#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

[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]

...

[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

[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.

[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!

[tfs-syscourse]

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.

[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

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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

[Prev chapter / Next Chapter]

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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[amethystina]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For four years.

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

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

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

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

And now I'm not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you 💜

[genofae]

Let me be Yours part1

Nanami Kento x Afab Reader

Content: Office sex, oral and fingering. POC reader

TW: smut. MDNI

Sometimes you wonder what happened for you to stay at your job past 10 pm, especially when you consider how much you despise this side of your job. No, you were not a masochist, even though your browser history has some funny searches, you were just in love with your section chief Nanami Kento.

When you first joined the team you didn’t have many expectations; maybe one or two coworkers you could hang out with during lunch; perhaps a cute guy you could watch once in a while. But Him? Nanami-please fuck me against my desk- Kento? You were one step from combusting in your shitty pink blouse you bought years ago, pretty much wetting your underwear like a horny teenager first discovering porn.

He wasn’t just another man. No, he was way more.

His first impression was just the beginning. His put-together appearance like he had everything in control and the way his deep calm voice would give the team's instructions to function as a piece of well-oiled machinery, heaven and hell itself teamed up to create that hottie of a man. But you were aware that it was a temporary and physical attraction, one you could control.

Too bad the universe made sure to remind you how wrong you can be.

At first, you spent a few minutes of your day looking at him. Then those few minutes got longer. Now you couldn't stop staring at his surprisingly strong arms, the size of his hands that could choke and please every inch of your body, how his fingers parted his hair, or how desirable his chest looked whenever he ditched his blazer over the chair during busy days. But you still thought that it was some silly hobby you did from afar.

But by the time you realized you were in love, it was late. Nanami quickly became someone special.

You weren't sure when, but you were not complaining either. He was responsible and kind to your coworkers, especially to you. He would thank you when you brought him coffee whenever you saw him tired, and help him organize his desk in case he was in a hurry. There were days when you both decided to stay until very late to finish a project and spend an insane amount of time together.

And that's exactly what happened that day. Although; you enjoy each other's company, overtime on a Friday night was a mood killer.

"Oh, Mr. Nanami! Guess who bought you a sandwich from the one food truck that was still open," you said while holding, proudly, a plastic bag with his food. "I was one step from ordering something from WacDonalds, but fortunately I found one. They said their food was good but the final verdict it's up to you boss."

Nanami hated overtime. Yes, everybody does, but he never failed to express his despise towards staying until very late working, so you suspect he didn't prepare any food beforehand, unlike you who always had one or two snacks just in case.

"Here, your favorite." You said, leaving his food on his desk, away from the papers and computer. He just looked at you with a tired yet grateful smile.

"You didn't need to do that. I can eat greasy food without dying. But thank you nonetheless," He said, looking briefly at your appearance and feeling guilty. You look out of breath and messy from all that running, but he couldn’t say more because he knew his dark eye bags and wrinkly shirt were ten times worse.

You chuckle at his answer "You do? I always thought you were too old to enjoy some old-time favorite junk food," you said sitting down in the nearest chair, exhausted. "Sorry, I couldn't get anything to drink. "

"Again, you don't have to, water it's just fine, " he took a bite of his sandwich, leaving a soft moan savoring the food. You were relieved it was tasty enough. "Ok, maybe you do. This is a nice one," he said, licking at his lips, one gesture you'd normally find unimpressive, but Nanami always made sure to catch your attention with the most simple things.

His lips were slightly shiny, tempting. Imagine how soft they might be from afar. He had a respectful way to speak to others. Did that also apply to his kisses? Or his gentlemanly appearance would turn into a disrespectful passion that would put anyone to their knees? Maybe, you knew how sarcastic his persona became when angry. Nanami was a man who carefully humiliated with elegance, you've seen it before, and deep down, you crave being the one put in their place by him.

"Are you alright?" his voice got you out of your trance bursting your bubble. "I'm serious, you don't have to stay with me. Go home and rest, I can finish this tomorrow morning."

