#function at all sometimes. and whats worse is that even then even with the amount of checking i do i am still a master of fucking up the lil

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia,

I just wanted to say you are an inspiration to me. I'm in my twenties and also struggling with an insane amount of health issues with new ones constantly popping up, which makes me feel like I will never be able to do anything with my life. Except maybe for writing, because I can do that in my bed and I love escaping into fictional worlds.

I don't know much about your life except what you share in the author's notes, but knowing that you're living life out there and writing these amazing stories despite all your health issues gives me hope. Unfortunately I live in the US, so it's easy to fall into a spiral of doom, but maybe I can be like you one day. The choices you make every day to keep pushing forward, keep doing things that make you happy, is what makes me believe that it's possible for me to keep going, too.

Hiya anon,

Health issues suck, don't they? I started my Crappy Pokemon Collection of Chronic Health Issues in my teens but I remember I really started to get concerned in my 20s when it just kept happening. And kept happening. I think there's a sadness/grief and depression and anger that comes with that too, and a fear.

For what it's worth, science comes up with new medications all the time, new discoveries, new breakthroughs. I have started medications that have helped some issues I've had for 25 years, thinking they'd just progressively get worse. And to be fair, some of my issues do progressively get worse, and I do have new chronic illnesses or chronic or stupid health things come up fairly frequently. And as I'm sure you know, maintenance and surveillance and chasing this shit up is its own job and labour that is extremely thankless.

But outside of that, there is a great radical activism in simply being kind to yourself, loving yourself, trying hard not to see yourself as wrong in the world, as still deserving to take up your space, no matter how much that changes over time.

I have loved ones in my life who spend most of their time in their bed (and otherwise in a wheelchair), all in their 40s/50s, all who have rich lives filled with loved ones. That doesn't mean they're not sad sometimes, or not frustrated with an ableist world (especially around how quickly everyone gave up on us), but it does mean when everything feels awful and despair-filled, they have people who love them, they have hobbies and interests (game coding can be done from a bed, art can be, cross-stitch can be, writing can be, and even sometimes chopping fruit and vegetables can be if you have one of those sturdy overbed tables and can trust your hands), they have things that get better and things that get worse, they all think their lives are better now because it does just take time to...learn how to live in a body that does this when you're younger and had different visions for yourself.

I spend a lot of my time in bed. I need to lie down every afternoon for several hours or I'm non-functional in the evenings and that's on my best days. Escaping into fictional worlds is honestly such a blessing, whether it's in writing or movies or TV or anime or manhwa etc.

Sending hugs and solidarity and much love for how things are in the USA right now, especially for ill / disabled folk. There are lot of people fighting the good fight, so please make sure you take the time to rest, even on the good days, when you might be tempted to push past your limits to get everything done.

It took me forever to stop overspending energy on my good days, and I still do it all the the time, lol.

[pepprs]

i know i need to shut up abt it esp bc i don’t know for sure if i actually got exposed to covid but like. it’s just so fucking frustrating and terrifying. not just in the case of covid but with other things too like driving. you can take every precaution to keep yourself and the people around you safe but all it takes is one selfish careless asshole who can negate that in a heartbeat and ruin your life or maybe even end it in some circumstances. lol

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[merakiui]

So how would red riding hood Vil go about training wolf reader into being a good puppy

Someone totally not into pet play ur crazy

>:) so many thoughts for training!!!

Firstly, he’ll have you wear a collar. It’s a pretty thing, study and well-made, aesthetically pleasing craftsmanship. Perhaps it also functions as a shock collar as well or, if Vil is determined to use methods that are not so painful or risk ruining any part of you in some cosmetic way, then maybe the collar just emits a noise that sounds like a shock. You’ve no idea what to expect and maybe you’re already so tense with the threat of that hunter that you don’t even realize you haven’t been shocked. You still flinch all the same, your hands flying to your neck, but Vil clicks his tongue at you. You’ll be tricked into thinking so the more times you hear that crackle as it fools your brain with nonexistent shocks.

He dresses you in very nice clothes. He’s quite selective when it comes to fashion, and he has a very good eye for choosing based on what suits you best. Therefore, you’ll wear things that flatter your body type, that match your preferences and style (while also incorporating some of his as well), and that show off certain assets. You’ll wear lots of things with a low neckline so that your beautiful collar can be seen.

As for training, I think he starts with the house first. Teaching you proper etiquette and whatnot. You must never eat so sloppily. He’ll teach you what each utensil is for and where to arrange them on your plate once you’ve finished. These lessons are so tedious, but they’re simple enough to follow. If you’re smart enough to simply abide by his teachings, you’ll breeze through any and all of his house training. There’s just two things you loathe: the fact that Vil insists he be the one to dress you and the fact that Rook is always the one to help you bathe. Apparently, Vil has yet to see any indication from you that you’re trustworthy, so until he can trust you you’ll be supervised by either him or Rook. Or both if you’re unlucky.

You’re not sure which is worse: this demanding Red Riding Hood or that creepy hunter. >_<

If you happen to fail or refuse to comply, Vil is very simple with his punishments. You’re cut into with harsh criticisms, and they’re all the truth. Vil does not go out of his way to lie or sugarcoat when he offers his criticism. This is all meant to help you for the better. Also, he’s no fool. He’s tailored his lessons to help work on your weaknesses. He knows you’re very intelligent, perhaps too much for your own good when you try and fail to outwit and charm him or Rook into letting you go. You’re very clever. He’s merely assisting you where his assistance is needed most.

Usually, you’re given x-amount of spankings for however many minutes you refuse to cooperate. So if you remain locked in your room for fifteen minutes, to the point where Rook needs to break in to get you, you’ll be bent over the knee and spanked fifteen times. One for every minute of disobedience.

Sometimes Vil will take you outside his house in the woods and allow you to roam, but not beyond the boundaries he’s set. It’s all a test. You fell for it the first time and took off running, and Rook captured you within minutes. When it’s Rook, he’s not exactly one for punishments like Vil. He recognizes the abstract beauty in that, but he prefers to praise you for your efforts, failed though they were, instead. Scrubbing you clean from the tussle he had with you in the woods, calloused hands running down your soft skin, fingertips pressing into your shoulders to massage you, reaching to pet your ears or admire your tail. All while he rambles about how beautiful the chase you gave him was. It’s not your intention to cry out when he brushes over a bruise, nor do you mean to sound so erotic. What happens in that bath remains an easily uncovered secret, but Rook will come out of it with scratches and bites littering his forearms and throat and you’ll have a hole stuffed full of cum. >_< your every bite is like a addictive, disastrous kiss, he tells you, so it really doesn’t faze him. ;;;;

The only reason you’re not muzzled and treated more like a mutt than a person (wolf) is because Rook insists upon otherwise. And Vil agrees because, troublesome you may be, you are full of potential that he couldn’t dare stifle by demeaning you anymore than he already has.

[milqueandsugar]

🌼☕` Hugging Them `☕🌼

Gen / fluff

Includes / Alastor , Lucifer , Husk , Charlie , Vox , Velvette , Carmilla

| ALASTOR |

Won't initiate but will allow it if you're interested, never in public however

Recovering from a fight doesn't necessarily warrant him initiating touch, it's the opposite actually

Fighting makes him feel gross, when feelings are running hot he couldn't imagine anything worse than being touched, so given the courtesy you've given his aversion to touch he does the same for you

If, eventually you tell him you WOULD like to be touched and held after a fight or when upset he'll indulge

He likes to hold you while sat and comfortable, in bed or on the lounge, head resting comfortably in your shoulder, hand running up and down your back, gentle, fleeting, loving touches

| LUCIFER |

Adores hugging, he's very physically affectionate and wrapping you up in his arms, wings and tail is the closest to heaven he could get

His cool to the touch, unnaturally so, so he's learned it's best to give you a little warning before hand

Sometimes he doesn't though, just to give you a little spook

Have fun pulling him off of you, sometimes likes to just drape over you to cause problems

Got to get up early? Have fun pulling that octopus off of you

| HUSK |

He's neutral towards it, he's not a hugger but he doesn't hate it either

Usually after a fight, once you've mare up of course

Will just give you one if you ask though, only if you sweeten the pot though

"You want to- what you want a hug? What are you willing to give for it?"

Purrs the whole time though, tail swaying

Sometimes in the early morning he'll even wrap it around you, ears airplaned as he just takes you in

| CHARLIE |

HUGE hugger

Coming home, hug, leaving the hotel, hug, want a kiss, hug first, happy, hug, sad, hug

She read an article that said that humans need a certain amount of hugs a day to function and she's hitting that marker every day

She's a nuzzler too, against your face, your cheek, neck or shoulder

Think like when a cat rubs against your legs, but the cat has you in a crushing grasp

| VOX |

He's doing the work of like, three nine to fives, the only time he's really affectionate is in public outings for publicity, TV, or in bed before he gets up at some ungodly hour

He denies he likes snuggling but he always migrates to your side of the bed, somehow, every night, certainly some sort of coincidence

Cuddling is awkward cause of his head, if he wants to initiate he and you have to do some finagling to slot you two together, it's worth the work though, he never does anything that isn't worth it

| VELVETTE |

Is the most affectionate in front of a camera or in the public eye

Whenever you get a surprise hug, or kiss or she takes your hand in hers you can just assume that there's a camera near by

Posts lots of photos of the two of you cuddling, power couple shit

The only time you can say she hugged you, unencouraged by a camera, is when her first runway walk sold out

It's, weird to be nostalgic for something that only happened once but, you are

| CARMILLA CARMINE |

Usually gives you hugs when she senses you're upset

It's not that she doesn't like being affectionate, it's just not something that comes naturally to her

Is awkward, at first, but over time it becomes like second nature and holding you is a joy she could never lose

Hugs you around your neck, or from behind, just so she can mold herself to you and selfishly take you all in

[byuntrash101]

realistic sex with wooyoung

wooyoung x f!reader fluff | smut | mdni a/n: woo is the next entry to this series where i try to imagine how each member would actually fuck, as ✨realistically✨ as possible. disclaimer: i say realistic but lets be honest this is pure delulu behaviour and total fiction. everything is solely based on the vibes the boys give off.

right off the bat: wooyoung is a huge flirt. you (and the whole entire universe) have always known that. i feel like to be compatible with woo you have to be aware of that. you might have to be a bit of a flirt yourself.

