#he is not well in the head but no therapy for him

[notlongtolove]

it's dry january

“alcohol makes people say things they shouldn’t.” you hear the faintest tremor in his tone as he swallows hard. “and do things they shouldn’t.” spencer thinks looking at you too long might just undo him altogether.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: bau out for drinks! very very brief mention of case violence in the first line. flirty bau reader renders spencer a bumbling idiot!

word count: 1.1k

note: some days i stare at 5 open tabs of WIPS and some days i stare at my notes app during an hour long train ride and come up with this. no linked poem bc twas a random idea, happy january everyone! fic is titled after this poem though!

a line: You always leave him scrambling, speechless, completely stupid—He adores you for it.

Nothing prepares you for the aftermath of the kind of week where you find five headless bodies drained of blood. Therapy perhaps? But everyone knows the job doesn’t pay you enough for that. They hardly give you enough time off to begin with. 

For now though, O’Keefe’s, on Rossi’s tab, gets the job done. Well, that and a cigarette of course. Always a cigarette.

You exhale a puff of smoke, the stick balanced carelessly between your fingers. The shuffle of shoes on asphalt behind you doesn’t startle you, and neither does the voice.

“You really shouldn’t be out here alone like this when you’re inebriated.”

You don’t need to look up to know who it belongs to. 

“Needed a smoke,” you say simply, flicking the cigarette. The ash tumbles to the ground. “And Morgan’s on his whole ‘new year, new me’ shit.”

“I give him two weeks,” Spencer grins, stepping toward you. “Emily’s got a pool going.” 

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name. Your eyes catch his briefly as you spin to face him. “Are you seriously betting against our dear coworker’s journey towards self-improvement?”

Spencer tilts his head and shrugs innocently. “I’m just making an educated guess based on statistical probability.”

“And cashing in on it.”

“Well, yes,” he admits. “That’s definitely an added bonus.”

You shake your head, your laugh soft and smoky, as you take another drag. The toe of your heel nudges his shoe when you take a step to close the gap between you. “You’re cute, Reid,” you say, almost intimately. “Y’know that?”

Spencer’s cheeks flush a faint pink. You always do this to him. His usual arsenal of facts and percentages is rendered utterly useless against your charms. You always leave him scrambling, speechless, completely stupid.

He adores you for it. 

“You—uh—you really shouldn’t smoke while drinking. The nicotine accelerates alcohol absorption. Inhibits you faster,” he manages. 

“That's kinda the point, handsome.” You retort, leaning in just enough to make his breath hitch. “S’what makes this fun isn’t it?” 

“Alcohol makes people say things they shouldn’t.” You hear the faintest tremor in his tone as he swallows hard. “And do things they shouldn’t.” Spencer thinks looking at you too long might just undo him altogether. 

He’s granted momentary relief when you turn away to stub out your cigarette on the edge of a nearby trash can. It’s shortlived though, because your hand comes to land on his chest the moment you turn back. When your fingers move to toy absentmindedly with the buttons on his vest, Spencer blanks entirely. 

“Like tell you I think you’re really cute?” you ask, your lashes fluttering in feigned innocence as you gaze up at him.

“Exactly,” he breathes out, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Like that.” His hand moves over yours and for a moment you think it may be to pull it away—He doesn’t. 

“And, uh, it’s a well-known fact that alcohol lowers inhibitions, making people more likely to do things they normally wouldn’t—like talking more or saying things they don’t really mean.”

There’s a glint in your eyes that makes his heart thud painfully against his ribs. Spencer hopes to god you can’t feel it beneath your hand. 

“And who says I don’t mean it?” you counter. Spencer doesn’t answer. He doesn’t think he’s even capable of it, his mouth opening just slightly before closing again.

“I mean, you don’t mind my honesty, do you?” you tease playfully. Then your smirk deepens, just shy of wicked. “Unless… you do?” You start to pull your hand away, but his fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours, stopping you. “Wha—no—I didn’t say—I mean, I—I don’t mind,” he stammers. 

“See?” Your grin spreads, soft and triumphant. “Cute.” 

At that, you lace your fingers with his, tugging him gently toward the bar. Spencer laughs nervously, already wondering how much of this you’ll remember in the morning. “You uh—You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk,” he says softly. 

Your eyes light up, saccharine delight crossing your face. “Aw! So you think I’m pretty and cute?” you echo, voice dripping with adoration. Spencer can only nod, blush deepening as he lets you lead the way with his hand in yours. 

Back inside, it’s clear the group has moved on from their individual drinks when the waitress sets a pitcher on the table. It fizzes, something green and citrusy that Spencer is grateful to abstain from. 

“About time,” Morgan calls, as you slide into the seat next to him. “What’d you do to get my boy genius all flustered like that, pretty girl?”

Spencer’s ears burn faintly as he takes the seat directly across from you, his hands folding awkwardly on the table. 

You ignore Morgan’s tease entirely, turning your attention to Garcia instead who’s already handing you a full glass.

“Me too!” JJ pipes up, her voice light. Spencer freezes mid-sip of his water, his eyes darting to JJ’s very noticeable baby bump.

“JJ, you can’t—you really shouldn’t—” he splutters, gesturing weakly toward the pitcher. Alarm is written across every inch of his face.

“Relax, Spence.” JJ waves him off amusedly as she reaches to grab a glass from Garcia. “It’s non-alcoholic.”

Spencer blinks, his brain trying to recalibrate. “Non-alcoholic?”

Across the table, Garcia beams like a proud parent. “We’re doing Dry January! No alcohol for the whole month. I proposed the idea to everyone.”

“Proposed isn’t the phrase I’d use,” Emily interjects dryly, leaning back in her chair. 

“Coerced,” Morgan says with a pointed look.

“Borderline threatened,” you add with an exaggerated sigh, swirling the contents of your glass lazily.

JJ, of course, opts for silence, contentedly stirring her drink with a smile. Misery loves company. 

Spencer’s eyes you, his brow furrowing. “All of you?” You lean back in your chair, biting back a grin as you take a deliberate sip from your glass. 

“Well, nearly everyone,” Garcia grumbles, nodding toward the end of the table. Rossi doesn’t miss a beat, raising his glass of scotch. “When hell freezes over,” he declares, taking a swig.

Spencer’s gaze flicks immediately to you now, brazen. “So, you’re not actually—”

“Drunk?” You cut him off, your grin now fully formed as you lean forward. “Oh, definitely not. I’m sober as a judge, gorgeous.”

Spencer’s certain he’s not going to survive this night​​—Not when the way you say gorgeous sends his heart stuttering in his chest. 

