#i've also been running on very low amount of sleep

[insurged]

if you want a little something from the stupid asshole astarion ( he has a modern verse *squinty eyes*) , feel free to like. if you want someone else from the roster, you can comment !

[skylarsblue]

✦C.o.D Call Sign Inspo✦

(I've been having a bad writer's block, but, I do have some mini ideas that I can't flesh out. But, I know some people struggle with names/concepts for Y/N's/Characters. So! I'm giving them out for free in hopes it'll inspire something in someone so they don't go to waste!)

✧Somno; Gender Neutral. A y/n that's main trait is being a hyper insomniac. To the point they always seem tired, constantly consuming caffine, etc. But even if they're falling asleep where they're standing, they have incredibly fast reflexes. Could lead to some funny scenarios of finding them asleep in weird places, or, a cute concept (them only being able to sleep when they feel completely safe; ie: with one of the c.o.d characters)

✧Mama; Feminine. Pretty on the nose, but it could also be translated into a different language to match a country of origin. The concept is basically just...an aggressively maternal lieutenant/captain. Because I feel we don't have enough strong MILF's in this world, let alone in this fandom. This could also be used platonically because 141 specifically could use a mom type. Ghost & Gaz specifically.

✧Saint; Gender Neutral. Can be used for a character that's incredibly self sacrificing. Which would make for good fluff & good angst, plus, I think a lot of us can relate to feeling. Partially inspired by a random line I thought of - "If I die protecting you, that's far less frightening than you being gone when I could've protected you. Dying once for you is a peaceful passing, rather than dying every day you're not with me."

✧Salvadora/Salvador; Fem or Masc. Disclaimer; when I had this idea I imagined a woman. An alternative to the cartel story line in Las Almas. Y/N runs a civilian resistance against the cartel and has commandeered a village to keep citizens safe. It's basically a paradise in the crime ridden city. They've been providing sneaky support for Alejandro's men. (Honestly, this concept is pretty specific, and more detailed, and I might break it down more/write it on my own if possible)

✧Copycat/Mimic; Gender Neutral. A y/n that's incredibly skilled at mimicking voices. Whether in different accents or actual voices.

✧Mirage; Gender Neutral. Disclaimer; I imagined this also as a woman because I like powerful ladies. Similar to the one above but instead of just voices, they're just great at disguises in general & particularly sneaky. Like they "fade out of existence" if you look away at the wrong time.

✧Lynx; Gender Neutral. For a small, deceivingly cute looking character that's actually super deadly and quick. Do not trust the toe beans.

✧Nessie; Gender Neutral-Fem Lean. Pretty self explanatory. A character that's illusive and great in water. Bonus points for Scottish rep.

✧Sparks/Fuse; Gender Neutral. Just a fuckin' pyromaniac that can make their own bombs, super impressive and intricate ones. Thought of a scene where they're all in the heat of battle, low on ammo, and Y/N brings up randomly that they were a troublesome teen who almost had a criminal record. Price asks what the charge was and they just light something that doesn't look at all like a bomb, with a giant grin. "It was arson!!" And then they throw a fuckin' devastating bomb.

✧Iris; Gender Neutral. A character known for a very intense/intimidating stare. Inspired by those clips of people losing to Angelina Joline's femme fatal stare. Also, them being able to read a shocking amount about a person purely through eye contact.

✧Sage/Blister/Morphine/Plaster; Gender Neutral. All names for a potential medic!Y/N. (Plaster, for us Americans, is a word for bandaid in the UK. I know y'all prolly know that but just in case)

✧Bee; Gender Neutral. For a Y/N that's visibly smaller than those around them but packs a real hard punch. Also good if they're particularly good at physical combat. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

✧Sugarcube/Honey/Cupcake; Gender Neutral-Masc Lean. I think the idea of a big buff, visibly masculine, intimidating dude being named something like 'sugarcube' is super funny.

✧Lasso/Big Mac/Stallion; Masculine. Isn't it obvious? Big cowboy man who's aggressively American even if he's actually been a UK citizen for years.