i feel you guys were constantly bickering and then flirting and then bickering again because that's just how the dynamic felt right for you. whether it’s bickering or flirting it’s always playful and for the latter each time one of you would take it a notch further just to see the other cave in and giggle and back away then it’s back to bickering playfully.

at some point he didn’t back away and giggle and you didn’t either and it happened. you kissed and that felt electrifying. all those pent up feelings you both started to develop for each other but both masked with humor and witty jokes and love/hate disses got out at once.

all these feelings got pour into that one fateful kiss that sealed something into you.

i feel that's how your story started. it just all flowed very naturally. both guided by just your gut feeling about each other.

once you got together together the bickering didn’t stop at all. because it’s just what you do, what you always did. except now he’s not just “stupid” he’s your “stupid bf”.

actually maybe the bickering got even worse because you both just unlocked a whole new layer of the relationship that allows you to be more secure and therefore even more annoying (lovingly).��

you’re that kind of couple that if people aren't close to you and don’t know how you function you don’t seem right for each other when in fact it couldn’t be further from the truth. because your chemistry and passive understanding of each other is unmatched. because you are both adaptive (more on that laterrrrr wink wonk blink blonk) you can read the room you know when it’s time to annoy him and when it’s time to cuddle

speaking of that cuddling/kissing/lovey dovey shit. that tile can be ANYTIME wooyoung just gets into the touchy mood UNANNOUNCED. it doesn't matter if there’s 8 billion people watching or you’re all alone. he absolutely will launch himself into your arms and demand to be babied or wrap his arms around you and squeeze the life out of you until he’s satisfied with the amount of touchy feely time he’s got with you.

he will also sneak in neck kisses and he doesn’t care if you’re ticklish or if you are just in the dorm couch and jongho and joong are there judging because they both don’t get pda. but that's because they get the urge that wooyoung feels when he craves to be near you to feel your skin and your warmth to feel your heart beating next to his. they don’t get it but he doesn’t care because you understand, you get him. 

our pda king (bend the knee)

you’re just perfect for each other

remember that bit about woo being adaptive? i think the perfect person for wooyoung has to share that trait with him and that has to apply in the bedroom because i am convinced this man is a rare specimen of a perfect 50/50 switch.

okay like you know everyone is always like “woo #1 babygirl” and i can't agree more he is the ultimate but hear me out

sure woo is a brat everyone can agree with that but have you seen how the members respect him? he makes it very clear to them that sometimes it’s okay to pull his leg and sometimes it’s not. sometimes i feel they're low-key scared of him. have you seen the look he gives when he's mad? that screams dom to me (argue with the wall)

one time he’d be all whiny and literally beg on his knees for you to have your way with him. flashing you the pleading puppy eyes being all like “please y/n. pleasepleaseplease touch me. i-i can’t take it anymore” while he produces the most delectable fingerlicking good pathetic little moans and ruts his hips against your thigh in the dead of the night because little baby got a excited by an extra realistic dream. of course you cave in immediately but he doesn’t need to know that so you tease just a little (or a lot) before giving him what he wants. “aww baby? what do you want?” you say running your nails up his bare thighs, making him shiver. before you finally grab a hold of his hard and dripping cock. and then it’s all broken thank you’s and high pitched moans until he shakes and cums all over your hand.

other times he’s the one in control. and he does it oh so well. getting you really needy without even touching you. cause i think wooyoung as a way with words when it comes to foreplay. if you’re both having a lazy morning in bed it would only take minutes for him to lean over you and whisper all kinds of dirty things in your ear until you feel yourself getting sticky between the thighs and you can't help squirming to find some friction.

i think he absolutely loves seeing you like this he loves the power he has over you when you allow him 

when you’re too far gone and your eyes are half lidded and your mind has slipped into another layer of your consciousness he would ask you “baby~ why are you squirming like this?” and he would be so happy to only hear desperate whimpers as replies. “you want me to touch you?” queue the evil smirk™. you know the one! that one smirk only the jung wooyoung can pull. just picture him! over you, soft lips stretched into a sly little smirk, displaying his shiny teeth, the mischievous and satisfied glint in his fox-like eyes????? ughhhhh. typical wooyoung!! so on brand!!!!!

one other thing that’s typical wooyoung behaviour is being loud af and that doesn't stop when he steps in the bedroom. woo is vocal with anything dirty talk and moans. he will fucking surround dolby 7.1 sound those moans and grunts and pants right in your ear and tell you everytime he’s about to stuff you full of cum for your enjoyment. 

but one thing is certain whether he’s subbing or domming that boy likes it ROUGH. he likes to be put back in his place as much as he likes to put you back in yours (we love a couple of switches that found each other <3).

woo is probably one of the freakiest of the group. along with hwa and joong. but when hwa’s freakiness is mainly brought out by your own. he will be more or less freaky depending on you because he’s a pleaser he wants you to feel good. joong and woo, on the other hand are consistently freaky.

i think woo is low-key a sadist. he loves pain play. i feel he enjoys impact play especially if their’s visible marks that are left there to testify of what he did to you/you did to him. he loves to know you belong to each other and he would look with adoration at his bruised knees (stayed there for hours to worship you) the next day.

but that’s not it! i think woo’s kink of predilection is ✨degradation✨ (no one is surprised he literally admitted it himself) that's the big one for him and i feel for you too (yeah ik you). well it’s got to be. because if you guys became a thing because you were non stop roasting each other that shit would only hide something latent underneath all this bickering. and that ladies and gents is a degradation kink (i dont make the rules).

that being said i think at the beginning of the relationship wooyoung was a little unsure about it. he knew he liked it but he didn’t initiate it and he could have creamed his pants the first time you slipped a little derogatory comment to test the waters yourself. i imagine it at a house party (maybe a mutual’s friends apartment) a little after you both made it official. there’s music you’re both dancing and you slip your hand in his hair and you give it a sharp pull it with that he let out a moan right into your ear that was fortunately covered by the music but you heard him clear as day and right after you felt the consequences of your actions pressed hard against your stomach. you instinctively push your body even closer to wooyoung and you smirk up at him when his cheeks flush pink. “you got hard in the middle of this crowd just because i pulled on your hair a little?” you leaned in to whisper in his ear “that’s disgusting”. the magic words! you felt him twitch against your stomach and his hot breath quickened as it fanned your ear. “fuck” he cursed under his breath trying so hard not to give in to his primal instincts and just dry hump you right then and there. “please say that again” you heard him beg in your ear before exhaling a big shaky sigh of need. “you’re a disgusting little pervert” and 0.000002 secs later he was hushering you in the guest bathroom and to fuck your brains inside you out.

after that you unlocked a new stage in your relationship. you could get a little mean (aka very mean he likes it when you’re very mean) and he could be himself fully. making you beg on your knees for his cock. calling you his little slut, his cum hungry whore, his perfect little cocksleeve. and it was all said lovingly and it felt right for the both of you

happy freaky little couple ugh so cute im gonna barf

IF U WANNA HELP ME PLEASE REBLOG WITHOUT USING THE COMMUNITY LABELS 🖤

a/n: finally back with this series! please give me lots of love because im finally getting out of a terrible writer's block :(

want to see another member? request it in the comments or asks <3

realistic sex with seonghwa, with mingi, with yunho, with san

ateez masterlist | navigation

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello, if it's alright, could I request a Toby, Slenderman, EJ, and Jane the Killer x reader (separately) in which the reader (in most cases) doesn't know that they're injured until they look down at the injury? Not exactly to the extent of cipa, but more like they don't feel the pain or even notice it until they look down and see the injury.

If not that's ok too. Either way, have a good day!

Various crps x injured!reader who doesnt realize theyre injured

idk if theres a term for it but this happens to me sometimes </3 the amount of times id randomly find bruises or cuts and start feeling the pain as soon as a acknowledge the injury hisshiss characters: ticci toby, slenderman, jane the killer, eyeless jack notes: reader is gn cws: mentions of injuries

SLENDERMAN

he almost has a sixth sense when it comes to you, so its likely that he knows youre hurt before you do... though to be fair, with how long it takes you to notice that isnt... very impressive/lh

he does not wait for you to actually notice the damage, he goes into caregiver mode- taking you to clean the wound if its open and wrapping it if needed

does not have any answers for why you dont notice the pain at first but thats mostly because hes not skilled or educated in that sort of thing- you can only learn so much by observing others from far away and living in the woods

TICCI TOBY

you both passively lean into one another to keep track of the others wounds; you dont notice yours for a while, and neither does toby- though your scenarios arent exactly the same, you help each other take care of any nasty wounds that could get nastier if left untreated

in a way he finds himself relating to you on some level, because even temporarily you dont feel pain- you both may end up talking about your experiences

that being said, the two of you may not take cuts and bruises as seriously as you should because "well i can still function/i didnt notice the pain before- so its fine!" mentality, its... not the best way to go about things...

EYELESS JACK

headcanon that he was into medical stuff before getting all goopy and cannibalistic, so even if he doesnt immediately know whats going on he can cook up some theories-

that being said hes going to get onto you for leaving wounds uncleaned and uncovered, and will make it a habit to check over you every now and then to make sure youre not hurt... looks in places that are hard to look (back, neck, stuff like that)

always keeps a pack of Band-Aids/bandages on him at all times for general use, keeps other stuff at his place for worse injuries- disinfectants and needles to stich things up- hopefully it wont ever have to come to that, though

JANE THE KILLER

if youre the type to joke about your wounds to make the atmosphere lighter, its not going to work on jane... not because shes worried (okay... she is....) but because shes just.. not amused by that sort of humor

like jack, shes going to be stern and make sure youre taking better care of yourself and taking the time to look over yourself, as well as teaching you basic first aid if you've decided to skip over that

does not try to control you, shes not going to stop you from getting into a fight or doing something a little risky (within reason, if the situation seems too.. intense... itd be different), because even despite your little... situation... she has enough trust in you not to get mortally wounded

[kaleldobrev]

The Day Before

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean comforts you when you get a migraine

Word Count: 743

Warnings: None, just soft!Dean & Fluff

Authors Note: Yes, I did in fact write this while on my monthly, sue me | If you have never experienced a migraine, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Your head was pounding as the lights were off and you were tucked underneath the blankets and pillows as if you were in some sort of dark cave in the middle of the night. As much as you didn't want to be under all of these pillows and blankets, it was the only way you could remotely function right now, as even the slightest amount of light streaming in from the hallway had bothered your eyes.