"Mr. Nanami, you know I won't let you do that." you stood up in front of him as if you weren't dying a moment before. And unconsciously approached him forgetting any professional behavior " It's the third time this month they left our team extra work for gods knows why! And we both know who takes said extra responsibility. I'll not let you handle this by yourself, you look exhausted!"

Then he said, "So you do," and he was right about that. Within the past months, your concealer has gotten more covering to hide your dark circles. So you sighted defeated

"Are you sure there's something else?"

"Not really. It's either mine or someone else's job."

“Nothing?”

“Not a thing, Miss Guerrero. I’m dead serious.”

"Alright," you accepted his answer. The least you wanted is to sound like a pushover. "I'll get my stuff and organize before leaving."

The clock just struck 11 o’clock, and the temperature in the office got worse, security turned off the air conditioner long ago, and your blouse was paying once again the consequences. You also wish you could get rid of your hosiery right there, but that would be inappropriate.

Thankfully all your things were in order, unlike yourself. As soon as you feel the sweat over your body, you take a look in your pocket mirror.

“Fuck!” you said horrified. Everything was a mess, from the hair to the makeup. “Nanami saw me like this?!” checking and fixing to some degree your appearance. Hopefully, the rest of your foundation could hide your embarrassment. How can you confront him after that?

Well, it was already late. You fixed the rest as much as possible before saying goodbye and finishing the night.

Barely crossing the door to his office, you saw him immersed in his computer. You also noticed he finished his sandwich and left behind a trail of disposable cups with coffee and water along with other folders and documents. You doubt he heard you coming.

"Mr. Nanami, I'm leaving." your voice was low, trying not to distract him more. “I hope you have a good night”

He nodded and said, "You too Miss. Guerrero." while settling in his chair trying to be less uncomfortable.

Then a crack sound, one very loud crack.

You, who were almost closing the door, turned around both surprised and worried. Nanami; in the same manner as yours, looked shocked.

"What was that?" you asked, kinda knowing the answer. "Mr.Nanami!" you approach him immediately.

"Everything is fine, I'm alright!" he tried to say but it didn't matter, you were already in front of him trying to figure out where that sound came from.

You never intended to be bold, but your hands were currently on his neck and shoulder, looking for something. Right at the moment, you didn’t stop, you left aside the fact that he was your boss and you were crossing his boundaries.

Your hands traveled and touched without noticing how red his face was and how nervous his breathing got. In his mind, Nanami tried to convince himself it was because of the situation; but not even he could ignore how close your chest was from his face. He thanked the office for having feeble lights, otherwise, he could have been able to tell the color of your bra.

“Mr.Nanami your body isn’t supposed to sound like that,” you said, doing a bit more pressure in between his neck and shoulder. “How long have you been like this? ”

“For a while.” His answer was vague, like many others that involved his health, so you assume it has been more than a while. “My vacations are in less than a month, I’ll be ok”

“Mr.Nanami, don’t lie to me. I know how much you hate overworking” you said. “If you needed to relax you could have said so. I can give you a massage” you suggested.

Nanami was scandalized, “Miss Guerrero, I can’t let you do that!” He was attempting to dismiss your idea.“It would be unprofessional of me, I don’t want to compromise you.”

Being rational, he was right. Nanami might put you in danger as an employee under his care. But there was more about his answer, he refused to let things escalate because he knew how much power you had over his body.

The slight touch of your fingers over his neck was enough to destabilize him. His legs trembled anxiously anytime you moved closer to him, yearning for more.

In the privacy of his home, he could imagine, whispering your name as a lover does, and you'd do the same. If he focused enough, he might even taste the sweetness of your lips, the softest of your skin, and the way your body reacts to his own.

Nanami would take you in as many ways as possible. Listen to your demands. Harder, slower, deeper. You'd be whimpering and digging your nail on his back lost in pleasure, and he would be pressing down your thighs to make sure you take every inch.

"No, I must stop," he thought.

This wasn’t the privacy of his home and your presence nor part of his imagination.

"You don't have to," he whispered.

"But I want to," you replied. "Now get comfortable and leave it to me, Boss"

"Now that I think about it we should move somewhere less chaotic," you remark. His desk wasn't necessarily easy, full of obstacles. Perhaps that one sofa at the corner of his office would work, there were a few things out of place, but nothing you couldn’t solve. " You know what? Why don't you get more comfortable while I prepare some stuff?"