✧Bessie/Cowgirl/Chick; Feminine. Once again, aggressively southern Y/N. But, for fem!y/ns.

✧Tex/Stars/Anthem; Gender Neutral. See above, but this time, neutral. Cause I'm about equality in this bitch.

✧Cobra/Mamba; Gender Neutral. For a y/n that specializes in poisons to kill enemies, as well as a character with any association with snakes. Could be interesting for Ghost to hear.

✧Doll/Dolly; Feminine. A more "spy type" for the classic femme fatal who gets intel through allure. If you've seen my two fic concept posts, this is the call sign I'd give to the Y/N in Price's concept.

✧Tech; Gender Neutral. Pretty basic, a character that's particularly tech-y. Good with computers and hacking.

✧Bunny/Hare; Gender Neutral. For a y/n that's small, but super fast & alert. Bonus if they got Hinata jumping powers.

✧Clover/Shamrock; Gender Neutral. Irish rep. Use this for a Y/N that is somehow the luckiest unlucky person ever. Constantly ending up in situations that are stressful/intense but making it out with barely a scratch. Can add some dissonance if they actually hate this call sign because it's not luck that gets them out of these situations, and instead is there skill.

[werecat1234]

Multiverse Madness Chapter Twenty Two

Nightmare was in the kitchen, having healed Dust's ribcage and then Horror's while Killer was watching Dust sleep. Killer had been in there with him for days, not moving from where he was. He would fidget with his knife, stare at Dust, talk with the others, begrudgingly eat when Horror brought him food and left no room for arguments, and he was dissociating more than usual. Nightmare couldn't get him to sleep, and neither could anyone else, and that was all kinds of frustrating to Nightmare.

He's just finished healing Horror's injury and wrapped it in healing potion soaked bandages, the previous ones a mix of healing potion and blood from Horror bending over to get something. So, not only was he down a shirt, but he'd reversed some of the healing process, which was just what Nightmare needed. Opening the fridge to check their supply of healing potion, he saw they were running low, and he internally cursed. He melted down into the floor, a black puddle before shooting up through the ceiling, traveling through the multiverse before finding the AU he needed before going into it. His form descended from the sky, landing in a puddle on the ground before forming into himself.

A genocide timeline of Spelltale, where he got most of the potions he had in the castle, and they'd gone through a lot of potions recently. Nightmare felt a wave of negativity he'd felt the night Blue died appear in the AU, and he recognized it was from Error. Great, the childish destructive glitch with a pathetic soft spot for the Underswap Sans while he was alive was throwing another temper tantrum. Nightmare grabbed the potions he needed, sticking the tentacle into the ground as he manifested it in the kitchen, putting the potions there, and he heard the familiar crackling of static when Error was upset.

"NIGHTMARE!!!!" Error yelled, appearing through a white portal, glitches heavily riddling his body, and he looked five seconds from a crash.

Error's theme started, a rapidly glitching version of a standard Sans's theme, but the notes were deeper and lower pitched, while also sped up. Error had so much negativity radiating from him. It was like a massive meal for Nightmare, who was growing stronger every second Error was here, and he felt better than he had in days. There was so much raw fury and rage in the glitch Nightmare could forever feed on it and nothing else in the multiverse if it was consistent for eternity.

"error. what's the-" Nightmare began.

"DON'T PLAY DUMB WITH ME!! WHERE IS HE?!" Error snapped, cutting Nightmare off.

"where's who?" Nightmare asked innocently, playing dumb.

"THE SOMETHING NEW SANS THAT YOU'RE PLAYING WITH! WHERE IS HE?!" Error asked, pulling blue strings out of his eye sockets with his red and yellow fingers.

"i am not 'playing' with anyone." Nightmare replied, crossing his arms. 

"QUIT TRYING TO LIE TO ME, IT WON'T WORK!" Error yelled.

". . . why do you need to know?" Nightmare questioned.

"WHY?! HE KILLED BLUE, AND I WANT PAYBACK!" Error hissed.

