#despite the general malaise

[bluegreywilde]

It brings me no pleasure to report that I have not in fact outgrown the need for academic validation

[cerbreus]

the holiday malaise is getting to me a little bit

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Off Day Or Day Off

Summary: Reader has a bad day due to a chronic illness they struggle with (POTS). Luckily Lizzie and Scarlett look after her.

Tw: headache, mild pots, exhaustion / fatigue, pain medicine, mentions of passing out

Words: 2129

A/n sorry for such a long absence I got diagnosed with POTS so I have been in and out of the hospital for appointments for the past few weeks. So, this fic is kinda just me projecting. Also, POTS stands for Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (for those who don’t know). Let me know if you want a part 2.

You knew today was going to be hard when you opened your eyes to see your alarm had already been going off for a good half hour.

Whilst not something that was unusual for you, it did pose some insight into how the rest of the day may go. Taking a deep breath, you gathered the strength to sit up, still feeling exhausted to your bones and wanting nothing more than to lay back down and keep sleeping.

Reaching out to smack the alarm in order to finally get it to shut up, it took a few tries to finally hit the button.

You were tired despite having slept over the recommended eight hours. You were tired when you woke up and you had no doubt you would be tired when you went to sleep.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed you braced yourself to stand up. Once on your feet you stayed upright for a good half a second before sitting back down hard.

Yep, today was an off day.

Trying again you managed to stick the landing this time, but still had to pause to wait for the patches in your vision to clear up first before doing anything.

You were vaguely aware of a dull ache in your temples and a general feeling of malaise and fatigue across your whole body.

You leant against the wall of your bedroom while pulling on some fresh pant and swapping out your pyjama shirt for a clean and presentable top.

You fought to stay upright while hopping around to stick the socks over your cold feet.

Throwing your notebook and pencil case into your backpack before pulling your laptop off the charge you added it to your bag and slung it over your shoulder, not bothering to do up the zip just yet.

Scanning the room your eyes caught on the small medical pouch were you had left it the day before. Groaning you circled back to grab it and triple check it was stocked with extra electrolyte packets before tossing it into your already full bag.

Your footsteps were heavy on the stairs as you plodded down to the kitchen, the voices of your little sister and mother only seeming to aggravate your growing headache.

You gripped the railing as you descended the stairs just in case your fatigue flared anymore than it already had.

As you shuffled into the kitchen you distantly listened to your mum wish you a good morning. Feeling tired and slightly annoyed at the whole situation you mumbled something incoherent back to her.

Scarlett had been your mother for almost ten years now after the adoption had gone through. You had met on the set for one of her earlier marvel films and due to your less-than-ideal situation and close bond with the actress she had adopted you.

It hadn’t been until a few months into living with her that she begun to take notice of your fatigue and various other issues. She had been with you every step of the process to get diagnosed and despite your fears she had stayed by your side.

You had been managing your tachycardia for a long time now and the symptoms of POTS weren’t as intense as they once were. However, from time to time you still had flare up which caused you a lot of heart ache and suffering.

As you slid into your place at the kitchen table Scarlett set down a plate of bacon and toast for you whilst she continued listening to the constant chatter stemming from your younger sister.

Scarlett nodded along with Rose’s story as she observed you closely. She had noted something was off almost straight away and knew you were doing your best to keep up a front.

It was Scarlett’s day off and as such she was tasked with taking Rose to school as Colin had headed into work early for a meeting with the writers.

You weren’t too interested in the food your mother had given you. Despite loving bacon and usually chomping it down with gusto you felt gross and tired.

Scarlett took note of your slow pace and droopy eyes as she took roses dishes back to the sink and loaded them into the dishwasher.

Scarlett had been trying to help you get better at advocating for yourself by simply making you ask for her help. She hoped it would help you speak up for yourself more now that you had more recognised needs. However, she also knew when to step in and simply help if you didn’t ask first.

She frowned at the sight of your backpack slung over the back of the chair knowing full well she didn’t want you going to uni if you were unwell.

As you continued to poke at your food with a fork and a bored expression that barely masked the exhaustion Scarlett sent rose to get dressed.

“Alright munchkin, what’s going on?” Scarlett said sitting down next to you.

“‘M fine mum. Just tired, I didn’t sleep well.” You grumbled still mining away at the edge of the slightly burnt toast with your fork.

Scarlett frowned as she knew you had been asleep before ten after she had poked her head in at around nine fifty to see if you were up.

“In that case maybe you should stay home today and get some rest sweetheart.” Scarlett said softly.

“No. No, I’m ok.” You said shaking your head which wasn’t a great idea as the patches reappeared in your vision.

“Alright.” Scarlett said admitting defeat for now. “I have to take rose to school; do you need a lift to uni?” She asked and you nodded pushing away the full plate of food. “Ok then come get your shoes on.”

You nodded again and stood. Just as she had expected Scarlett watched as you swayed on your feet slightly, blinking rapidly to try and clear your vision as your hand blindly reached for the table to provide the support you needed dot stay upright.

“Alright. No.” Scarlett said. “Definitely not. You’re staying here sweet girl.”

“But i’m-“ you begun only to be cut off.

“If the next words out of your mouth are “I’m fine.” I’ll make you take the whole week off.” Scarlett said and your lips snapped shut. “Go make yourself comfortable on the couch, I’ll have lizzie come stay with you while I’m out. She has the day off too and before you start, I’m sure she would like to spend the time with you.” Scarlett said before you could protest hindering the younger actresses schedule with your change of plans.

Before you could protest Scarlett gave you a look that kept the words in your throat from leaving.

“You’re not a problem y/n. Lizzie loves to spend time with you, and it makes her feel better to be able to help you out. Plus, I don’t want to leave you here alone in case you need something or pass out.” She said sternly but kindly.

“But I haven’t passed out before.” You grumbled.

“There’s a first time for everything.” Scarlett said. “Now go get comfy while I call Lizzie.” She said pressing a kiss to your head and giving you a light shove in the direction of the living room.

As you settled into a small nest on the couch you begun scrolling through Disney plus before settling on something to watch. You heard Scarlett talking on the phone in the kitchen before she appeared and handed you a water bottle which no doubt was filled with electrolytes. She spoke to Lizzie for a bit longer before coming back once the call was done.

“Drink.” She instructed, nodding to the bottle in your lap. “Lizzie will be over soon. I have to take rose in and then we can have a movie day and see if Lizzie wants to join us.”

“Ok.” You mumbled feeling bad for ruining everyone’s plans.

“None of that. We love you and we would rather spend the day making you feel better than knowing you’re not ok and doing what we planned.” Scarlett said as she picked up roses backpack and grabbed her trainers from the doorway.

Rose came and hugged you goodbye before continuing her endless chatter about something or other as she and Scarlett disappeared out the doorway. Scarlett blowing you a kiss as she left.

Snuggling down into the blankets you felt your eyelids droop as the show played on in the background.

What couldn’t have been more than five minutes later the doorbell rang before the door opened. You knew Lizzie had a a key, but she always rung the doorbell before she let herself in just to let you know it was her.

You heard the door shut and the sound of her taking off her shoes before she came upstairs.

“Y/n?” She called out as she walked down the hallway.

“In here.” You said barely shouting.

A moment later Lizzie entered the room, her face looking a little sad at the sight of you all bundled up and sleepy, your arms wrapped around your water bottle as your eyes drifted shut.

“Hiii.” You mumbled quietly.

“Hi sweet girl. Oh, look at you, it’s not a good day, is it?” She asked as she took the seat beside you on the couch.

“No.” You huffed as you shuffled over into her side.

Lizzie’s hands went straight to your hair as she brushed her fingers through it. She guided your head to her lap and gently began braining locks of your hair. The feeling of her fingers on your scalp relaxed you as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Have some more to drink first baby, then you can have a nap, okay?” She said helping you sit up and sip some of the electrolyte drink before guiding you back to her lap as her hands took their place back in your hair.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep again.

The next time you woke up Lizzie’s hand was still gently massaging your head which was helping with the now whopping headache you had. You shifted slightly prompting Lizzie to look down from the show she had put on and see you were awake.

“Hi sweetheart, how are we feeling love?” She asked softly.

“Headache, tired and lousy.” You mumbled turning your face into her stomach making her chuckle softly at your cuteness.

“That’s no good.” She said frowning now she registered your words. “Want me to get your mum to bring some Panadol and a snack?” She asked and you nodded into her stomach.

Lizzie gently reached down and placed her hands over your ears to shield you from the noise as she began calling out to Scarlett who you hadn’t noticed return.

“Scar car you bring y/n/n some Panadol and a snack!” She called and you faintly heard your mum’s response before Lizzie was prompting you to drink some more of the electrolyte drink in your water bottle.

“Sorry I know this wasn’t what you two wanted to do on ur day off” you said to both actresses when Scarlett came in with some cupcakes, she and rose had baked the day before and a strip of Panadol.

“Honey…” Lizzie said looking sad. “I’ll always be here when you need me.” She said softly.

“Yeah, I can’t get rid of you.” Scarlett joked making all three of you laugh.

When you winced at the noise Scarlett went straight to mum mode as she popped out two of the tablets and put them in your hand before nodding to the water bottle.

“Alright, what are we watching?” Scarlett asked situating herself on your other side and pulling your legs into her lap, so you were laid across the two of them.

“Whatever y/n/n wants.” Lizzie said chucking the remote to you.

“I’m thinking marvel.” You grinned making both women groan in protest.

You put on age of ultron and barely twenty minutes in Lizzie’s gentle head scratches had lulled you back into the arms of sleep.

POTS was hard to live with but with all the people in your life supporting you it was bearable.

Part 2

@barbarasstar @charlie56

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

It's frustrating how this article admits that vaccination does not substantially stop spread, but it give the reader no further information. Mask up. Improve ventilation. Filter the air. Distance when you can. Those are actual, implementable advice that keeps covid from spreading, and it has to be done by the public at large to keep individuals safe. It's much less effective when the nebulous "high risk" are left to fend for themselves while everyone else pretends that it's 2019 forever.

By Kelly Ashmore

The XEC strain is 'just getting started' and is rapidly spreading throughout Europe and the rest of the world, experts have warned

Experts have issued a warning about a new, "stronger" Covid variant that is "just getting started" and spreading rapidly across Europe and the rest of the world. The XEC strain, first identified in Germany in June, has now been linked to 15 countries across three continents. As colder weather approaches, specialists anticipate this strain will become the dominant variant.

In California, Eric Topol, director of the Scripps Research Translational Institute, said: "XEC is just getting started now around the world and here. And that's going to take many weeks, a couple of months, before it really takes hold and starts to cause a wave," according to the LA Times. He added, "XEC is definitely taking charge. That does appear to be the next variant. But it's months off from getting into high levels."

Experts have issued a warning about a new, "stronger" Covid variant that is "just getting started" and spreading rapidly across Europe and the rest of the world. The XEC strain, first identified in Germany in June, has now been linked to 15 countries across three continents. As colder weather approaches, specialists anticipate this strain will become the dominant variant.

In California, Eric Topol, director of the Scripps Research Translational Institute, said: "XEC is just getting started now around the world and here. And that's going to take many weeks, a couple of months, before it really takes hold and starts to cause a wave," according to the LA Times. He added, "XEC is definitely taking charge. That does appear to be the next variant. But it's months off from getting into high levels."

What is Covid XEC? The Covid XEC is a recombinant variant of Covid-19, resulting from a combination of the BA. 1 and BA.

2 Omicron subvariants. While some Covid strains have proven more severe than others over the past years, it will take additional time for health professionals to determine the severity of symptoms associated with the XEC strain.

The UK Health Security Agency (UKHSA) has not yet provided detailed information on the XEC variant.

However, recent statistics from the UKHSA have shown a 4.3 per cent increase in Covid-19 cases, but a decrease in virus-related deaths. The weekly figures revealed an increase of 1,587 Covid cases as of September 4.

Despite recording 102 deaths in the week ending August 30, this was a decrease of 20.9 per cent (27) from the previous week. Furthermore, hospital admissions due to the virus also fell by six per cent to 1,465, in the week up to August 29.

What are the symptoms of Covid XEC? The strain presents symptoms similar to those of a typical cold and flu. These include shortness of breath, high fever, persistent cough, loss of taste or smell, and feelings of fatigue or exhaustion.

Classic cold symptoms such as headache, sore throat, runny or blocked nose, loss of appetite, diarrhoea, and general malaise are also common. While most people will recover within a few weeks, some may require hospitalisation and others may need longer.

How to stay protected As with earlier Covid variants, the same precautions should be taken against the newest variant, including regular booster doses and vaccinations. Vaccines remain the best defence against serious illness, hospitalisation, and even death, even if they may not completely prevent infection.

If you're vulnerable to the virus or share a home with someone who is, donning a face mask can offer some protection, particularly in crowded or poorly ventilated indoor spaces. Boosting indoor ventilation where possible can further reduce the risk of falling ill.

[five-rivers]

Ghost in a Bottle

This is my truce gift for @linziefey! I've made a picture and a little ficlet to go with it, beneath the cut. Hope you enjoy.

Danny sat on the roof of the Ops Center, trying to ignore the sounds of his parents yelling at each other down in the house.  The evening was clear on this Christmas Eve, and he was hoping to see some stars, despite the light pollution.  The increased light pollution.  Curse the ten million different Christmas displays.  And Christmas, just in general.  

There was the sound of an ecto-gun going off in the house, and something breaking.  Danny rolled his eyes, then rubbed them.  Christmas couldn’t be over soon enough.  He didn’t know how Jazz dealt with all of this.  

He looked up again.  The sky was a dusky color, and, if he remembered correctly…  There.  The first star.  

“Star bright, star light, first star I see tonight,” mumbled Danny, hoping that a touch of whimsy would do something to break through his general holiday malaise.  “Wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”

He sighed again.  What did he wish?  Not that the fighting would stop.  That was impossible.  He knew better.  But what else…?  Oh, yeah.  There was another problem that haunted him every time he laid down in bed or finished a meal.  

“I wish Dani was somewhere safe,” he said.  

.

Desiree hadn’t come to Amity Park looking to make trouble.  Not this time.  At least, she hadn’t come to make trouble right now.  She’d just wanted to boost her powers with some Christmas wishes - all of them granted in the spirit of the wish, of course!  She didn’t want to wind up on the wrong side of the Truce.  

But this?  This was a little too good to pass up.  

She knew better than to say it out loud, but, well, she mouthed the words.  

As you have wished it, so shall it be!

.

Dani Phantom was minding her own business.  And, okay, maybe her own business involved a lot of pickpocketing, maybe some breaking and entering, just a little bit of shoplifting…  Okay, it was mostly shoplifting, but it wasn’t like stores were people, and this chain was owned by Vladco, so, really, it was like child support or whatever.  

Danny didn’t know how child support was supposed to work, so Dani didn’t either.  Most of her memories were effectively his, after all.  

The point was, she wasn’t bothering anyone and just going through her normal day when a portal just opened up underneath her.  

She fell in, of course.  

.

Dani fell.  Before she fell very far, she transformed, but by that point she had already fallen through the portal, which promptly vanished, just in time for Dani to run into the curved wall of glass that had been behind it.  She stopped and looked around.  

The room she was in… wasn’t a room.  It was a round glass bottle.  One held by–

“Desiree!” shouted Dani, raising her hands in preparation to fight and ignoring how the bottom of her foot was already dripping ectoplasm.  The genie-like ghost was floating beyond the glass, her hair loose and a red shawl draped across her shoulders.  The room beyond was dark and filled with pale green smoke.  “I wish I was out of here and kicking your butt!”