When you had a migraine, it was hard for you to do anything, as your eyes were insanely sensitive to any and all amount of light; even the minimal light from your phone screen had bothered you. All you wanted to do was just lie down and not do anything. One of the worst parts, is sometimes, even when you had taken Excedrin — which was usually the cure all migraine medication for you — it would sometimes simply just turn your migraine into a headache. A headache for you was manageable, but still, you didn't want any kind of head pain.

As you were about to fall asleep, you heard the bedroom door open, and you refused to look up as you knew that more light would have been streaming into the room, which would have made things worse for you. "Sweetheart you in here?" Dean asked. Normally, you loved his voice, but right now it was just another pain to you as his voice sounded louder than normal.

"Yes," you said, your voice muffled. "Please don't turn on the lights, and keep the door shut. And please don't talk so loud."

"What? I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't hear you," he said, his voice the same volume as before. You took a deep breath, counting to five. You didn't want to snap at him, that was the last thing that you had wanted to do, but at the same time, repeating yourself was something that you had hated doing.

You uncovered yourself from your makeshift pillow and blanket cave and began speaking just a bit louder. "I said, please don't turn on the lights, and please keep the door shut," you said. "I have a massive migraine right now."

"Oh Sweetheart," he said, lowering his voice, a second later he shut the door behind him. "Is it that warning migraine you get before your period or just a run of the mill one?"

You sighed. "Period."

"Ah," he replied. "Say no more." Dean walked over to his closet and pulled out a couple of towels before walking back over to the door. He kneeled down, and placed the towels in front of the door so the light from the hallway wouldn't be streaming into the room anymore.

Dean had never once in his life experienced a migraine, the closest he ever got to experiencing them is when you would have them, or when you had described to him the way that they felt. From the way you had acted, and from the way you had described them, it was a type of pain that he wished he could help you get rid of permanently. But even though there was no way for him to transfer the pain from you to him, the best he could do in the moment was try and help you in any way that he could.

Once he placed the towels in front of the door blocking the light so now it was pitch black in the room, he took of his boots and jeans and got underneath the covers with you. "Come here Sweetheart," he said softly, holding his arms out for you to come over to him. You switched positions, so now your face was buried into his chest, your head tucked underneath his chin as his arms completely wrapped around you. "You took your Excedrin already?"

You nodded into his chest. "Yeah, it's not working," you said weakly. He kissed the top of your head, and you nuzzled yourself deeper into his chest. "But you being here helps."

"I'll always be here to help you Sweetheart," he said. "With whatever you need."

You felt yourself start to slowly drift off to sleep, despite the slight pounding still going on in your head. When you had told Dean that him being here with you did in fact help you, you truly did mean it; and you were thankful that he would always be there to help you with whatever you needed.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[bunnysdollette]

₊⊹⁀➴ How to get your shit together in a slump: BD’s instant guide to feeling 100% again! ⟡﹒⪩⪨ 🫧🌸🧁

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧ Hi angels :) Thank you so much for the positive reception on my last posts. Anyway, I’ve been super down lately so I’d thought I’d create this post as a bit of a reference point for anyone who feels like their life is going off of the rails these days. This is how I get myself out of a slump. 💬

♫ todays song is…some by SOYOU

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GET OFF THAT DAMN PHONE.. 📝 ⊹₊⟡⋆

wait! I was just joking. don’t close your phone until you finish reading (haha). anyway, take a look at your screentime for me. you might have been scrolling for hours or trying to distract yourself from how horrible you felt by doomscrolling endlessly…no. we can’t do that.

usually when I’m in a slump I feel damp, it’s not just about laziness. this could also be the result of exhaustion or a number of factors. dampness is an evil condition in chinese medicine where you feel heavy, tired, and dead. scrolling will only make this worse because you’re prolonging the pain. the first thing you should do is get up, stretch, breathe, and maybe crack a window. the airflow will make a big difference, I promise. 🌿

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CLEAN UP GUIDE. 🌸 ⊹₊⟡⋆

when my room is a mess my state of mind is a mess. I can’t do anything, I’m literally loosing my marbles bc all I can see is a messy space. if your brain is in shambles rn, the smallest amount of organization you can do right now is tidy up your room a little bit.

this doesn’t even have to be a big clean, but small steps make a big impact!… remember your space is sacred. 🧘🏾‍♀️

make the bed. doesn’t have to be fancy, just make sure everything is where it needs to be.

wipe down surfaces like desks, mirrors, and vanities. you can even include a scented spray whilst doing this to make your space smell much cleaner and nicer!! I literally cannot function when my room smells like asscheeks.

remove any old cups, or food waste that you were procrastinating from doing so. don’t want to attract any bugs.

Sweep the floor. You probably don’t notice how many crumbs are on the ground, but please just do it.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ RECHARGE YOUR “STATS”. 🛁 ⊹₊⟡⋆

honestly the best way to get out of a slump is self care. neglecting your needs and body can often lead to things going downhill, depressive episodes, etc. We all forget to take care of ourselves properly sometimes, but it’s important to pay attention to our needs and personal wellness.

Ask yourself.

“Did I shower today?” ➜ Take yourself a nice, warm shower and stay in as long as you want.

Take some time to reflect on your day or anything that’s been on your mind. And be sure to wash up well, so you can feel really nice after and tap into your feminine energy. You can even add bath salts, milk, or bubble bath. It will literally make you feel like a princess. . . 👑

“Did I eat/drink today?” ➜ Go eat something.

I prefer light meals or snacks that are cold like fruit, water, or a juice when I’m feeling dead but you can also eat whatever you want. Just think about what will make you feel good and reduce the dampness as much as possible, and will prevent brain fog. Heavier meals aren’t the best for that though.

I bet you feel better already after doing these things! Remember that taking care of yourself is the most important and you are a priority.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ REFLECTING AND MAKING A GAME PLAN 🧁 ⊹₊⟡⋆

Lastly after you feel a little bit better now and you took care of yourself, I would really suggest reflecting either through journaling or shadow work questions. They’re the easiest way to just brain dump all of the crap you’ve been thinking about lately and get it out of your system in a healthy and helpful way.

You can write about things like “how have I been feeling lately?” “What’s one way I can improve in xyz” and so on. This is a mundane activity you can do at the end to organize your thoughts. Mental health is a huge thing after your physical health, as it literally not only affects your world but the world around us. Especially if you are trying to achieve your dream life/dream self, manifest anything, etc. you will need to take care of your mental health to not be consumed by your emotions and keep your mind in check.

Also something that is crucial is practicing gratitude and mentally grounding yourself. You can list things your grateful for, mediate, or exercise. Anything to get yourself into that mindset you need going forward. I personally love to listen to the wizard liz’s podcast in times like these, it’s a great motivation for me.

Remember that slumps, dampness, depressive episodes, all of it, is normal. We are just humans at the end of the day. Be a little nicer to yourself today and take some small active steps towards your goals. ✨🫶🏽

✧ thanks for reading beautiful !! ; so basically I’m thinking of maybe making a community here on tumblr for the girl bloggers that share dream girl content and stuff like that? idk let me know what u think. inbox is always open, stay hydrated and cute, buh bye 👋🏾

[sysconversationalist]

10 lukewarm syscourse takes

from someone who just briefly scrolls the tag from time to time:

1. Labels are only as helpful as they are, well, helpful.

If calling yourself something feels right, that’s great. Fixating on fitting into the labels, however, isn’t.

The labels are there for you to define & communicate your experiences, not boxes for you to cram yourself into.

2. Innerworlds are not a separate physical realm, but they may present that way to a system.

Not all systems are going to have one. Some have to put effort into creating one, if they want/need it. Some systems have very vivid & complex innerworlds.

Innerworlds are a healthy form of dissociation when utilized as such. What’s considered a “healthy” amount of focus on the innerworld will vary from system to system. For some, it could be none at all.

3. This one is very much just an opinion— I don’t believe anyone should invite outsiders into the creation of their system/innerworld. (Ex. Alter packs, innerworld packs, etc.)

If these are things that are going to be parts of your brain, I believe it’s worth thinking over the pieces.

4. Fusion is a good thing, so is functional multiplicity, and the two aren’t mutually exclusive.

We’re personally aiming for functional multiplicity, but are hoping for some fusions as well. Which works better, or the proper balance between fusion & multiplicity, will differ per system.

Demonizing fusion is harmful.

5. Calling out “fakers” is useless.

I know someone who mistakenly thought they had a CDD. Through support & professional help, they came to the conclusion that they were wrong, but they now have a deeper understanding of themself & of dissociative disorders. This person wasn’t “faking it”. They did have mental health issues and problems with identity/dissociation that needed to be addressed. They just turned out not to have a CDD. (This is why professional insight can be useful.)

If someone is truly intending to fake having a CDD or being a system, they’ll get bored of it eventually. Feeding into them (ex. trying to call them out) will only make it “more fun”.

6. Having a CDD vs. not having a CDD is different. CDD systems are not the same as non-CDD systems.

Even if there’s overlap, they are not the same thing.

CDD systems and non-CDD systems can and should have spaces where they interact. I think it’s important to acknowledge that a CDD system will work differently than a non-CDD system while doing so, though.

7. Telling systems what “can’t” happen within their system really doesn’t help anything.

How would anyone but the system experiencing it know? To an extent, the only limit is the bounds of a system’s imagination. Maybe it doesn’t work that way for one system, but it does for another.

Note: Sometimes it is necessary to say that some things are simply not possible, and the belief that they are can cause harm. (Ex. The idea of someone in one system jumping into another person’s system.)

8. The misinformation spread about in online system spaces, presented as scientific fact, is concerning.

CDDs are understudied, and the internal systemhood aspect of them even more so. Non-disordered systemhood, barely studied at all.

Sometimes, the answer is “there hasn’t been enough/any research on this yet”, and we as a community need to learn to be okay with that.

On the other hand, dismissing the studies that have been done, or twisting them to fit a narrative (ex. claiming CDDs are not trauma-based disorders) is just as bad, if not worse.

9. Nuance is necessary.

Existing in online system spaces should not require “picking a side”.