Later, when you mutter something about being too sober, Spencer can’t help but think, more than ever, that this is going to be a very long night—But he lets you tug him toward the bar by his tie anyway, smiling like a mumbling, bumbling idiot all the while.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: dizzy on the countdown by turnover im in love with you by the 1975

[demonic0angel]

DcxDp

Danny, after some encouragement (read nagging) from Jazz, decides to find a way to vent his trauma without it leading back to him. He's a bit hesitant about therapy due to Spectra, and there's only so much Jazz can do, especially since she's often busy with her classes over at Gotham University. So Danny decides to write a book under the pen name Danny Nightingale. The book quickly becomes a series of three so far called The Lab Accident Chronicles. He makes them about a boy named Neil who gets super powers in a generic lab accident and goes around fighting other super humans. The second book is about coping the trauma the ultimate enemy caused with changes, like Dan being Neil's superpowered older brother named Felix, Dani being a younger sister named Katey in the icu as a stand in for her destabilizing. There's also the older sister character based on Jazz named Amy. The third book is about coping with the trauma of the GIW vivisecting Danny with the stand in being an agency called The Anti Meta Foundation. The books become best sellers in a bunch of different cities, and the Justice League immediately can tell these books are trauma vents and are concerned.

Superman frowned at the books. “Is there a reason you believe that this is… real?”

Batman growled, “The level of detail within the novels are too… they’re too realistic. Something like this can only be written as a first hand account with personal experience.”

Green Lantern lifted the book with his ring, flipping through it rapidly. “I’m not too sure about this, Spooks. How are we sure that it’s just not someone with a good imagination? I mean, some of the things that happen in this novel are pretty… out of there. Like some sort of inter dimensional being capturing an entire town and being defeated by a teenager? His genocidal future self from another timeline coming to this world to kill him? Said teen also having a romance with almost all of the girls in his high school? Not that he described a lot but still…”

Batman pinched his nose. The first time Green Lantern actually read all of his needed materials and it was this…

Wonder Woman coughed and said, “Well, I believe you, Batman. If you think that there is a connection we can look into, it is no problem for us to give a quick check.”

Batman bowed his head to her. “Thank you.”

Superman nodded and said, “I agree. I trust you, Batman. So… where do we start?”

Batman flipped one of the books over and pointed to the name written under the drawing of a green, swirling portal. “Here. I say we start with the author. Daniel J. Nightingale.”

[artsarasp]

Hello! I love your art style so much! It scratches an itch idk how to explain it lol

I also wanna ask how would sy!ming fan look like in the future? Would he still look like ur older ming fan art before or would there be some changes to the hair or accessories?

AAA thank you!! This is such a fun question!

They would look very different! While I don't know how "By hook or by Crook" is gonna end, sy!mf lacks the character traits that lead to my Peak Lord Ming Fan design! Since that design is based specifically on how Prim and Tiny write Ming Fan and how his interactions with Zhao De would evolve.

Peak Lord Ming Fan is insecure about himself, especially his appearance. That leads to him overcompensating with an excessive amount of jewelry because the notion that he's dull and bleak has been drilled into his head at this point and he's doing everything to not be that. Also his only reference on how to be a Peak lord has been Shen Qingqiu!!! The og goods! With all his problems! Ming Fan is stuck with his shizun's bitch resting face for all eternity!

Also, overall, this Ming Fan needs so much more therapy.

If I had to design an older sy!mf; First off, he wouldn't be as flashy, because he's not insecure! Like, he knows he's kinda got the short end of the stick when it comes to looks in pidw, but since everyone is usually otherworldly beautiful he's actually just a normal dude! He can be pretty with enough effort and he's poser enough to put in the effort when given the chance! He can certainly act more graceful and cool than og Ming Fan could too, that gives him more charm! When he gets out the ugly duckling phase he's gonna be quite cute, Binghe is gonna be so smug about having seen it before everyone else. Now I don't know how the story will end, so lets put in two possible endings for the fun of it! Ending 1 - Binghe and Ming Fan fuck off and become rogue cultivators. Ending 2 - Binghe and Ming Fan become emperors of the realms together after going to the abyss.

Rogue cultivator Ming Fan wears more practical clothes as well as hair do! Perfect for running around and getting into trouble with Binghe! Emperor Ming Fan needs to show off a little bit! Gotta be a lil bit more of a poser when you're an emperor, so he's got fancier clothes and he lets his hair down cause it looks better! :D Also, fun detail! Notice that while the two SY!MF kept their freckles, Peak Lord Ming Fan doesn't have them. That's because PL!MF is, again, insecure. Gotta get rid of all imperfections. Meanwhile, the other two are very happy to let Binghe kiss every single freckle on their cheeks <3

[redbleedingrose]

Can you please write cute fluff headcanons of the acotar men ( whichever you want to write about) pampering their fem s/o with a massage because they see her tense with stress? Please and thank you .

Pleaseeee, the Bat Boys and Vanserra Bro's know how to treat their girls, especially when they are stressy spaghetti!!

I kind of want to split this up into a mini series, so I will do Rhys first. Let me know who y'all want second in the comments!

Rhysand

okay first off, why are you even stressed? This male does his very best to make sure his darling is never worried about anything.

But its okay, sometimes your emotions get the better of you. Not your fault darling, you're just his sweet girl who likes to worry your pretty head about things like how emotionally constipated Az is, or how Cassian is working overtime with his training after throwing out his back (embarrassing for the old ass male), and how Morr is being too secretive these past few months and something is definitely going on with her. Rhys thinks it is so adorable how you worry about the members of the inner circle, how you take care of them in the ways that they need.

He loves watching you pitter patter around the apothecary, trying to gather materials to create a balm for Cass' back. And he can't help but muse over you fussing over Azriel, forcing him into the settee in your office and having yourselves a little therapy session (he knows he will hear the tea about it later when you both go to bed, and he cannot wait). He does moan and groan when you plan for a girls night out with Amren and Morr, he wants to have some alone time with his mate, but you settle into his lap and pepper kisses all over his face and neck putting him into a lovesick daze before rushing off with a promise of what is to come when you arrive home from your night.

Anyway, you do sometimes get overwhelmed, you care so much. You worry about Rhysand, you worry about the inner circle, and more, you worry about Velaris and the entire night court. Being the first high lady of the Night Court has designed a load of pressure on you to be perfect at all times, to always say and do the right thing. And Rhys, well he grew up with that pressure. He knew this was going to happen to him, but he cannot imagine the stress you give yourself. Again, you care so deeply, and that is one of the things that made Rhys fall for you, so much so, he physically aches when you aren't around.

You always try to hide when you feel overwhelmed, too embarrassed and ashamed to admit it. Part of you doesn't want to bother the high lord, knowing he, himself, is incredibly busy putting out fires on a daily basis, and handling it with such grace. It is almost annoying how effortless Rhys rules. But Rhys knows. He knows you, and he knows your heart and soul. You don't have to tell him you are feeling overwhelmed.