“Hello, dear,” said Desiree, “I am afraid I cannot hear you.  The glass, you see, and you are so, so small.”  She tapped the stopper that closed off the bottle.  

Dani scowled.  Her shins were starting to melt.  

“Now, I am sure you are wondering what wish landed you here.”  She smiled and circled.  “Your cousin.  So incautious, wishing for you to be somewhere safe, not thinking at all about what that would mean.  But rest assured, you will be quite safe in this little bottle, just as I was in mine.”

She tilted the bottle back and forth.  “Although, if you had a wish…”

Yeah, Dani had some wishes.  Mostly ones that involved giving Desiree a black eye or making her back off.  

“But, oh, if you are anything at all like that cousin of yours, how could I trust you not to attack me the moment I took out this cork?”

Dani’s rings flickered into being briefly around her waist, but she banished them.  Even if she was melting, she wanted the protection from ghost powers her ghost form provided.  She didn’t trust Desiree at all.  

“But it is truce time,” said Desiree, tilting her head, her red eyes glinting.  “The time when ghosts refrain from fighting or harming one another.”

“This is what you count as refraining from harm?” demanded Dani, incensed.  Despite wishing to kick Desiree’s butt earlier, she knew what the truce was - barely - thanks to Danny’s memories.  So, she knew what had happened to Ghostwriter when he’d broken it.  She just hadn’t realized the truce was now.  She hadn’t been keeping track of the date.  Things like that were sort of a luxury for people like her.  

Desiree swirled the bottle again.  “So, perhaps I will take the risk and let you try to wish yourself out of your… predicament.  In the spirit of the truce, I will even keep to the spirit of your wish.  Consider it a Christmas wish.”

There was a catch here.  Desiree talked like Vlad, and with Vlad, there was always a catch.  There was no way that Desiree would just let her wish herself free. 

More of Dani’s foot melted off.  That could be the catch.  

Probably not, though.  

“And while you are thinking, think of your cousin getting you into this mess, and all those people who are safe and warm and full at home…”  She tapped the glass wall of the bottle.  “Just think.”

Okay, there was the catch.  Desiree expected her to make trouble for Danny.  Well.  She wouldn’t.  So, there.  

But… now she was thinking about the things Desiree had said.  She was thinking about Danny, and how he’d been thinking about her, and had wanted her to be safe, and she was thinking about all the people who were home for the holidays… with their families.  

Then, Desiree popped the cork off the bottle and smiled broadly.  “What do you wish for?”

Dani bit her lip and put her hands on the bottle wall.  She wished– She wanted– “I wish my family was together - like a real family - for the holidays.”

Desiree threw back her head and laughed.  “As you have wished it, so shall it be.”

.

Dani woke up in a bed.  It took her a few minutes to realize why this was strange.  Once she did, she sat straight up, completely awake.  

This–  This was Vlad’s house.  She recognized the moulding and the furniture style and color scheme.  But…. other than that…  She looked all around the room.  There were posters on the walls, and they weren’t Packers themed.  They were mostly for bands, ones that Dani liked, when she’d been able to hear them, but there was one for that skateboarder she’d heard of, Tony Hawk, a couple for spacecraft, and a huge, detailed world map.  The desk had a computer and a bunch of video games, and there were little things scattered around the room.  Toys and gadgets, art projects and models.  A bookshelf was full of books whose titles were things like Deep Sea Exploration and Hidden Wonders of Eastern Europe.  

Feeling dazed, Dani climbed out of bed.  How had she gotten here?  Had Vlad kidnapped her and set this up to try and, what, buy her forgiveness?  That didn’t sound like him, except for the part where he would get to avoid saying sorry.  

Except, the last thing she remembered was Desiree…  And that wish…

Well, if Vlad tried anything funny, she’d– Do something.  Probably.  She ran an ectoblast over her fingers to test how stable she was.  That seemed to be… okay.

Time to investigate.  

She eased the door open and peered out into the hallway.  It was empty.  She stepped out.  

“Dani?  Why are you still in your PJs?”

She jumped.  She didn’t know how she’d missed him before, but Danny was standing there, wearing a vest and dress pants and tying on a bow tie.  

“Um,” said Dani.

“I know it’s kind of stupid,” said Danny, rolling his eyes.  “But Dad likes it when we’re all ‘put together’ for Christmas pictures, and we can do that for him, I guess.”

“Oh, um, right,” said Dani.  

She was going to beat the heck out of Desiree.  Spirit of the wish her butt.  At what point had she wanted some kind of alternate universe where Danny called Vlad Dad.  

“Are you okay?” asked Danny.

“No– I mean yes,” said Dani, quickly.  How could she ask what she wanted to know.  “Is there, um.  I’ve forgotten, um.”

“The Fentons are coming at two,” said Danny, patiently answering at least one of them.  “Dan’s coming by at three, since he wanted to go to Johnny’s truce party, everyone else is coming at five, for dinner.”

“Uh,” said Dani.  

“Or did you want to know if you’re the last one up?  Yeah.  I’m pretty sure the rest of our sextuplets beat us down.  At least, I heard Dusty thumping around.  Are you sure haven’t caught a cold or something?”

“I’m fine,” said Dani.  “I’m just going to go.  Get changed.”

She retreated back into the room and shut the door.  Then she sat down.  Sextuplets.  Six.  That’d be everyone, all the clones, including the ‘perfect’ one, plus Danny.  Who knew who Dan was, though…  She shook her head.  It didn’t matter.  None of this mattered.  She should be out looking for Desiree to get her to fix this.  

But… Would it really be so bad if Dani waited to find her until after Christmas?  It wasn’t like Danny liked Christmas with his family all that much.  

She chewed her lower lip then opened her closet.  Hopefully, there would be something in there better than skirts.  

[saintmurd0ck]

lakeside dreamin'

masterlist

pairing: jedi general anakin skywalker x f!reader

summary: anakin reminisces about your lives together while he's away fighting in the clone wars

warnings: heavy angst, mentions of canon events in TCW, canon typical mentions of warfare, some smut/spice, mentions of sex, minors DNI 18+ only

a/n: to the one anon who requested this maybe a year ago? i saw clone wars anakin and it was over for my brain 🫠 anyway love you guys and leave a comment or reblog if you liked this! 🥺

song pairing: love on the brain (rihanna)

The war was taking its toll.

Day after day, planet after planet, all Anakin knew now was his place on the battlefield. And his role in leading the victory for the Jedi and the Republic, even though their dogma preached peace, not violence. Every skirmish brought a new kind of horror to his once uncomplicated life, whether it was watching Separatist droids and clone troopers alike, cut down as easily as marsh reeds, or the simple fact that his relationship with the Force was dwindling towards something impure. Something he couldn’t make sense of, and would surely raise more questions than answers if he were to confide in his Masters. It wasn’t that he contemplated reaching towards the Dark side, or thought of the kind of evil only the Sith could endure; it was more like an isolating numbness that spread from within, and before long, Anakin felt the cloud settle over his mind.

He was tired of seeing smoke — the kind that billowed in every direction, stinking of despair and lost hope on his front, despite the war turning to the Republic’s favour. It was the sound of unending blaster fire and the repetitive ignition of his lightsaber that haunted his nightmares, and with only the company of his clone legion, his Padawan Ahsoka and the occasional appearance from Obi-Wan, he felt himself starting to slip.

He was overwhelmed, and encumbered with burden. 

Never before had he experienced such guilt, anger and suffering — towards his army, towards the civilians caught in the crossfire, and towards his relationship with you. 

The secret life the two of you led, away from the Order, felt like something out of another galaxy, another lifetime. It was as if eons had passed since he’d last seen you, and yet the world was constantly evolving — not towards freedom, but into a more destructive version of its past. Even for a Jedi General (and, one could argue, because he was a Jedi General), Anakin had little comfort, and much less sway in which systems he visited and what he took part in. Seeing you was absolutely out of the question, but it wasn’t like he bothered to even ask, out of fear of inviting a lecture from Obi-Wan, or Maker-forbid, an audience with Master Yoda. 

At least things like facilitating training for the Onderon rebels allowed him to feel more of himself, and to an extent, a sort of unity with the Council, but all of that was quickly replaced by the more sinister side of the Separatist Alliance, such as the trainwreck on Zygerria. Liberation didn’t exist there. Not until Anakin showed up.

It was these events that really compelled him to look inwards, to not just seek the Force’s guidance, but to use it in tandem with a coping mechanism that would get him through the war. 

And so the vignettes began. Slowly, at first. 

It started off as little glimpses of your life together, slices of euphoric nostalgia that weaved their way into Anakin’s being. He didn’t realise just how much he yearned for you; not simply the way your skin felt on his, but the pureness of your energy, the reminder that good truly did exist in this world. As much as these images were a solace to his sanity, they brought about a sense of malaise. Contrition, actually, if he sought the Force for the purpose of clarity. Even though it all existed in his head, allowing himself these indulgences felt like once again, he was breaking Code. 

But could it really have been that bad, if it honed his focus? If it drew him back to the bigger picture, of the why? Reminding himself of who it was he fought for didn’t erase the atrocities, but it gave him that flicker of hope, knowing that the sum of his actions equalled a better world for you. 

And some selfish, miniscule part of him figured that if he could lead the victory, he’d be pardoned when the Order inevitably found out about the life the two of you shared. It isn’t as if no-one already knew. He was sure Ahsoka was aware. Rex, too. He doubted when it came to Obi-Wan, but then again very little got past his Master. 

While the memories of you lay fresh before his eyes, they seemed to sharpen at specific points throughout the day; often in the thick of battle, or when he woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, nothing but thin shafts of moonlight illuminating his body. It’s like they were stitched perfectly amongst the real action, scattered at perfect intervals that jerked his body into manoeuvre.

The sweetest images had always featured the lake. 

Armed with nothing more but his wits, his back pressed against the cold, wet stone in a cave on Vanqor, he reminisced about that first night with you by the lakeside. The sweet smell of wildflowers carried in the breeze, heightened by his affinity for the Force. He recalled the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore, and how the two moons cast their milky glow upon the shimmering surface of the water. And you — radiant, almost ethereal in the soft light, and the way your lips brushed against his neck, filling him with the kind of heat that flooded all at once. Not even the screech of the pursuing gundark could have interrupted this moment in time. He felt his breathing go ragged, because he remembered what happened next. He gritted his teeth, thinking about the way he moved inside you, and how you tangled your fingers in his hair, pressing chaste kisses to his mouth, his chest, whispering his name in sinful bliss. The gundark didn’t stand a chance. Not when Anakin’s motivation for getting out alive laid in sweet promise, embedded in these visions.

His name felt the most natural rolling off your tongue, nevermind that that was truly the last real thing he possessed, unmarred by time and the influence of the Jedi. In that moment, when you’d taken him over the edge with you, crying his name so loud he swore someone had heard, he knew he’d give it over to you if you’d asked.

He thought of the lake again when he was in Felucia, crouched low amongst the sillum. His lightsaber grew heavy in his hand, the ridges suddenly awkward in his palm, but the grip he’d started to lose on his lifeline gave rise to something he couldn’t ignore. 

It was another temperate day and the sun had created the most brilliant reflections on the surface of the lake. With the grasses and trees swaying in the wind, Anakin closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force. He didn’t prod or poke, but rather he cast a wide net, a delicate caress, to connect with the life that teemed. It sang to him in a multi-layered harmony, acting as a prominent reminder that the Force flowed in all living things. And when his eyes fluttered open, he watched you carefully as you walked towards the water, your feet crunching on the smooth pebbles that made up the beach. You turned around to give him a dazzling smile, moving with deliberation to slip off your clothes. Your laughter echoed in the crisp air as you dived into the lake, disappearing under a swathe of emerald green, only to resurface in the middle with a large grin plastered to your face. He didn’t hesitate to jump in, to shed his clothing on the spot. A shudder ran down his spine at the thought of what happened shortly after. 

Sometimes it was hard to return to the present, to remember that he’d sleep alone that night while you were only just waking up, systems away, most likely after another fitful slumber.  There were times where he thought these visions would serve no other purpose than to derail him, when the temptation of your touch shadowed his desire for victory. These moments guided him to channel the Force within, so as to remind himself of why he was doing this in the first place. Because it was more than just a coping mechanism. It was an anchor. A thrumming pulse point. A gentle acknowledgement of the life he wanted to come back to.

It’s then that he wondered when enough would be enough, when the war would come to a stalemate, as it so often did in their history. The tide was turning, and he knew it.

And there it was again, that kernel of hope, that ember of light that shone in the depths of his soul. Even reduced to a ghost in his memory, you were tangible, so tangible now. He wouldn’t let the Separatists win. He couldn’t, because there was too much at stake. And so if thinking of you, in these ways, helped him remember that, he wasn’t going to stop. 

Not for anyone. 

[stargirl-writes]

heal

pairing : f! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 3.5 k

masterlist | ao3 link

summary

in which anakin skywalker chooses to run away with you before all is lost in mustafar.

tags : au, angst!!, hurt/no comfort

warnings : toxic love, dark fic, ptsd, and reader being so dependent on anakin, suicidal behavior

notes : my reader character being a healer is my self indulgent insert 😭

i've sat w this 4 so long cause i was like 'realistically, what would happen if anakin ran away?' and i think i've finally made up my mind abt it.

time is moving fast for this fic because i wanted to cover so much, so heads up for the skips!

ALSO, ear-ringing apologist perspective. if u can't handle reader being blind to faults, this is not for u haha!

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. 

At least, it was something you want believed in.

The clone war that raged on revealed just how much people can be persuaded to do horrible things when their survival is at stake.

You underestimated that instinct yourself. The burning desperation to not lose your Anakin Skywalker. You thought, you would have killed for him, the way he would for you.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one to tell you how Anakin became irredeemable.

It was a blur how you flew to Mustafar despite it. You needed Anakin to admit to it, you needed to take him away from what he'll become.

The crimes he committed made you feel sick, septic like a festering wound.

But, whether you love what you love.

Or live in divided ceaseless revolt against it, what you love is your fate.

You've been so alone. So much so, you can only define a time with Anakin, and without him.

It was gradual. It couldn't have been some higher power that destined you to him, He had been a General of a war, and you, the Healer. It was all odds, that you fell in the right place at the wrong time.

An unwilling hero, and a glorified murderer.

He was crafted to be a tool in the war. Divinely created by the Force with the purpose of bringing balance. And in a war, that meant doing damage, killing.

Every victory he had was a stark contrast to yours.

Every life he takes, be it a droid or a separatist, is a win. And every life you lose is a name added to the long list of casualties.

You and Anakin were opposites.

So, the shock of it remains, because somehow along the way, Anakin loved you. And you loved him. You had each other to cling to.

The terror of What if it doesn't last, What if there's no one else? What happens if it goes back to being alone? persists.

And you might not belong anywhere else.

But you were his. As he is yours. Not in the manner of possession. Yours in the way of devotion.

Mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love.

You knew that Anakin's love was conditional. You were only the one in front of him. You didn't misunderstand. You let him use you anyway.

It's not like you were loving him unconditionally, it was because you were terrified to be lonely.

At least, in the beginning, you believed so.

Most days were occupied by your duties. And Anakin would love you in a way that is shaped like fingers wrapped around a throat. Incessant. Hungry. Teeth deep in possession. Making up for the little time, holding you against him as if he was bracing himself that someday you won't be around.

It felt like he was always saying goodbye.

So, though your heart was nearly breaking out of your ribs, you flew by yourself to Mustafar.

A pile of lifeless Separatist figures greeted you in horror.

It was true. Anakin had gone to the dark side. What he did with those children... 

The fear consumed you like a corrosion, but still, you stood in front of him, begging him to come back.