I think syscourse would be a kinder and more productive topic without an “anti” and “pro” dichotomy.

10. Walking away can be best.

These are niche online spaces— anyone can leave them. If syscourse is genuinely affecting someone’s mental health, the way to deal with that is by leaving syscourse for a while. It’s okay to take a break.

Personally, I think it’s great to have no interaction with any online system content every once in a while.

That’s all for now 👋 Hope y’all are doing well and doing it with well-intentions.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not supporting my gf through their mental illness for the sake of my own mental health?

TW: talk of mental health issues/ suicide as a concept

I (nb 13) have been dating G (nb 15) for around 4 months. G has pretty bad depression, as well as bpd. They frequently bad breakdowns during the day, which I try my best to comfort them through.

The real issue is at night. I have to get up at 6 in order to get to school on time, and try to go to bed by at least 11. I cannot fall asleep on FaceTime, so I usually want to end my calls with G by 10:30 at the latest. G usually wants to call all night.

Their depression is really bad at night, and they hate when I end calls early. They have lots of breakdowns really late, including becoming really suicidal. They say that when I stay up with them they feel better, but I cannot function on so little sleep.

Especially as I don’t suffer from depression, but I used to, and I have anxiety. Lack of sleep ruins my own mental health. My anxiety has been way worse recently, and I’m not blaming them for that, but it makes it harder for me to support them. They tell me to just fall asleep on call, as me hanging up feels like I’m leaving them, but it just makes me feel watched and too nervous to sleep.

Their mental health has been getting worse, and recently they told me I’m not being there for them enough, and it seems I wouldn’t care if they killed themself. They even said their attempts were my fault, but did later apologize for that. That really scared me, because I love them and am terrified everyday that they will actually succeed in one of their attempts.

This is my first relationship, and I know I should be there for my girlfriend, but even the amount I’m doing now is worsening my own mental health. I try to be there during the days when I can, but sometimes even that feels so overwhelming and draining. I don’t want to also ruin my sleep schedule over them, even though I do love and care about them.

Am I the asshole for not putting aside my sleep for my gf, even when she’s suicidal?

What are these acronyms?

[roukabi]

My objectively correct opinions on a hadestown adaptation

(Explanation under the cut)

For the purposes of this chart, the hypothetical Hadestown adaptation would follow the original Broadway production (2019).

Lawful Good: Out of all animated possibilites, this would be the medium I'd want to see a HT adaptation in purely for its tangibility and underground atmosphere. Stopmo is considered inherently kitsch and a less 'pretty' animation medium in the eyes of the public. Critics only recognize it if a big name is attached (see Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio, which won the Golden Globe for its running year). Therefore, there's no real fear of an adaptation like this getting too popular, and a smart director would use this tactile medium to restore the scrappy, raw feel of the Vermont production. Even if the conditions aren't perfect, as long as a studio that isn't Laika or Aardman takes the helm, there's a good chance the average stopmo director can be trusted with the show. Overall, this is my pie-in-the-sky option, though it'll probably never happen.

Neutral Good: The next best thing, and hopefully what we will get. Personal preference would leave lyrics the way they were in the original Broadway version, but I can't always get what I want.

Chaotic Good: A stage puppet version of Hadestown gets created and posted for free on YouTube and it gets, like, 100,000 views. The puppets are wonderful, the stage is great, and the actors are... good. Lots of exciting staging options to be had here. Gets as creatively interesting as possible without losing anything to the scope of a screen or animated fluff. Not really an official adaptation but still pretty cool, right?

Lawful Neutral: Look, I love 2D as much as the next guy, but anything could happen. 2D is functionally limitless in what you can do with it, which sets it apart from other mediums... for better or worse. I fear a lot of directors would go crazy with the visuals and forget to ground Hadestown in its emotional core. I think Cartoon Saloon would get it, though. While not the most top-tier team of directors, their eye for visual storytelling is unmatched. Just look at Screecher's Reach if you don't believe me. If they can bring the same amount of writing prowess to Hadestown as they did The Breadwinner, it could work. 2D is also in high demand from certain audiences (though not all), so it could run the risk of getting dangerously generic to appeal to everybody. To quote Chris Sanders, who'd just finished up work on The Lion King when he said this: "This is either gonna be huge, or it's not gonna work at all."

True Neutral: Sometimes it's best to let some shows stay as they are. Hadestown is one of those shows.

Chaotic Neutral: "indie" has become a subjective term I think, because "indie" ranges from "two people with a string" to "Amazon Prime/Netflix-funded, B-list actor, industry-standard tech with a slightly smaller fanbase". That was definitely not a slight at anyone in particular. There's already some college theatre-esque medleys on YouTube, but those aren't really full adaptations. While there'd be a lot of heart and passion in this project, the limited budget/opportunities would detract from the show's scale, and be a little embarrassing to watch tbh.

Lawful Evil: The Wicked treatment. Or maybe the Illumination treatment? Oh, no. Ew. Don't wanna think about that. 3D appeals to general audiences and gets used by the big companies more, so by that association it gets lumped in with the rest of Hollywood. Not great, overproduced, weird casting choices (related snide: in a show that's cultivated a diverse range of vocals, why on earth were Betty Who and Jordan Fisher casted on Broadway? Besides stuntcasting, of course...). A dishonest portrayal of an honest show. Could be worse, though. I can only see a 3D animated adaptation working if some smaller, non-US studio goes absolutely batshit during visdev. Other than that, 3D is too polished and techy to fit the needs of the show.

Neutral Evil: The only good thing that comes out of this is that most people see AI as a cheap scammy tool, so whatever HT-ness comes out of it will not tarnish Hadestown's name too much. I doubt it'd be taken seriously at all, if anyone would even care to look at it. I don't even think AI bros would touch the anticapitalist 'woke' themes with a ten-foot pole.

Chaotic Evil: remember what I said during the Chaotic Neutral bloc? That was about Viv. I don't care that she technically falls into Lawful Neutral, this is its own circle of hell. It's worse than AI because unlike AI, which is forgettable, Viv's understandings of mythology, gender, and politics are actively, stupidly shallow. Can you imagine what would happen to Eurydice and Persephone? Or the Fates? Could you imagine the sexism? The stereotyping? The song 'Flowers' might as well not exist. Persephone would be painted as a crazy drunk abuser. The negative cultural impact + Viv's rabid fanbase would ruin me forever. This idea has cursed me the moment it popped into my head and if I have to think about it, you do, too. Let's hope it never happens.

[altaiiriss]

On my queerplatonic series

tw: this post revolves around the headcanon that dazai has ARFID (avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder). if that triggers you, do not read further. stay safe!

while outlining dazai's character for my queerplatonic series (link here) i decided that he struggles with food. it's not the "typical" eating disorder, though.

dazai isn't obsessed with his body shape, doesn't care about keeping track of the amount of calories he's ingested, and isn't terrified of gaining weight if he eats more.

his distorted relationship with food originates from his general lack of interest in things, which includes food as well.

a lot of people headcanon dazai as someone who doesn't eat much, and i agree with that. dazai is so dominated by conflicted feelings and his intrinsic "fear" of desiring anything for himself that he just... doesn't have much interest in food.

to him the whole act of eating is a bother, a mere bodily function he wishes to avoid. sometimes when he's lying on his futon his stomach would start rumbling, but dazai couldn't bring himself to get up and eat something. he has no appetite, what's the point?

he doesn't even get much joy from eating. he loves crab, sure, but that's more of a safe food than anything, a sort of parachute preventing him from free falling into the depths of starvation.

this disorder manifested in a particularly intense way during the mafia years. it wasn't a safe environment at all, and dazai's mental health got in the way of his eating habits.

chuuya would forcefully shove some food down his throat sometimes. he's naturally a caretaker after all, he used to steal food for his friends when he was the leader of the sheep—hell, he even gave his mediocre portion away if some other kid was still hungry. how could he ignore that dazai was basically starving himself?

hirotsu would give him some candies and chocolate bars. even kouyou, who never liked him that much, invited him to drink some tea with her and chuuya in the afternoon.

dazai was getting progressively skinnier with each passing day, and in return chuuya got progressively angrier at him because the brunet would lose focus and dissociate on the battlefield or, worse, collapse from starvation ("it's not like i care about you or something, okay!? i just want to complete this mission and go home." )

it didn't happen that much, but dazai actually did collapse sometimes and chuuya made sure to get insanely mad at him and remind him that he needs three fucking meals a day to survive. dazai would fight back and scream at him with all the strength in his lungs ("this is none of your business. who do you think you are? why don't you go take care of your friends' graves and leave me alone?" )

sooo yep, they used to fight about this a lot, but as long as dazai ate something chuuya was okay with putting up with his shitty demeanor. he didn't mind fighting every other day if it meant dazai actually put some nutrients in his body.

leaving the mafia and joining the agency (plus seeing a psychiatrist, courtesy of yosano's perseverance) did wonders to his mental health, and his food habits changed as well.

his brain is nowhere near 100% functional, let's be clear—he still gets bad days and relapses in his old harmful habits, and he even ghosted his therapist at some point because that shit scares him. but being in a happier and safer environment helps for sure.

sometimes his coworkers share their lunch with him and even though dazai doesn't eat much, they never pressure him to take more bites.

when they host small parties in their office, dazai never leaves without eating something. who would have thought kunikida was such a great cook?

and yosano's small cakes? they are delicious. the strawberry one is his favourite.

since their reunion—which led to their confession and their decision to cherish the non-romantic and non-sexual connection that binds their souls together—chuuya learnt to deal with this aspect of dazai properly.

back in the mafia he was just a kid who knew nothing (damn, he literally raised himself on the streets, and that's why he's always been open about being gay—he literally had no idea homophobia was a thing) and the way he approached dazai's struggles wasn't even remotely healthy.

but chuuya grew over the years. not physically (much to his dismay), but he joined online communities, learnt a lot about mental disorders and read about people's experiences.

when he stumbled across an article describing a situation similar to dazai's, everything made sense.