". . . error i would consider things very carefully. that sans and the others i've recruited are under my protection. he wasn't at fault for blue's death, it was an accident, and while i don't necessarily dislike it happened, as the amount of negativity i'm gaining from this is delightful, it wasn't intended. that being said, i repeat my earlier statement. killer and the others working for me are under my protection. you will not so much as harm a single point of any of their hps." Nightmare growled, his tone low and dangerous.

"i'm not scared of you, you overgrown octopus! tell me where he is so i can rip his code apart, unless you want me to start by beating you into a puddle of tar on the ground." Error glared.

Nightmare extended a tentacle into the ground behind his back, knowing Error couldn't see it, and it surfaced behind Error, snaking towards him as Nightmare spoke. Nightmare continued speaking, distracting Error from it's nearing presence, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"you'll do no such thing. don't pick a fight you can't win, error. i have no code for you to destroy or control, and on top of that.... y o u  c a n n o t  t h r e a t e n  w h a t  i s  m i n e  w i t h o u t  m e  g i v i n g  y o u  a  v e r y  g o o d  r e a s o n  t o  r e c o n s i d e r  s u c h  f o o l i s h  w o r d s . " Nightmare hissed, the tentacle surging forward, wrapping around Error completely, engulfing him in a void of black.

Nightmare had seen the Antivoid before; he knew how empty and white it was, and he suspected the opposite would cause him to panic. Nightmare, to some difficulty, rooted around inside his mind, sinking his aura deep into the glitching fragment of a soul in the Destroyer's ribcage. He wasn't surprised with what he found in Error's mind in the first few seconds, just glitched memories, scattered thoughts, and pure fear from the physical contact. He searched deeper, tightening his grip as Error thrashed around, trying to get out of his hold in a panicked frenzy.

Deep, deep down, Nightmare caught glimpses of a Save Screen, a blurry Frisk off to the side playing with a Gaster Blaster, and that was only what Nightmare thought it looked like; it was too heavily pixelated to tell for certain. What he could tell, though, was the panic that ran through Error's soul as Nightmare touched the memory. He could use this. He plunged Error's mind into a void of blackness, absolutely nothing around, Error only able to see himself.

He was looking around in confusion, fear, and anger in his mind, and Nightmare had pitch black hands come out from around the void, grabbing onto him as Nightmare squeezed the tentacle around him tighter. It didn't take long for Error to start yelling in panic and anger, and then he started screaming in terror, the anger overwhelmed. Nightmare grinned at the glitching and terrified screams, tightening his grip even more as he made the hands grab Error everywhere. He made a point of allowing Error to feel every bit of contact, able to see absolutely nothing but feel everything, finally creeping the hands over his eye sockets, fingers reaching in and the hands crawling inside.

Error shrieked, Nightmare grinning sadistically at him, keeping it going for a few more minutes, savoring every second of his negativity, before finally dropping him. Error fell to the ground, hyperventilating from a panic attack, frantically grabbing at his eye sockets, trying to get the hands out of his skull. Nightmare kept his aura strong, not letting Error calm down, as he crashed, and when he rebooted, the fear was still there, and then the terror once his memories came back of what just happened. As he crashed and rebooted for the fourth time a few minutes later, Nightmare pinned him to a wall with a tentacle grabbing each of his wrists, keeping them away from his eye sockets so he couldn't grab for his strings as Nightmare tightly grabbed his chin in his hand, forcing the panicked skeleton to look at him as he struggled to breathe.

"if you dare harm any of them, touch one fragment of their codes or threaten them again, i will lock you in that hell inside your mind for the rest of your existence, feeding on and siphoning away at your negativity until you can no longer scream and can't remember anything but that void. i will turn you into a groveling, shaking, whimpering mess at my feet, begging for forgiveness and mercy for an indiscretion you can't even remember committing, and if i ever do give you mercy, you will live in constant fear of every patch of shadows, of every shade of teal, afraid to even close your eye sockets or leave your back turned to something for all eternity.