He can feel it, he can see it. He notices everything about you. He clocks the crinkle of concern between your eyebrows, the way your hands shake ever so slightly as you read through and sign the most tedious and boring paperwork, the way you twist and turn the custom wedding ring on your finger, the way you shake your right leg as it rests across your other leg and how you pause it when you finally become aware you are doing it, only to start again. You are teeming with anxiety, and he will do everything in his power to get you to relax. He can't have his beautiful wife worried like this, oh no, not at all. You are too good, too pure, too precious to him to ever allow such a thing.

After deciding he has seen enough of his pretty girl worrying, he swoops you up, out of your chair and into his arms, right where you belong, carrying you just like he did on your wedding night, his stunning bride. He ignores your protests with a firm shake of his head, and kissing the side of your head with a small hum, tightening his grip on your squirming thighs and right at the edge of your breast, carrying you out of your office and into your shared bath. Halfway to the bathroom, you gave up your fussing and settled into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your head into his warm chest. He sets you down gently onto the counter, and traces his hands up your sides and settling onto your jaw, softly kissing every part of your face he can reach, focusing his attention on your rounded cheeks, pouted lips, fluttering eyes and your temple instead of answering your questions on what you are doing in your bathroom when you each have mountains of paperwork lining your desks that need to be completed before the winter solstice next week. "Darling, I don't mean to hush you, but hush. You, my mesmerizing mate, are too stressed out for your own good. I don't want you to worry about a single thing, and I will take care of it."

You immediately go into full denial mode, rambling with a quivering lip, "I can handle it Rhys, I am High Lady, and this is my duty, and I know what I am doing." Your husbands violet eyes twinkle as they normally do when they are focused in on you, and he listens on as you bubble out excuses and far fetched tales describing how you "really aren't stressed" and have "no idea what he is talking about," all the while rubbing at your tense shoulders and kissing the side of your mouth until he finally hushes you again. "S'alright baby, I know. I know you can handle it and that you know what you are doing. But if I am being honest, sometimes I get overwhelmed. And I just need you, I need you to be close to me. So will you please take this bath with me doll? I will even feed you chocolate covered strawberries and give you a massage with that lavander oil you love so much after."

The pecks to the side of your mouth were enough to convince you to stay with your mate, and follow through on his plans for a relaxing evening, but you didn't need to tell him that. The chocolate covered strawberries and full body massage are just an added bonus. The quirk of your lips is enough for your mate to vanish both your clothes and place you into the warm bath in front of him, holding your back close to his chest. He washes your hair, even letting the conditioner sit in while he presses his fingers into the tight knots in between your shoulder blades. After washing each other off, you both find yourselves snuggling in your bed designed for his large illyrian wings. You lay your head against his corded chest, giving into the deep sleep that calls you as he holds you pressed up against him.

Thank you so much for reading! Please like, comment, and reblog! It mean's the world to me.

Here is more of my work: Masterlist

[noirsdoll]

your mouth washing work is so good! what if curly was the one scheming the baby trapping on captain reader, like taking the condom off mid stroke (jimmy is fs the one that pushed him to do it, devil on his shoulder)

thank you so much what?!? i think curly would baby trap because he doesn’t want to lose you while he’s gone… (i didn’t see captain!reader until i was done writing it SORRY)

cw for baby trapping and a sprinkle of manipulation!! also some filthyyy smut and curly breeding kink!!

Piloting the Tulpar is like therapy for Curly. The gentle hum as the ship drifts through space, the dreamy green glow of the controls and diagnostics. He sits back in his chair, watching the blinking screen that displays the Tulpar’s trajectory.

They’re on the ending branch of their cruise, on their way back to Earth. Curly’s only thinking of one thing— you. He’s excited to get back and see your gorgeous face in person again.

Jimmy’s beside him, picking the dirt under his fingernails, tongue poking out of his mouth as he does it with utmost concentration. He’s bouncing his leg like he has somewhere to be.

“I’m thinking of putting a ring on her finger,” Curly says into the silence, “when we get back.”

“Cool.” Jimmy doesn’t look up, but he frowns, wrinkling his nose.

The quiet drags, Curly tips his head back against the seat, sighing in content. He has the whole thing planned out. He’s gonna take you to your favourite restaurant and ask them to bring over the band and play a song you like. He’s even got a whole speech that’s he knows by heart—

“That’s not gonna stop her from cheating on you.”

“What?” Curly turns to look at him.

“Yeah, well, I mean, what do you think she’s doing while she’s waiting for you to come back?” Jimmy snorts. “It’s not like you’re there to fuck her when she wants.”

Curly’s unsure of what to say. He’s never thought about it like that.

“We were gone, what, a little over a year this time?” He reclines with a creak, grinning. “Who even knows if she’ll still be there waiting for you?”

Curly frowns. “What could I do?” Jimmy’s right, what if he comes back to you and you’ve moved on or you’ve grown bored of waiting?

“Knock her up,” Jimmy says, like it��s the most obvious solution.

His eyes widen. “I couldn’t do that— We haven’t even talked about kids yet.”

Jimmy scoffs. “Then don’t talk to her about it. You want the relationship to last, right? This is the best way.”

The way Jimmy talks to him sometimes makes Curly feel like he’s looking at the world through a whole different lens, like Jimmy is expanding his horizons. And Jimmy’s right. You wouldn’t be able to leave with your belly all swollen with his kid.

So Curly does the unthinkable. When Curly gets home and you both have your habitual fucking that is more humping and groping than anything meaningful, he puts his plan into action.

Curly’s lips slot with yours, he kisses you messily. Your nails drag over the broad planes of his back as he lays you down like he has been wanting to do all this time. He thinks he almost cums just from slipping his dick in, the way your pussy clamps down on him is tighter than any hug you’ve pulled him into.

You both stare at each other for a moment, catching your breath, the air is hot and dizzying and there is so much want coursing through both of your systems. And then Curly sets his pace.

It’s sweaty and sloppy, shallow thrusts as he doesn’t want to leave your warm cunt for too long. He holds you down with one big hand spread over your stomach, fucking into you like it’s life or death.

His dick “pretends” to slip out of you, like his fat head could ever miss your cunt— it’s practically muscle memory. As he goes to realign his cock, he slips off the condom, sandwiching it into the pleats of the tousled sheets behind him.

You don’t notice, too busy moaning and whining and drooling into your pillow as Curly’s rhythm turns damn near brutal. God, he’s gonna breed you, he’s gonna fucking breed you. He can’t go back now.

Wet strings of your slick connect his hips to yours as your pussy leaks all over itself. The sounds it’s making are almost pornographic. Curly’s thumb slips on your soaked clit as he makes you cum alongside him. He read somewhere that it helps get you pregnant too.

You’re too fucked out to notice that creampie he just gave you, thick, milky cum dripping out of you. He reaches down with one finger and pushes his cum in deeper. He doesn’t want you wasting a drop.

Maybe this was a net positive, Curly thinks as he cleans you up, peppering kisses along your body and praising you for your hard work— laying there and taking it.