Anakin had carried a deep malaise when you had found him. It was almost emanating from his blood-stained robe, a coldness, a deadly assurance.

"You're not supposed to be here," Anakin says in a strangled voice. His hands firmly holding your arms.

The color of his eyes startled you. It was like looking at a ghost, and all that was left was an unending rage. You fought to not let your fear swallow you.

"Anakin, we have to go" Your lips quivered, not entirely sure what you were planning.

There will never be escaping the things he's done.

You want him to go away with you, anyway.

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. 

For a while, it was quiet. Anakin's glossy blue eyes were gazing at you, in conflict, and begging to be understood.

"I can't... Don't you see? I've restored justice to the galaxy" He abruptly lets go, and turns, concealing his face away from your sight. "The things I've done... I can't, there's no running away from it"

The guilt he feels leads him to think that the only path now is through the one he sacrificed his morality for.

"No," you struggled, voice failing to hide your anguish. "Anakin, you can't let this be your fate. Run away with me." You pleaded, eyes filled with tears.

A life of loneliness. With no one, the way it used to. 

Then, Anakin half turns. He surveys your willingness to take him as he is. Maybe, even wanting to believe it.

You have always loved Anakin, even the parts you have not understood.

Perhaps, this was the similarity that bound you together. Burning devotion. One that allows you to see past your moral code.

You gave so much to the war. You'd run yourself spent from the hours. You fought so hard to keep people from dying. You'd never taken anything but this. A chance at life. Away from it all.

"I would've done anything you asked of me" His voice reveals his devastation.

You stepped forward, "Then come with me, Leave it all behind, I need you"

You held your breath, half convinced that this may very much be the end of things.

But Anakin takes your hand, and you don't waste a minute more to take him away in your ship.

Your hands shook the entire time.

The galaxy was silent when the war ended.

Mace Windu's attempt to assassinate the Chancellor made the Jedi an enemy of the Empire.

It triggered an Order that made clone soldiers turn against their Generals. The Jedi are hunted down for treason.

You and Anakin will never find security again.

The atmosphere was thick with emotions that were strained by the abruptness of events. It was making it so much harder to breathe. To live with the truth of it.

All three years of the war are reduced to two moments; Anakin falling into Palpatine's manipulation, and Anakin choosing to run away with you.

You caught yourself slipping away. Tucked in a corner of your mind where you can feel safe.

The healer's oath replays in your mind, the cruelest reminder.

Blind to faults, blind to good. Serve to save, not to see.

As the jedi healer, you weren't allowed to deny patients. You wondered whether that played into role when you stomached all the horrible things Anakin did.  Serve to save, despite, despite, despite...

You landed in a remote place on your home planet of Hapes.

It was a secluded cabin that you used to go to when you were younger. Surrounded by a lake that stretches as far as your eyes can see. It was the first thing that came to mind when you set your ship on autopilot.

Anakin was quiet the entire time.

You, too, became paralyzed by the events that has unraveled.

For a few days, it remained like that.

Though the event has passed, your body can't quite regulate.

It still feels as though someone will find you. And take Anakin with them. You knew your hypervigilance was a consequence of your trauma, but knowing doesn't mean you can let the feeling go.

Even Anakin responds to mild stressors as if he was still in the war. He'd not let you off his sight the first few weeks.

You felt as though Anakin was trying to process everything in his mind. And you grew terrified of his growing silence. Knowing Anakin meant knowing his tendencies to vacillate violently. The reality of what he had done would set and it'd twist into something septic. An unending shame.

You were convinced that he'd have killed himself from it.

But then he'd stare at you deeply as if he was committing you to memory. He'd coddle your face in his palm. He'd hold your hand, hands that are capable of so much rage, and so much tenderness. He'd hold you tight against him in bed, the way he used to.

He can't quite communicate it through words yet, so he'd rely on his touch to let you know that he was still here. Your anxieties eased after. He needed to detangle it on his own. You'd be there whenever he is ready.

Obi-Wan Kenobi appears the next month.

It was through luck that you were the one to open the door.

You knew Obi-Wan would want Anakin to answer for the crimes he's committed.

You won't let him.

"What do you want?" You say cautiously. Stepping forward to the Jedi Master to stop him from entering your new home.

Obi-wan furrows his eyebrows at your action. He gazes at you for a moment before speaking up. "You know what he's done, [Name]"

"The Republic has fallen. The system that replaced it won't hold him to what he's done. It's the very reason for its existence, anyway"

Obi-Wan's eyebrows flashed hearing your words. It seemed as though you'd be the last person he'd expect to exhibit such... heartlessness.

"And what, do you intend to keep him here forever?"

You looked down, fiending an expression of indifference you learnt from Anakin.

"I'm more selfish than he is"

Obi-Wan sighs. There were no more Jedi Council to hold Anakin accountable. You wonder if Obi-Wan had gone looking for him out of the responsibility he felt he had. You could use that.

"If you have any love left for Anakin, You'll leave him with me" You persuaded.

Obi-Wan sharply looks at you. You knew he was being torn apart by his mind and heart.

The door swings, revealing Anakin who appears behind you.

Anakin's arm extends to put you behind him. Obi-Wan was caught, stricken by the sight of his apprentice. You held on to Anakin's forearm.

You held your breath.

Then, Obi-Wan opens his arm to hug Anakin.

Anakin froze, perhaps not expecting his Master to embrace him after...

He turns his head to look at you, then back to his Master. And he reluctantly wraps his arm around Obi-Wan.

You exhaled finally.

You saw Obi-Wan's glossy eyes as he pulled away. He may not forgive Anakin for all the things he's responsible for, but his love for him surpasses all the anger he has.

Gaining his master's acceptance, Anakin became recognizable once more.

However, Obi-Wan could not stay. Perhaps, he's grown sick of stomaching the love he had for Anakin. It was not an easy feeling to be fond of.

When Obi-Wan left, Anakin finally came to you.

It hauntingly paralleled the moment he broke down after he lost his mother. After he gave in to his rage. Only this time, he didn't hold the pose of defiance and came undone, weeping for what he'd done.

You held him and told him that what matters now is what he'll choose to do.

And in the months that come, Anakin has fought to deserve your forgiveness.

He wanted to earn your love.

As a healer, your experience with foraging natural medicine made you more equipped to build a sustainable life. In six months, you were able to make this house by the lake a place to call home.

But, Anakin is being dragged through time. He'd do his best to help, but you can feel his... silence. The weight of it, this was not the life he was groomed to have. He has always lived off the adrenaline. The absence of it makes him constantly feel as though he is at the other end of the high.

It'd worry you whenever he comes home late from a hunt. He's always been reckless, that much hasn't changed. He'd come home covered in tissue deep cuts, bruised muscles, and a dead-pan look in his eyes. It was a topic that you tried to communicate— and a topic Anakin would respond defensively to.

"It's nothing" He'd dismiss whilst you were dressing the wound.

You'd press the clean gauze over his skin, on the brink of anxiety. He'd wince and take the gauze from your hand.

And you'd stand up and leave, because your patience would have run out by then.

It upset you how he always stands on a cliff to wait for the winds to swoon him over because he won't jump, he won't make that decision himself.

Your breaths were shallow as you tried to calm down after yelling about how his passivity over danger was eating at you. You needed him to try. Because you can't save him on your own.

"I'm sorry" Anakin looks down, receding. " I just don't know how to do this" He admits, eyes wide, childlike, helpless.

And you thaw, breaths shallow as you fought to not cry from the anger.

"Anakin, if you don't..." You began, looking down at the ground as if the words would appear before you there. "if you don't want this anymore, you can go"

Because the entire year you have spent in this cabin, it felt like time has frozen. You hoped that in time, you and Anakin would find the courage to move past the war. Of course, it was futile, you can never take back what you've given to the effort.

Whatever is left of you and Anakin is all there is now. And sometimes, it feels like there is nothing. Just ghosts of who you once were. You weren't sure if being with you was making any difference at all.

You were selfish, but not enough to keep him as he wastes away. You'd let him go, even if it'd cripple you forever.

Anakin grabs both of your shoulders firmly, forcing you to look up to him.

"Why do you think I came with you?" Anakin's voice was stern. His eyes fixed, determined to imprint words to your heart.

You held on to his arm, swallowing your anguish. "I only meant that if I'm not doing you any good, you should—"

"And where would I go?" He interrupts, unrelenting.

"I don't know" You admitted. You're ruining him. You've done this to him. You should let him go.

His grip loosened, and his lips kept opening and closing as if he was eating up the words before letting it leave his mouth.

"—I'm trying, [Name]"

"I'm giving you my life, I don't have anything larger to give" His voice breaks, and his head dips. "I'm trying" he repeats.

You felt his tears warm against your clavicle. Your fingers tangling with his hair.

"I know, Ani" You coo gently. "We'll try together" You promised.

It was becoming clearer that he was alleviating his sins by trying to kill the entity that once controlled him. It was also becoming harder to see a monster when all you see is Anakin, the love you abandoned everything for.

Anakin, who was sold as a slave, and then freed, only to be chained to another lifelong servitude through the Jedi. Anakin, who was dropped in the middle of a war, and made responsible for a child whilst being a child himself.

The Jedi Order relied on his nature of winning, despite not agreeing with his tactics. He'd be patronized for his violence, which his life would soon be defined by. Anakin's worst action is murder, the same way his best action is murder. Because if he doesn't answer to the shots fired, he'd be the one receiving them.

He was never afforded any space to become anything else.

Except when he's with you.

Anakin can become cruel, the same way he is loving. Two truths can exist at the same time.

And with the months that flew by, you watched as Anakin continually chose to not let his darkness define him.

You were learning things about him that you couldn't have had during the war. The way he neatly keeps inventory of his tools. The intense focus in his eyes when he is concentrating. The way the wood creaks— the cadence of his steps. All committed to memory because no one else can know him the way you do.

He told you, you saved him. And you wept, unsure whether what you did was really an act of selflessness.

Living with him became easier. No more effort to try to gain his love. No approval, no admiration to attain. There is no role to play, no one to convince. Just, being. There was so much time, and the only thing that mattered was; how long do we have each other?

Most days, Anakin would carry his grief so well, that you'd forget it was even there. He'd work to minimize it, to live with it. However, when the dark comes, he has no control over his dreams. and the overwhelming shame and guilt seep.

It had been two years when you woke up abruptly to find the space beside you empty.

You grabbed your robe, the cold midnight air felt crisp against your skin. Finding Anakin was easy. He'd always wander towards the edge of the lake, staring at the moons.

"It's cold, Ani, come back to sleep" You urged, but Anakin's gaze was far away.

He has chopped some of his hair, and it looked the way it used to during the war. It startles you sometimes to remember how young he still was.

"I had a dream" He speaks softly, arms finding a way to snake around you so he'd press you against him. "It felt as real as you now" His gaze lands on you.

It terrified you to ask, but you did anyway.

"We had a child"

Oh.

You chuckled in surprise. Stepping back to process what he said. It just never seemed to occur to you, then. Though you have never dismissed the idea, it just felt like you were barely surviving to try to raise a child.

Anakin smiles when he realizes he made you flustered. "Good thing it was only a dream?"

You let out a breathless laugh, somehow relieved that Anakin was not seriously considering it.

"Yes," You weren't ready. You may never find it in yourself to ever be ready.

"We're not bringing a child now, not like this"

Anakin's expression melts, "Yes, the empire is growing stronger" His guilt resurfaces.

"I never imagined it to be like this for us," He thinks out loud,

"We have to make the best of what we have" You sigh.

"I've been thinking" Anakin begins, "maybe, there is still something that can be done"

You try steadying your breath, somehow bracing yourself for this moment; when he'll want to fight again.

It was everything he was made for. You knew that, you just didn't think it'd be in under a short period.

Something was screaming inside you. A fear, that you thought had gone when you ran away with Anakin. It was telling you that you were going to lose him. And you, selfishly, want to stop him. He can't... if he goes, he'll die. And you can't even begin to imagine what'll happen to you if he dies.

"How?" You asked despite yourself.

"Ahsoka mentioned something about a rebellion," He says, voice thick with something he hasn't had before. Hope.

"The galaxy needs changing" He steps forward.

You shook your head, overcome by the anxiety of it. "Anakin, I'm never going back"

He turns on his heel, eyes narrowed at your proclamation. "I didn't ask you to come back"

You tilt your head, "Of course, you weren't" Though you knew you were being unfair, just the idea of it was sending stress already.

Anakin's eyebrows knit. "I'm only thinking out loud, it's one thing to consider it but another to act on it" He defends.

Though, you know this is where it begins. And you were responding defensively because you knew where it would lead.

Anakin will forever feel as though he has to restore the galaxy to how it was before he helped destroyed it. It won't be long until he'd despise himself for choosing to stay here with you. Especially since it's been drilled into him that he's supposed to be the one to bring balance to the force.

Whether he loves you or lives in a divided ceaseless revolt against it, what he chooses to love is your fate.

His purpose or you. 

Going would give him his closure.

Going would anchor you to the hells of your biggest fear.

"Anakin, please don't go where I can't follow" Your voice broke, begging. It was selfish to want to keep him for the second time.

And you weren't sure whether your love would be enough for Anakin to stay.

Not when it only brought him here, a home by the lake, forever standing on thin ice that always threatened to break under.

You were living under the false pretense of security. All of this, the house, the lake, the isolation, are reminders that you and Anakin will never go back to normalcy, no matter how much you pretend.

A knife may dull, but its purpose remains to cut.

Anakin's expression softens and he presses his lips on the temples of your forehead.

You were slowly understanding that the entire galaxy's fate was carried inside Anakin Skywalker.

The chosen one.

Every decision he made was informed by that pressure. No matter how personal, it always builds to a path that he can't control, because it's already laid out for him.

Created by the force, to be used by the force.

So you can't find the heart to be angry when he left.

You decided it would be hopeless to try to stop him. Anakin has this view that everything in his life, he has to work to earn. To deserve.

Even this... freedom that you have.

He has to contribute to it, in this perverse grandiose action as to fight the Empire. So he can accept that you do indeed love him.

He has to seize this opportunity with Ahsoka. He is more autonomous of his power now. He is once again engaging in something that's risking his life. He can fulfill his destiny.

It didn't make it any less painful.

You had to inspire confidence in him, otherwise, he'd doubt. So, you pushed all your feelings away and smiled when you kissed him goodbye.

You never left the war. The two years you stole were only stalling the inevitable. Perhaps, two years was too generous.

"Bring him back, please" You took Ahsoka aside. Ahsoka nods uncommitedly. For, she won't promise what she can't deliver.

And once again, you have found yourself alone.

He swore he'd have done anything for you.

Just not this one.

His belief that he has no inherent right to life; and has to work to earn anything made you feel as though you were his... prize. A trophy. In which he'd fight for to retain but not value enough to take care of.

He should've stayed. It's good he left.

Because now that you have nothing, you're finally able to detangle how Anakin doesn't love you. Not in the way you thought. Anakin loves that he has you.

You have always put his wellness first, that now, when you are not so worried by walking carefully around his hurt, you are able to feel yours.

Perhaps, losing Anakin was good. You can finally put yourself first. Whilst he still seeks answers in the past

There is no going back to the way it was. You tried living 'normally' and it just became a bitter reminder that you are forever changed.

Acceptance of that and lending yourself a little more compassion might just be the beginning of your healing.

footnote

i'm obsessed with the writing style where authors strikes through the text ! it's such a smart way to imply that the character that's narrating is choosing not to allow those thoughts and so it looks like it's been scribbled out .

also, quoting ka applegate on relationships not lasting outside the war :

"wars don't end happily. not ever. often relationships that were central during war, dissolve during peace. some people who were brave and fearless in a war are unable to handle peace, feel disconnected and confused. "

[fourstarsoutofnine]

To get away.