"Yes...sure," he said quietly.

Meanwhile, he took advantage of your absence to calm himself. His chest moved faster, looking for more air than he normally needed. Unfortunately, the real challenge was hiding the bulge in between his thighs, Nanami doubted the lack of light could conceal his arousal.

Nanami always considered himself someone respectful. He avoided unnecessary conflict as much as possible, just like swearing or violent outbursts, and the fact Gojo still walked with all his teeth was proof of it, however being around you was an exception.

He knows it’s not intentional, he trusts you. But in moments like this Nanami didn't trust himself with you, someone so sweet, so bright. A living temptation that torments him every day he is beside you.

“I’m done, Nanami. You can come” you said with a playful tone, maybe it was intentional.

Thankfully the sofa was big enough for you two. You saw how he left his tie over his desk and came near, undoing his first two buttons and sitting in front of you, giving you his back.

“You can start, I’m also ready,” he said, not looking at you.

When you proposed giving him a massage you never thought it would be naughty because of your previous experience working as a masseuse before changing your career path. You had the training, and the skill, and have seen multiple people with barely anything, not the actual situation, but the point is understandable. Your intentions were never about taking some advantage of; however you'll soon realize how odd the whole situation is, not now, but you will.

As soon as you let your hand reach his shoulder you noticed how his body reacted immediately. The stiffness of his posture was concerning, Nanami's muscles were so tense you could compare them to a rock. You left a sight and started.

You keep massaging his lower neck and shoulder blades. Sometimes a bit further on his back, but never crossing his waistline, now fearing that it would make him uncomfortable.

Up and down, and applying bits of pressure. His breath became slower and his stiffness began to fade. Nanami melted on your hands like butter.

"How are you feeling? It's everything alright?" you whispered, coming near to his ear. He just shook his head with a soft motion.

His voice sounded raspy and lower, maybe he was finally relaxing. "No," he answered almost out of breath. "It feels good"

For instance, you realized that providing these services, in particular, wasn’t your brightest idea. Hearing his voice had an immediate effect on your body; as if it had awoken a dormant kink, but you had to be professional and keep going. You'll deal with your wet underwear later.

"I know it's not my business nor my responsibility," you said. " but I'm honest when I said that I don't like it when you push your limits."

He chuckled softly, which was a relief because you were beginning to sense the difference in his posture.

"Considering the things you do for me, it's kind of obvious that you care for my well-being," He said softly "and I don't think I could be more grateful that you're by my side, especially now. I haven’t talked to anyone but..."

"But?"

"but I think you deserve to know that I decided to leave... "

"You are quitting?!" you asked, obviously surprised by the news.

"Yes, I've been thinking about it for a long time and it's time to move on. We both know this job isn't exactly my passion."

He couldn't be more miserable.

Even when you stopped to process the information, you felt a great discomfort in your belly, as if instead of butterflies you had wasps in your stomach. The universe decides to give you the middle finger and laugh at your face. But you couldn't complain either, at some point, your paths were going to part, you just wished it wouldn't be so soon.

"Oh..." was all you could reply.

"Don't worry, before I leave I'll make sure to make up for all the sandwiches you bought me," he said, trying to cheer you up.

His proposal wasn't bad, that way you'd figure out how to make up for what you had left as partners and coworkers. "You mean go out to dinner or literally pay for them?" you asked jokingly using a more cheerful voice since it wouldn't do to let on how much you were affected by his departure. "Because those gourmet breads you like so much aren't cheap at all."

Nanami, who was still mostly turning his back on you, took the opportunity and that he was more comfortable, to slightly lean his body on you and rest his head near the hollow between your neck. Nanami smiled, his lips almost touching your neck. "Whatever you want, I've always intended to spoil you, even if it's with small gestures" he finally said, his voice just as husky as before. "It's the least I can do for my favorite assistant."

“Nanami, please, I’m your only assistant!”