"i will break every bit of will you have, every bit of stubbornness in that glitching soul, and your only hope of mercy is me deciding to turn you into a terrified pet that does whatever i say whenever i say, desperate to avoid any punishment from the one who broke you like the pathetic glitch you are. do you understand me, error?" Nightmare hissed, voice a low, lethal snarl, and Error shakily nodded, on the verge of another crash, "good... it was wonderful seeing you again by the way, error. your negativity was just what i needed after these last few days; healing magic is so exhausting. i hope you piss me off again in the future, this was a lot of fun."

Nightmare patted the glitch's head mockingly as he dropped Error before he finally went into the oncoming crash, Nightmare rolling his teal eyelight as he walked away before melting into a puddle on the ground, reemerging in the kitchen of the castle. Nightmare put the healing potions he'd dropped off in the fridge, and he headed off to go check on Cross, as the monochrome skeleton hadn't been sleeping either. Sure enough, Cross was by the infirmary leaning against the doorway, drinking coffee as he looked into the room with half shut eye sockets.

"hey, boss." Cross greeted tiredly, rubbing at his eye sockets.

"cross. you still aren't sleeping?" Nightmare asked.

"nah... horror's doing a bit better, and bill's messing with insanity..." Cross told him.

". . ."

". . . they probably shouldn't be left unsupervised, should they?" Cross realized.

"no, they shouldn't. get some sleep, i'm going to go make sure they don't break anything." Nightmare sighed, walking away.

"alright..." Cross muttered with a yawn.

"sleep, cross!" Nightmare ordered as he went around the corner.

Cross sighed, watching Nightmare leave before looking back into the infirmary, watching Killer who was watching Dust sleep. Cross had been checking in on them constantly, and Killer refused to move and Dust wasn't waking up, so Cross wasn't sleeping to make sure nothing went wrong. He was a royal guard, he needed to be vigilant. Chara was floating across from him, leaning against the other side of the doorway.

The ghost version of his former best friend had white skin and fluffy white hair. His left eye had a white iris, and a black line going down from his right eye, which had a red outline of a circle in it, corners like a square and a red dot in the center. He was wearing his white short-sleeved hoodie over a black sweater, and he was also wearing black shorts, black shoes, and white shoes. 

'Was a royal guard, Cross. Was.' Chara pointed out, not at all helpfully.

'shut up...' Cross grumbled back, shooting a glare at him.

'Just saying. Past tense.' Chara shrugged, and Cross sighed.

'to protect frisk, and now to protect them.' Cross said.

'And that went so well, didn't it?' Chara asked, tilting his head a bit, 'Dust is comatose, Killer's dissociating practically constantly and hasn't slept since this started, Horror's hiding an injury for probably not the first time, and you left Bill and Insanity unsupervised. You're doing wonderful, Cross. Ten out of ten stars. Golden damn sticker.' 

'i don't want to hear it from you. leave me alone.' Cross glared at Chara, yawning.

'Only if you get some sleep, Cross. If Nightmare needs you for something, you can't do it when you can barely think straight.' Chara pointed out, crossing his arms.

'i'm fine.' Cross sighed.

'You almost made coffee out of rice!' Chara snapped with an accusatory finger.

'to see if you were paying attention.' Cross lied.

'That's a lie. You knew I was, I literally asked you why you were putting rice in the coffee machine, and you didn't say anything, just started grabbing water. Then you saw the rice, asked 'Why's there rice in the coffee machine?' took it out and added the coffee!' Chara snapped, pulling at his hair in exasperation and frustration.

'that sounds nothing like me...' Cross denied, and Chara sighed, running a hand down his face.

Cross was suddenly hit with a wave of dizziness, struggling to keep his eye sockets open, and he put the coffee mug on a nearby table, leaning against the wall. Chara floated away from the wall a bit, eyes widening as he almost reached out to him before pausing, knowing he couldn't do much.

"crap..." Cross muttered, vision fading at the edges as Chara's voice bounced around in his skull.

'Cross? Cross! -oss! -an -u hea- -e? -ro-s-?!'