"perhaps you view eating as a chore because no one has ever cooked a meal for you with love?" his therapist had asked once, and dazai had laughed at her.

but when chuuya cooked him a meal while he was running a fever, something shifted.

he never believed in such things, yet he could swear he tasted chuuya's feelings as he ate the soup on his plate.

care. worry. adoration.

love, even?

this is hilarious.

another day chuuya taught him the basics of cooking ("if eating bores you to death, then try eating something you have made. it's satisfying, you know? because you made it with your own hands." )

dazai hates when chuuya is right.

aaaand here we are in the current timeline of my series.

dazai is far from being perfect but he's doing infinitely better. he still doesn't have a big appetite, but he eats way more than he used to. most importantly, food generally tastes nice on his tongue now.

he still relapses in his old mindset sometimes—it's okay, that's part of the healing process—but there are a lot of people who have his back now.

he's loved and cherished and doesn't have to face the world alone anymore.

[theofficialpresidentofmars]

i often think about writing fic for hamlet, but the issue is it would be sooo self-indulgent and i would just characterise them all however i want because I’m evil like that.

anyway I’ve had a lot of ideas for little stories but there are two that have stuck with me (and they’re kind of similar, blame r&gad)

the first one is a little bit of a fix-it, set after the events of the play, where a couple of weeks later, out on the battlements, Horatio comes across Hamlet who is somehow… very much not dead. He did die, but it seems it didn’t take. Neither of them knows what’s going on, but there’s definitely some stuff to work through. Oh, and he’s dead again. No, he’s back. A comedic but tragic unpacking of the events of the play with the titular character who now seems to have a second chance towards redemption, but is still harbouring incredible amounts of messed-up-edness and grief within him, and his beloved partner who knows already that no amount of therapy will ever make either of them quite right. It’s a silly little story filled with whimsy, public executions, and the question ‘now that we’ve got him this far down the spiral, how much work would it take to get him back to functional?’

the second one is more of a character study of Horatio, set during the events of the play recurringly, where Horatio wakes up the day after the end to find himself right back at the previous morning, facing a dead man who has a letter to tell him about. No matter how much Horatio tries to intervene, he can never make anything better, only worse, if anything changes at all. As the days loop on, he gets to try again, sometimes a little further back, sometimes a little different- to no avail- and he’s forced to ask himself about it- what’s keeping him here? Is it even possible to save the prince? Is Hamlet a good person worth trying to save? Was this always going to happen? When did the end become fixed? It’s also somewhat a meta commentary on the characters’ nature as fixed within the play, but prone to the freedom of adaptation. To one end, usually. Can Horatio save himself?

anyway lmk if yall wanna hear more about any of these

[madwomansapologist]

a new side of her | nami

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Nami | AO3

synopsis: You didn't trust Nami. You could see right through her. See right through those well thought out words capable of deceiving Luffy. The problem was that you could also see her stiff face, her watery eyes, her accurate fingers. Damned be Nami, her lying lips and your functional eyes.

warnings: smut. erotic dreams. masturbation. accidental voyeurism. oral sex. sixty nine. hate sex. top!nami. female!reader.

It's not like you wanted to see Nami dead, you just don't wanted to see her at all.

You would make something pretty reckless if you had to see Nami deceiving Luffy one more time. Or if you need to see Nami always checking if anyone was watching her. And Nami guarding her secrets like a knight keeps a promise. Even Nami having those little moments of honesty, what only made Luffy even more sure that she was part of the crew.

And you for sure would something pretty stupid if you had to see Nami walking around the deck with those watchful eyes. Or if you need to see Nami always arguing with anyone who bothered one of you. And Nami being so bossy when Zoro was definitelly about to do something that he would regret. Even Nami quietly apreciating the view, just enjoying the sea's silence.

You both don't get along. Always fighting, yelling at one another, picking on the most unnecessary thing. Nami's orange hair almost floating by the way she gesticuled at you. Your heartbeat silencing the rest of the world. Her eyes burning with rage. Her fingers tapping on the table. Her velvet mouth moving so graciously.

You both don't get along, but that doesn't mean you're fucking blind.

But soon you found that your life as part of the strawhat crew wouldn't be so easy. Not when clowns insisted on kidnapping y'all, or the marines decide that for some reason your crew deserves attention from a vice admiral, or the old ship finally breaking after everything it went through. Ship. That wasn't more than a fucking boat.

You were always trying to invent a new way of winning a fight, helping Luffy with stay quiet for a second so you can help him with whatever he's trying to ask you, trying to make Zoro rest. It was hard for you. A resonable amount of sleep per night? You called that a dream. Privacy? A mith. Time for yourself? Just when you die.

You didn't have time to do any of the things you usually does. No more morning lazyness, or a book with you during your meals, or time to spend with long, hot baths. Or any privacy at night to touch yourself.

That makes you feel a little bit guilty. Your crew barely made out alive from so many conflicts and you're worried about a orgasm or two? Still, it was the truth. You knew that just thirty minutes of privacy and silence would change your mood so quickly, but how could you do that with everyone sleeping at the same place?

It only got worse when all your desire started to invade your dreams. You wake up at night feeling so warm, with your clit throbbing and head spinning. And the worst part was who kept on appearing on your dreams.

Nami wasn't there all times. Sometimes it was a memory from a past experience. Or a situation you always desired to live. A few times characters from books you read were the main actors of many of your wet dreams. But Nami... Nami was starring most of them.

Just another reason for you to hate her even more.

At Kaya's, and you're still surprised that Usopp really knew her, you finally had a chance of enjoying a hot bath. Sleeping on a good, comfortable bed. Eating food made by people that knew what they were doing.

The problem was that you also had the chance of seeing Nami's rested face. Of hearing her singing during her bath. Of seeing her chosing what clothe to wear. Of watching her changing again, and again, and again.

It was like she was trying to prove to you that anything she wear would look pretty on her. And if that was Nami's intentions, fine. She won. You surrender.

"Saw something you like?" Nami woke you up from your daydream. Just then you noticed that you were staring at her on that red dress. Nami had a smirk on her lips, which made you boil in anger.

"Not at all," you tried to act like Zoro. To be mean on purpose, just to make her smirk dissapear. "Quite the opposite, actually."

When you heard Zoro chucking, you thought that maybe it had worked. That your words deceived everyone of what was going on your mind.

And maybe it really did.

But Nami wore the red dress that night.

After Luffy managed to end the dinner sooner, for the first time in a really long time you could lay on bed without anyone calling for help. Without anything wrong happening. It was the first time on a long, long time when you wasn't worried that the silence meant someone may actually be dying.

And with free time, your mind wandered through a lot of places. Of the home you left behind you. Of those boys you just met but still feel like you know them for hoje entire life. Of how many adventures are waiting for you. Of how empty you feel.

You throw the blanket away, finally sure that you have time to do whatever you wanted to. Your hands pressed your breasts through your nightgown, and you tried to find something to think about. You pinched your nipples, they hardened almost immediately, and took a deep breath.

You imagined your hands weren't yours. That your neck was licked, your waste grabbed, your thights bit. You thought about someone looking at you. Seeing more than just you: seeing the way your toes curl when your clit is touched, how you close your eyes when the pleasure is too much, how you try to stop your moans so you won't wake anyone.

The hand on your breasts wasn't yours. The fingers between your thights weren't yours. The tongue warm on your mouth wasn't yours. All those things happening on your mind weren't imagination. They were all true, and were happening all at once.

With your pantie brushing against your hand, you quickly took it off and throw it away. You didn't took your nightgown off, the feeling of the thin layer on top of your hot skin made shivers go down your spine. With the window open, the cold breeze only made you even more sensitive.

Nami didn't mean to enter your room. She didn't mean on seeing your fingers circling your clit, your hand grabbing your breast, your mouth freeing the most obscenes of the sounds.

She really didn't mean that. Nami thought it was a empty room, a perfect place for her to grab old, expensive things to make some money. Nami really didn't mean to invade, to watch, such a intimate moment.

But when she saw you, Nami couldn't look away.

Her mouth went dry. Nami tried to look away, to move her body, to get out of there while you didn't saw her. But her body didn't obey. It just couldn't.

You really were the prettiest thing she ever saw. Since she met you is like your trying to proof it. No matter how many days you have spend without seeing land, or how many times a marine or a clown tried to fight. Pretty. So pretty.

When you chose your clothe from Kaya's closet, Nami tried so hard to not look. To not pay attention. But it was impossible the second you asked how you looked.

Nami didn't knew enough words to really explain how you're as exquisite as the princesses on fairytales.

And she hated you for that. She hated you for being so aware of her lies, of her intentions, of her flaws. She hated you. And she hated how bad she wanted you.

So when she was suppossed to runaway, all Nami was able to do was to keep on looking. To keep on watching you.

Until you saw her.

"Na-Nami," your whisper was almost a moan. You closed your legs, your thights slapping loud. Nami forgot how to breath. "How long have you been..."

"Long enough," Nami said before you could finish. She could only see your sweaty skin, dazzy eyes, messy hair. Nami couldn't stop looking at you. She could spend her whole life just looking at you. "Do you want me to get out?"

"What?" You swallowed hard, your vision blurred. Your mind was so dizzy, shame just ate your last functioning brain cell. "Yes...?"

"But do you really?" Nami finally was able to move. She dropped the bag on her hands filled with things she was about to steal. They didn't matter anymore.

"I heard you," she closed the doors, walking towards you. You never before noticed how she looks exactly like a cat. "At your sleep."

When Nami got near your bed, you tried to push your body up on the bed. You were trying to get away from her, but not hard enough. Soon your head hit the wall, and Nami's knees found a way into your bed.

"Do you know that sometimes you call my name?" Nami crawled to you. Unable to move, unable to think, you just watched as she stopped right before your feet. "That sometimes I do it to?"

You didn't move when she rubbed the back of her hands against your thights. Neither when she supported her head on your knees. "You want me to get away from you?"

You licked your lips. "This won't change anything," you told her. "I still hate you."

Nami laughed. She truly did. "That's fine for me." She looked at you, eyes as sharp as a knife. "Open your legs."

You never before did as she demanded. You always fought, and discussed, and yelled. But this time... your body just behaved. You didn't even thought about shame or any shit like that before opening yourself for her eyes to see.

Nami almost drooled over the sight. She held your thights, grabbing them with force, and breath in. Was she trying to smell you? Did she?

She got near you, so near you could feel her warm breath hitting your exposed pussy. She looked at you, and Nami saw herself in your eyes. She saw desire. And Nami was ready to finally get and end to all this sweet torture between you both.