Now you have something to keep yourself company the next time he’s gone.

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 11 - Epilogue

CW: nightmares.

AN: I have had so much fun writing this. It was such a breath of fresh air to take a break from my main series and write a quick 'mini fic'. I have other ideas for more 'mini fic's' in the future. For now I thought I should wrap this up. Thank you for everyone who liked commented and shared this around, even for people who just read it and enjoyed it, thank you so much and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Previous parts - masterlist

As soon as Simon is discharged you all fly back to the UK.

You end up at the house with Simon on bed rest. Not that he listens, he’s worse than Johnny was. You stay in the house with them, sleeping in the bed with Simon so you can help him when he needs to pee in the middle of the night. 

John has been busy cleaning up the mess from the base as well as making sure Simon doesn’t get discharged. Him and Kyle usually spend their days out at a base somewhere leaving you Johnny and Simon at the house. You don’t mind, you’ll spend as much time as you can with them. 

Johnny cooks and cleans, Simon jokes he’s turning into a housewife. When you offer to help none of them will have it, doting on you almost as much as Simon. 

“You don’t have to feel guilty. I can do things for myself.” You remind them. 

“Don’t even think about it. What did you want? A sandwich?” Johnny asks and sticks his head out from round the kitchen. 

“Cheese and pickle.” You smile. Simon’s hands grip your waist pulling you back up against him.

“And a packet of quavers.” He whispers in your ear.

“And a packet of quavers.” You call. You lay back against him and he kisses your head. 

“You’re one tough cookie, you know that.” He says after a few minutes of silence. You turn to look up at him, frowning. 

“What Graves put you through. What I-” He chokes on the words. You break away from his embrace. 

“Stop. We don’t have to talk about this.” You say bringing your hand up to stroke his cheek. You sigh watching his eyes drop. 

“Simon.” You stop, you're not sure what you want to say. You pick up one of his hands. “It’s okay, I spent months in therapy, It’s part of the job. You were just doing your job.” 

He hangs his head and sighs. “It’s not fair, we shoulda waited, you deserve better.” You lean over and kiss him. Deep pressing your tongue in his mouth, you wrap one of your hands round the back of his neck. You pull away from the kiss put keep your forehead on his. 

“You don’t get to feel guilty Simon Riley. I forgive you. I love you.” You sit back on your knees looking at him, squeezing his hand, you smile. 

“I love you too.” He says. You rub his cheek again then turn to lay back in his arms. As soon as his arm has come round your chest, he plants a kiss on your head and Johnny comes in with a plate of food. Simon leans over picking up the packet of quavers. 

“Nothing else till later you’ll spoil yer tea, John’s bringing fish n' chips.” Johnny says walking out the room. You smile and reach over for your plate.

…

You must have fallen asleep in Simon’s arms because the slamming of the front door jumps you out of what was starting to feel like an overly realistic dream. The smell of fish and chip fat fills your nose as John and Kyle walk into the living room. 

“Have you two been sat their all day?” Kyle asks, kicking his shoes off. 

“Mother won’t let us leave.” You say, your voice grumbles with sleep. Simon starts to sit up and you do the same yawning and stretching your arms and legs. John has gone out into the kitchen while Kyle opens the bags of food on the coffee table. 

“Got cod, chips, peas and scraps. What do you want?” Kyle asks, John comes back with plates. Kyle serves Simon as John comes over to kiss the top of your head. You look up at him smiling.

“Busy day?” You ask as he strokes your chin with his thumb. 

“Always busy when we’re around.” John says going over to the other sofa. As Kyle piles a plate high with chips and fish for him, then passes it to him with a fork. 

“Heard back from the medical board yet?” Johnny asks as he comes into the room with a bottle of pop and glasses. 

“As a matter of fact-” John starts as he rests the plate on his lap reaching over to his bag next to the sofa. He rummages through muttering to himself until he pulls out a piece of paper. He hands it out to Simon. “Expect to see you back for duty in a month, Lieutenant.” John smiles. Johnny’s giddy snatching the paper out John's hand and reading it like he almost doesn’t believe it. 

“Fuck you got a whole 2 months off. I only got a month.” He says reaching over to hand it to Simon. “I even had one of those lung things.” He says, shaking his head, clicking his fingers at you. 

“A lung resection.” You say leaning over Simon's shoulder to look at the letter. 

“Took half me bloody lung out! I’ll never smoke again.” He says sitting down on the sofa next to John. You look at Kyle chuckling and scooting back on the floor to sit between John's legs. 

“You don’t smoke Johnny.” You say looking back over at him. John is fishing through his bag for something else. He reaches out to you. It’s folded up in an envelope. 

“Transfer papers. For you to sign. That is if you really do want to come back.” There’s silence in the room, the only noise coming from the low volume of the TV, everyone is looking at you as you reach out to take the papers. You smile nodding then sit back on the sofa opening them up. 

You hear Johnny and Kyle start up a conversation as you read over the standard legal jargon of the contract. You do want to join 141 again, you just hope nothing has changed.

…

You dream a lot about your torture, thats normal thats to be expected. When it’s a good day it’s Graves and his faceless shadows. When it’s a bad day its John and Simon, Simon never has his mask on unlike your actual torture. 

He didn’t do it, Ghost did. That's what you tell yourself when you wake in a pool of sweat panting, feeling like someone is sitting on your chest. Your legs and arms tingle. 

Yesterday was a good day, but you dreamt it was John. You look over in the bed trying to slow your breathing. Simon’s back is turned to you, you can hear him snoring softly. You turn over in bed sitting up. Your transfer papers sit on your bedside table, illuminated by the crack in the curtains. 

You get up and sneak out the room trying to be as quiet as you can so you don’t wake Simon. You step over the hall to John’s room. When you push the door open you see him and Kyle lying in bed. Suddenly you want to go back, leave them be. 

You can’t, you want to be with them. You slowly crawl on the bottom of the bed, Kyle has his back pressed up against John, as soon as he feels you start to wiggle between him he snaps awake. 

“Hey love, you okay?” Kyle asks making room so you can crawl in. 

“Yeah.” You whisper shuffling under the sheets. John turns around in the bed his arm coming over you to reach Kyle. A second later he seems to notice you in the bed, his hand comes up to brush your face.

“Something wrong, you’ve been crying love?” He says his voice deep from sleep. You didn’t even realise that. 

“I just missed you,” You say, turning to face him. His thumb brushes your cheeks, your eyes have adjusted to the light and you can see his eyes shining in the dark. 

“We’re all here.” Kyle says shifting up behind you pulling your shoulder slightly so you lay against him. You smile. 

“I know, I know you are.” You say, closing your eyes. Kyle kisses the top of your head and John moves closer to you pulling the duvet up to your neck. He kisses you, a soft peck on your lips, you feel the tickle of his beard. His arm rests on your waist, rubbing your side as he breaks away from the kiss. 