Cross blacked out, his body going limp and hitting the floor.

Chara groaned, taking control of the body, and he found himself laying down on an infirmary bed. It was softer than he'd anticipated it being, despite being nothing like Cross's bed, which was practically a cocoon of soft things. Chara didn't know what was worse, the fact that their teammates insisted on Cross having a fluffy hood and fluffy things, or the fact that Cross himself loved the fluffy blankets and pillows, sometimes even the hoods of his jackets, which were all fluffy.

"Ugh... That idiot...." Chara muttered, rubbing his forehead, still not really used to being in a skeleton's body, much less someone he viewed as his best friend, even if Cross didn't see him that way. 

Chara sat up, pinching between his eye sockets, and he looked around, seeing Killer looking up from Dust to look at him. Chara was laying in the bed next to Dust's, Killer sitting between the two cots. Odds were Killer had just used blue magic on his soul to bring him here, seeing as how the skeleton didn't seem to have gotten up. 

"you're not cross." Killer said after a moment, more a statement than anything.

"How could you tell?" Chara asked, "The eyelights?"

"nah, your face. you've got a chara's face, but it doesn't match theirs. . . . so you're the chara from crossy's timeline, huh?" Killer asked.

"Yeah... How's Dust doing?" Chara questioned. 

"eh, sleeping, but fine. changed his bandages a few minutes ago." Killer replied. 

"You don't seem surprised that I'm... You know... In control." Chara observed.

"eh, saw your face change when you were sleeping, and cross mentioned you could take control when he slept. i saw him pass out and brought him here, and your face showed up a minute or so before you woke up." Killer summarized.

"Thanks... How long was I out?" Chara asked.

"a few hours, give or take." Killer shrugged.

"Damn.... I told him he needed to rest..." Chara sighed, before shooting a glare at Killer, "You do too, idiot."

"when dust wakes up i will." Killer replied stubbornly.

"I've had to hear that so many damn times from you and from Cross." Chara huffed.

"and yet i have to keep repeating myself." Killer sighed.

"You're as bad as Cross." Chara sighed, and Killer laughed a bit.

"yeah, i think everyone on this team is stubborn as hell." Killer smirked.

"You're telling me." Chara chuckled.

"hey, uh.... question for ya." Killer spoke up after a moment.

"Shoot." Chara replied.

"there uh... something else i can call you besides chara? bad experience with the name and all, and i'm not the only one." Killer asked with a slight gesture towards Dust at the end.

"Oh, right.... I don't really know, honestly. I never thought about it." Chara responded, looking off to the side.

"what about x?" Killer suggested.

"X?" Chara repeated.

"yeah, x." Killer replied.

". . . You have the creativity of Ink." Chara deadpanned after a moment, and Killer gasped dramatically.

"how dare you?! I have so much more creativity than bendy!" Killer gasped in mock offense, a hand dramatically over his chest.

"Bendy?" Chara questioned. 

"ya know, bendy! from bendy and the ink machine! aka the ink demon?" Killer listed, leaving Chara confused, "you never heard of that video game? sorry, games. there's two."

"No? There was never any video games in my AU." Chara replied.

". . ." Killer sighed, "after dusty gets up and is healed up enough, you and him are watching me play it, if you don't wanna play it yourself. dust never heard of it either, found out like two weeks ago."

"Alright?" Chara replied.

". . . back on track, ya good with being called x?" Killer asked. 

Chara sighed, "I guess so."

Killer smirked at that, seeming pleased with himself. X, huh? Well, nicknames couldn't get any shorter than that...

"you're horrible at nicknames, killer..." A pained voice came from the bed next to X's, and him and Killer both looked over at Dust, who had his eye sockets cracked open.

X was surprised at the sight of Dust's eyelights, once a snow white, now a bright, Determination red. He'd probably been Determined not to die, and this was a byproduct of his survival.

"dusty! you're awake!" Killer grinned, turning around in his chair, "how're ya feelin', buddy?"

"like hell..." Dust winced, reaching to rub at his ribcage, but Killer grabbed his hand.