Chapter one; out of the woods.

(Player is farore reincarnate au)

Part 2, part 3, part 3.5, part 4

A/n:(in the fashion Of that old disney blue-Ray commercial)here we goooooo! Please lmk what you think. Reader uses she/her pronouns per the poll winnings.

Warnings:feelings of dread. Talk of anxiety.

12:22 am. Swapping through the same four apps, you felt stuck in the dreaded reality you lived in. Sure, your life wasn’t bad by most means, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a looming, general sense of malaise and doom that hung over you like an ugly tapestry of unease. You hated this feeling with everything in you. It made you want to scream and run, despite not knowing what exactly it was you were running from. You supposed that was that old “fight or flight” reaction everyone talked about. You always figured that was reserved for extreme situations like a kidnapping or mugging or that sort of thing, not your usual run of the mill anxiety. Yet, here you sit with your thoughts and music playing in your ears to try to drown them out. And though the effort was valiant, it was no match for the ever-trumping anxiety and need to leave. You went to sleep that night figuring it was just another normal bad night. You prayed to who or whatever would hear for a way out. You had no idea you’d be answered.

You woke to the sun shining in your face and birds chirping awfully loud. It was odd, considering the sun was never this bright in your room and you could never hear the morning birds so clearly before. Then, something blocked the sun from reaching your face. When you opened your eyes and put your hand up to block the remainder of blinding sun from your vision, a boy faded into view. Bright blonde hair, blue shirt with a lobster, and a confused grin.

“You alright, lady???”

“What?” You respond, confused. You knew who this was. You figured it to be a dream.

“I asked if You’re Alright! We found you just laying here!” Who you knew to be the hero of the winds said and helped you sit up.

“No noticeable wounds, so that’s good.” A man knelt by you. His hair was roughly the same color, but a bit lighter. He had strange markings on his face, which you knew to be from the fierce deity mask. This was the hero of time. “Do you remember how you got here?”

“Anything you could tell us will help. Anything at all.” Another said. Pretty boy, tall in stature, slender, and what you thought to be the textbook definition of devilishly handsome. The hero of warriors, no doubt.

“I—uhm—“ you stuttered out dumbfoundedly, trying to process everything. You felt shellshocked and didn’t know what to do.

“Let’s back up away from her, she’s clearly overwhelmed…” a soft voice said, which was all too needed to your anxious ears. The hero of the skies pulled them back and you sighed, resting your elbows on your knees as the ends of your palms dug into your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself from this wild dream. This was crazy. Of course it was a welcome escape, these men were your heroes—a title they knew all too well and some carried like a burden—but they’d helped you in ways they could never know, and ways you could never tell because they weren’t real….so why are they standing in front of you, looking worried? You sighed deeply and opened your eyes. “I don’t know how I wound up here. At all… the last thing I remember is going to bed, and—then I woke up here… that’s it…”

“Strange… but oddly enough, not the strangest we’ve been through.” The hero of time helped you to your feet. “Well; looks like you’re along for the ride, stranger. What’s your name?”

“Y/n…”

“Y/n. Well, you’ll be safe with us. We’ve got ground to cover, so we should get back on track.” He led you back to the path. You were met with the sight of the other heroes of hyrule. They, however, were met with a sight that looked more like doe-eyed fear. Innocent and frightened.

The hero of twilight offered kind a kind and welcomed you into the group; as did the hero of wild, and hyrule. The hero of warriors looked at you with a smile, but it was easy to tell he was more trying to gauge your character. He was a captain, and knew all too well from the hero of the wild that often traitors to the crown disguise themselves as innocent travelers down on their luck. When he saw no sign of that he was quick to welcome you and check to see if you were alright. This, of course, left only the veteran and smith. The smith was kind, but a bit cautious of you. The veteran was cautious and indifferent. According to your story, it seemed like someone just picked you up at night and dropped you off here, which was a little sketchy if you asked him. Also filed under odd and sketchy was the marking over your hand. The triforce.

“Old man.” The veteran called. “I gotta talk to you.”

The old man looked at you, a silent ask if you were alright. Upon your offer of a nervous smile, he nodded and smiled back, walking over. You turned back to your quiet conversation between yourself, the traveler and the champion. They were asking you plenty questions on how you wound up asleep in the forest, each of which gave you no room to answer before another one arose.

“The mark on her hand.” The veteran pointed out.

“I noticed it too.”

“Is she a Zelda? She’s clearly not a Link. Not to mention, the mark is on her right and not her left hand.”

“Precisely. I don’t think she’s a Zelda, but there is something odd about this.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for anything off about it. It’d be good to tell the captain, too. He’s observant.”

“Right. I suppose we’ll talk again once we make camp tonight.” He nodded and went to the head of the group, saying something to the captain that you couldn’t hear, and waving a hand in the air that signaled the group to continue moving. This would be an interesting adventure, you determined. You couldn’t wait to see where it leads.

[ghost-1-y]

trust me - sanemi shinazugawa

Pairing: sanemi x afab!tsuguko!reader

!!PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE CONTINUING!!

TW: major character death (reader), no happy ending (hurt/no comfort), mentions & descriptions of gore & injury, brief thoughts of self-harm (Sanemi - briefly mentioned, doesn’t actually happen), consensual sex (Sanemi and reader are 18+), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, handjob, oral (m! and f! receiving), creampie, Sanemi is pussy drunk in this lmao; spanking (happens once), slight manhandling, praise kink, spitting kink(?) (Sanemi spits in readers mouth), (very) slight olfactophilia, brief mention of vomit (again, doesn’t actually happen), mention of scars (Sanemi and reader) MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI - I WILL BLOCK YOU

CW: fluff; general angst; arguments between Sanemi and reader; Sanemi is a bit of a meanie at times :/ (aka Sanemi being Sanemi); mentions of food/eating; descriptions of wound care; love confessions; Sanemi uses the following pet names for reader: “baby”, “pretty”, “beautiful”, and “sweetheart”

Word Count: ~6.2k

A/N: this is my first fic, so I hope that y’all enjoy it! I’m not gonna lie I was superrr nervous to post this lol so please be nice🥲🥲 I’ll probably do a fluffy comfort fic for Sanemi after this to make up for the pain lol; also wanted to let y’all know that this was half-inspired by the song “Fragile” by Laufey, so go give that a listen if you’d like!

Quiet. 

As the dewy drops of the morning mist came into contact with his bare hands, Sanemi noted the silence of the sunrise – one would believe that its light denoted respite, a time of peace – something beautiful to behold as its rays began to gently sweep across the grassy field. He could not yet hear the calls of the mourning dove, for it was too early for the birds to grace anyone’s ears with their softening sounds.

However, as Sanemi continued his way through the tall blades, his hands wet with the remnants of night, respite gave way to apprehension, and the misty air was filled with a sense of malaise.

For the mist that lowly hovered above the grass was red.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

One year ago.

“You can’t expect me to treat you differently from them.” Sanemi pointed his blade to the lower-ranked slayers on the sidelines of the training grounds, those who hadn’t passed out yet being completely keeled over or having nearly drowned themselves in water to stave off the summer heat. “If you want to handle stronger opponents, I need to ensure that you are trained well enough to do so.”

Having been at the point of near-exhaustion herself, Y/N could barely muster a reply. “I know, Shinazugawa-san,” she panted while looking up at him from her not-so-flattering position on the ground. “Why else do you think I’m here? ‘s not like I enjoy being trained half-to-death,” she replied sarcastically.

Sanemi’s glare met her. “You should consider yourself lucky that I was gracious enough to let you train under me. At the rate you’re going, I’d half expect you to move down a rank, rather than up one.” He walked towards her and, despite his cold nature, offered Y/N his scarred hand. “Get up. I’m not lettin’ you go until you can knock me down to my knees.”

A challenge she knew to be nearly impossible with the skill level she was currently at, Y/N wondered if her rank of Hinoto meant anything against the Wind Pillar himself. She took his roughened hand in hers and stood up, and, after a poor attempt at dusting the dirt off of her uniform, steeled herself once more for the upcoming attack from the man glaring across from her. 

Sanemi tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and started lunging toward her.

–––––

Y/N continued to train under Sanemi’s watch, each day somehow more grueling than the last. She woke up at the god-awful hours of the morning and trained until midnight. This repeated day in and day out for weeks, with seemingly nothing to show for it except a bunch of creative insults that she’d managed to add to her arsenal after receiving them from Sanemi himself.

“You’re not using your sword correctly,” he pointed out. It was always something, she thought – her stance was wrong, her breathing wasn’t efficient enough, and now she apparently couldn’t even hold her sword correctly.

By the time she looked up at Sanemi, frustrated with her apparent inadequacies, he was no longer in front of her, having walked around so that her back faced him. He placed his hand on her forearm, “just– move your arms here…good, and your hands should be like this–” he spoke softly into her ear as he adjusted her grip to what he deemed satisfactory. Y/N was thankful that Sanemi stood behind her as she felt an intense warmth flood across her cheeks. By the time he was finished, Y/N noted the lightest blush on the tips of his ears as he returned to his original spot and took his own offensive stance, clearly not intending nor wanting to address the familiarity of his previous actions. 

“Now you don’t have any excuses to have such a shitty attack pattern,” he quipped, before engaging her in battle once more.

As months passed, the Wind Pillar slowly transitioned from insults to providing Y/N with actual guidance, and she was slowly reminded of why exactly she requested to become his Tsuguko in the first place. One day, while she was taking her thirty-minute lunch break at the wooden chabudai inside of the Wind Pillar’s estate, Sanemi sat next to her and started to eat his own meal. He refused to look at her, but the words he uttered from his mouth sent relief through her veins.

“You’ve gotten stronger.”

Unsure of how to respond, as compliments were rare coming from the usually rather hostile Pillar, Y/N simply nodded and whispered a “thank you,” continuing to pick at her food. Eventually, she looked over at him and noticed that he was frowning at the wooden chabudai before him, an internal conflict seemingly battling out in his mind.

“I have a mission I’ve been assigned to, I’d like you to come with me.”

His words were quiet, almost hesitant.

“You want me to assist you?” she asked, mainly because she didn’t believe Sanemi had trusted her enough to bring her on a mission assigned to a Hashira, much less himself.

Sanemi nodded in response. “Lower-ranked slayers have been going missing in one of the nearby mountains,” he sighed. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have named them slayers in the first place if they’re stupid enough to get caught by some demon.” He paused, and then finally looked at her. “I think that you’re capable enough to help me should things get out of hand,” he added quietly.

A sense of warmth flooded through her, and she smiled at him, grateful that he had finally acknowledged the hard work she’d put into all of her training. “Thank you, Shinazugawa-san. I promise that I will do my best.”

Sanemi thought to himself that he would like to see more of that smile.

“Don’t think that just ‘cause I’ve seen you improve that it means I’m gonna let you take it easy from here on out,” he said as he stood up. “Also, if you get into trouble on this mission, I want you to call for me immediately. Don’t get yourself into some shit you can’t handle,” he added, and his gaze upon her suddenly hardened as the words left his mouth. “Let me deal with it if things get too difficult.”

With that, he left to head back towards the training grounds.

–––––

That night, Y/N followed closely behind as Sanemi hiked up the mountain, with the bitter cold becoming more apparent as patches of snow were slowly augmented by the tiny flakes falling around them. Every once in a while, they’d find some blood splatter or human entrails, with such carnage becoming more frequent as they continued their trek. 

Eventually, Sanemi stopped – Y/N had learned to trust his instinct when he sensed that something was off. Sanemi brushed his hand over the hilt of his sword and gripped it tightly, his muscles tensing with anticipation, which caused Y/N to echo his actions and grab her own sword, holding it so that she was prepared for any possible enemy attack.

Or so she thought.

A blast of icy wind came from her right, forcing Y/N to close her eyes lest her corneas were to freeze from the frigid temperature. Sanemi, however, immediately chased after the source – his speed something frightening to behold. After a futile attempt to follow him, Y/N found herself swarmed by fifteen demons, all of whom were nearly identical to each other, as they all possessed the same pale blue skin and white hair. After a few attacks, Y/N also noted that their blood demon art was the same: one that would allow them to manipulate freezing winds and ice however they pleased.

Y/N was able to hear Sanemi in the distance, easily decapitating what seemed to be a larger swarm than what she was presently dealing with. Just how many of them are there? Y/N thought as she made her way through twelve of the demons, decapitating each one until an attack managed to hit her mid-air – causing a sharp ice fragment to deeply slice open her upper thigh. Gritting through the pain, she finished off the final three demons that she’d been fighting before slowly limping toward a nearby tree to assess the damage of her wound. It seemed as though Sanemi’s battle was also over, as Y/N could hear nothing but the howling of the mountainous winds as he walked back over to where they both had split up.

Once Sanemi caught sight of her, his shoulders seemed to relax. However, such relief was temporary once he eyed her bleeding thigh, and immediately began rushing over to her, pulling out some spare gauze that he had stored on his person and a wave of anger that she couldn’t describe filling the violet hues of his eyes.

“What did I fuckin’ tell you? To stay back and let me handle it, yet you’re so stupid that you can’t even obey direct orders,” Sanemi spat at her as he started bandaging the deep laceration on her thigh, taking careful consideration of the pressure and tightness of the gauze wrap he was using. Each time she winced, he would look up from her injury, and his violet eyes would meet hers. However, there was no malice of the words he spewed at her within his expanded pupils.

Y/N sharply inhaled before responding. “I’m sorry! But you’re the one who went on ahead and left me with them! I had to–”

“No. You didn’t have to, you fuckin’ dumbass. That’s where you’re wrong – you didn’t have to put yourself in danger just because I was off dealing with something else. Fuckin’ think next time and maybe I wouldn’t have to be cleaning you up like this,” he lightly choked on the last few words, yet continued wrapping up her wound, hands gentle and considerate of her pain. Y/N huffed at his impossible reasoning and looked down at him with a hardened stare.

He looked into her eyes once more, his grip on her uninjured leg tightening. “I don’t- I can’t fuckin’ lose someone else,” he stated, a rare glimpse of vulnerability from inside his tortured heart. At that, Y/N dropped her stare and hesitantly placed her hand upon his tensed one.

“I’m sorry, Shinazugawa-san, I promise that next time will be different. I’ll get stronger, so you won’t have to go to such lengths for me.” She gave him a reassuring smile, and his hand relaxed as he continued his work on her wounded leg. With the sun still rising over the horizon, she couldn’t make out the brimming of tears on his waterline before he blinked them away.

It was a side of Sanemi that Y/N hadn’t seen before – but before she could indulge herself to begin examining every crevice of emotion that the Wind Pillar had put on display for her, his attitude changed once again to one of apparent indifference.

“Don’t apologize – just listen to me next time,” he stated as he finished wrapping up her leg. Once a couple of hours passed and the Kakushi had arrived to clean up the aftermath, he stood up and grabbed Y/N’s arm to pull her up from her sitting position. Sanemi then took the same arm and put it around his shoulder, allowing her to use him as a crutch as they both walked to the wagon brought by one of the Kakushi in the aftermath of the battle.

The ride to the Butterfly Mansion was mostly quiet. Sanemi, despite not being injured himself, decided to stay with Y/N as she slept on the floor of the wagon. The cold of the early morning seemed to be permeating Y/N’s skin as she shivered in her sleep. Always aware of his surroundings, Sanemi looked at her with concern and took off his haori, feeling slightly flushed as he placed it on top of her as a makeshift blanket, blaming the warmth of his cheeks on the cold morning air. He sat down next to her, crossing his arms and closing his eyes to alleviate some of his own fatigue.