You close your eyes letting them hold you in their arms, the sound of their breathing lulls you back to sleep. 

…

You’re up early the next morning slipping out the bed before anyone else is up. You’re sat at the kitchen island with a cup of tea in your hands when John makes his way over to the coffee machine. 

“Mornin’” he says, turning it on. 

“You going to the base today?” You ask taking a sip as he takes a mug down from the cupboard.

“Yeah, still got a bunch of intel to go through on the Makarov leads.” he says, turning to look at you while the coffee machine warms up. You slide the envelope over to him. 

“Think I can help?” You ask, smiling. He comes round to you, throwing his arms around you before you have a chance to stop him. He buries his nose into your neck and you hug him back. 

“You know for a second I was worried you changed your mind.” He breaks from the hug cupping your cheeks. 

“I love you.” You say. He kisses you.

“I love you too.” You smile the biggest smile at him as you hear the coffee machine beep.  

“Mornin’ lass sleep well?” Johnny asks, his hand landing on your back. John gets up going back to the coffee machine. 

“Yeah. I did.” You smile going to take another sip of your tea. 

You sleep well that night too, squished between Johnny and Simon. There are no more bad day or good day dreams. Nightmares come sometimes but it’s always Graves and his faceless shadows, and when you do wake in a panic someone is always there. John or Simon, Kyle or Johnny. They’re always by your side.  

You stick by their side too, besides someone has to pull the bullets out of them.

Banners by firefly-graphics

[justkitkatthings]

This but reader had been put on a different team…https://www.tumblr.com/justkitkatthings/768357089618903040/i-know-this-isnt-possible-but-just-hear-me-out-a

have a great day or night! 💋

I have several thoughts…

Thank you for being my first anon and ilysm

You’re a genius

I’m so so so so very sorry I took so long to answer this! I really wanted to get this done sooner but I’ve had serious writers block (or laziness idk) and just a bunch of personal shit going on, so getting this done is like a belated Christmas/new year’s/birthday present to myself

I can’t promise this’ll be as good as this was, I feel like I used all my good writing abilities up on that haha

Have a great day or night to you too 🩷

———

After losing your leg, you never thought you’d work for anything military affiliated again. Okay, well, maybe as a civilian admin person, but never in the field. But, with a LOT of physical therapy… and mental therapy… and retail therapy… it was like you were as good as new!

So, when Laswell called, you answered. There was an opening in a new Task Force, and they wanted you. You haven’t felt this way since… well, since John, Kyle, and Johnny. But now, they dint have to consume your every living thought. You can begin again.

It wasn’t long before you were on a new base, in a new country, with a new team.

They were all extremely welcoming, albeit different. You had to get used to the change in personalities and strategies, but it was refreshing to get new perspectives on things.

Months of training and bonding with your new team go by, and less contact with the 141. You’ve by no means forgot about them, but you don’t think about them as much anymore. You’re happy, and they need to respect that.

But when have those boys ever been good at leaving you alone? Never. Which is how you end up here, staring them down as your new Captain greets John, the Captain of the team you’ll be working alongside for the next however long.

You can’t stand this. Why couldn’t they just let you have one thing for yourself for ONCE?

The best way to handle this, you decided, was to not. Avoiding them was simple and easy, so you did it.

On the occasions you couldn’t avoid them, like missions, all your interactions were short and professional. There was no hint of the connection you had all shared.

The lieutenant who replaced you was big and stoic, but his was also a dumbass. Sure, it was an improvement in physical strength (which you were definitely NOT jealous of), but it was a loss in stealth and just common fucking sense.

Like, how can this man look you in the eyes and not realize you were his predecessor that the team still talked about? You hate him and his big muscles. Those very same muscles that eventually saved you from losing your other leg.

At first, you were pissed when he pinned you. But then the explosion happened.

There was a loud, obnoxious ringing in your ears, but at least you weren’t passed out, unlike the big oaf on top of you.

John helped pull him off of you and waited with you both until medevac came. Every protest from you was countered by your old Captain. He just wants you to be alright, luvie, relax.

Reluctantly, you did, enough to fall asleep. The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was the blinding white lights of the hospital. When that faded, you saw John and your new Captain whispering to each other in the corner of the room, sending worried glances… past you? You weakly turned your head to look, and it was Simon, covered in bandages.

[cosmerelists]

Did I Achieve my Earnest Hopes & Dreams for Wind and Truth?

The night before Wind and Truth came out, I wrote up a list of things I was hoping to have happen (or not happen) in that book. Now that it's a month later and I've finished it, how much of what I wanted did I get?

[Obviously, big big spoilers for Wind & Truth!]

Kaladin lives. WELL... He is...alive. Immortal, really. But all of his friends think he's dead, since he left his body behind when he became a Herald. He did not get to meet with up Adolin & Shallan for drinks like he promised. That's more what I was hoping for...but I'll take this. He IS alive.

Kaladin lives and is happy. WELL... I actually think he's...somewhat happy? He swore the Fifth Ideal. He's with Syl. He's in a Tranquil Mind Palace giving therapy to the Heralds. It does seem like it might get a bit...lonely? But it did not end with him broken or anything like that, so again...I'll take this. He's not unhappy.

There's a really cool Kaladin fight. Maybe two. Honestly, I think we had a sad lack of cool Kaladin fights. I understand that this book was all about Kaladin figuring out who he is without the spear, and I respect that...but I did miss there being some kind of Grand Kaladin Entrance After Which He Kicks Serious Butt. The only fight we got was him vs. Nale, which was...okay, but was solved ultimately via Flute and Therapy and not Cool Fighting Moves. I'm a somewhat simple soul. I missed having Cool Fighting Moves.

Kaladin & Szeth have to fight someone together. Not really. :( Not in the "back-to-back facing off against a hundred foes" that I was picturing, at least.

Leshwi has a significant role. Leshwi was there, but mostly walking and complaining about having to walk now. Again, I was hoping for more Cool Fighting Leshwi, which we didn't get, but I did like that we at least got some scenes with her.

There's a really cool Leshwi fight. Sadly, not so much. Her small amount of fighting was off-screen.

Adolin is NOT Odium's champion. He sure wasn't!

Adolin lives. He did! I think the Adolin story was one of my favorites, to be honest. Him becoming Unoathed was so cool.

Shallan lives (I'm not super worried about her for whatever reason but I couldn't just include two of the three, you know?) She did! ...Although trapped in Shadesmar but NOT able to world jump, which feels like the worst of both worlds. As soon as she got trapped I was like "Hell yeah Shallan worldhopper," but it doesn't seem like it's going that way, unfortunately.

Rlain & Renarin romance. Hell yeah! The Rlain & Renarin romance throughout this was super cute.

Rlain & Renarin romance that isn't like tragic or awkward or anything. I request warm & fuzzy plz. Yes! I like that it wasn't super angsty or anything. They both realized that they liked each other pretty quickly and then just kept making eyes at each other.

