know canonically (or..not canonically....canonically in this what if) :D

Uno was always the outcast of his group and they hated being like that, so one day he had a breakdown alone and the curse took over completely his arm, which made him panic, making it go onto his chest and grows more around his eye

so they decided to not see Azin again, since Azin would try his best to find a cure and help Uno, while Uno was super tired of being a lab rat and never getting results, besides liking Azin, so they took for his life that he wasn't sociable anymore, they would turn into a completely bad person to make everyone dislike him, while his curse get worse, so they could die soon and no one would supposedly "miss him", since he suddenly turned bad and hurted everyone they loved

even if they feel guilty and nasty for acting like this around everyone he loves, he can't stop since the curse will destroy them very soon, and they don't want to be missed or griefed

but since they're so focused into having hard feelings of "being bad" and hurting people around, they can't notice that isn't working at all and it's actually making people more worried and missing him more often

Azin is completely depressed and burned out, he can't stop to sleep, he's always with his face on books or talking with Sieghart to try to find a cure or at least something to slow it down, and is only sleeping when he passes out of exhaustion or when Jin forces him to

Zero is in absolute despair and doesn't seem to know what to do aswell, besides being a witch he doesn't understand a lot about cure or the human body in general, and he can't focus to study because he's only thinking about getting his old sibiling back

Ronan is trying his best to keep his composure and remain calm and quiet, since he's the older he's trying his best to help everyone with the possible, but he barely sleeps and spend nights crying to himself and talking alone wondering if Uno will wake up the next day or if Ronan will be the responsible of finding their dead body and telling everyone

Lass is more agressive and guilts himself for being rude towards Uno when it was unecessary, even if he was joking with them, and he keeps going to the city besides being a hermit and invading libraries trying to find something that can solve the problem

Mari besides being super inexpressive and quiet, it's actually showing worry and seems to search for something on her head, talking with Sieghart a lot

thgats all for now ig eurhmghermnerbm always feel free to ask questions.. :D my brain is leaking thru my ear i guess

not canon, not non-canon but a third secret thing

thingy i made for the hermit au gwaah i wrote a giantic text about it but it was in a conversation context so its not really polished HSUHSIUGS if anyone wants to read i can post later ig :p

[cease-this]

Title

God works fast but fucking-michaell works faster. Whipped this baby up in 2 hours.

Warnings: Stormbringer spoilers, language

‼️This is a tickle fic, if you're not into that kind of thing then SCROLL‼️

"G-gyahahaha—! W-wait!" Chuuya clenched his fist tightly. His face pressed against the jacket of the man holding his wrist. 