It didn’t help that in his dreams, his body was keeping her warm instead.

–––––

Once Y/N had woken up, she first noted the sanitary scent of the patient room assigned to her. Having awoken from the gentle knock on the door, she looked to see Aoi entering with some gauze and antibiotics.

Sanemi was nowhere in sight.

“I’m glad you’re awake. I’m here to perform some general wound care for you. I’ll be changing your dressings, alright?” Aoi looked at her, and once she received a nod from Y/N, she proceeded to unwrap the layers of gauze and started to inspect the wound.

“There is some slight inflammation,” she observed as she lightly pressed against the sides of the laceration with her gloved hands, which exhibited some redness and swelling. “I’m going to be prescribing you some antibiotics in order to prevent any potential infections.” She started applying some antibiotic ointment directly to the wound, and Y/N winced at the stinging pain that it caused. Once satisfied, Aoi carefully rewrapped the wound with a new set of gauze. “Your antibiotics will need to be taken orally with food and water once a day. Make sure you complete the entire course that I prescribe so that you don’t face any further complications down the line.” 

All Y/N could do was nod silently, and once Aoi determined that she would follow directions, she left the room.

–––––

Despite wanting to thank him for helping her in the aftermath of the battle, Y/N had not seen Sanemi even once during her recovery process. She wondered if he had gone back to his estate, but it still struck her as odd that he didn’t at least come by to berate her for the lack of judgment she possessed in the midst of the fight.

Maybe he got it all out of his system when he was wrapping up my wound, she thought to herself.

During her stay as a patient, Aoi mentioned to Y/N that due to the cut slicing through the muscle of her leg, it could take weeks or even months to recover. Since Y/N had not yet mastered Total Concentration Breathing: Constant, Aoi explained that it may take longer to heal compared to if a Hashira had such an injury.

Y/N wondered if Sanemi no longer trusted her skills as a slayer.

She wondered if Sanemi ever had any trust in her at all. 

The very thought caused bile to rise in her throat. She wanted him to be proud of her, to trust her – just as she did with him.

Y/N slowly got up from her bed and walked outside to sit on the engawa of the Butterfly Mansion. The moon’s rise was slow, and the soft chirp of crickets could be heard from the nearby trees. Once sat, she admired the garden owned by the Insect Pillar herself – with beautiful azaleas and hydrangea plants shaping pathways throughout the grounds. Y/N closed her eyes and basked in the moonlight rays that shone upon the estate – that is, until her ears heard the softest creak of wood coming from behind her.

“Shinazugawa-san?” She softly whispered once she turned to see who it was, as though the peace of the night would be disturbed should she speak any louder.

Sanemi said nothing, but then moved quietly to sit down next to her – if Y/N hadn’t known any better, she would’ve believed that he was solely there just to admire the moonlit garden as well. His eyes appeared a soft, yet dark hue of indigo in the cool moonlight – they bore none of the usual aggression that they carried when around others.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” Y/N asked him quietly, gaze fixed upon him, and he nodded. 

“Would be prettier if it didn’t cause so much needless death.”

She couldn’t argue at all. He was right – and would be until demons had been eradicated off the face of the earth, but that didn’t stop her from wishing that things were different.

Sanemi sighed and finally looked at her, and his eyes screamed ‘loss’. 

He was fragile. He wasn’t the roughened-up, aggressive, insolent slayer that others saw him as. Rather, it was his scars that held him together by threads, and it was his heart that silently called out to her – to “hold me, please.”

And so she did.

Y/N slowly slid her arms around him and had them reach up towards his nape. The sigh he emitted came from his chest, and Sanemi’s grip tightened around her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His eyes closed and brows furrowed, focused on nothing but the gentle touch of her skin against his. His mouth was slightly parted, lips pressed softly near her collarbone as he breathed against her.

His touch was warm.

She wished to feel more of it, to let it utterly consume her until all that she could feel was him. 

Once he parted from her, Y/N looked into his eyes and felt the need to speak. “I- uh, I wanted to thank you for helping me with my wound after the battle,” she admitted softly. In response, his eyes hardened again and looked down at her bandaged leg.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied shortly before getting up. Soon after, Y/N found herself alone on the engawa once again, although the peaceful silence of the night had been replaced with a feeling of despondency that she couldn’t quite place.

–––––

By the time she recovered from her injury, it seemed as though Sanemi had done the impossible by making Y/N’s training even more difficult. Not a day went by when she wasn’t completely collapsed on the ground by sunset. It only took a few days before dark shadows under her eyes became visible, and her muscles ached.

Gone too was Sanemi’s softer side. Instead, it seemed as though their relationship was right back where it started, sans the fact that he seemed to slightly tense every single time he caught a glimpse of her scarred leg.

The sun had set, and Sanemi was yelling at Y/N to complete one more series of reps before retiring for the night. The problem, however, was that Y/N’s legs had become gelatinous and were shaking beyond her control, and despite all the willpower that she had sustained within her, it wasn’t enough to pick herself up off the ground.

“Are you really that fuckin’ weak that you can’t even stand up by yourself?” he spat. “You should’ve never become a slayer – this shit is too dangerous for people like you. All you will ever be is demon fodder. Fuckin’ give up and leave the corps if that’s how you’re going to treat the training I give you.” His insults were never-ending, and given how exhausted she was, it took everything within her to not cry at his words.

“I’m fucking trying, Shinazugawa-san!” she choked out. “What the hell did I do for you to treat me this way? Have I not done enough already?” With tears brimming in her eyes, she musters up the courage to ask the question she’s been wondering since that night on the battlefield.

“Do you not have any trust in me at all?” she cried.

Sanemi scoffed and glared at her. “You need to earn my trust, and until you’re able to complete the training I give you without collapsing to the ground like some low-ranked slayer, then you won’t have it.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped and she ignored the tightening sensation in her throat as she resolved to bite back at the cruel man before her.

“Bullshit,” she spat. “You thought I was capable enough to assist you on the last mission. Don’t lie by saying I’ve never earned your trust before.”

Sanemi rolled his eyes. “So what? Maybe I did trust you – before the mission. But you fucking broke it by getting hurt!” he seethed, eyes wide as he looked down at her. 

“Maybe if you were capable enough to not get yourself wounded during the fight, then I might’ve still had some trust in you,” he admitted. “You think that I’m just gonna trust someone who gets their leg nearly sliced off to be able to handle themselves?”

“Is that what this is all about? ‘Cause I got some stupid cut on my leg? You can’t be serious–”

“Shut the fuck up. You know damn well it wasn’t just a cut. What if you had gotten slashed somewhere else? What if it had been more severe? What if you–” he didn’t wish to complete that sentence, lest he spoke the thought into existence.

It was the first time she’d seen Sanemi with tears in his eyes.

“It would’ve been my fault, Y/N! My fucking fault if something happened to you! I already told you, I can’t fucking lose someone else. I’ve already lost so many people, and I–” he watched as Y/N stood up, despite the obvious exhaustion in her legs, and walked towards him. “I can’t lose you, too,” he confessed, his voice softer than the wind that gently breezed through her hair. A tear had found its way down his cheek – just over the scar that was bestowed upon him by his own mother. As if by instinct, Y/N wiped it away with the pad of her thumb, but she did not part from his face. Instead, she proceeded to trace her thumb over the jagged scar, and he surprisingly leaned into the touch of her palm against his cheek, his eyes frantically searching her own. She smiled at him, and his breath caught in his throat.

“You have me, Sanemi.”

The groan that he voiced was soft, yet guttural – as though it came from deep within his chest, and he placed his hands on either side of her face, his eyes looking at her with utmost adoration and care, and his lips brushed softly against hers, and Y/N’s eyes were nearly sent reeling back before he closed the gap.

The pleasurable gasp that she emitted caused him to smile into the kiss, his lips slightly chapped, but gentle and loving with how they caressed hers, as though she would shatter under the slightest touch, or that she was a goddess and he a sinner seeking repentance by worshiping her.

“Fuck…wanted to do this for so long,” he breathed against her and his kisses became more needy – something fully welcomed by Y/N as she wrapped her arms around him and her fingers found purchase in his unruly hair. When he parted from her lips, a string of saliva connected his mouth to hers, which only broke as he went back to kiss her with his then swollen lips. He groaned once more before picking her up and carrying her over his shoulder, causing Y/N to yelp in surprise.

“Not letting you go anywhere, baby,” Sanemi grinned and smacked Y/N’s ass as he took her to his estate’s bedroom, which prompted her to roll her eyes at his antics. Yet, she couldn’t help but smile as he gently placed her on his futon and kissed her once more. “Can’t fuckin’ get enough of you, pretty,” he stated before moving down to her neck, where he licked and sucked until he found her pulse point, at which point Y/N moaned softly. “That’s right…feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, knowing full well what her answer was even before she tried to nod her head.

“Sa- Sanemi…” she gasped, her hand cradling the back of his head as he left messy kisses up and down her neck.

“Sound so fuckin’ beautiful, keep saying my name like that, hm?” As he continued kissing her, his hands rose towards the top button of her uniform, a question of “Can I?” to which Y/N nodded. He unbuttoned her top, kissing down her chest and stomach until the clothing was fully removed. In return, Y/N helped remove the bindings that covered her breasts, letting them spill out in full view of Sanemi’s greedy irises. Sanemi wasted no time in latching his mouth to one of her tits, where he lavished her with his tongue whilst massaging and kneading the other with his roughened hand, rolling her nipple in between his fingers and playfully biting down on her breasts every so often solely to hear her whine.

“‘Nemi…need…need more please,” Y/N moaned and he chuckled. “Hm? What do you need, pretty?” Y/N only whined in response and he bit her breast again, causing her to jolt. “Need you to tell me what you want, beautiful,” he continued.

“Need your mouth…” she admitted, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh? Where do you need it?” he asked her before sucking her tit once more.

“Nngh… my– my pussy,” Y/N whined pathetically, to which Sanemi released his mouth from her breast with a lewd pop.

“Good girl,” he praised and started working towards her needy cunt, licking down her torso and leaving kisses and bites on her inner thighs. He took his time working towards her wet heat and ghosted his mouth over her panties, his hot breath permeating the cloth as she impatiently writhed underneath him. He selfishly inhaled her scent before pulling the garment to the side, and leaving a soft kiss against her core, leaving her to whimper when he pulled away to remove her panties, only for him to then lick a fat stripe up her slit. Sanemi moaned deeply and proceeded to pull Y/N towards him by her hips, ensuring that her sweetness was as close as possible to his greedy tongue.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned before proceeding to stuff his face full of her pussy once more. The tip of his nose nudged her swollen clit as he gathered her wetness into his mouth by licking into her tight hole and fucking her with his tongue, moaning against her pussy in the process. Y/N began bucking her hips in response, only for him to pin them down with one arm as he used his other hand to start fingering her after moving his mouth to suck on her clit. She moaned with abandon as he began curling his fingers inside of her heat, sucking voraciously on her swollen nub.

“F-Fuck, ‘Nemi! I- I’m gonna cum!” Y/N attempted to writhe underneath him, despite being held back by Sanemi’s arm pinning her down. Her admission only turned Sanemi more eager, causing him to rut against the mattress as he began quickening his fingers inside her and sucking harder on her clit. Y/N’s eyes rolled back and her mouth went agape, screaming and shaking uncontrollably as she came into his awaiting mouth. He licked up every drop that she gave him, using his fingers to coax more of her release onto his tongue, not wanting to waste any of her precious gift.

Y/N sat up and clambered onto him as soon as she came down from her orgasm, and kissed him deeply, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. “Wanna return the favor, ‘Nemi,” she whispered and he flushed red at the thought. “Yeah? Show me, pretty.” Standing up, he tilted her chin with one hand so that she was forced to look up at him from her knees. Using his other hand, he unbuckled his belt and removed it along with his hakama. His cock was thick, with pretty veins traveling all across it, making her nearly drool at the sight. Y/N brought one hand up and collected the precum from the tip of his cock with her thumb, before licking it off. Sanemi groaned, encouraging her to begin stroking his fat dick despite her hand being unable to fully reach around it. She took a curious first lick at his pretty, bulbous head, causing him to shudder, before wrapping her lips around it and sucking as she moved her hand along his thick length.

“Fuck, baby,” Sanemi groaned. Y/N moved her hand to fondle his balls and began taking on more of his length into her mouth, bobbing her head back and forth, a combination of saliva and precum coating his dick. “S-shit– you’re so good at that… fuck,” he groaned.

It took everything within Sanemi to not start fucking her throat at that moment – not wanting to hurt her as she pleasured him. He compromised by grabbing her hair and gently guiding her mouth along his cock, so that he could have some semblance of control over her movements and hence, his orgasm. Before he could cum, he removed her from his length and put his hand underneath her chin, tilting her head up towards his face – a wave of arousal shooting straight through his dick as he saw her swollen, spit-covered lips. “Open,” he commanded, and proceeded to spit into Y/N’s mouth before seeking her lips on his, demanding that she swallow. “Such a good girl for me, I’m gonna fill you up and make you feel perfect, baby,” he promised. 

Sanemi pushed her down onto the bed, spreading her legs apart with his. He stroked his cock a few times before lining it up with Y/N’s sopping pussy, selfishly rubbing it up and down her slick folds a few times. He looked into her eyes, seeing her smiling up at him before leaning down and giving a soft kiss to her lips. Y/N moaned softly — unable to wait any longer as she gently wrapped her fingers around his cock, pushing the tip into her tight cunt.

He slowly entered her heat, his shaft stretching open her spongy walls, and he let out a low moan. He lowered himself so that his chest was pressed up against her and his head was in the crook of her neck, and he took Y/N’s hands in his as he started to fuck slowly into her.

“Shit, you’re so perfect for me. You feel so good, baby,” Sanemi moaned and kissed her neck sweetly. Y/N whined as he slowly pulled out just to push his cock back in again – hitting the area that made her see stars. He chuckled, “your pussy just keeps sucking me back in, sweetheart – it’s like she doesn’t want me to leave.” Y/N responded by babbling incoherently, and he looked up at her only to see tears brimming her eyes from the pure pleasure he so graciously gave, and instinctively kissed them away. “Taking my cock so well, such a good girl,” he said before his mouth reached hers, tongue darting between her parted lips before caressing her tongue with his.

His thrusts started to become more desperate, nearly grinding into her – incidentally rubbing against her clit in the process. She moaned against his mouth, her kisses sloppy against his swollen lips. “So good, ‘Nemi…” she whimpered, allowing herself to get lost in the pleasure and heat that he was providing her. He choked on a moan as he continued to rut into her, the squelching sounds of her pussy driving him nearly insane, “gonna cum, pretty. Where– where do you want it?” he asked, surprised he even had the coherency to form words as his mind was half gone from pleasure.

“Inside,” she whined, and his eyes widened, the building tension in his gut rising. “Are you sure?” he asked, and she nodded, writhing underneath him. 

“Need it inside…please,” she begged him, and who was he to deny her? His thrusts became sloppier, and he let go of one of her hands to reach down and rub her clit. The pleasure was immense, and Y/N couldn’t think about anything but him as she clenched around his cock as her orgasm flooded through her body – which consequently brought Sanemi over the edge as well, as he all but exploded inside of her hot cunt, groaning deeply as his cum flooded into her womb in thick ropes – causing her to moan and babble incoherently. “Fuck! Fuck– Y/N, I fucking love you,” he confessed in his state of euphoria, and Y/N only fully grasped what he said once he had collapsed on top of her – having just enough energy to pull him up towards her lips to kiss him once more – his lips hot and wet and swollen as they pressed against hers. “I love you too, ‘Nemi. So much,” she confessed, and he looked at her, slightly embarrassed by his own impromptu confession, but beyond elated that she felt the same way. 