Shallan & Thaidakar meet. Well, they TALKED, so I'll take that!

MeLaan cameo. Well, as @archmage236 pointed out at the time, this was impossible since Mistborn Era 2 is after Stormlight. And there were no time travel shenanigans either. We DID get a kandra...but it was Ulaam, and not a cool kandra spy reveal.

...I notice the MeLaan cameo. I didn't but I'm pretty sure it's not my bad this time.

Rock returns or at least is in the book somehow. There was NO Rock! I was genuinely sad about that.

Kaladin hits his head on a doorframe in Shinovar. But not as sad as I was about Kaladin not bonking his head on ANYTHING. A tragic missed opportunity.

Navani invents something cool. You know...I don't think she did, unless you count the weird cocoon thing at the end. But she did figure out how to navigate through the Spiritual Realm, which was a cool Navani Science Moment so I'm counting it.

Navani thinks about Raboniel. I think maybe briefly?

We get the third Bondsmith. We did not! And now that Honor is (actually) dead, I feel like we won't? That's too bad, honestly.

The third Bondsmith isn't human. I suppose technically I got my wish here, yeah.

We find out that there are more than five Radiant oaths (pet theory that I want to be right about) Well I'm not right YET, but...come on! Honor even said he hates the number 5! How could that be the number of oaths?? It just doesn't make sense. It would be like there only being 11 metals or something.

Hemalurgy gets used.....I know that would be bad but I think it would be interesting. Hell yeah. It didn't have a huge role but I was actually delighted that Moash got Marshed.

Hemalurgy doesn't get used on anyone I care about!! I mean...I do care about Moash but I think he was a good choice for this. Future Herald Kaladin vs. Hemalurgic Moash battle, one assumes?

Shallan doesn't incorporate Radiant. :(

Maya cure. Yeah, like I said, I thought Adolin's arc--and by extension, Maya and the other Deadeyes' arc--was great! Maya was so butch and I love what she created with Adolin.

The theory that Shallan's mother was a Herald is confirmed. I think it's a cool theory. Oh wow was it ever! The chills I got when Shallan said, "She was at my wedding."

Bondsmith powers used for a fight. I think it would be cool. Sadly, no. We never really did get to see how they'd be used in combat.

Satisfying Sanderlanche. I don't think it was the Greatest Sanderlanche of All Time or anything, but I was fully captivated (and yes, the biggest downside for me was that it was more Emotions and Philosophy than Cool Fights with Swords. I'm a simple woman).

Kaladin meets a sheep. Or a dog. Or BOTH. I CAN'T BELIEVE SANDERSON CANONIZED NO DOGS AT ALL. Tragic. A true blow. And Kaladin only saw sheep from a distance.

I don't cry too hard... I actually did not. I teared up at actually two parts: when Maya came with all of the Deadeyes and when Kaladin decided to take Szeth's place as the Herald. (But honestly, I don't cry at books very often, so maybe that's on me.)

[hippolotamus]

"How can you act like nothing happened?" + buddie if it inspires u <3333

Hi, April! Indeed it did inspire (just took a hot second to get all the details and i hope you like it) 💖🫶

What happens to them after? Buck had asked Dr. Salazar. They just go back to their same old lives? Go back to being the same old people? 

Some do.

When he was in her office, posing that question, he doesn’t even consciously know if he had Eddie’s experience in mind. Well, one of Eddie’s experiences. 

The soul shifting instance of Eddie falling in the middle of the street like a ragdoll. Not to mention the others. Eddie being buried alive under forty feet of earth. Eddie being trapped in a burning house, surrounded by fire on all sides. 

Buck’s had his fair share of near misses, they all have. So why does Eddie’s nonchalance bother him so much now? Is it because this time Buck actually died? For ‘three minutes and seventeen seconds’, Eddie corrected Chief Williams. He previously told Buck ‘you think you’re expendable, but you’re wrong’.

One time Buck asks what death was like for Eddie, and he answers as casually as if Buck asked about his day. 

Then I thought ‘this is it’. This is the last moment of my life. He shrugged. Then I woke up in the hospital.

Buck barges through the front door. No knocking, no checking if Eddie has company. He finds him folding towels at the dining room table, humming to himself. 

“Hey, Buck. Wasn’t expecting you… today.” Eddie trails off as he notices Buck’s demeanor.

“How can you act like nothing happened?” 

“Excuse me?” Eddie pinches his brows together in that way that Buck knows he’s flipping through a mental rolodex of recent memories. “Is this about the casserole last week? Because of the-”

“What? What about the- you know what? Nevermind, that’s not why I’m here.” Buck folds his arms across his chest, adding, “But we’ll come back to that.”

Eddie nods slowly, hand drifting to the laundry basket to pick up the next towel. “So, why are you here?”

“Because, Eddie. You told me I wasn’t expendable. You made me Christopher’s legal guardian if something happens to you.” He sniffs, angry that his emotions are choosing now to break loose, after weeks of feeling numb. “For Christ’s sake, you knew exactly how long I was dead.”

The assertion makes Eddie flinch, makes him stare a hole into the floor, astutely avoiding Buck’s gaze. 

“But you- you never wanna talk about it. Not when it comes to you.”

“Maybe,” Eddie’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, he cocks his head in annoyance, and Buck knows he’s onto something. He’s struck a nerve. “Maybe, because there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh no? Y- you get shot down in Afghanistan, buried alive, shot again in LA, have a fucking breakdown and there’s nothing to talk about?” Buck steps forward, standing directly in front of his best friend, forcing him to look up. “Okay, well what about Chris needing therapy after the tsunami? Huh? What about going to dispatch because – you thought – Chris didn’t want you to be a firefighter anymore? Hell, that eventually got you to patch things up with your old man. But all those other things? Just another day in the life of Eddie Diaz. No need to stick around, folks, nothing happening here.” 

“Christopher is different, Buck. He’s my son.”

“And you’re my best friend. My partner.” My person, he doesn’t say, wiping away the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Doesn’t that mean anything? We’re all just supposed to deal with it if it’s you, and pretend to live our same old lives?”

Eddie purses his lips, backs away. He doesn’t even look in Buck’s direction when he says, “Please leave.”

Buck freezes. “What?”

“Get out, Buck. Before I do say something and we both regret it.”

He could fight back, keep prodding at the singular bruise spread across both of them. He wants to, wants Eddie to yell and scream. Something. Anything. In the end Buck isn’t sure why he doesn’t. All he knows is that in the space of a breath all the fight leaves him. All the fire and outrage deflates, making him feel emptier than before. 

When he reaches the front door, Eddie still won’t look at him. So he listens and turns the handle, walks over the threshold. He keeps going until he reaches the jeep, until he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, until he’s several streets away and sure no one will see him. Then he crumbles. He falls apart, wracked with sobs he knows will leave his body hollow and aching later. 