"not so fast, don't need you messing with anything. you've got an insane amount of bandages there." Killer said.

"i do?... oh, right.... almost died...... i'm not used to living past that.." Dust muttered. 

"yeah, i know...." Killer sighed, "nice new eyelights by the way."

"what do you mean?" Dust questioned, confused.

Killer grabbed his knife from his pocket, showing Dust his reflection, and his eye sockets widened a bit.

"oh wow..." Dust mumbled, looking at them for a moment before Killer put his knife away.

"hey x, you wanna let everyone know sleeping beauty's awake?" Killer asked.

"x?" Dust asked, seemingly ignoring the 'Sleeping Beauty' comment for now, or he was just exhausted and not processing it.

"Yeah, uh... Cross passed out, and I'm in control in the mean time." X replied. 

"you're the chara he keeps complaining about?" Dust questioned.

"Yeah, but I could say all kinds of things about him, too. But, since I'm nice, I'm not going to." X answered, ". . . For now."

"you sure seem generous." Dust noted sarcastically, smirking a bit.

"Yeah, sometimes..." X smirked back, getting up from the bed and heading out the door, "You want me to grab you anything while I'm gone?"

"think you can grab some of those magic restoration drinks?" Dust asked.

"Yeah, sure." X nodded, heading out the door to go get the others.

"and seriously, killer? 'sleeping beauty'?" Dust asked, and X heard Killer laugh as he walked down the hallway.

"-you can't seriously expect me to believe that, ink!" Dream snapped, arms crossed as he glared at his teammate.

"i'm telling you, dream! i don't know!" Ink snapped back.

"i know you have horrible memory, but you can usually remember at least something, ink! at least upon someone being mentioned or just even by seeing them! you've never forgotten something this huge before, and it's genuinely suspicious!" Dream glared, "you knew cross! you were friends with him! why didn't you get him out of his timeline if it was just another antivoid?!"

"i don't know, dream!" Ink snapped.

"that's a lie and we both know it, ink! everyone, including blue knew you were hiding information on cross from us!" Dream told him, a pang in his soul at the mention of his deceased friend.

"i wasn't hiding anything, dream!" Ink glared, "i've never hidden anything from you!"

"yes you have! you've hidden cross, you've hidden the fact that you've let there be so many casualties from fights from me, pulling me out of the au before i could notice, and you've hidden the fact that you don't even care about others! you were reckless, sentimental at best! you only pretend to for my sake!" Dream pointed at Ink when he snapped his accusation, and he knew he was right from the way Ink looked off to the side.

"i try to care..." Ink muttered, glaring off to the side with red eyelights.

"you pretend to, ink. if it's not a soul you aren't close to, you couldn't care less. please, at least admit that to me." Dream said, a mix of frustration, anger, and hurt.

". . . ok... i... i can't care about others. i can't empathize with them or understand what they're feeling. i've tried helping for your sake, but... i don't always know what to do or how to do it..." Ink admitted.

"have you ever let them suffer when i wasn't around?" Dream asked, voice stern, and Ink looked down, one eyelight a green tear, telling Dream everything he needed to know, "you lied to me, ink... you can't possibly imagine how much that hurts. you were one of my first friends, and that friendship was all fake! then again, that's just like you, why should I be surprised?"

"i wasn't trying to-" Ink was cut off by Dream.

"but you did, ink! you lied to me about who you are. i know you encourage creating, i know you love art and care for the aus' existences, but ink... you lied to me on how much you care for the souls inside of it! why did you feel the need to do that?!" Dream demanded with a glare.

"i... i don't remember." Ink told him, looking down, but Dream didn't believe that.

"how can i trust that, ink?! how can i trust that when i know you've been lying to me for years?! now please, for once in our friendship, if it even meant anything to you, just be honest with me!" Dream requested, angry and hurt.

". . . i wanted to be your friend and i wanted your help, ok?! i knew if you knew i didn't care for others like you did, then you wouldn't want to work with me. i... i needed your help, and i knew you needed mine, so..." Ink trailed off.

