#fatigue files

[plexippusangel]

Just broke a glass jar in my bathroom and then immediately spilled a travel mug on my table and I think I need to go to the doctor about my coordination

[animalpetcel]

Path of Life Ramblings (Story Spoilers below)

mentally I compare Mylnar and Ulpianus a lot. They're both the 1 dude of previously all female groups (the Nearls and the Abyssal Hunters) and both hold the title of being basically the Eldest and one of the strongest of the group were a lot of the overarching lore comes from.

But, I dislike Mylnar. Mainly bc of how mean he is to Blemishine in her debut event and I kinda always hated how he felt like he wanted to drag everyone else into his permanent pity party (his voicelines making him out to be a complete Eeyore didn't help either). I'm guessing that he gets better in his own event (bc I still found him annoying in Near Light), but it's taking me a while to sit down and read it bc I still hold a grudge for how he treated Blemi (who is one of my fav characters) And what I heard from people who play CN during Path of Life's original announcement made me worried that I would fine Ulpianus either boring, or as irritating as Mylnar.

But that wasn't the case! Despite Ulpianus' withdrawn and similar stick up his ass attitude, it was easier to see that he like, cares about the other Hunters and other characters like Underflow & Jordi even when he's still refusing to actually team up with anyone else! I was actually really concerned about him by the end, bc what he's doing is incredibly dangerous and he doesn't even have someone to help him/witness the info he's about to gain if he loses himself to the seaborn. So I'm excited to see what happens when the other AH finally catch up to him, whether it be to help or capture him, or both. And maybe he also needs a lecture about how wonderful working with a team can be instead of wanting to carry everything himself.

I do have to say that it's also, kinda weird that Path of Life is when he's playable? Like, it ends with him vanishing to gain the knowledge that the Seaborn/Matus has on the past of the Aegir/The Firstborn, the danger of him maybe losing himself the same way Martus did and the other AH vowing to find him and bring him in for like, an actual explanation of everything. But now he's just...on the landship...still completely lucid....with an epilogue of his experiences being in his files...kinda working with the other AH now but not really

It feels kinda anti-climatic? Honestly it felt kinda weird how the narrative kept kinda asking us to doubt if he was still in the right mind when he never did or said anything for us to really doubt him besides like, refusing to work with others or explain more than what he viewed as the bare minimum. Also I kinda wanted him to like, actually have a moment where he accepts the other AH's help and officially joins them under Gladiia's command.... Tho it also kinda feels like Ulpianus was basically the only person they could have had as a 6* this event. The rest of the AH already released and Jordi & Irene are too early in their developments still to get alters. Lucilla's screentime would be too criminally low given what the story is trying to accomplish as well. I guess...maybe Underflow could have worked as the 6*? But I'm not super certain. And then it feels too early for Gladiia's moms as well.

But hey I'm glad I don't hate him. Now my next wish is that the next AH event finally lets Andreana and Iridescence join the fray. I kinda feel like Aegir would be interested in the church of the deep creating a half-abyssal, given their own difficulties with the procedure. (Also I just want Andreana to be more present in AH stuff....please HG...)

[whump-my-dear-watson]

!! mulder on scully's lap !! an event I will never get over

WHUMPTOBER 2024 NO. 29 "FATIGUE"

[pochapal]

beatrice murderlaugh haha.mp3 my beloved..............

[fffrost]

I want to make art but sadly I am employed.

[bkyngw]

white boy wasted

[sualne]

Question why does law have uh skin discoloration....? In the modern au?

it's permanent scarring from Amber Lead Syndrome! in the au i want to explore stuff like disability and chronic illness, he's got nerve damage in the discolorated skin, his hair also got white patches but he dyes it to make it less obvious he's got ALS because of the everything with flevance.

[racke7]

It's more than an hour past my bedtime but I FUCKING DID IT!

[mercymaker]

do you ever have those moments when you want turn yourself on and off real quick. like reset the router?

[savage-rhi]

The X-files opening credits and theme song happened to me.

[breadcrab]

This fuckass rabbit's voice performance is doing so much for this game

[plexippusangel]

It feels like I can’t catch my breath and I’m trying to determine whether it’s psychological, atmospheric, chronic fatigue related, or just bc of how I’m lying down. Fun.

[emrys-rusts]

explodes myself DONT EVER DRAW WITHOUT WARM UPS WE'VE TALKED ABOUT THIS

[itsamarlfox]

I forgot to vote on the Scully Mulder autism poll and I'm too tired to look for it but my official vote is they're both autistic because all of my blorbos are autistic thank you sorry I don't make the rules

[liesonthefloordramatically]

Everybody knows that a breakup Is better when there’s someone to hate but You were my favourite way to stay up, and I'd say that still

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 1

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; dom/sub elements; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Some warnings only apply to future parts!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

Simon remembers telling Price to ‘piss off with that shite’ when the latter had approached him with the brass’ announcement of granting the Lieutenant the rare permission to become the handler of an emotional support hybrid.