Chuuya was currently sat behind Albatross, one hand held hostage while the other pounded at his back to try to get him to let go. Though it proved useless. How did Chuuya get into this situation you may ask? Well..

~~~~~~

"Chuuya!" The older of the two exclaimed as he entered the apartment, without knocking of course. The ginger grumbled. 

"No." The younger was layed across the couch on his stomach, blanked splayed over him. Despite the fact it was 2pm, he was still in his comfy pajamas. And sleeping. The room was completely dark, thanks to the black out curtains. Chuuya grumbled and shoved a pillow atop his head to hide as the lights switched on. He was not in the mood for this. "Get out."

"Eh? What's that all about?" The strawberry blonde raised an eyebrow at the response to his presence. "What're you hungover or something? I told you to lay off on the wine, but'cha never listen do you?"

Chuuya peeked out from under his pillow to glare. He was certainly not in the mood for a lecture. "I'm not hungover. I'm tired." 

"Uhhh-huh." His eyes glanced over to the wine glass on the table. Though it was still half full, maybe Chuuya hadn't gotten drunk enough to have a hangover. It didn't matter either way. "Cmon, get up."

Chuuya gave only a drawn out grumble in response, gripping tighter to the pillow so he could drown out as much light as possible. Albatross tsked. 

"Allright, if you're gonna be stubborn then you leave me no other choice. Swiftly, one hand snatched Chuuya's wrist. Where the ginger usually wore gloves he had a distinct lack, considering he was in sleepwear. 

"Fuck off." The gravity manipulator complained as he shoved halfheartedly at Albatross's back. In his state, he hadn't figured what was obviously coming for him. 

"You're certainly mouthy today." Chuuya's eyes shot open as he felt one finger drift across his palm. Then two. Then five. 

"G-gyahahaha—! W-wait!" Chuuya clenched his fist tightly. He pressed his face into the jacket of the man holding him hostage. "I'll k-kill you—!" 

Chuuya's voice shook and his words were stammered as he tried to even out his speech and not giggle. He didn't find this tactic very fair at all. 

"Still feisty, even when you're being tickled~" He snickered quietly at the way Chuuya threatened him. "And this isn't even a bad spo—"

"Do‐nt even th–ink about it!" Chuuya shuddered. He knew that his hand wasn't even close to as bad as… other spots were. Unfortunately, he didn't hold much sway here. 

"Oh I'm thinking about it." The strawberry blonde man grinned, turning and pinning Chuuya's hand down above his head. Usually, he'd be able to fight it off. But he was Unfortunately weakened by the tickles. "I'm definitely thinking about it.." 

Chuuya squirmed as Albatross sat himself on Chuuya's hips, straddling him. One of Albatross's hands wiggled fingers above the back of Chuuya's waist. "Feel like getting up yet?"

"Go to hell." Chuuya growled. Not only did he not want to, but it was a game now. And he was gonna win it. Albatross grinned wider, hand launching for Chuuya's helpless side, squeezing right against the dip in his waist. This method included him squeezing up and down, from Chuuya's ribs to his. Uh oh. 

"WAITWAIT!" Chuuya gasped out, cackles spilling from his lips as the olders hand found a sweet spot above his hip. The one that, before this moment, only shifty Dazai knew about. "StOHop I'll geHET up! ILl get UhUp dammit!" 

"Oh you will, huh?" The squeezing didn't stop as it zeroed in right on that sweetspot, causing shrieks and cackles from the ginger, as well as a stream of threats that would be terrifying if not for the fact that Chuuya was currently laughing. "How do I know you're not lying just to get me to stop? And besides, maybe I wanna keep on now that I've found your little soft spot~"

If not for the frantic laughter, Chuuya would've told him off for being a terrible negotiator, that Chuuya had already given in and he shouldn't be so cruel. Unfortunately. "NOhHO NOHO nNOhO! NOHoT thEHERE!" 

"Hmm tell ya what, I'll stop ifffff…." He trailed off, grabbing hold of Chuuya's other wrist as it came back to fight as well. He pinned it under his knee, giving the other wrist the same treatment before both hands zeroed in on the spot on either side. Chuuya hoped nobody was around to hear the embarrassing scream he gave at it. "...you agree to do my paperwork for the next month." 

Chuuya groaned internally. Of course, this was the perfect opportunity to bribe him. "G-gOHO tO hEHEll!" 

"Fine then.." he sighed before grinning, moving down a little to sit on Chuuya's Thighs, alternating between squeezing and massaging the back of Chuuya's Thighs and Kneading into his hips. And though his wrists were free, Chuuya had no means of escape as he shrieked and cackled. He tried to push himself up, but only slipped on the couch cushions, falling flat on his face. The way he couldn't get used to it was driving him crazy. 

It went on for about another 3 minutes before Chuuya gave in. 

"FIHINE! FIHINE ILL DO YOUR STUHUPID PAPERWORK NOW LEHET UHUP!" 

"You will?"

"YehEs!"

"You proooomise?~"

"FUHUCK SAKE YES!" 

After that colorful statement, Albatross let up, standing up and ruffling Chuuya's ginger hair once. 

"Cmon, get a move on, we've got a long day ahead of us, and you've got plenty of paperwork."

Chuuya groaned. It really was going to be a long, long day. He wouldn't have it any other way.