“Even better, that way I can give you all my attention”

You couldn't hold back the smile "You already do that every day"

“ I do” he asked

“Yes! I couldn't ask for a better boss " When you mentioned his position it was in an attempt to keep what was left of your sanity. Your body temperature was rising with the minutes, your clothes were making you uncomfortable and getting in the way. The reasons had nothing to do with poor office maintenance.

His skin, his voice, the closeness of your bodies, and the subtle scent of his cologne, notes of tangerine, tonka bean, and sandalwood. You could try to hold your breath as long as you wanted, but at the end of the day, this man was the main source of your despair.

"I don't think you understand what I mean " Nanami broke away from you and adjusted her position to face you. "I want to show my gratitude to the one person who has kept me sane all this time. I don't think I could have made it through these last few weeks without you, please let me show you how grateful I am that you're by my side; even if it's just for one night."

"Nanami... I" you murmured without paying much attention to your surroundings or the blond's newfound closeness. At no point could you look away or move, you just stood there enraptured by his eyes as his hands gently cupped your face and deposited a chaste kiss at the corner of your lips.

The sensation was short, basically imperceptible, but that was enough to elicit a desperate gasp from you, eager for more.

He didn't wait, still avoiding your lips, Nanami began to kiss your cheeks. Tracing a map of caresses until he reached the junction of your jaw and lightly tested the ground on your neck. From chaste strokes to more intense strokes, sometimes you felt the brush of her teeth. You felt even more heat on your cheeks and the blond's mouth on the most sensitive part of your neck, biting and kissing more and more vehemently. None of this was helping to keep your moans in check.

"Please y/n, tell me we can go on."

"Nanami" you whispered, your mind was softly and slightly lost in his caresses. "Please" you finally agreed. "Please don't stop"

You sounded desperate for more and rightfully so. Nanami pulled away from you completely and for an instant, you felt cold even as your body kept rising in temperature.

You wanted to beg him to come back, but he just put his fingers on your lips preventing you from saying another word. And with all the gentleness in the world, he started to walk up and down your legs making you more comfortable on the couch, your back was completely laid back on the sofa while he continued his tour of your thighs covered by your stockings.

His hands covered most of your thighs, gently squeezing the soft flesh and tracing his lips over your body again. You already knew how warm his lips were on your skin, but feeling them on the most sensitive part of your inner thighs was a different experience.

“Do you like it, y/n?” he asked looking directly at you “Because I know I do” he said giving a quick kiss to the part where your underwear limits your body. “ But I need an answer unless you want me to stop here”

You gasped before giving him an answer, he began teasing your pussy with kind licks that wet through your hosiery and took your sanity in the process “Yes… Yes please” you finally responded to him.

“Good girl,” he said, smiling at you.

Nanami caressed your thighs until she reached the edge of your underwear and stockings. The blond smiled mischievously as he began to play with the elastic and then carefully slid your stockings down your thigh and calves until he reached your ankles. When he finally managed to get rid of them he didn't hesitate to kiss your ankle before moving your legs over his shoulders.

Repositioning her face again between your thighs, you could now feel the warmth of her skin directly against yours. Nanami couldn't wait any longer, with one last look he brought his tongue close to that wet patch in your underwear. The first few licks were tentative, but once he heard your sweet gasps and felt you moving against his face in search of more friction, he didn't hesitate to grab your thighs and dive into your covered pussy and lick more.

The sounds were obscene. His tongue was hard against your panties, It was getting more and more soaked with your arousal and his saliva. Unconsciously you moved your pelvis looking for more pressure, but it wasn't enough. You needed the contact to be even more direct.

Nanami enjoyed your neediness. Looking at you almost gone in pleasure sure was a spectacle. He was a good man, he could feel what you needed the most, but not yet. For an instant, he separated himself from you. You protested his absence, and he just smiled. Nanami moved to the fabric of your underwear and exposed your pussy lips to the environment.

— So pretty. — he kissed them briefly before submerging himself fully into your cunt. Licking, sucking, and teasing your hole. Nanami was merciless as you began to pant.