There aren’t many officers on base who are allowed to have one, and Simon knows why that is. In his opinion, the whole handler/hybrid deal has all the negative connotations of a toxic and borderline abusive relationship, and Simon simply doesn’t want to be part of that.

Did anyone of those fuckers ever bother to read his file? He bloody well doubts it.

He does respect the official handlers and trainers of the military K9’s on base, though. Whatever bond they share was forged and solidified in battle and goes way beyond that odd and shallow power play that happens between some officers and their so-called “pets”.

So, Simon said no to the offer, firmly and several times at that. He doesn’t care for the bloody permission, no matter how rare it is, no matter how fellow soldiers who’d caught rumour about it had blatantly stated their envy about the possibility of gaining a hybrid pet themselves. Truthfully, Simon becomes sick to his stomach whenever one of the other officers and NCO’s talk about wanting to own a pretty pleasure puppy; something dumb and docile to have fun and unwind with in their time off duty.

Fucking hell. No, Simon doesn’t want to be part of that, let alone be responsible of some freakish hybrid mutt.

Weeks pass, both thoughts and arguments about hybrids and handlers are pushed back and filed away in some nook inside Simon’s mind as he falls back into his daily grind and familiar routine; running drills, paperwork, field trainings, preparing for missions, more paperwork.

Until one fateful day in January.

The UK weather has been more terrible lately; icy rain and howling winds beating down on base while Simon was trying to keep the rookies in line at the shooting range. By the end of the day, his fatigues were drenched and clinging to his broad frame while the chill was seeping through his pale skin, settling into his bones; making his limbs heavy and turning them stiff as if he’d carried a rucksack full of boulders on his back for a week straight.

The moment Simon arrives at the front door to his flat on base, though, the hairs at the back of his neck bristle immediately. The hallway is empty, but–

Something isn’t right. He can practically sense that someone was here, perhaps even inside his place in the worst case.

Halting in his measured steps while his breathing levels out to that eerie shallowness he’s adapted to on missions, his ears perk up under his skull balaclava as he listens for any odd noises coming from inside. Unable to pick up anything unusual, Simon still chooses to rather be safe than sorry as he reaches for his pistol in the holster strapped to his right thigh.

Simon manages to open the front door without any noise before he slips inside effortlessly, living up to his name as a ghost as he stalks through his flat on high alert; checking the small storage room before sneaking down the short, dark hallway leading up to his open living room. He can bloody sense that something is different, that someone has tampered with his safe space; he can smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, sweat, and tangy cologne even through his damp balaclava.

The sight that greets him on his old, tattered couch when he eventually flips on the light switch, is unlike anything he expected and Simon’s whole body tenses, eyes widening comically as if he’s met face to face by a firing squad.

But it’s just you, a bloody dog hybrid, curled up on his couch like you belong there–which you don’t.

And Simon slowly lowers his pistol, watches your fluffy white ears appear from under your hair as they perk up before you lift your head, like pristine cotton balls popping open in the sunlight; your body uncurling and stretching slowly while you squint against the bright yellow drop-light.

“What the bloody… fuck,” Simon breathes, chest deflating with a deep sigh as he puts his pistol back into his holster, securing it once more. Dark eyes flicker around the room before he catches a large black suitcase next to what looks like a gift basket.

Simon approaches the basket the way he would a bomb threat while his vigilant eyes keep shifting towards you as if you could attack him any moment, although you’re clearly still waking up, all discombobulated and sleep-drunk.

When Simon catches a clear view at the assortment of goodies and the black folder tucked between them inside the basket, his cold heart stutters and his blood freezes in his veins. At the sight of the pale pink collar with its matching leash, the vein in his temple throbs with a mixture of fury and revulsion.

The sound of your soft, sickly-sweet voice chirping out a greeting nearly makes his wretched soul leave his body. “Hi… Hello.”

Simon takes a step back, needing a protective wall at his back and as much space between himself and you as possible as he tries to assess the situation.

“How the fuck did you get inside my flat?” Simon mutters under his breath, dark eyes widening when he realizes the thumping in his ears doesn’t match his rapid heartbeat but belongs to your fluffy white tail gently wagging against the soft leather of his couch; just as fluffy and white as your ears, like freshly made cotton candy.

“I was brought here and told to wait for my new handler,” you answer as your head tilts to the side curiously, gazing up at the large man with bright doe-eyes. “Are you Simon?”

Simon’s narrowed eyes widen instantly again at the sound of your voice uttering his name so sweetly, so... casually. It makes him sick to his stomach, and he swallows back the sour taste in his mouth as it fills with saliva.