And he wonders- should he have kept pretending, too?

send an angsty prompt

[skydreamplayzz]

smoll informationen. ( not too special ones IDK RN )

❀ Name : Arya Kimura ❀ Family : Mom: dead // dad : Alive // brother : Alive ❀ Personality : Calm, friendly, Intelligent, Realistic, Workaholic ❀ Gender : Male ❀ Powers: By touching someone and is concentrating he can heal wounds, and tell what injuries what caused ❀ Weaknesses : Doesn't see for most of the time not pointing his hands everywhere, Is tired most of the time, If eye on the hand gets injured he feels it in the spot where his normal eyes should be, but also partly in his hands and as a bad headache. ❀ Height : 6m25cm ❀ Weight : //no count, BUT HEAVY ❀ Likes : Cold food that has liquid in it, having someone around he can trust, reading ❀ Dislikes : Warm food, The texture of sand, Bright places (can read in the dark more easily ) -Not able to see through his normal eyes, only through the eyes on his hands. But due not pointing his hands everywhere he's mostly blind. Feels uncomfortable with the eyes on his hands, as it's weird to look at but also feels strange. -He wears the glasses just because he's used to it from wearing one when he was human, not wearing them makes him feel he forgot something. - Venomous fangs - May like the taste of some food, but dislikes eating. So he avoids doing it till he may not have any other choice. - Only has broken mirrors in the area where he rests. - His blood can be used as some sort of acid. - Likes taking care of his own 'garden' he created for himself with stuff that were not rotted and still usable. - Can tell who is near him just by the smell and can recognise if it's someone he knows or a stranger. - the same with his hearing, he can tell by the footsteps who it is. ( unless there is none ) - Gentle creature, would not really hurt anyone and acts friendly towards mostly anyone. Still has a strict and rude side to them. - doesn't react well to stress and gets annoyed easily. Feels guilty quickly without really showing it and won't stop what he is doing. - Often has small phases of Identity Crisis's. - Wants to keep his long hair, only cutting it when it gets in his way. - Body temperature is always freezing cold when touched. He doesn't feel cold though and often a normal temperature. - silent comforter, won't use words to comfort someone and relies more on physical gestures.

-He worked as a therapist before and decided to ignore his own problems and just wanted to help others. - Tried taking medications to help him ignore them and continue working for hours, working on documents from his patients and other files he needed to work on. - Spent many nights without sleep and just with the help of his medications, till he wasn't able to work anymore and spend most of his time at his home. - Drowned 5 people but got caught in mid act of trying to murder his 6th victim. ( Had no motiv for his actions, wasn't completely sane anymore. / got back to his senses kind of after a while. ) - Has his own room that acts as a small save spot in-game, much stuff to loot and many boosting items spawn there like the speed needles or healing ones. - If wanted, u can simply have a conversation with him ( similar to a therapy session. ) He asks questions, player can answer. When completed the player earns a random item. ( also able to earn a rare item. ) - While sessions the player is able to 'anger' him causing him to send them out of the room and locking it. ( Higher chance to spawn pandamonium, blitz or chainsmoker in the next 10 rooms. )

got more ideas but the rest stays in my silly head🔥

Wanted to create an Oc. Bc i love creating random Ocs 👽.. Had no ideas, so this Came out 😭.. Next one will have legs,,got an Idea already.

[kozmicmizuu]

a lil bit of a sad headcanon of mine, is that Giyuu just refuses to get checked by any hospital or anything medical related if he doesn’t know them. not that he’s not aware he needs it, he just doesn’t trust it, not since he’s been called crazy by some “professionals” in the medical field when he was a child (his backstory basically)

He also would frankly rather die then be inside a hospital other than the ones in the slayer corps, he flat out just doesn’t trust it at ALL. no one really knows about his hatred towards the medical profession but Shinobu. she noticed this behavior whenever(like, once in a long time) that he genuinely seems uncomfortable, and actually looks like he’s going to hurt someone if they get near him. it’s very worrying but he’d never lash out, he has a lot of self control.

same goes for the education system, they failed him too, he was supposed to be taught and tutored but they never did that. just hurt him mentally and emotionally, he doesn’t like teachers other than physical education teachers, cause it’s kinda hard to hate mfs that quite literally teach some physically demanding things.

he taught himself like reading (at a more mature level), writing, cooking, and all other subjects, except math, another headcanon is that he has Dyscalculia (learning disorder that affects a person's ability to do math. dyslexia disrupts areas of the brain related to reading, dyscalculia affects brain areas that handle math- and number-related skills and understanding.) (god bless google)

he can’t do math so this day, no one really nods but himself, Urokodaki, and Gyomei and Tengen. why those two? it’s cause they knew him the longest, kinda

he also HATES being called crazy, or anything like that. he’s not crazy, he never will be. if like, the person doesn’t let up about calling him that, he can get fucking physical if he needs to be

anyways Giyuu don’t fuck with any of them mfs ong‼️ they failed him and he is not and never willing forgive them, he’s real for that

[yuwuta]

peds surgeon yuuta??? u cant say things like that i need to jump. the cartoons, the glasses, of course his freaky ass would have a thing for u calling him doctor okkotsu i need to die id wanna tease him sm and be all over him but i cant think of anything if its in a hospital how did the greys anatomy ppl made it work?

the grey’s doctors were FREAKS LMFAOO bc there is not space to be doing all that in the on call rooms…. honestly yuuta is probably too busy to even try anything with you in the hospital 90% of the time… he’s either in surgery or buried in the research library or falling asleep standing up 😭 sometimes you two pass each other in an empty stairwell and have time for a kiss or two, but never more than that (also because yuuta has very little self-restraint when it comes to you… if he allowed himself more than that, then it would be much harder to stop…) 

sometimes the two of you will fall asleep in the same on call room. yuuta will page you there and by the time you arrive he’s already half asleep, it’s probably his only nap in the last 24 hours, so you do your best not to wake wake him when you cuddle up next to him. you get a few hours of bliss in his arms before his pager is waking the both of you up, and he’s got to scurry downstairs to the peds floor and in his hurry he doesn’t realize he’s snagged your lab coat instead of his own, and it’s only when he’s haphazardly slipped it on and the arms are too short and the shoulders are too tight that he figures it out. it’s too late by then, because gojo is the attending on this case which means he doesn’t miss anything, which means he’s the first to giggle and tease, poking at your name embroidered above the breast pocket, “oh? i didn’t know the two of you got married already! oh and you took her last name, how noble, yuuta!~” 

[gxlden-angels]

Bro I hate fundamentalists and culturally-fundie parents they'll say shit like "spare the rod spoil the child am I right haha yea my parents used to have to beat my ass with a switch almost everyday but I sure did learn my lesson" but like??? no you didn't??? you were hit multiple times for something you very obviously did not, in fact, learn

Like studies about how harmful even lightly spanking children is aside, you're literally contradicting yourself?? Some even admitted they got worse as they got older cause they wanted to see how far they could push their parents before they got punished

And studies not aside, you're gonna get child raising advice from the same book that tells you to stone your wife if her hymen doesn't break on your wedding night instead of the decades of research we have now?? Just say you're a bad parent and move on my guy. Skill issue

[aldisobey]

vibes, we can take turns driving towards the fucked up shit we see

These breakdowns are goddamn fuel. These are the things right here.