His nose hit your neglected clit more than once, the friction was delicious, but not enough to make you cum. In an attempt to intensify the sensation, you grabbed his hair and hump his nose as he dived his tongue inside your pussy. — Oh, please!... Kento, please. — you moaned with a bit of desperation. He let go a little laugh to your annoyance, and before you could protest he dive one of his fingers into your pussy replacing his tongue and moving his lips close to the hood of your clit, but not enough to make contact.

— Oh, is this what you need, darling? Do you want me to suck here? — his tone was playful, mocking your desperation. Nanami gave a quick lick to your click and you clenched your walls over his fingers. You nodded but he didn’t look pleased. — Use your words. Do you want me to suck your clit? Do you want to cum on my fingers?. —

This time he began to move his digits in and out of your pussy, they were bigger than yours and a lot more skillful since it didn’t take them a lot to find that little rough patch above your pelvis. He looked at you, loving how easy it was to make you yearn for him. His mistreatment didn't stop. Nanami kept hitting your spot waiting for your words even if you couldn't articulate his name without babbling.

— ple…aSE! Aah!... Kena…ToO! –

— What you say, darling? I can understand. Do you need something from me? — he teased.

— Cum! I need to cum, pleaasee!

He smiled — Whatever you need. —

He put aside his own arousal and concentrated on moving his fingers with more precision, hitting your g-spot. Your body couldn't hold it anymore, your breathing became irregular, your sight blurry. Walls were ready to finish all over his fingers. And when you did, your eyes closed tightly as your body trapped Nanami's fingers, covering him and the sofa with your juices.

Nanami pulled out from your body, amazed by your beauty. Then he proceeds to lick his fingers moaning from the taste.— Am afraid we need somewhere comfier. My apartment perhaps. — he said. — What do you think?

As you incorporated more, you saw how little his pants were counseling his boner. To say you wanted to reciprocate the favor was an understatement, but he was right. His office was not the place for that, as if he didn't already make you see stars minutes before.

— Well… we do deserve a break.

He nodded. — You’re always right. What would I do without you? — Nanami leaned to your height and kissed you one last time before helping you dress. The night was young, and for to new found lovers, that was the best news they could receive.

Hopefully, I will finish this someday. You guys have no idea how much dust this shit was collecting.

My first smut, not entirely proud of the outcome, but I've seen worse things being done.

if you guys find a mistake, my bad.

Bone appel teet.

[tuffgreg]

merrick/emmrich, the first time they sleep (like, literally just sleep) together?

thank you for the prompt it is one of my favorite things!!! sometimes you just need to sleep!! with some nice company!! [posted to ao3 on 1/18]

i opened a google doc and it accidentally became 2600 words

emmrook + sleeping (just sleeping!!) together + gen, early relationship + 2614

“You’re up late, Rook.” 

Rook jolts at the sound of Emmrich’s voice – he is up, in theory. Trying to be, at least, to such an extent that he’s even gotten himself a mug of the sludge Neve calls coffee. The last time he slept, he saw Solas, and before that Treviso under fire and the imagined specters of dead friends and colleagues, and before that the realities of Dock Town, destroyed and under Venatori rule.

He’s gotten too scared of what his brain might remember next – Varric, taking a knife to the chest? The Gloom Howler? – or what worse things it might imagine. Scared of Solas sneering at him. 

“Rook?” 

He realizes he’s staring when Emmrich repeats himself. Rook looks up, blinking blearily as he takes in the sight of Emmrich standing near the little sofa in the common space. He’s dressed for sleep – soft striped pants and his house slippers, a rather fancy dressing gown in what seem to be a typical Mourn Watch motif, a rich plum with gold trim. Emmrich’s hair is soft and looks a  bit damp as if it’s freshly washed, falling over his forehead. 

He’s staring, still. “Yeah, just.” Rook pats around with the hand not clutching his mug for dear life, scrambling to find the book he’s been pretending to read for at least two hours. His hand closes around something, and he waves it at Emmrich with a bright smile, the kind that normally warms people to him enough to make them feel safe leaving him to his own devices. “You know. Enjoying a little light reading.” 