"so you lied to me?! you acted like you cared about the wellbeing of others?!" Dream asked harshly, "that's just selfish and prideful and vain!"

"was it lying?" Ink asked.

"it was lying, ink! you tricked me! i... i care about you; you were one of my first friends and we've known each other for years, ink, and i wish you'd been honest with me! i wish i hadn't needed to get confirmation of your true self like this..." Dream frowned.

He'd been looking for Ink and found him in an AU, not helping someone who had needed it. Dream had saved them, but soon afterwards him and Ink had started fighting, at first arguing, then exchanging a few attacks, then more arguing, and now... Dream wasn't sure what would happen now.

Ink was looking down again, before looking up at Dream and asking suspiciously, "you... you said confirmation? you suspected it?"

". . . me and error talked for a while after blue died. apparently they'd been close friends... error told me a lot about you, and ink, i'm sorry, but a lot of it isn't wrong..." Dream frowned, crossing his arms with a glare.

"wow... i never expected ruru to actually make friends..." Ink muttered bitterly.

"i didn't either, but he did... ink, you know that you could have empathy and feel for others if you had a soul, and we both know you can make those! so if you were so concerned about it... then why haven't you made yourself one?" Dream asked; he knew he had to have thought about it.

"because of blue." Ink replied.

"what? how does blue have anything to do with this?!" Dream asked in bewilderment.

So help him if Ink was trying to blame this on their deceased teammate, Dream would lose it.

"not blue himself but... if i had empathy and didn't need paints for emotions, then i would hurt more. blue's death would've hurt so much more if i had a soul!" Ink clarified.

"that's called hiding from feelings, ink! hiding from pain! you're scared of being hurt, so you're avoiding it!" Dream snapped, "you couldn't face your emotions and you know that, so you're hiding from them! you want friends but you won't show them who you are, and you won't let yourself hurt when they are! you won't let a piece of yourself die when they do!

"you can't form a genuine attachment with someone when all they know about you is a damn lie! you can't truly care for them unless you can actually feel that care instead of drinking vials for it! if you stopped drinking your vials, that friendship would mean nothing to you but it would still mean so much to them! unlike you, every time someone dies, i'm left to deal with the strain!"

"i know, alright?! i messed up! big deal, dream!" Ink snapped, glaring at him.

"no crap you messed up, ink! you messed up with our friendship, and you probably messed up with cross's! is that why he's so upset with you?! or was that something nightmare did?" Dream asked.

"no, it wasn't nightmare, dream! i didn't tell cross about the omega timeline, and... i could've brought back his world for him, but i didn't... i think nightmare told him that and that was why cross agreed to work for him!" Ink admitted, and Dream's soul twisted, hurt and anger flaring in it.

"what... why wouldn't you tell him, ink?! why would you leave him there to suffer?!" Dream snapped, eye sockets narrowed and knives summoning in his hands.

"i don't-!"

"the truth, ink!!" Dream snapped, yellow frustrated tears in his eye sockets, his tone showing his anger and frustration.

". . ." Ink was silent.

". . . ink, i... i think we need a break." Dream decided after a moment, tone low with frustration, and Ink looked at him in confusion.

"a break?" Ink asked.

"yes! i- not only did you leave someone to suffer when you could've helped him in so many ways, but you also lied to me from the start, and while you could easily fix all of this.... you refuse to! all because you don't want to cause yourself pain; because you know if you gave yourself a soul you would feel so much guilt over those you neglected to save, and you're hiding from that!! quite frankly, i can't continue to work with someone who i can't trust, especially someone who won't allow himself but will allow others to get hurt instead." Dream told him, with a bitter glare, "that is selfish and wrong. not to mention how you probably lied to everyone else along with me!! you were one of my best friends, ink! not that any of this has hurt you at all!"

"that's completely unfair!" Ink snapped, "you need me, dream! you can't deal with nightmare and his team without me, no matter how strong you are!" 