Nami opened your legs on an angle you didn't even thought about, and slowly slid her tongue against all of you. A instinticve movement took care of your body, but she held you in place. You're pretty sure you'll have marks from her grip.

You kinda of want that.

Her tongue felt so great against you. She exploded you slowly at first, but soon her patience expired. Nami moaned against you, and you felt like she may actually devour you. Like she would really just eat you whole.

Her nose brushed against your clit while she used her tongue to play with your insides. Nami was having fun. She wasn't just trying to make you cum, but was getting off on making you squirm between her hands.

You grabbed her by the hair, putting her face at just the right angle. You didn't even noticed when you started to rub against her face. "Fuck," a murmured sound reached your ears. She slapped your thights. "Delicious."

"Nami," you moaned. You knew this would make her go even deeper on you. "Your clothes."

She understood, even though you were unable to speak, and in one movement she took off her dress. “Fucking hot,” you said.

You pulled her up, making her nose bump against yours, and squeezed Nami's waist. You don't know who started the kiss, nor who took off your nightgown. You just know that she tasted like tangerines and something even sweeter. Something you could get addicted to.

You laid her down on the bed, but didn't climb on top of her. You writhed on the bed, your legs spread so she could get between them, and pulled her by the waist. As you tasted her pussy, you realized you were wrong.

Now that was addictive.

You devoured her as if you were a starving woman. In that moment you really were. Starving for Nami.

What happened was nothing angelic. It wasn't organized. She pulled you close to her face, you grab Nami's waist. She rubbed her face against your pussy, an animalistic noise filling the room. You drooled over her pussy, soaking it.

It was more like a fight. A battle to see who could have the other for more time. At some point you were on top of her, grinding against Nami's tongue. In another, she pinned your head on her legs, unable to notice what she was doing as she concentrated on thrusting her fingers into you.

You came as she moaned against your pussy, murmuring wildly about how you tasted better than she could ever imagine. She came soon after, immersed in your laconic sounds.

And you didn't move away. In that awkward and uncomfortable position, you continued. Just breathing, letting your minds finally go back to thinking. In silence, until Nami laughed.

You quickly followed her.

That night a pirate butler with a troupe of thieves tried to kill poor Miss Kaya. Luffy poisoned himself. Zoro managed to escape from a well but didn't find the right way back to the mansion. Usopp did everything to save his old friend.

And you bet your life that the most surprising thing of the night was Nami kissing you amiably before going out of your room.

Not that you mind.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[nocturnesanomaly]

Chapter 7: Keep watching the skies

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 7: Keep watching the skies

Wordcount: 6.4k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Grooming, Implied sexual assault/rape, non-consensual drug use,

Description: You follow up on your own lead, convinced it's the only way, leading the rest of the 141 on a hunt to find you.

A/N: Not sure I got all the typos, let me know if you find any <3

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If Price was ever going to grant any of their wishes, Johnny prayed to the lord that it would be to get better beds. Even if he and the taskforce had slept in worse places than this, on the ground in half fallen buildings, in bundles of hay or random items, it didn't keep Johnny from being grumpy about the lack of space and stiff mattresses.

He wasn't sure why Laswell hadn't accounted for the one missing bed. Sometimes he thought that she expected one of them to take the janky couch, but she couldn't really, could she? It was what Simon did most nights, or at least Johnny was pretty sure he did. He typically didn't come into the room during nights, letting Johnny snore away on the little space there already was. Then again, that man never truly slept much on missions.

Simon got the optimal amount of sleep he needed to function for a day, and not a second longer. It was a habit that was hard to coax him out of when he and Johnny went back home. When they had first bought an apartment together, it even took a few weeks before Johnny managed to get Simon into a somewhat normal sleep rhythm.

One thing he found that worked, was letting Simon listen to his heartbeat. It seemed to calm the man for whatever reason. Johnny supposed he understood, it was something consistent, a lifeline in the most literal sense. It assured someone that the other was still alive, that their heart was still beating and their lungs still breathing.

They had both spend a lot of long nights like that. Nights after missions with too close calls, nights fuelled with terrors and horrid images on their minds, nights where it was as simple as the fact that one of them couldn't fall asleep.

Johnny didn't know when Simon had moved from the couch to laying on top of him and squeezing half the air out of his lungs, but he was sure woken up by it. The first rays of the morning sun peeked through the blinds of the window, and highlighted the dust particles floating around in the room.

Simon was a steady weight on top of him. His breathing the only thing inconsistent from his otherwise still form. He reached out, smoothing his hands over the muscles of Simon's back, feeling him sigh further into his hold.

He was still awake then.

"Mornin' wee lad," Johnny whispered teasingly into Simon's ear, conveniently placed right next to him from how he was hiding his face in his neck.

Simon grumbled something unintelligible against Johnny's skin. "Shut it MacTavish..." was about the only thing he could make out of it. It was enough to incite a round of his personal infectious laughter.

The sheets were jumbled between both of their legs, creating an odd display of tangled limbs probably resembling some deformed eldritch horror from an outsider’s perspective.

"Didn't think ye would actually join me...thought ye didn't want affection when spider's around," Johnny mumbles cheekily yet still pulls the massive man even closer. He closes his eyes again, enjoying the weight on his chest, the comforting assurance he'd been craving for all too long.

"They're not here..."

Groggily, Johnny opens his eyes again to catch a peek of the other bed. Surely enough there was no form occupying it, the bed made with military precision. "Mh...got an early start then..." a way too early start even for his own standard.

"They barely sleep..." Simon grumbles and let's out a long huff, resigning to the fact he isn't falling back asleep anytime soon.

"Ye alright love...?" Johnny reaches up to rub his hand through Simon's short hair. A rare occasion for him to take off his mask, even here. Johnny would enjoy every second of it. With gentle movements he guides Simon's head a bit further up so he can place soft kisses to his face. Over his scars, his nose, his cheeks, his lips.

Simon let's out a sigh, lazily kissing him back. "M'fine...jus' exhausted," he did sound it.

Johnny nods quietly, pressing another kiss to his forehead. It had been a long time since they'd taken time just for themselves, their apartment was practically just sitting back collecting dust from how little they managed to actually use it.

"We should take a vacation when we're done here," Johnny suggests.

Simon doesn't get any time to reply before the door is thrown open. Johnny shoots an arm over his shoulders, to shield his face with his arm just in case. The both of them relax seeing Kyle's face linger in the doorway, he looked around the room settling on the two in a pile with a sigh.

"Would you two lovebirds get a move on," Kyle huffs and crosses his arms.

Johnny groans dramatically, making a show of how exhausting Kyle's request really is. "You could always just join us Garrick," he suggests instead, wiggling his eyebrows long enough to make both men groan.

"I'm good," Kyle shakes his head but can hardly hide the smile on his face, "any of you seen Spider? We can't find 'em."

"The fuck do ye mean ye can't find 'em, they can't have gotten that far out," Johnny paces around in the kitchen. His usual energy spiking at the odd occurrence of an unpredictable event. The facts were staring him the face. You were nowhere in the house, nowhere around the house, told nobody and left no note. You were just gone.

You wouldn't just have run away, would you?

He looks over at Simon. He'd put his mask back on, his eyes closed behind it. He still seemed half asleep, nursing a cup of hot tea in his hands.

"They could have gone to town, taking a look around and forgot to tell anyone?" Kyle throws one option on the table. He'd prepared breakfast for himself, sitting opposite of Simon munching down on it.

"We need tae go find them," Johnny says and rubs his nose. There's something uneasy settling in his system, not knowing where you are, what you were up to. He was sure you were capable, that you knew what you were doing, but you had told no one. Even if you were fine, there had to be some stern talk to make sure you wouldn't pull a stunt like this again. Not even Price was liking this at all.

And speaking of Price. Johnny's attention sharpens when the captain comes back into the kitchen. "Laswell heard nothing either, but she mentioned they talked of the mountains" Price shakes his head lightly. "They likely went for them, but we have the town to look into as well."

"We'll split up, cover more ground, they are likely fine on their own but I’d like to have a talk with them so bring them back. Ghost, Soap you take the surrounding area, follow the trail towards the foot of the mountains. Me and Gaz will take a visit to the town, sniff around and see what else we can figure out about this community."

Simon is already on the move, abandoning his still steaming tea at the table. Johnny is hot on his heels, refusing to let him go and make some stupid choice in the heat of it. He still didn't fully understand it. The lingering connection between the two of you, but he knew that it was important. He wasn't going to let him down.

"Listen up My Angel, this is one our newest members. My very own brother, Graham," The Father introduces you to the buffer man standing in front of you. He's taller than him, keeps a short buzzcut you've come to expect from anybody here. It didn't take long before it was enforced on both the men and women, didn't matter what anybody said to it.

The collective has grown significantly and fast. Michael even insisted on being called The Father. You didn't quite understand why. He never explained himself, merely enforced it like he enforced the haircuts. You guessed it was to keep a resemblance between him and God, but you found it more creepy than holy.

His connections expanded a lot more over a very short time. People from far and wide was informed about what you all did here, and they travelled all the way to join you. It was a great feeling. You quickly received a lot more responsibilities for the younger sheep, but you found a lot of the exercises were more cathartic than anything.

"It's good to meet you," Graham speaks your name with a cold indifference. He wasn't very interested in anything that wasn't his brother. He crossed his arms over his chest, looked expectantly at The Father.

You're distracted. That much is obvious to both men on either side of you. Despite doing your best to keep your focus, you keep drifting towards different thoughts. Your gaze continuously looking towards the gate where the mail picked up from town would usually come through.

It's been several weeks, almost two months.

Simon still hasn't answered you.

You felt The Fathers hand gently push against your back, guiding you forward. "Graham trains more unorthodox K9's," he explains while making sure to place you between the both of them, "he specialized in dogs and wolves before he transferred here."

"Don't oversell it Michael," Graham grumbles. He looks off to the side, observing the newer recruits running drills around a makeshift obstacle course.

The Father clears his throat. In all the time you've known him, you've never seen him even close to nervous. "Point remaining...he's going to...train you...afterwards you're going to help him train up the rest," he sounds as if he isn't sure. The final details not yet decided.

Your eyebrows furrow at that. You already have the formal training; you're learning rapidly from shadowing The Father and you don't think you're doing half bad. Still, you needed more training? What else did you have to learn?