He slid off of her, his softening cock slipping out of her pussy and he reached his arms around her – wanting nothing more than to hold her close to him as they both lay there on his futon. She smiled lazily in his arms and he kissed her cheek softly. “Not gonna let you go, baby, I swear. I won’t let anything bad happen to you – not anymore,” he said as he gently brushed his rough fingers against her newly formed scar. 

“I know, ‘Nemi. I promise I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered softly, and he smiled, thinking that he’d finally found someone to share himself with – someone whom he could shatter into should he feel like breaking, someone who could piece him back together so he could remain strong for the sake of others.

“I know, I trust you.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Oh, how wrong he was.

He swore to himself that he was only parted from her for a second as his pace and heart quickened – traversing through the blood-slicked greenery. Sanemi was plagued by loss – his siblings, his mother, his first love – but the feeling that it would happen yet again never lessened the blow nor the curdling acidity that coursed through his gut. 

He frantically searched each corpse along the battlefield, hoping, praying, that he wouldn’t find her among them. Sanemi never considered himself religious – he would rather not believe in any god than believe that an almighty being could allow such devastation to course through his life – through others' lives. However, while mustering the waning strength of his muscles to keep him from collapsing, he called out to the universe – selfishly pleading with it to allow him to keep even a single shred of happiness within his life, swearing that he would give anything to ensure her safety, to secure her life as part of his own.

But the universe turned its back on him once again, as he saw a glimpse of her hair – but it wasn’t her hair. No, Sanemi knew that her hair shined in the morning sunlight, it was beautiful and soft as he would feel it between his fingers – it was never bloodied like it was now. 

As he rushed over to Y/N, he nearly puked upon setting his eyes on her. There was a deep gash that cut through her torso – one that couldn’t have been caused by anything but the claws of a demon. He could see her entrails spewing out of it, and as his eyes traveled up towards her face, it was obvious that he was far too late. Her eyes – the ones he loved to get lost in, were lifeless; her lips – the ones that were so soft and loving when he kissed her, were parted in what seemed to be remnants of fear from the last moments of her life.

Sanemi couldn’t take it – and, as though pushed by an invisible force, he was knocked down to his knees.

A wretched sob escaped him as he reached towards her, uncaring of the blood and gore that stained his clothing, and he held her close to him. He sobbed out her name, wishing this was some horrible trick – some fucked up nightmare that he was subjected to, but the longer Sanemi held Y/N in his arms, the more he realized that this was real and that he had broken his promise once again – the promise to protect those close to him.

He picked her up and carried her to a clearing away from the battlefield – where a sole willow tree stood, and resolved to bury her there. As he placed Y/N into the ground, Sanemi wished to carve her name amongst the many scars on his body, so that maybe the blood spilled in her honor would somehow tether his soul to hers, so that he may permanently have her in a way that life itself could not provide.

Hours passed, and he finally managed to stand up once more, his heart hardened once again, and it took everything within him to not look back as he walked away from her gravesite. And, despite not wishing to look upon her grave again, Sanemi committed himself to continue living and fighting in her memory as Y/N slowly returned to dust underneath the lone willow.

And so he did — until his very last breath.

[dbgdbw]

331.As For The Third,

셋째는

A large, pink stuffed rabbit with soft, curly fur lay nestled in Han Yoojin’s arms. Beside him, a sky-blue pony plushie, mane long and flowing, lay propped against Han Yoohyun. Squeezed between the two people was a fairly sizable spotted dog, as well.

Bak Yerim pushed her phone forward, angling it towards the two that were half-buried beneath the dolls. Taking great care to change the perspective this way and that, flipping through various filters, she went on to snap several pictures. But even as the sound of the shutter rang out(1), neither of the two showed any signs of waking.

“Chirpie-yah, go sit on top of Han Yoohyun’s head, would you.”

- 삐약.

“No–I didn’t mean ahjussi.” 

Chirpie, who had plopped down on top of Han Yoojin’s head, gently fluttered down to land on the remote control. Expertly manipulating its tiny feet, it stomped down on the power button with what appeared to be practiced ease. But as it began to flip through the channels, it was interrupted by Bak Yerim snatching the remote away, before promptly turning the TV back off. 삑, Chirpie let out a reproachful sound, turning to squint up at Bak Yerim.

“Nuh-uh. Ahjussi’s been telling you to reduce your TV screen time, hasn’t he.”

- 삐약!

“Go play with Velare instead, with your toys.”

- 삐약삐약!

The baby chick, who had been attempting to stage a protest, gave up and flew away. Peace was still quietly curled up at Han Yoojin’s feet, as he had been all this time. Bak Yerim, after spending a while simply looking at the two brothers laying next to each other in silence, got up at length and headed towards her personal bathroom. Atop of the sink adjacent to the shower room(2), a few cosmetic items–pristine, having only been taken out of their outer packaging–lay untouched. They had been from a batch of gifts that had been sent to her, likely in the hopes of generating PR, that she had elected to keep because the cases had appealed to her. 

Collecting two of the lipsticks, Bak Yerim picked up a few doll hair accessories and hair ties as well.

“I’d wanted to try something like this once~”

After the Dungeons had appeared, school field trips had become a relic of the past. After all–if a Dungeon Break were to occur while the children were off grounds, it would be difficult to be able to guarantee their safety, it was reasoned.(3) And though the climate had vastly improved as of late, there were many who still balked at the prospect of sending their children to commute to school at all, even under close supervision. Countless hakwons(4) had been forced to shutter their doors one after the other, lacking students to populate them. Though there were a few who had managed to emerge more successful than ever, too; through the installation of emergency shelters and the hiring on of low-ranked Hunters, by advertising ‘greater safety than leaving them on their lonesome at home.’

Bak Yerim gently floated up in the air, and headed back towards the living room. The brothers were still fast asleep, completely dead to the world around them. Their expressions held a great familiarity. Initially, it had been remarked upon that the two hardly seemed to resemble each other. There were a few inherited characteristics here and there that were pointed out as a reason blood doesn’t lie, but the atmosphere they exuded were too different.

A dispassionate S-rank Hunter of unmatched strength, who stood out above all others despite his young age, and the seemingly troubled, anxiety-ridden un-Awakened who brimmed over with malaise. When, on occasion, these two would happen to appear juxtaposed in the news cycles or on broadcasts, the general consensus was so even if you come from the same family, being an S-rank made you different, after all. 

But, nowadays–it was said more often, that the two resembled one another. Han Yoojin had found security, and Han Yoohyun had softened around the edges. The similar expression they donned as they smiled seemed truly reflective of brothers, after all.

So then, what about me. Unconsciously, Bak Yerim squished her own cheeks together with the palm of her hands. It was said that, once you lived together long enough, familiar traits would rub off on each other–even if you had begun as a complete ‘outsider’. She thought back to the Chuseok broadcast that had aired. Had she borne similarities to them, there? There had been a multitude of comments left that said they had resembled a family. That they ‘looked good together,’ that they ‘seemed to blend together seamlessly.’

Lightly shrugging her shoulders, Bak Yerim summoned a small droplet of water at the tip of her finger. Made to follow the movements of her extended finger, 휙, the water droplet swished through the air to splash against the side of Han Yoohyun’s face. Normally, even if he had been asleep, he would have woken to dismiss the drop of water before it could even reach his cheek; but right now, there hadn’t been so much as a twitch in response.

“Right, then–no chance of reprisal this time, eh.”

A bright grin on her face, Bak Yerim placed a frilly hairpin–layered with multiple ribbons, held together by a red cubic gem in the center–on lightly curled dark locks. Slanting it slightly to the right, she regarded her handiwork with a satisfied smile. 

All she had done was pin a hair clip on a sleeping person’s head. But that very person in question was Han Yoohyun. The only ones capable of placing a ribbon in his hair unscathed was either herself, or Ahjussi. That in itself was a great point of pride.

“Will he throw a hissy fit when he’s up, I wonder?”

Maybe she should prepare a reservoir of water in advance, just in case. He’d definitely detest it. But that would be it. The hair pin might go up in flames, but Bak Yerim would remain unharmed. Even if she were to play mischief like so, it wouldn’t result in their falling out, or going their separate ways. There wasn’t any pressure to walk on eggshells(5). Most likely, they would sit at the sofa and watch TV while eating dinner, as though nothing had happened. 

This time, taking off the cap to the lipstick, Bak Yerim set her sights on Han Yoojin. The base amount of affection she held for Han Yoojin greatly eclipsed the regard she held for Han Yoohyun, of course. It was to the point where there was hardly a reason to draw comparison. As much affection she had received, she returned in all in kind.

Only–within her relationship with Han Yoojin, there lurked an inevitable note of uncertainty. A love that had abruptly fallen into her lap from the skies one day, out of the blue. Because you’re an S-rank Awakened; such an explanation was hardly sufficient. Not to mention, Han Yoojin found himself constantly surrounded by exceptional individuals. Han Yoojin’s affections for Bak Yerim were unquestionable, true–but it hardly served as proof that he considered Bak Yerim to be an irreplaceable entity in his life.

And what had appeared so suddenly, might disappear as unceremoniously as well.

The one who had been able to put to rest that anxiety she had so resolutely tried to push away, had been none other than Han Yoohyun. 

Han Yoohyun had disliked Bak Yerim. Since his Hyung held affection for her. And yet, Han Yoohyun had accepted Bak Yerim. Because she held affection his Hyung. Han Yoohyun had come acknowledge Bak Yerim. As she had proved herself to hold the ability to protect his Hyung.

It may have been a relationship wrought entirely with Han Yoojin as its core, but such a thing only instilled in Bak Yerim a greater measure of security and comfort. Han Yoohyun, who had devoted his entire being to Han Yoojin, was scrupulous about everything relating to him as a result. And someone who was so punctilious as he was, had permitted Bak Yerim to stand by his Hyung’s side.

“Would this color be a better choice?”

Bak Yerim carefully considered the lipstick colors in turn. Even if it was simply for a prank, she wanted to choose the color that suited him best while she was at it, after all.

Han Yoohyun would most definitely fixate on his Hyung’s lips before he would even notice the clip in his own hair, besides. And he might gripe about it, but he wouldn’t push Bak Yerim away as a result of it. Since his trust in her was great enough that he would entrust not only Han Yoojin’s safety to her, but his own as well.

As for Bak Yerim, when it came to Han Yoohyun–she, too. She would be able to say as much, without any hesitation. That they were comrades who held the greatest amount of faith in the other. Including Peace, the three of them held the same objective, and so moved with their hearts as one. 

To protect Han Yoojin; to preserve the life they shared together at present. If Han Yoojin were at stake, if it were in order to keep him safe, all three of them would readily leave the other two behind without a single glance back, if necessary. And thus, they three were compatriots united in that aspect. 

With a solidarity that surpassed even that of biological family, Bak Yerim was able to find peace. She knew very well that no one would ever come between the brothers, or to hold precedence above the other to them. On occasion, she would even wonder if it was alright for her to intrude in their space the way she had done, so entwined were they with each other.

But Bak Yerim’s place, her position, was assured–and her world was rapidly widening further. Because there was a steadfast home to which she could return, she was able to venture out without fear. Part of the reason she had been so keen to go on the trip to Japan, without a host of worries holding her back, was because she’d had that sense of security reassuring her.

“I think it turned out well! Don’t you think, Peace-yah.”

Peace, peering up at Han Yoojin’s face with a questioning air, cocked his head to the side. After a brief deliberation, Bak Yerim left and returned with a bottle of nail polish, once more. Uncurling Han Yoojin’s right hand, using a translucent pastel pink that held a slight pearlescent sheen, she painted his nails with great care and concentration. 

Having proceeded to paint a set of Han Yoohyun’s nails as well, she looked at the hands laying side-by-side; and then, she painted the nails on one of her hands as well.

“Peace, d’you want your nails painted too? Here, put your paw up here.”

Peace, after a slight moment of hesitation, held out one of his front paws. A brush settled on one of the curved claws that extended outwards. She momentarily considered whether it was something that was alright to use on an animal–but well, since he was an S-rank monster with a far greater constitution than any human, it didn’t seem like it would harm him.

“It’s the same color as Ahjussi’s.”

- 크흥.

“Then–now, for the most important part.”

The marker-ing(6). Fighting to push down the instinctive tug of the corners her lips, Bak Yerim solemnly uncapped the lid of the thick felt-tip marker.

“What should I write for him. For starters, it should be ‘Hyungcon’ on his forehead. No, wait, he might like that too much.”

He might even go strolling around with it proudly displayed, actually. There was a fairly good chance of that happening, when it came to Han Yoohyun. Then, what should she write instead. What was something that might piss off Han Yoohyun. As she was contemplating, suddenly.

- Chirp! Bad lizard!

All of a sudden, a blue bird appeared in a flurry of angry squawking. And immediately after, Irin materialized on top of Han Yoojin’s shoulder and began to shout back.

- Go away!

- Chirp! Ch–irp!

Flapping furiously, Eunhae dive-bombed at the crimson lizard and bit down hard on his tail. Whipping his body around, Irin attempted to snap back at Eunhae, lunging at the other. In a tangle of limbs, the two tumbled down onto Han Yoojin’s lap.

“...and what’re the two of you doing?”

- It started things first!

- Ch–irp! Lizard bad!

“Don’t fight, don’t fight. Why’re these kids suddenly doing this?”

Bak Yerim attempted to calm the two down, despite being out of the loop. After a lengthy period of huffing and puffing, both Eunhae and Irin returned to their respective owners. And then, not long after.

“Hyung!”

Han Yoohyun’s eyes snapped open, and Han Yoojin woke, too. But unlike Han Yoohyun, who hastily pushed himself up, Han Yoojin lost consciousness once again, nearly as soon as he’d roused. Startled, Bak Yerim called out to Han Yoojin.

“Ahjussi? Ahjussi! What’s wrong!”

- 끄우응!

“Go and fetch the emergency kit. ..his lips–lipstick?”

Han Yoohyun spoke, quickly taking stock of Han Yoojin’s condition. Peace fretted from where he was, restless, and Chirpie and Velare drew closer as well. Bak Yerim, who had immediately jumped to retrieve the emergency kit even in her flustered state, began to question him. 

“What’s going on? What happened in there!”

“Overexertion.”

“Huh?”

“Aside from me–some entities stronger than ourselves broke in, and.. Hyung, hyung! Wake up for a bit, you need to disable your poison resistance.”

Opening the emergency kit to take out a syringe filled with an antipyretic shot, Han Yoohyun continued speaking.

“‘He’ mentioned that he might be weakened for about a day or so.”

“A day? Will ahjussi be alright?”

“For the time being. We were instructed to avoid potions or healers, and to admit him to an ordinary hospital for now.” 

Han Yoohyun administered the shot to Han Yoojin. It was a specialized antipyretic, that was formulated with ingredients that would be unaffected by poison resistance; but as a result, it possessed reduced efficacy as well. Bak Yerim, who had been dazedly observing the proceedings, suddenly snapped to attention and whipped out her cellphone.

“An ‘ordinary hospital’–well. But even then, wouldn’t a designated Hunter-use hospital be the better option? I’ll give the Seseung Guild Leader a call.”

“The Seseung Guild Leader?”

Preoccupied though he was with waking Han Yoojin, Han Yoohyun asked skeptically.

“Bak Yerim–you have his contact information?”

“For emergency use. He asked me to reach out, if something bad happened to ahjussi. In any case, Seseung General Hospital would be safe, right.”

I’m calling, then, said Bak Yerim, and pressed the call button. Soon after, the person on the other side of the line picked up.