“Who the fuck brought you ‘ere?”

He needs a name, so he knows who to beat to a pulp before he grabs the first poor bastard who crosses his path next.

“Uhm–oh!” Your small, triangle-shaped ears perk up, and the giggle you let out makes Simon grimace underneath his mask. “They had silly names for humans,” you tell him, still giggling softly to yourself before adding: “Gaz and Soap.”

Simon huffs in exasperation and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, it explains the “special orders” his bloody Sergeants had gotten from Price today; the reason he couldn’t attend today’s training session. And suddenly, it all clicks into place.

“You’re all wet, Simon,” you remark about his appearance; sweet voice laced with a concern so genuine that is has his spine tense and his stomach churn with aversion. “Are you not cold?”

He wants to bark at you to stop calling him by his name, to stop trying to appeal to him just because your bloody stupid nature tells you to, to stop imprinting on your so called “new handler” just because someone told you that you belong to him now. He wants you out of his flat and out of his life before anything terrible and out of his control can take root and blossom behind his ribcage.

“Get up,” he snaps at you before his thoughts can spiral any further and he almost, almost feels bad when you flinch in your seat, ducking your head submissively while your ears flatten against your head. “I’m taking you back. You’re not staying here, lass.”

“W-What?” Your face drops, your fluffy tail stops wagging; eyes glossing over as you begin to tremble and shrink on the spot. The sound of your soft whine only angers Simon more, because it tugs on his heartstring, makes his protective instincts flare.

“You heard me. Get up and grab your fuckin’ suitcase. ’m taking you back to wherever you came from.”

When Simon glances back at you, something mean and violent lodges itself into his chest cavity; twisting and squeezing his rotten heart as soon as he sees the devastated look on your face; ears drooping and shoulders slouching in defeat while another soft whine vibrates in your chest.

“Okay,” you answer eventually, snivelling when fat tear breaches your lower lash line and runs down your supple cheek as you untuck your legs from under yourself to move off the couch. “Okay…”

There’s a shrill ringing in his ears when Simon’s mouth seems to move on its own, making a decision for him. “Wait. Stay–Stay right where you bloody are.”

And you immediately do as you’re told, like the obedient pup you obviously are, settling back and perking up again as you blink dumbly at the brutish man with bright, big eyes and an expectant look that makes Simon groan internally before he reaches into one of his many pockets to retrieve his old smartphone.

He mutters and curses under his breath as the cracked screen lights up, and it doesn’t take long for him to find his Captain’s name in his short contact list. Simon taps the screen with his gloved thumb to call the man, ready to argue tooth and nail to have you picked up by from his flat again, so he doesn’t have to deal with it.

Simon’s jaw is clenched tightly while his sharp gaze keeps flickering back to you, still not quite believing you’re not some stress-induced hallucination, or nightmare.

It takes two rings before Price picks up.

“Ghost–“

Simon inhales deeply. “Price–“

“Getting acquainted with your new companion, son? She’s quite the sweetheart. Easy on the eyes, too, judging by what the lads told me.”

His chest deflates, air rushing from his lungs in a long exhale. That comment alone is enough to make him even more furious. “I don’t want her. Take her back to wherever she came from, Captain.”

There’s a beat of tense silence before Price speaks up again, and Simon can hear the squeak of the old office chair as the other man leans back in it.

“Did you read her file yet?”

“No, should I?” Simon counters gruffly, feeling his patience grow thinner by the second.

“Aye, son, I suggest you should.”

“Gimme the short version, Price. I’m this close to handing her over to the next lucky bloke who passes by my fuckin’ flat.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Price says decisively on the other; his gruff voice way too calm for Simon’s liking. “She’s a rescue, Lieutenant. Got rescued from one of those terrible puppy mills.”

That makes Simon shut up as his eyes flicker over to you; softening somewhat when his eyes lock with yours. You keep watching him with the slightest pout, waiting for orders or for him to finally send you away. He’s still considering it, though the revelation of your background makes him hesitate for some odd reason. Empathy.

“Simon?”

Simon squeezes the phone harder in his grip; hard enough he thinks he might break it once and for all. “You better find a new handler for her, Captain.” He bites out through clenched teeth. “It’s not gonna be me.”

Price sighs. “Alright.” There is another pause and Simon can hear it when Price scratches his coarse beard in contemplation before he speaks up again. “Just keep an eye on her for the night, aye? I’ll make the necessary arrangement to have her transferred to someone else.”

“Good. She can stay for one night. One. Night.” Simon growls before hanging up.

The soft sound of your tail thumping against the couch catches his attention again and when he looks back at you, you’re practically beaming at him.

“Fuckin’ hell…”