"Don't worry your pretty head angel," his hand finds a firm grip on the back on your neck, "just be good, follow orders and everything will turn out just fine."

"Good, again."

Your head was spinning from the pain. He'd had you going for hours at a time, didn't let you stop till you lost consciousness. Your thighs ached, your heart pounding out of your chest. The objective was simple. Shoot the targets he'd set up.

You'd finally completed a full round, and Graham's expression hadn't even changed a bit. He didn't care.

It's not like he was making it any easier on you. Whatever medicine he'd shot into your blood at the start was starting to make your head throb. You could still see the broken glass of the syringe laying amidst the sand and dirt. It glinted in the lowering sunlight.

The wooden targets were starting to get this bad habit of taking form, of looking more and more like moving people. People with angry faces, people with hurtful words, people with guns and ill intent. Around them the shadows crept, licking up against the figures and swallowing them hole. You weren't given much time to question as you were flung through the obstacle course another time.

In the beginning he put on a song on a speaker. An older one, slow and rather beautiful, a love song you think.

It's been on loop ever since. He seems obsessed with it, humming along with the tune for the hundred time as you run through the course. You hit your targets with a shake in your arm, making you miss a few a couple of times. It staggers your progress, and it's like you can feel his displeased look in the back of your neck.

You keep going, shooting at the shadowy figures that remain stationary. He's not saying anything you don't think, but still, you can hear his comments in your ears.

Do better

You're better than this

Wrong

Follow my orders

You miss the last target, by a stroke of bad luck. The ground comes closer all too rapidly when your body decides to give out. It refused to remain standing, to continue the strain that could no longer be received properly.

You heave for air, your grip on the gun all too lose. It falls to the ground and you just manage to push it out of the way before you collapse all the way onto your back. The air is too warm for this, your body already drenched in sweat.

He comes to hover above you.

You don't have time to squirm away.

Graham pulls up your shirt, takes his knife and adds another cut next to the other five. Your scream falls on deaf ears. He was ruthless in his violence. He knew exactly where to cut, knew exactly how deep to make it so you'd lose blood without dying. He timed the seconds in your blood loss, he kept an obsessive eye on your movements, your expressions, until he knew your tells better than you did.

He was lethally precise.

Graham hauls you back up to your feet, shoving the gun back in your hand and turns you back to the obstacle course.

"Cull the herd."

Somewhere along the way, the vials became less mandatory. Mr. Graham stopped forcing them on you one random night. It should've relieved you, no longer being woken up before you normally did with violent movements and a syringe pressed into your skin, but the abrupt change dysregulates you.

You still didn't sleep easy, expecting to be unnaturally woken up by either Mr. Graham or The Father with whatever they had decided they needed from you. Not having the altering substance in your system started feeling weird. You began to crave it again, the precision you had with it, the strength and clearness in your mind. You missed how clearly your targets would be highlighted for you.

So, you started injecting it on your own.

Mr. Graham never objected to it. He supplied you whenever you were low with nothing more than a knowing smile and a strong hand on your shoulder. Whether he ever regretted it, he never told you, but he did notice the change in your mental state. The rapid decline like falling down a ladder, you'd grab unto it, try to save yourself, only for it throw you off once again.

At first, he didn't mind it, even gave you an extra length of patience whenever you'd start to space out outside of fighting, or when you'd take longer to process his words when things were too calm for you.

But then you started to get snappy, too eager for the fight your body ached for.

You hadn't even realized it was the wrong thing before you had done it. Maybe the day had been too long, maybe you were overworked, too tired. It didn't matter, it was you that fired the shot. You had taken the injection earlier than usual, double the dose so it would last until training.

As always, Mr. Graham had met you on the field but he wasn't alone this time. The Father, being ever so gracious, decided to observe you both this time. You had stood dutifully next to Mr. Graham, your head bowed, posture straight, your mind a strange mix of muddy and sharp. Shadows crept at the corner of your vision, making you twitch.

You felt unsteady. Your trigger finger twitching with an odd need to hunt, to expel the uncomfortable energy swirling in you, an energy that needed to be used. All the excess adrenaline seemed to even be noticed by The Father.

"Are you alright, My Angel?"

Mr. Graham gives you a look that's hard to discern. Like he's trying to figure out where on the scale you are from collapsing and going rabid. He gets his answer in the worst way he'd have wanted it.

Something too real moves in your vision, rounding the corner of a building. A small shadowed figure, too stark in the contrast of the white wall. It smiled cruelly, moved erratically and it triggered every sensor in your brain. You act without thinking.

A loud squeaking sound comes from the creature. It collapses to the ground like a dying animal. The shadows slink away revealing the silhouette of a dog, laying gasping on the ground, whimpering and clinging to the life you took from it.

None of them react at first.

Three pairs of eyes watching the life drain. One shocked, one calm, one furious.

You don't even hear the angry words coming out of Mr. Graham's mouth. Your world is spinning, your head is buzzing and you still haven't quite recognized what you had just done. Which of them you had just killed.

He grabs your arm, drags you along to no protest from The Father. You don't remember the way, or where he took you. You only remember the pain of being thrown into the dark room of stone walls. There's no window, no light, and nobody else.

"I'll come get you once you've learned to calm the fuck down."

Those words are all he leaves you with before closing the door. Your breathing is unsteady when you lean against the cold wall and slowly lower yourself to the ground. It's unnerving. You know they're there. They're always there. Watching you, taunting you, baiting you into doing something.

They didn't make noise before; they didn't talk before but now in the darkness they still feel the need to make their presence known.

Calm down calm down calm down

You don't know whether it's you or something else that keeps repeating it. Your heart rate elevates, your body starts to shake. You try to scream out for help but your lips don't move. You don't even hear the little whimpers coming from your throat.

They creep around in the dark. They inch closer. They caress your skin. They fester inside your head.

Spider?

You freeze up in your corner at the familiar voice inside your mind. You don't want to look because you know who you'll see.

"No no no no no no."

Your hands clutch around your head, pulling at your hair.

"Go away!"

I brought food

"No go away! Please! Don't- don't do this."

Go on, I could hear your growling stomach from the gate

"Please!"

I made it

"You're not- you're- not- not-"

Did you hurt yourself?

"Leave me alone! You're not real!"

Whenever you're ready, little Spider

The snow has a blinding purity that's always mesmerized you. It stains so easily, the slightest touch disturbs the perfectly laid coat, creating chaos in the pillows of comfort and sanity. You'd spent most of the morning, most of the day, trekking through that purity and soiling it with the dirt underneath your boots.

There had always been a specific kind of thrill in your chest when you defied orders directly given. A small part of you taken back in your own hands, for better or for worse. You used to thrive so well under watch and order. Even if that's not the case anymore, you'd really ought to listen to the words of your betters.

At least then maybe you wouldn't be here. Standing as still as a statue, having a staring contest with a wolf and its red eyes. They're terribly vibrant. Reminiscent of the blood you could spill now.

Your hand clutched around your gun, ready to move at the order of a split-second decision. You're not here to hunt, you have to remind yourself. Never mind the wolf, never mind your thoughts. It doesn't matter that you used to hunt with them, that they used to sniff out your target for you.

It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter it does-

The thing isn't even full grown. You'd have been more inclined to leave it alone if it wasn't for the bleeding cross running down it's snout. The red mixed with its fur in a beautiful symmetry. It's growling at you, you think. It makes you wonder if this is what your old targets used to feel when the wolves would corner them. Unlikely. They usually kept a face mixed with fear and hopelessness. Runaway members of the collective never lasted long under the knife.

There's a part of you that doesn't dare look away from it. The fatigue in your eyes almost do it for you, the snow around the creature makes it melt into the surroundings. The wolf was too focused, too interested in the way you looked, in the way you smelled.

He's still training them

They were likely right. If Mr. Graham was still alive, still with the collective, he'd be doing what he'd always been doing.

Cull the herd

Be the guide, the cold example

Cull the herd

And if that was the case, it wouldn't only be wolves lurking around out here. You'd need to relay this to Price, or Laswell, without rousing too much suspicion. It was a mere hunch, a feeling in your gut, but one you'd learnt to trust long ago.

You start to slowly move backwards, if you were tactical about it, you could still come out of this unscathed. Something flickers in the corner of your vision. All it takes is a moments distraction and the creature lunges at you.

The gunshot echoes in your ears. Your instincts took over, fired for you, and in a rare moment of luck you actually manage to hit. The wolf falls to the snow, its left eye is half gone and blood oozes out of it. The snow becomes dirty in its blood.

You take a step closer to it, observing the dead creature. The cross is gone. Something else flickers in the corner of your vision, something bigger and a lot faster. Luck doesn't strike twice, favouring others in a moment of misfortune.

Sharp teeth sink into your shin. You cry out, despite the second wolf only managing to hang onto more clothes than skin, it still penetrates. Scalding pain shoots up your leg. A second gunshot sounding out. You're not sure how you managed to hit it properly this close, but the wolf falls to the ground next to its mate.

You sink to the ground next to them, breathing heavily as if you'd run half a marathon. Your brain runs loops around itself trying to understand what had happened, why both of them had attacked like that, and why the bleeding crosses on their heads were no longer there.

Was it a trick from him? A trick of your mind?

It would take a lot for you to even attempt to call yourself sane any longer but this felt out of hand. Despite your own distorted reality, when it came to the cult you could usually rely on the rampant voices in your head. Were you really turning this paranoid?

With groans and sputters, you manage to move yourself around enough to take a look at your leg. It could've been worse; the damage wasn't deep but you wouldn't be making it to the mountains like this. You let out a curse to the heavens. You'd been so close to achieving your goal before somebody came looking for you, and now you'd have to backtrack.

You had the two options, and you knew you had to choose the boring one.

A higher pitched scream in the distance catches your attention, followed along with a loud splash and arguing not that far from you. The snow carried the sound a bit further than normal but it wouldn't be more than a minute’s walk from your location.

And just when you thought you could make your way back with no complications.

You hoist yourself back on your feet, letting out a hiss as your leg protests to the movement with more pain shot up all the way to your thigh. You lean on a nearby tree, perking your ears to listen to the nearby voices.

At first you can't make out what they're saying but...they're familiar.

Simon and Soap.

Your stomach drops.