“Seseung Guild Leader-nim, sir!”

[ What might the matter be, Little Miss. ] 

“What d’you think, sir. Ahjussi needs to be admitted to a hospital! But we’re not allowed to use healers or potions on him.”

After a brief period of silence, a long sigh faintly floated over from the receiver. 

[ I shall appoint a helicopter to serve as transport, so do ready yourselves to meet it from the rooftop garden. The details, I shall gather from the hospital. ]

“Yes sir, thank you kindly, sir. Han Yoohyun, let’s get a move-on!”

Han Yoohyun gathered his hyung into his arms. The fever reducer seemed to have taken effect; Han Yoojin’s eyes sluggishly opened.

“Yoohyun, -ah. Yerimie…….”

“Ahjussi! I’m here, sir!”

“Hyung, your poison resistance!”

“It’s nothing too bad, so don’t fret.”

“I think not worrying will be pretty hard, but I’ll try not to go overboard with it, sir. You’re the one who shouldn’t be fretting, ahjussi.”

Giving a small nod, Han Yoojin turned off his poison resistance and fell unconscious once more. Peace, Chirpie, and Velare all trailed behind as the two exited their home. Bak Yerim scooped up Chirpie and Velare into her arms.

“He wouldn’t actually be in dire straits, would he?”

“...don’t know.”

“What d’you mean you don’t know!”

“There was a Transcendent there I hadn’t met before. I’m not certain whether he can be trusted.”

Han Yoohyun’s expression soured faintly. The ‘Young Chaos.’ It seemed as though Han Yoojin had already come to trust in him a fair bit, but Han Yoohyun had his reservations. Were he in need of aid, he would take it if proffered; but it didn’t mean that he found him trustworthy. Rather, wariness took precedence.

Someone who was capable of snatching Hyung away with nary a moment’s notice. And in addition, Han Yoojin’s decision to forego the offer of safety only served to increase his own sense of guilt, and feelings of aversion towards the Young Chaos.

“...did something weird go and attach itself to ahjussi again?”

“...yeah.”

There wasn’t a need for further discussion. The two breathed a long sigh in unison. Arriving at the rooftop garden, the two waited for the promised helicopter to appear; Han Yoohyun turned to fix Bak Yerim with a faintly reproachful look.

“Bak Yerim, you being in possession of the Seseung Guild Leader's personal number.”

“I told you, it was just for emergency use, for ahjussi’s sake. Since ahjussi gets himself into hot water frequently, and you, Han Yoohyun, aren’t inclined to keep a line of communications open with people you don’t trust. Only official channels. I have Section Chief Song-nim’s, too. And Hyuna unnie’s as well, of course.”

Do you think I’m like you, Han Yoohyun, Bak Yerim said tartly, looking at her phone screen.

“Do I need to show you my contact list?”

“Unnecessary.”

“Honestly, who other than me would have the patience to deal with this obstinate Guild Leader-nim. Bak Yerim, you really are an angel among men.”

“All I need is hyung.”

“Yes sir, of course sir. I think it’s been permanently etched into my eardrums by now. Should I write it across your forehead for you? Frankly, you should just go ahead and get it tattooed. How’s ahjussi’s condition looking?”

“His fever’s gone down somewhat.”

Just then, the helicopter arrived. The crew that disembarked from the helicopter that landed on the rooftop took a look at Han Yoohyun and startled momentarily, taken aback. Upon realizing where their gazes had been drawn to–ah, Bak Yerim quickly shot out a hand to snatch away the hair pin that was clipped onto Han Yoohyun’s hair. Crack, the hair pin crumpled into an unrecognizable shape inside Bak Yerim’s fist. 

“...what was that.”

“Nothing, it’s nothing at all. Just something that was caught in your hair–did you not notice?”

Shooting her a knowing look that said he’d known very well, but had simply elected to ignore it, Han Yoohyun began to walk away. And soon, the helicopter took off into the air.

- - - - - (1) Phone shutter sound law

Travelers who are going to South Korea, Beaware of Illegal cameras on the floor of Loos at “Myeong-dong station”

(2) In Korea the entire bathroom is used for showering

(3) We had a 민방위 drill today.

(4) Seoul schools face closures, mergers as enrollment plummets / Korea's elementary to high school student number to drop below 5 mil. in 2026 / The subway is full of children, today / More than 160 schools have no new students amid record-low birthrate

(5) 눈치 볼 필요도 없다. 

(6) 매직 = ‘magic’ as in ‘magic marker’

yoojin -> yerimie | informal casual

yerimie -> yoojin | informal polite

yerimie ↔ yoohyunie | impolite casual

yerimie -> sung hyunjae | formal polite

sung hyunjae -> yerimie | formal casual

i have a footnote in some ch abt how bak yerim's choice of address for yoojin deliberately has a 'keeping at arm's length' sense of distance built into it because it typically indicates non-family members, reminiscent of how yoojin and shj choose to speak to each other (e.g. like son-in-law with father-in-law, hence the prevalence on age gap/sugar daddy tropes when you read kr hjyj fics). i'll link it if i ever come across it again ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

han yoohyun excerpts

+ (Q&A)

Q) does water have a ‘fate’ that follows with its attribute too? i became curious after reading in the afterword that yerimie had the potential to grow to become akin to ‘pure’ water A) as fire is not a ‘characteristic’ compatible with living beings, initially, there were no corresponding ‘races’(species) that ‘embodied’ it; and even when they had emerged, they were considered exceedingly rare. however, though they don’t present nearly to the extent that it does in ‘fire’, the other attributes have ‘traits’ characteristic of themselves as well. ‘water’, while capable of  being ‘vast(open)’(넓게 퍼지며) and ‘enveloping(enfolding)’ many within its embrace (감싸 안지만), simultaneously ‘crushes(pressurizes)’(내리누르기) as well. and the more powerful the water attribute, the greater the instinct to dominate(subjugate)(지배적인 성향) becomes. in addition, as they accumulate more strength, there are cases where they become agitated when confined to more enclosed spaces. there’s a high likelihood that a more grown bak yerim will look to move towards wider pastures^^

+ (Q&A)

Q) yerimie’s initial-stage optimized Skill, ‘White Corpse’–what aspect or characteristic of yerimie was the Skill a manifestation of? A) it was a combination of bak yerim’s own original attributes and the memories of the past that she clung onto–where her parents were still alive–instead of the present, that gave rise to the mentioned outcome. because the bak yerim who existed pre-regression had already made the decision to stand alone by the time she had Awakened at an older age, she never ended up manifesting a Skill similar to the ‘White Corpse’.

+ (Q&A)

Q) did yerimie want to be a Hunter even before awakening, or did she have a different future occupation in mind? A) most teenagers long to turn out to be an A-rank or higher Awakened^^ when bak yerim discussed Hunter-related matters with her peers, she would make mention of wanting to Awaken so I can become emancipated~. only, as becoming said A-rank or higher Hunter held odds equivalent to winning the lottery, it wasn’t ever a serious ‘future dream job’ in her mind. in bak yerim’s case, she was less concerned with a ‘dream job’, than she was preoccupied with her desire to escape from her living situation at home.

[moon-mage]

SNIFFLES ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Summary: Vil realizes he's falling ill to the common cold and can't girlboss his way out of it. Luckily, Rook and Epel are there to care for him but naturally they have to be dramatic about it too.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Rated: SFW / T+ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Characters: Vil Schoenheit | Rook Hunt | Epel Felmier ๋๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tags: Sickfic, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, RookVil can be interpreted as platonic or romantic, Soft Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt Being Rook Hunt, Pomefiore being A FAMILY, Vil Schoenheit-centric, Epel and Rook are the only ones allowed to dance on Vil's nerves, if anyone else tries it they will be destroyed ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Warnings: None ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ A/N: Finally got some courage to post some writing. This is actually based off the time I got real sick in college. Mix that with my normal feelings toward Vil Schoenheit and you get this self-indulgent fic! You can read this as platonic or romantic with Rook and Vil. This is a two parter and Epel comes in the next part. Please enjoy ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ Wordcount: 1667 | AO3 | YOU ARE HERE | Part II | Part III (TBA)

๋࣭ ⭑⚝

The morning had started off as any other. Vil had completed his morning ritual with time to spare. The run he had with Jack was fulfilling, his protein shake was extra satisfying, and he was even impressed at how symmetrical his eye makeup was today. If anything, today seemed to be going pretty strong and Vil was content with this.

It was the end of the week and Vil had nothing particularly planned for the upcoming weekend. The last thing Pomefiore’s housewarden was going to do was laze around when given rare and precious freetime. So he was going to find a way to utilize that time to be efficient. The dorm WAS in need of a good cleaning…and he was sure no one was going to be absent this weekend. He was going to run that idea by Rook during lunch but he was most certain his vice housewarden would agree with the plan.

Currently, Vil was in study hall getting a head start on next week’s lesson. The blond had sat in his usual corner tucked away from unwanted attention. With his water bottle full, his mechanical pencils filled, his highlighters organized, his airpods in and playing his favorite concentration ASMR, and his space free of extra clutter…he was ready to rock this.

About an hour went by when Vil realized something was off.

Was the AC broken or something? It was unusually cold in the library today. Vil felt a slight shiver as he buttoned up his uniform blazer. He reached for his water bottle and realized…he was incredibly thirsty. He sipped through the straw at the cold water while convincing himself that the reason why he was chilled. He then realized that no matter how much he drank, he felt strangely unsatisfied. His throat felt tight and achy, no matter how much cold water he consumed.

Vil found himself just sitting there staring at his textbook after a while. The sudden malaise became distracting to the point he couldn’t focus properly. The slight shiver was turning into an ache that wracked up his back. The blazer doing nothing to help…not even his gloves provided much warmth to his hands.

Being a firm believer in knowing his body, Vil takes off his gloves and places them on the table. He let out a slight sigh and relaxed his posture, allowing his body to go on auto so he could have a better idea of what could be happening right now. The model notices that he starts to shiver much more intensely than he thought he would. The ache in his back intensifies, his mouth is incredibly dry despite having downed most of his water, and he just generally feels weak. He lets out a gasp in shock when he realizes his teeth are even chattering a bit.

“That’s enough of that.” Vil mutters to himself quickly as he straightens back up, reigning in control of his body with ease. He knew it would be a matter of time before he wouldn’t be able to hide his symptoms and the thought made him uneasy. Vil HATED being sick…being sick meant he had to rest. Resting excessively meant a lack of productivity. Forcing himself to work through illness was foolish and the housewarden scolded anyone else who tried to do such…

The only times Vil found being sick to not be the worst thing on the planet were the times he and Rook had fallen ill from saying out in the cold during one of their in depth conversations. That just meant they’d be stuck in the infirmary together the next day continuing the conversation slowly while slipping in and out of consciousness until they were forced back to their dorms after the school day.

Though that hasn’t happened since Rook joined Pomefiore.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝

It’s lunch time as Vil steps outside to head for the cafeteria. The sun shines bright in the sky. It’s supposed to be a hot day today…but Vil felt absolutely chilled to the bone at this point. The ache in his back seemed to make its home right in between his shoulder blades and now he felt fatigued from simply walking from the library to outside.

“Roi du poison~”

Vil stops in his tracks when he hears the familiar ring of Rook’s voice calling him from behind. Vil let out a sigh…there was no way Rook wasn’t going to notice. The hunter notices EVERYTHING about Vil. Though Vil was sure he couldn’t have looked that noticeably ill this quickly…Rook would be able to tell with his supernatural ability to just notice the slightest change in anyone or anything from the last time he had seen them.

“Rook.” Vil turns to face Rook as he approaches. The hunter stops when he gets close enough to take a good look at Vil. His green eyes widening in surprise.

“Oh, Vil!” Rook steps close to take a closer look at his queen. He tuts and shakes his head, his blond bob moving with him dramatically. “My poor, poor Vil. You are falling ill, are you not?”

“It would seem so-ow.” Vil deadpans as Rook gently smacks the back of his un-gloved hand against Vil’s forehead. Any other time Vil would scold Rook for putting his hand on his face..but frankly he didn’t have the energy and he understood the sentiment behind it….even if Vil knew checking temperatures this way was rather inaccurate and outdated. “You done?”

“Mon dieu! Are you not…hot?” Rook asks Vil concerned as he feels the heat radiating off Vil’s forehead. His eyes wonder down to Vil’s uniform and he raises his eyebrows when he notices Vil’s blazer buttoned up and his arms crossed over his chest.

“Quite the opposite…and it is hot outside Rook. That is a poor way to check my temperature.” Vil says nonchalantly as he reaches up to pull Rook’s hand off his forehead.

Rook’s hand adjusts to take Vil’s gently and he squeezes it. He gives the housewarden a look of sincere concern.

“Allow me to escort you to the infirmary so it can be accurately checked, s'il vous plaît?”

Vil gave Rook that annoyed frown when he truly didn’t want to do something…but Vil knew that eventually he was going to run out of steam and he’d rather not be caught lacking during class in front of everyone when he can just quietly slip into the infirmary.

“Fine. Take me away.” Vil sighs in defeat while Rook smiles in delight to be able to assist his queen. He keeps a hold of Vil’s hand and escorts him with almost a pep in his step to the infirmary…Vil walking beside him much less enthusiastically.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝

“Sevens, we picked the worst time.” Vil mutters annoyed as he sits beside Rook in the waiting area of the infirmary. It was rather crowded today with students. Most of them were waiting to get their medications for the lunch hour. Some of them were genuinely under the weather. A few were probably just trying to get out of afternoon tests.

“At least we are in the perfect place were you collapse out of sheer exhaustion, oui?” Rook asks cutely as he turns from a random magazine he found on the table and smiles brightly to Vil.

Vil gives him a death glare and even scowls a bit. This does not phase the hunter in the slightest.

“Rook, I am not DYING. I wouldn’t suddenly just collapse from having a cold.” Vil’s voice is hushed but still more dramatic than he meant to be.

“Ah, but your condition is not improving. You are already losing your composure ever so slightly.” Rook says in an almost sing-song voice, pointing out Vil’s slightly more dramatized demeanor. This was an indication to the hunter that Vil was becoming so unwell he couldn’t keep his polished demeanor up as he usually did when his hunter teased him so merrily.

“I’m leaving.” Vil threatened with narrowed eyes.

“Non. You must stay and be assessed by the practitioner. I promise I will be kinder to you since you are in such a state, my Roi du Poison.” Rook sets the magazine down and takes off his blazer.

“What are y-” Vil pauses when Rook places his blazer over Vil like a blanket. Vil blushes slightly at the warmth of the blazer over him. He was still chilled to the bone but Rook’s blazer provided such a warm and security that it calmed him down considerably.

“Rest. I will wake you when they call for you.” Rook’s eyes and voice softened as he guided Vil to rest his head on his shoulder. “No one will bother you. I will keep you safe.”

Any other time, Vil would insist that he needed no protection and that he wasn’t going to sleep in a waiting room where he would be susceptible to possible vultures waiting to take come candids of him so off guard….but this time he didn’t.

Vil nods slowly and rests his head on Rook’s shoulder, pulling the hunter’s blazer up cover some of his face before he closes his eyes. He let his body relax, shielded by the blazer. He really was tired wasn’t he? And achy…and cold…now his mind was a bit hazy. With a tired sigh, he snuggles closer to Rook and allows himself to drift to sleep.

Rook smiles warmly at the sight of Vil falling to sleep so quickly on him. The hunter casually picks his magazine up again but not before looking around the infirmary. His green eyes individually scanning every person in the waiting room as he wore an overly polite smile…he was very much warning everyone to NOT try it. Anyone who was watching the two quickly looked away and some people even hurried out of their seats and left the infirmary entirely.