>>> You're taking away the only reprieve from his constant mental frenzy (sleep) from a man who already has a natural propensity to spiral into overthinking. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. Sure, maybe with time he’d learn to manage it, flip a switch, regulate it somehow. But for now? For now, Emmrich lives in his goddamn head 24/7, dreaming up every scenario imaginable.

THIS. Emmrich is an anxious overthinker that struggles to remain living in the present. He’s a man of ritual and rigour. The changes of flesh to bone interrupt so many of those things? And he has so much time now? We’re assured he’s still fully possessed of himself, Solas mentions ‘what’s left anyway’ or whatever. But really. For his daily life, the things he loves and delights in, what he uses as distraction, to sate curiosity, hunger, lust, it’s all different. Gods I. I’m mad at the game for how easy they make it look.

>>> When he finally returns to wherever he and Rook call home, Rook’s standing there like, Hey, nice to see you again, it’s been four months.

And I’m so glad you mentioned this because exactly. He doesn’t have his flesh rigours anymore. He’s gonna fucking hyperfocus on a single thing to keep his mind from wandering to the less pleasant thoughts. And time has no meaning, he doesn't need to sleep. He’ll be managing panic or anxiety by studying that slip of the Fade and then he’s in it and chilling for a day, and exactly what you described. I don’t know if you’ve watched or read Frieren, but it’s a softer take on that, absolute love for that series so far.

>>> absolutely piss yourself waking up in the middle of the night to a skull on the pillow next to you.

Thank you thank you for writing this out before in that wip haha. Because YEAH FUCK THAT. And I know I’m an outlier, I’m demi or something, you got the hottest person at my door begging for favor and imma nope and go find some creature from the deep that understands me and yaps (and I’d still do a little AAA about a skelly in bed okay). And I know that’s not a norm lol. Quite possible to fall completely in love with the ‘being’ soul bit and not the ‘physical’, flesh is clothes for me, but you know what that doesn’t make it easier when you love and delight in someone’s style, their smile, the way the eyes light or that brow crooks.

You still love ‘them’ but that was part of them? It’s gone now and it’s okay to mourn while you learn the other. I mean I’m a lady that lives pretty cis and goes by Al and is fine with any pronouns. In a way we all make a glamours daily, and our bodies are part of it. But your partner is going to fall in love with all the dressing too, it’s the little things in life that we love about each other. It’d be horror to lose in a snap.

Emmrich becomes bones overnight. Rook still loves him completely but what is that going to look like. Gotta figure that out. And when Emmrich is putting on the old glamour it’s gonna make Rook think you’re regretting all this, AND it’s traumatizing because he LOVED those parts and they’re gone now. Is Emmrich trying to help him cope or holding onto before because the glamour is invoking pain because that’s not truly him anymore. Didn’t Emmrich give that up? Didn’t he want this instead? I don’t know I’m treading carefully in my writing with trans allegory as well because I know it can tie in close to this. And I do NOT think of Emmrich as a monster for wanting to change, he’s gonna be a monster because he’s not letting the one he loves change in the way they want (aging, dying all that jazz) because he fears losing them.

Well Rook already watched you die. Rook already has to learn to love the new you. The least Emmrich could do is go to lich therapy and learn to love the new aging Rook every day instead of forcing a dead glamour on ‘em. Life is chaos and change okay, death is stability and control, you need both in some balance to really thrive, but weigh too heavily in one and boop bones.

>>> Emmrich’s thoughts are the plague…. You learn to live with the scars.

Allow me to throw my pot in the park Diogenes style and be an unseemly mess spitting at rich folk because I need to think more about alllll of this as well. And yeah silly game silly characters look at me spending all this time writing and ‘philosophizing’ about it. BUT DAMn okay

Bless your write ups, still make my day every time I see ‘em and keep all the words tucked way to mull over later and say ‘hey yeah you can write, post that shit k being perceived ain’t that bad’. Ya got me in my thoughts going places.

First line page wip share thing

tagged by the ever prosely poetic @emmg go read hers now if you like dark lich stuff holy shit

I don’t know who’s been tagged but I’m nudging @thievinghippo (so you can check that above out. no pressure to share but goodness tag me if you do) but sincerely anyone share and tag me, I delight in creations.

This is a rough piece from current work I’m getting at. Not a first line but the bit I’ve got that seems best without further explanation lol it’s a rough cut okay I need to chew more but enjoy?

Emmrich was completely bare. No adornments. No glamor. Simple, plain, and yet dimly starting to glow.

The bones of his hand, all that remained, clung tight to chest. Clenched in, wrapped round rib. Held tight, quivering tips rattling soft beneath sheets. Whispers of green began a sound like so many wings of beetles. Wove hushed in the numerous moving parts of his wrist. Started to pulse as heart. The waves birthed within the pieces of him, a swarm spreading reverberations throughout his skeleton. Calmed the racing heat, pressed down rising panic with power that’d beget plague. All Rook might hear is hum. The Lich consumed, all encompassing as the gnashing millions choked on fear.

It passed. Suppressed in all those grinding maxillae.

The eternal flame slept beside him. His beloved. Forever finally his and there lurked flame before his sight. Flickering. Finite. Holding his being within it, love. Death.

Most nights, should Rook desire, he would wander Fade with him. Taking to pleasant scapes where they might enjoy whatever a master of the space might make of it. And yet…Emmrich could not control his appearance after all these months. His lich form might flicker, the mortal frame return, and Rook would immediately draw away. Glamour. He’d say. Nightmare. Don’t wear your dead face. Was it too painful? Was he trying that hard to love the other? Perhaps the memory was too fresh.

Rook woke, still asleep. Blinking. Eyes closed and moving as one might expect the dead. He didn’t speak during these movements. Would drift back to Fade soon. But he liked to wrap Emmrich’s hands, and his body kept memory of the exact time a mortal professor awoke.

[everywaythatmatters]

The boy himself from Of Cats and Closed Doors by @tragediegh

[kaocat-tatatat]

Just read the comic Arkham Asylum: A Serious House On A Serious Earth recently and I am surprised how little fanfiction I can find around the idea of Bruce being trapped in Arkham, there's so much you could do with it (and stories focusing on a decent into madness/breakdown of a characters psyche are very interesting to me).

if anyone has any fanfic relating to this idea they can recommend, please do!