Price must have sent them out to look for you. Part of you scolds yourself for not leaving some sort of note or message. No matter how elusive. At least then they might not have come out for you. You could've gotten further, if it hadn't been for the sake of those pesky wolves.

You run a hand over your face, the gloves taking some of the fallen snow off your eyebrows. You walk in the direction of their voices, using their argument to steer you in the right direction.

There was safety in numbers now that they were out here. You weren't keen on being mauled over by another pack of wolves.

"For fucks sake Johnny, I told you to watch where you're placing those feet of yours!"

"Not my fault the bloody stones are so slippery in this weather!"

"Bloody hell just get your arse up!"

You peek out between a set of bushes, the thicket giving you enough cover to observe the situation before you approached them. You tilt your head, your eyebrows turning a bit up in surprise at the sight.

Soap, coming out the water from one of the deeper creeks, completely wet.

Your lip twitches, and you feel the urge to bubble up with laughter. You don't know how he fell in, and you don't really need to know to see the entire event as hilarious.

"Bloody river, stupid weather, stupid snow" he grumbles angrily as he tries to dust off the water like it was a simple speck of dirt.

Simon sighs heavily, his entire gear moving along up and down with him. "You need to go back, gonna get hypothermia if you stay out here," he says sternly. There's concern laced in the order, but it's an undeniable order nonetheless.

"No way...am not letting you stay out here alone, Price told us tae look for 'em together," Soap protests.

"Don't need to look much further," you sigh and speak up.

You emerge from the thicket, startling the both of them at the same time. They're drawn guns are trained on you in an instant, and in return your own gun is trained on Soap. Force of habit and all that.

Simon relaxes when he gets a proper look at you. Soap following soon after.

"Good, you're not dead then" he speaks in a relieved manner. Did he really think you'd act that recklessly? Probably.

"You really think I'd let myself get killed over something that idiotic?"

He looks at you for a moment, but not because he needed to give it any thought. No, his eyes aren't displaying a complex need for that, because he knows the answer. He's giving you the chance to take it back, to explain the limp in your walk. You don't.

"No," he says just as sternly in the crass voice of his.

"Ghost is right," you say and turn towards soap and his half assed attempt at squeezing water out of his gear, "we need to get you back home...get you warmed up."

"Aye."

The entirety of the town is already giving Price the creeps. He's seen his fair share of things in his time, the awful, the creepy, the monstrous. But the feeling this town gives him? Unlike most things he's encountered.

There's no hostility, nothing but the purest of hospitality even for mere tourists. There's something wrong with the smiles, their incessant need to accommodate practically anything he asks for.

He opens the door to the car, holding the two coffee cups against his chest. Garrick reaches over, takes them from him when he gets himself comfortable in the front seat. "I think I got your order right...don't kill me if it isn't, got a bit distracted in line," Price grumbles and leans back in his seat.

Garrick takes a sip of his own, then handing back Price's cup to him. "It's just fine cap, thanks" he mumbles and drinks some more. He let's out a satisfied groan and relaxes back into the seat. "Despite how weird this place is, at least they know how to make coffee."

"Hm that we can agree on," Price takes a sip of his. It's not bad, but he's definitely had better. The shop he went to would do better serving tea on the menu as well.

He'd parked the car in one of the open parking lots, not many seemed to come here. Most of the day it remained practically empty except for the few people coming to and from town. They'd spent the last two hours walking through town, posing as the tourists they undeniable were today. They hadn't learnt much, except for the fact the locals remembered faces too well for comfort.

Though it was to be expected, the town wasn't too big.

"Walked by the church..." Price says with a sigh, "struck up conversation with a few of the locals changing up the sign outside."

"Got anything useful out of them?" Garrick asks as if he'd conducted a whole interrogation.

"They've got daily mass...but most people come on Sundays as to be expected," he tells him before taking another sip, "a few of us should attend on Sunday."

Garrick let's out a louder groan, likely already picking up what he's putting down. The man clearly didn't want to, but like anything else they'd do here in this town, it was all work. Just work.

Price takes another long gulp of his coffee. The energy barely ever worked for him these days, the stress getting to his bones. He looks out towards the bustling little market a bit further up the long road. There wasn't many, but most of them would come through the market at least once a day. Garrick had mentioned a few familiar faces he'd spoken to in his other trips to town.

"Captain, do you think they'll...." he goes quiet, hesitating to finish his question.

"They'll find them," Price says assuredly.

"That's not..."

The captain doesn't bother looking at him, gives him a moment to think his question through. "Speak your mind, Garrick," he urges.

"How much do we actually know about them?" he knows why he's asking. Price had his own doubts, his own concerns, when Laswell first presented your file on his desk and insisted this was the only way.

He hadn't fully shed his doubts yet.

"We know enough, sergeant" it's not the answer he wants nor the answer he needs but it's the answer Price has for him. He'd have to do more digging, for the safety of the team, for the prosperity of the mission itself. You were too big a mystery, one where the only thing he could rely on was Laswell's word.

"They've been helpful, they'll continue to be helpful, it'll have to be enough for now." Price adds on shortly after.

 Garrick says nothing in return, simply continues to drink his coffee dissatisfied.

Price starts up the car, intending to have the rest of the way home in silence. And it was, much to his admiration. The sergeant could have a talkative tongue when he got excited about something, he'd think this whole situation would give him a few things to say.

Instead, it leaves him a quiet contemplating mess. Much like the rest of them.

He only ever speaks up in a low grumble when he sees the tip of the house revealing itself in the distance, only to render himself quiet once again.

The silence stretches on until Kyle sees the three figures bickering at the front door. "Isn't that..." he trails out as he realizes they probably don't have the key for the home. He does his best at holding back his laughter. It earns him a side glare from Price.

"Seems like they found 'em."

Price turns the car around and parks it in its usual spot next to the temporary home. "The fuck happened to you?!" Garrick says bemused by the sight of Soap.

Price does raise a questioning brow as he exits the car after Garrick. They were only supposed to go get Spider, why the man was wet as a dog was lost on him.

"Fell in the river..." Soap grumbles.

Garrick fails to hold in his laughter this time around, snorting on the spot. "I know you like water but maybe you should stay away from the literal ice water mate," he claps Soap on the back a few times.

Soap pushes him away annoyed, "agh away n' bile yer heid!"

Price rolls his eyes, pushing past the two to unlock the front door. As soon as it's open, you dart past him to head inside in the warmth with a surprising urgency. He looks to Simon, coming to stand beside him to move inside as well.

"They're fine...mostly fine...we're all fine," he assures him.

He eyes you suspiciously. His boys might've said you were fine, you might've said you were fine to them. Little observation told him that your limping leg wasn't all that fucking fine.

He followed you out back, the rest remaining in the living room to keep MacTavish warm. "Spider, slow it up" he spoke up causing you to freeze in place. He walked with steady steps until he could place himself in front of you.

"Come, I need to talk to you, and we need to take a look at that," he gestures to the leg that has a stained pantleg. He turns back around to walk to his and Garrick's room. He doesn't bother looking back to see if you're following, he has a deep-rooted feeling that you will.

You may be a rulebreaker when you get the confidence, but there's still obedience in you. From where he doesn't understand just yet, but it doesn't take all of his wisdom to gather a lot went down when you were hunting the cult on your own.

He holds the door open for you. Your eyes meet as you make your way inside, there's that stubbornness he's used to seeing in Simon. "Sit," he points to one of the beds pressed into the corner while he closes the door.

You do as he says, your voice stuck in your throat. He rummages through the cabinets, finds the first aid kit he always saved a few of. He didn't even need to tell you to roll up your pantleg, you'd taken the hint way before.

The wounds weren't deep, but whatever you'd been bitten by had been out to be vicious. "You'll need to get a doctor to look at this...lucky for you the town's got a local practice."

You tense up at that, dodge his touch as he tries to keep your leg steady enough to clean. "It's fine..." you say hastily, "It just needs to be cleaned I don't need to see anyone."

"Yes you do and that's an order," Price is stern in his voice.

One thing was to go out of your way to disobey the laid-out deal between the two of you, to run away to look for clues on your own, but this? He wasn't about to let you walk about with an injury that'll make you hurt yourself even more.

You go quiet at that. It's enough for him to grab your calf and put a wet rag against your wound. You flinch but make no sound. Your muscles are tense under his grip and your eyes shut tight.

He allows you the moment of silence, understanding the discomfort of it. He doubted you'd be able to answer anything if he even asked you right now. He cleans off the excess blood, checking the toughness of the teeth punctures. It wasn't as serious as it looked, but you still needed a checkup, he wasn't changing his mind about that.

He removes the rag, and binds the wound. "Did you find anything?" he doesn't look at you as he asks, merely focusing on cleaning up the opened supplies.

"No..." you speak in a low whisper; he wouldn't have heard unless he was this close.

You don't elaborate, and he doesn't find the energy in him to ask.

"Next time you want to go on an adventure like that you take someone with you, or at the very least inform me," he's back to speaking sternly, the voice of a captain that's been carefully crafted over the years in service.

"I can't have rogue soldiers running around, is that understood?" he looks up to catch your eyes.

You hold his stare with an uncomfortable intensity, trying to be as intimidating as he is.

"Yes sir."

He pats your calf, tugging down your pant leg once again. That time you held back your flinch, but it was obvious in your eyes to him. He takes a moment to observe you, trying to dig through your rougher exterior, to see if you were really softer under in it all.

Had you been soft once?

He calls your name in a quiet voice, makes a point to use a softer voice with rounder edges.

"There's parts of your file not even I have access to," he starts slow, careful, then pauses. You're wary of him, more than the others. He chalks it up to his authority over you, the one you can't quite find your place underneath.

"What's haunting you that much...that you won't even let me in on surprise plans...we're all a team here we-"

You rise from your seat with no warning. You're quick to make your way around him, careful to not step on any of the scattered things on the floor. He doesn't stop you nor does he continue what he was about to pry out of you.

He understands in some underhanded way. He'd dealt with Simon a lot longer than he'd dealt with you. There were undeniable similarities yet still something entirely different between the two.

"You'll go to town first thing tomorrow morning, I'll get Ghost to take you" he speaks up from his seat on the floor. You stop somewhere close to the door, listening to his words, his order. You don't answer him, but he knows you heard him, that you'll heed him this once.

You leave the room, closing the door with a care for potential noise.

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