Yep, no one was going to bother his sweetly sick sleeping queen.

[seat-safety-switch]

If you are not a stick-shift-having type of person, you may be unfamiliar with the term “money shift.” This is when you accidentally shift down instead of up when really going for it, and spin the engine to the fucking moon as a result of trying to force it into a shorter ratio. They generally don’t like that, engines, which is why you then spend money. Hence the name.

There’s a lot of reasons why you might shift down instead of up. My favourite is accidentally knocking the shifter sideways while leaving third gear and going for fourth, so you end up putting it in second. That makes a tremendous sound, and no matter how fast you get back on the clutch, the damage has been done.

Now, it’s not the end of the world. In fact, many internal combustion engines love a little over-revving, or so I tell myself. It helps stretch the rods and clear that last little bit of gunk at the top of the bore. Really, it’s beneficial. On my own beloved coterie of shit-box vehicles, I have a tractor engine that was mostly assembled by drug-addicted narcoleptic pseudo-cavemen, and once in awhile its valves need a good floating to keep it from getting too complacent. At the sky-high, race-motor speeds of nearly three thousand of your Earth revolutions-per-minute.

Despite being fifty years old with enough mileage to go leak on the moon instead of my driveway, my slant six iron-block wonder can take a pounding or two when I really need to (including forgetting to shift, because I’m busy trying to hold the door shut or the floorpan on with my right hand.) I wouldn’t attempt it on any engine that you intend to win a race with, or need to get to work the next day on. Hell, it’s possible I’ve terminally damaged this engine, and just can’t notice the loss of power over its general malaise and single-carb agonizing.

Overall, I think the term is somewhat misapplied in my case. Even if I had grenaded this woebegone slant six, there’s a whole yard full of them behind my house that I can chuck in rather than spend money. Hell, I won’t even go get new oil for it. My neighbour threw out a perfectly good kitchen strainer the other day after the fire, and that’s a fine enough filter to get the big chunks of glitter out of the old 10W30 as I pour it into the new engine.

[chronically-persistent]

ME/CFS AWARENESS MONTH

Hello and happy May! As of today, it's officially ME/CFS Awareness Month, so I have compiled some resources to spread in the hopes of informing and bringing attention to this disease.

What is ME/CFS?

ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome) is a complex and debilitating systemic disease that varies in severity and presentation between patients. Some common symptoms are fatigue, sleep problems, widespread pain, difficulties in thinking and memory, and PEM. PEM (post-exertional malaise) is a hallmark of this illness, defined as a worsening of symptoms after mental, physical or emotional exertion that can last from days to even weeks.

Some other symptoms include: gastrointestinal problems, dizziness, difficulty concentrating, changes in mood, headaches, sore throat, skin rashes, musculoskeletal pain and heart palpitations. Science is still unsure how ME/CFS affects the body, but in many patients it appears after an infection with a virus.

There are no tests for ME/CFS as of May 2024, and the only method of diagnosis is a process of exclusion. As such, ME/CFS is critically underdiagnosed and many suffer without knowing. People with this disease are often recipients of medical gas lighting and negligence, with the average diagnosis taking around 1-5 years.

There is no cure, and there are limited treatments, most aiming to address individuals symptoms or comorbidities. Despite the misinformation still spread around, exercise is not a recommended treatment and can cause great harm to ME/CFS patients.

How Can You Help?

There are many organizations working toward awareness and quality of life for ME/CFS patients, and I'll list some of them below. This is not an exhaustive list, but be aware that there are many web sites that spread misinformation and harmful statements: any that talk about a cure or exercise therapy are generally ones to avoid.

If you can, please take a look at the information the listed sites provide and share their knowledge in whatever ways possible. I'll also include some resources for ME/CFS patients, and I encourage allies to look as well.

I hope you have a wonderful May, and to all fellow ME/CFS sufferers, know that you are not alone. We can do this.

(Also, please let me know if there are other sites you recommend, or if there are any personal experiences you would like to share. Treat this as an open invitation to share your stories if you are comfortable.)

Links;

[veronicaphoenix]

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: slight angst, but basically best friends' fluff, Japanese folklore. | Word count: 1.4k | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

Months were passing by, some quicker than others, and my condition worsened at times, particularly when I found myself without any updates from Lia for more than a couple of days. Despite my attempts to convince myself otherwise —ignoring Grandma’s speculations and theories— there was an undeniable correlation. Whenever Lia was around, I couldn’t deny that I felt much better. The persistent cough subsided, the fever abated, and the general malaise faded, if only temporarily.

A week before Thanksgiving, I awoke to a text from Lia, and we exchanged messages for about ten minutes before she went offline.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang and when I opened the door, there she was, all fresh and lovely while I was still in my pjs and trying to adjust my eyes to the bright light of the day.

Jesse and Jolly were absent until December first, so I was alone in the house with my music and my coughed-up flowers. Mitch was also on tour with the band he worked for, which possibly explained Lia’s unexpected visit, a radiant smile on her face as she conveyed that she was there to make sure I didn’t die.

“Very funny,” I mumbled as I let her in.

She pecked my cheek and headed towards the kitchen, her jasmine scented perfume leaving a trail from the door to wherever she went. She asked if I had already had my breakfast. I hadn’t.

“Perfect,” she replied, cheerful. “I brought some things from that bakery that Jolly loves so much. You can send him a picture and make him a little jealous.”

“That looks too much for breakfast,” I said, frowning at the three bags full of foil containers and little brown packagings she was depositing on the kitchen island.

“I also brought lunch,” she said while taking off her coat. “I know it’s early, but it’s been a while since we treated ourselves and I know you probably haven’t been cooking much if you were sick, so…”

She looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes. So, what could I say?

Her gaze swept over the clean surfaces of the kitchen. Everything was cleaner than usual. Jolly wasn’t one to spend much time cleaning, even after years of sharing a living space and countless arguments about keeping the dirty dishes in the dishwasher instead of leaving them in the sink.

“But we should prepare something healthy for dinner, if you’re feeling ok, of course.”

“I’m okay,” I replied, peering into the containers she’d brought. Besides from a crazy number of pastries and sandwiches, Chinese. She definitely knew how to spoil me.

When I said that, my tone unintentionally carried a nuance I hadn’t meant to express. I was fine, really, happy to have her home, especially with Mitch miles away and unable to keep her away from me. Lia, however, must have sensed something else and had other thoughts racing through her pretty head.

After devouring breakfast and spending a while together in the studio, working on the production of a couple new songs, we had lunch, and straight after cleaning up and sorting out the recycling, we settled on the sofa, our knees lightly brushing. I pulled a coin from my pocket, flipping it to decide between horror movies or fantasy. Lia chuckles as my choice emerged victorious. Retrieving the remote from the coffee table, I scrolled through the new fantasy releases on AppleTV.

Focused on removing the subtitles from The Green Knight, I felt Lia’s intense gaze fixed on me. She had been staring for at least two long minutes.

“What?” I inquired. “Do I have something on my face?” I lightly touched the side of my face.

“No,” she replied, suppressing a giggle. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I missed your birthday this year.”

Ah, so this was the internal struggle she’d been battling herself for since arriving. It was obvious because of the way she’d been behaving; something was gnawing at her, likely guilt. Lia had never missed any of my birthdays since we first became friends, except the year I turned eleven. She’d been bedridden with a severe cold. Even then, she had fought to come, but Cristina forbade her to leave the house. Probably one of the only good things she ever did for her daughter.

Though I wasn’t sure if her intentions had been for her daughter to get better or to just keep her from enjoying other kids’ company.

This year marked the second time Lia had missed my birthday. I pretended not to care, but I had gone to bed drunker than usual, and I couldn’t lie to myself; deep down, I couldn’t deny that it stung not having her there, making me laugh and getting constant hugs and cheerful compliments as we moved around the house to the rhythm of music playing through the speakers. The worst part had been that she wasn’t there because she was with her boyfriend.

Frowning, I reassured her, “You don’t have to apologize for that.” I genuinely didn’t blame her. We hadn’t made any pact to never miss each other’s birthday, after all, and Lia was building a life beyond the cocoon of our childhood and friendship. She had every right to do so. “You know I don’t really like celebrating it, anyway. The guys came home, and we just,” I shrugged, “got drunk. You didn’t miss anything.”

She hummed in response, appearing dissatisfied with my answer. Grabbing a folded blanket from the pile on the sectional, she covered her legs, removing her UGG boots and casually kicking them away with her feet.

I wanted to ask her then about her drinking habits. I wasn’t spending that much time with her anymore and I didn’t know how she was doing; if it was getting worse or if she was trying to keep it down. She didn’t look like she was in the right mood to discuss that that day, and the movie started before I gathered the courage to start the conversation. I decided it was best to avoid it for the day and I let the topic slide away.

Midway through the movie, Lia got up to prepare some afternoon tea. When she returned, she nestled beside me, ensuring her arm and shoulder pressed against mine as she warmed her hands around the steaming mug.

Fifteen minutes before the movie’s end, her phone buzzed, and her expression dimmed upon seeing Mitch’s name and number on the screen of her iPhone.

“Can you pause it for a sec? I need to get this.”

“Sure,” I said.

She excused herself outside, sliding the balcony door almost closed. I took the chance to go to the kitchen and fetch a bag of chips. On my return back to the sofa, I inadvertently overheard Lia’s muffled conversation through the glass, a gentle breeze coming in from the cold temperature outside.

“Yeah, of course. No, I’m just out with some friends. Yeah, we might be late. I will call you when I’m in bed.”

I wasn’t sure if she called him or not that night, but what I did know what that she stayed the night with me. We set up the pullout sofa in the studio and I borrowed her one of my t-shirts. We cooked dinner together and had breakfast outside the next morning.

There was a comforting familiarity in falling back into the routine we once had when we lived together. Silly domestic activities, such as preparing a meal together, passing each other things in the kitchen, one washing, the other drying up, and then letting ourselves fall in the sofa and settling comfortable with our skin touching as if it were the most natural thing between best friends.

By the end of the movie we chose to watch at night, Lia’s head rested on my shoulder, and her hand lay peacefully on my knee under the blanket. A pang of desire surged within me as the credits started rolling and she looked up at me with sleeping eyes, batting her eyelashes. I couldn’t ignore how fucking gorgeous she was. When she rubbed her eyes, I saw my eight-year-old best friend, sitting cross-legged in my grandparent’s spare mattress in my childhood bedroom, the first time she stayed the night.

We exchanged a few comments about the two movies we had watched that day, Lia annoying me with her persistent admiration for Dev Patel’s features and the way his brown eyes sparkled in that one scene and some other bullshit. She laughed at my expression and kissed me goodnight before she called it a night.

I stayed in the living room, gazing at the empty hallway, absorbed in the memory of her sleepy walk towards the bathroom. I pondered why she had lied to Mitch, why she hadn’t told him that she was with me. I hoped that it wouldn’t lead to trouble. I cherished these moments with her and would give anything to enjoy them forever, but not at the cost of jeopardizing her well-being.

[flutterbyfairy]

i've been collecting resources and studies about myalgic encephalomyelitis for upcoming doctors appointments, and since there's a lot of misinformation about ME out there i thought i'd make a post with links and information that might be helpful for other ME patients, or just generally educational!

for anyone who doesn't know, myalgic encephalomyelitis is a debilitating multi system chronic illness. it's most characteristic symptom is post exertional malaise/symptom exacerbation (meaning symptoms getting significantly worse after exertion with prolonged recovery periods - see the diagnostic criteria linked below for more explanation). it has previously been called chronic fatigue syndrome, a name associated with claims of it being a psychosomatic condition rather than a medical one despite evidence to the contrary (here's a page with some information about the history of ME, and see the pathology section further down for evidence of ME being a physical disease). ME is also often comorbid with conditions like POTS (or other forms of orthostatic intolerance and dysautonomia), MCAS, and Small Fibre Neuropathy, and it's not uncommon for people who have long covid to develop ME. but yea! here's some links to resources i've gathered.

general resources/overviews:

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome Myalgic Encephalomyelitis Primer For Clinical Practitioners 2014 Edition

Diagnosis and Management of Myalgic Encephalomyelitis - ME Action

Initiating Care of a Patient With Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (ME/CFS)

Medical considerations when treating urgently ill patients with underlying myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS)

Caring for the Patient with Severe or Very Severe Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

Three Cases of Severe ME/CFS in Adults

diagnostics:

Myalgic Encephalomyelitis: International Consensus Criteria <- just the criteria

Myalgic encephalomyelitis: International Consensus Criteria <- criteria with explanation of how and why it was developed

TESTING RECOMMENDATIONS FOR SUSPECTED ME/CFS US ME/CFS Clinician Coalition

there are multiple ME severity scales, and exact definitions of what constitutes mild/moderate/severe/very severe vary a bit, but here is one: M.E. Disability Scale, another one is the ME/CFS Disability Rating Scale from ME Association, however the pdf on their website costs so i also have a pdf that i made with the text

pathology:

Brainstem volume changes in myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome and long COVID patients

Decreased oxygen extraction during cardiopulmonary exercise test in patients with chronic fatigue syndrome

Developing a blood cell-based diagnostic test for myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome using peripheral blood mononuclear cells

Human Herpesvirus-6 Reactivation, Mitochondrial Fragmentation, and the Coordination of Antiviral and Metabolic Phenotypes in Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

Mitochondrial complex activity in permeabilised cells of chronic fatigue syndrome patients using two cell types

Muscle sodium content in patients with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

Redox imbalance links COVID-19 and myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome

The use of oxygen as a possible screening biomarker for the diagnosis of chronic fatigue

Tissue specific signature of HHV-6 infection in ME/CFS

treatment (both helpful and harmful):

ME/CFS TREATMENT RECOMMENDATIONS US ME/CFS Clinician Coalition

Low-dose naltrexone in the treatment of myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/ CFS)

Potential Therapeutic Benefit of Low Dose Naltrexone in Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome: Role of Transient Receptor Potential Melastatin 3 Ion Channels in Pathophysiology and Treatment

Back to the Future? Immunoglobulin Therapy for Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

Evidence Against Exercise for people with PEM/PESE in Long COVID and ME/CFS

PACE trial claims for recovery in myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome – true or false? It’s time for an independent review of the methodology and results

Treatment harms to patients with ME/CFS

[palin-tropos]

this post from @weepylucifer went places and now we’re going to talk about Steban in a depressive mood sticking his head in the Swallow some more because a divine power cursed him to be made of the same stuff as Harry Du Bois as well as Kras Mazov and now he’s self destructing with deliberate amnesia :C 

I feel like it’s not always obvious what triggers the depression, it’s a general malaise, the world is Not Right and he cannot fix it alone. He spends too much time in his own head, reading account of young revolutionaries who died before they finished their journals. All that haunts him. 

And Ulixes, guided by an extremely agitated shrike-ghost following him around, has just found out that Steban is cooking his brain cells in the void? He’s never been so freaked out in his life. 

Unfortunately those friendly ghosts that have been hanging around them all the time are, despite being ideologically against the Pale, coming from the Pale in their own way. So there’s always been a delicate balance.

Maybe Uli finds Steban and he’s seriously debilitated, a little too much exposure to raw entropy, and he needs some immediate care. Some kind of detox, although what could possibly help detox from un-matter? Plasm, Uli thinks. That’s got to be the answer. It’s so hard to feel revolutionary fervor when your beloved comrade is trying to put holes in his brain. 

There’s one thing that comes to mind is music. When people all sing in one voice... there’s nothing like it, is there? But he’s just one man; even so, he holds Steban in his lap and quietly sings old revolutionary songs to him, like lullabies.