Rook clocks the cover. One of the suspiciously numerous copies of Hard in Hightown floating around. He smiles at Emmrich again, and tucks the book quickly under his thigh, though if the hint of a smile playing at the corner of Emmrich’s mouth is any indication he’s already noticed it too. 

“I do enjoy a bit of light reading before bed. I thought I heard someone out here last night as well.” Emmrich takes a step closer, watching Rook with his usual shrewd curiosity. Normally his chronic inquisitiveness is charming, but there’s a weight to his gaze that makes Rook squirm a bit on the worn cushions. “And Manfred seems to have picked up an unusual amount of trivia about Antiva City, in recent days.” 

Ratted out, and by a skeleton no less. A skeleton, who doesn’t even have a functional tongue. Rook feels his face heat up and turns his attention back to the book, glancing down at where the spine is sticking out from under his leg and tracing his fingers along it. “He’s pretty good conversation, all things considered. Wish I knew how he got so good at rock, paper, scissors.” 

Emmrich arches an eyebrow and glances towards Rook’s mug of questionable coffee. A moment of silence hangs between them, then spirals out until Rook sighs. “And maybe I don’t want to sleep.” 

Another beat, and Rook waves a hand towards the spot next to him on the couch. He tries not to feel disappointed when Emmrich settles a respectful distance away from him – not quite enough for another person, but too much space for Rook’s taste all the same. He tilts a little, facing Rook, relaxes enough that the collars of his dressing gown slump open just enough for Rook to process he’s not wearing a shirt. 

“You know Bellara or I would be happy to help,” Emmrich offers, voice as gentle as it ever is when it’s just the two of them. Sweet, inviting, a host of other things Rook still isn’t entirely sure he’s not – projecting. Hoping. Inventing in his own mind. 

He tears himself away from thinking about the pale, lean expanse of Emmrich’s chest under fine silk and the smattering of salt and pepper hair he’s sure he can see here under the glow of the astrolobe. “Not wanting to is different from can’t,” Rook says dryly. “I probably could if I tried.” He looks to the book again. “I just, you know. Would rather not.” 

“Ah.” There’s a weight to that too, and when Rook looks again Emmrich is watching him intently. At the very least, there’s some understanding in his expression. “You do have a lot on your mind.” 

“So does everybody else,” is Rook’s reflexive response. “But nobody else is…” He gestures around at the empty chairs with his mug. “I guess except Lucanis. And Manfred.” 

He glances at Emmrich, who arches an eyebrow, and Rook huffs out a faint laugh. “And you, I guess.” 

“Please, try to contain your enthusiasm,” Emmrich replies dryly. “I guess.” He extends a hand for the mug and takes a sniff when Rook hands it over, before immediately handing it back over with a distasteful expression. “Are you truly so desperate that you’d stoop so low? Based on Lucanis’ opinion of Neve’s brews I rather thought you’d find it a personal affront, as a fellow Crow.” 

“Not every Crow’s as intense about coffee as Lucanis is,” Rook laughs, but he does sheepishly set the mug aside all the same. “Besides, I think hers works even better than Lucanis’ does just because it tastes so bad.” 

“I’m shocked you can taste anything at all, after a cup of that.” Emmrich lets out a disdainful sigh, and Rook can feel Emmrich watching him again. “Would you like to…” 

The hesitation in his voice makes it immediately clear what he’s asking, so Rook doesn’t worry too much about offending him with his immediate, brusque, not really. Talking will just put everything at the front of his mind again, easy pickings for whatever it is that drags him into the dreaming world. 

Maybe it would be polite to explain, at least. “Sorry for bugging Manfred, though. I just…” Rook shoves a hand through his hair with a practiced, light laugh. “I should have picked a different place to meditate, when I need to talk to Solas.” 

Or maybe he’ll talk about it. He grimaces and yanks at his hair a little, til Emmrich reaches out to touch his arm, just briefly. “Manfred enjoys your company,” Emmrich offers in return, his hand dropping to the couch when Rook finally lets go of his own hair. “He does worry, though.” 

“Is that you, or is that Manfred?” Rook’s own hand drops to the couch, their fingers nearly brushing. He could move a little more, if he wanted. 

He digs his fingers into the cushion, restless, and flashes Emmrich a practiced, disarming grin. “You fret over everybody.” 

“Perhaps,” Emmrich retorts. He drums his fingers on the cushion. “Who wouldn’t, in these times?” 

“Fair enough.” Rook thumbs at a loose thread, then stretches his fingers just a little to toy with another one closer to Emmrich’s hand. 

Emmrich’s hand stretches a little too, and then moves, just enough for their fingertips to brush across worn-out fabric. “We don’t only share the fretting, you know,” he says, and the Crow in Rook – the de Riva, for all he’s no longer using the name he used at home – immediately recognizes the careful practiced edge to Emmrich’s voice too. “Perhaps I could at least offer company, if not conversation.” 

Rook blinks at him. “What, you’d just sit here?” 

“Oh, no, of course not, if you’d rather be alone.” There’s practice there, too, the careful friendliness of not taking it too personally. Emmrich starts to draw his hand back. “I do apologize for interrupting –” 

Rook grabs Emmrich’s hand before he can stop himself, and stares at it, and then stares at Emmrich’s face. Emmrich’s eyes are a little wide, his lips parted, his cheeks faintly pink, startled the way he is sometimes when Rook tries his luck with a flirtatious line. 

“No,” he says quickly, and he feels his own face heat up a little at the way Emmrich’s expression softens into hesitant excitement in return. “I – no, that’s not what I meant.” He clears his throat sheepishly, looking anywhere on Emmrich’s face except his eyes. “I just… if you wanted. I wouldn’t… I’d like that. Company.” A shy pause. “Your company.” 

“Oh.” The way it slips out of Emmrich, it feels more like a sigh than a word, and Rook files it away to think about later – oh, sighed as Rook kisses him, skirts his fingers along the enticing flash of skin at the collar of his robe, tugs him down into a soft mattress. Emmrich tangles their fingers together, and smiles so tenderly at Rook when their eyes finally meet again that Rook feels his heart skip a beat. “Of course,” he murmurs. “If you’d like.”

“Please.” Silence hangs between them for a long moment, and Rook huffs out a laugh. “I uh – admittedly I’m not… great, at just sitting.” 

“Why don’t we read?” The panic on Rook’s face must be terribly obvious, given the little chuckle he gets from Emmrich. He lets go of Rook’s hand – reluctantly, Rook is pleased to note – and stands, heading to the shelves. “I’ll leave that with you, in case you change your mind.” 

A few moments of searching and a delighted little ah! later and Emmrich returns, this time leaning against the arm of the sofa as he examines his prize. “I haven’t seen this in years. Through the Gilded Lamplight. Quite a popular play, when I was much younger.”

Rook shifts a little across the couch, uncertain, til Emmrich finally extends a hand. Rook takes it and, after a moment, lets himself be drawn closer. 

“If you’d like,” Emmrich says, a little quieter.

He shifts a little, making a bit of room between his side and the back of the sofa, and Rook tucks himself there, letting their legs tangle as Emmrich draws his up to stretch out across the cushions. “What’s it about?” 

“A romance about a young mage apprentice and the nobleman’s son she fell in love with, watching him through the lamplight of his window.” Emmrich falters for a moment, then slips one arm around Rook’s shoulders as he sets the book on his thigh and opens it with his other hand. His brow furrows slightly as he thumbs over an inscription inside the cover. Til we escape the lamplight to be free beneath the stars, accompanied by an unrecognizable signature. “A strangely personal thing to find here.” 

“Maybe someone left it,” Rook offers, reaching out to chase the tail edge of the scrawled name. “Last time people were using the Lighthouse.” 

Emmrich sighs as he turns the page. “I hope they were together at least,” he murmurs, and he tips his head, almost absentmindedly, to press his lips briefly to the mess of Rook’s curls.  “I’m sure you won’t be surprised to know I saw this every time it came to the theater, when I was a student. A dark stage, a single lamp and a window frame looking into the sitting room of the Lord and Lady Belanger…” 

He’s not entirely sure when he drifts off to Emmrich’s low, even voice. Some time after he drops his head to Emmrich’s shoulder, surely, one arm wound around his waist, and after Emmrich’s fingers tangle in his hair, petting idly. There’s a blanket over them, when he wakes up from some minutes or hours of blissfully dreamless sleep, one ear slightly bent where his face is smushed against Emmrich’s collarbone. 

Rook is used to waking up in beds with people who aren’t meant to wake up, and he keeps himself still, trying to ignore the furious blush that creeps to his cheeks as he assesses the rest of the room. 

Manfred, off to the side, mimicking Emmrich’s dozing in the chair usually Emmrich’s sits in. His head tilts a little, mood as inscrutable as it ever is with nothing to give him away. Rook plucks at the blanket, and he gives a careful hiss of acknowledgement. 

“Emmrich’s really raised you to be a little gentleman,” Rook mutters, netting him another pleased hiss. He tries to extricate himself from Emmrich’s arms, only to find himself hopelessly tangled – legs twisted up, Emmrich’s arms around him. “Emmrich,” he tries, giving his shoulder a gentle shake. “Emmrich – I’m really sorry –” 

Emmrich, clearly, is less accustomed to trying not to disturb someone. He starts a little, and Rook has to grab him by the waist again to keep him from startling off the sofa. “I – no, I’m sorry, I only meant to let you rest for a bit.” His robe’s fallen open, and instinctively he goes to tug it shut as if he’s done something to offend Rook’s delicate sensibilities. “I hardly meant to… I never would have… not without asking.”

“To sleep together?” Rook stares at him for a long moment. “I mean – to sleep?” 

“If you didn’t want company,” Emmrich replies, sounding a little offended by the question. “I do try to be a gentleman, Rook.” 

Rook laughs, before he can help himself, and then quickly tries to swallow it as Emmrich’s eyes go soft and a little sad, his expression so endearingly sheepish. “No, I – no. I’m not…” He huffs out another chuckle before he can help itself. “Nobody’s… people don’t usually…” 

Something in Emmrich’s expression suggests this train of thought is the sort of thing that’s less funny to people who didn’t grow up the way Rook did, as is often the case with a lot of Rook’s trains of thought. He tries again. “You’re a perfect gentleman,” he says finally, reaching up to tug his dressing gown closed a little more and then to brush away a lock of hair that seems stuck to his temple. “Nobody’s ever been so worried about asking me if I want to take a nap. It’s cute.” 

“I am entirely too old for cute,” is Emmrich’s instinctive retort. “I fully intended to put you to bed –” 

Rook arches an eyebrow, and Emmrich scoffs, aiming for derision despite his sheepish expression. 

“Your bed,” he continues, “Before retiring to mine.” He processes the blanket, finally, and glances to Manfred with a paternally proud smile. “Ah, you are too kind, dear Manfred.” 

“You’re a good influence,” Rook offers, and his stomach lurches when that pleased smile is turned on him instead. “You’re…” Too cute, too kind, so warm to the touch. A comforting presence. So disarmingly handsome, mussed from even a brief sleep. If he thinks about it too long, whatever winds up spilling out of his mouth will be too embarrassing to face. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Emmrich replies, without hesitation. He reaches up then seems to reconsider, resting his hand at his collarbone instead. “I… of course, Rook. I meant what I said, about enjoying your company.” 

“I like yours too,” Rook replies, before he can second guess himself. He falters for a moment, reluctant to move. “And – I mean, if you wanted… I wouldn’t mind, uh…” 

Emmrich, patient as ever, gives him a moment to sort himself out. His fingers flex at his collarbone, and when Rook continues to stammer, he reaches up to cup Rook’s cheek. 

Rook struggles against the urge to tilt his head and press his lips to Emmrich’s warm palm, but he does tilt his head into it, just a little. “I could use some more sleep,” he says quietly. 

Not the usual way he goes about coaxing people into bed, but, not the usual reason, either. He stares at Emmrich, aiming for something more sincere than the wide-eyed, sultry pout he usually employs in similar situations, and wherever his face lands nets him a look so tender in return it makes his chest hurt. “We’ll bring the play,” he says fondly. “Whatever you need, dear Rook, you need only ask.”