"i can handle myself and epic is coming to help out! i can handle them just fine, and even if i couldn't, i wouldn't put up with you for that! not when you lied to me for years without a bit of remorse! you want back on the team? tell me the truth! tell me everything about xtale, everything about every single lie you've told me, and consider to stop hiding from real feelings! i know you can give yourself a soul, ink! that would fix all of this!" Dream snapped. 

"i... can't do that, dream." Ink said, not a bit of remorse in his voice. 

"then it looks like we won't be working together anymore... i'll remind you I saw you as a friend, but now we're done" Dream said, leaving no room for arguments, and Ink nodded, turning around.

Ink turned around again and he went to speak, hesitating before deciding against it, grabbing Broomie and opening a paint portal on the ground, going through it. Dream sighed, glaring off to the side in frustration, about to leave when he saw something from his peripherals; an amber eyelight watching him from the shadows, and it practically radiated evil. Dream summoned his bow and arrow, pointing the magic arrow at the previous source of the eyelight, but it was gone...

Stretch groaned, staring up at the ceiling of Story's living room in the Omega Timeline. The world was spinning and his skull was pounding, magic pooling in his throat, but he swallowed it back down, along with the taste of alcohol. He... hadn't been taking Blue's death well. He'd shown up at Story's front door a wreck, breaking down in their arms, and they'd been kind enough to allow him to try and process Blue's death this way for now, but now they were getting irritated. He didn't blame them, though, he'd gotten drunk every night since arriving and was either hungover or drunk, or just passed out. 

"Stretch, you can't keep going like this, you know that." Story said from next to the couch Stretch was laying on, "I know you're hurting, but I also know this... is extremely self destructive. Blue wouldn't want you to be like this..."

"please, don't bring him up." Stretch requested.

"I'm sorry, but I need to. You need to face the fact that wallowing in grief and guilt won't do you any good. Nothing you could've done would've stopped this. I know the alcohol numbs the pain; it numbed mine after my world was destroyed, along with pretty much everyone I knew... but it wasn't a solution. The Sans and Papyrus of my world wouldn't have wanted me so upset, neither would Starry, and Blue wouldn't want you like this either... Neither do me and Classic." Story told him, sitting next to Stretch.

". . . i just need more time to grieve." Stretch said.

"This isn't grieving, it's burying your pain." Story pointed out, "Core said Murder did the same thing for a long time, but not to this extent. He doesn't do it anymore, right?" 

"because he's on anti-psychotics." Stretch sighed.

". . . What?" Story questioned.

"i found one of the boxes in the trash when i took it out one day because blue was hurt and needed rest. he literally can't drink alcohol with it." Stretch explained.

"Oh... Which one?" Story asked.

"clozapine. the strong crap." Stretch answered.

"Damn...." Story muttered, looking off to the side before looking back at him, "Regardless, leaving the comparison out of this.... you still need to at least cut back on the booze. We're here for you to talk to us, but we need you sober, Stretch. Not hungover, not drunk, sober." 

". . . i need my brother back. i... i need to avenge his death..." Stretch mumbled.

"You can't do that drunk, Stretch..." Story told him.

"i know..." Stretch sighed.

". . . If you want to go after the Darks, I'm with you all the way, and so is Classic. Epic's calling Dream to see if he's got somewhere to stay, because he wants on the team. I'm sure they could use the help." Story said, and Stretch nodded a bit.

"ok..." Stretch sat up, his skull throbbing and his vision spinning, "i'll stop drinking as much, won't get drunk... and i'm gonna make them pay for killing my brother."

The magic flooded his mouth, and he bent over to grab and hurl into a nearby trashcan, Story sighing and rubbing his back. 

"About damn time..." Story muttered.

Discord server: https://discord.gg/wQfvxyEuvj

[warcats-cat]

Not Far Away

Read on A03!

Read the Original: Long Road Home (also on A03!)

A/N: It's been so long! I'm so sorry! I've been stewing on this for literally months and I just haven't been able to actually *post* it, so I'm cutting it off now and just sending it out into the world. This one is a one-shot that's pretty long, but I do have a multi-chapter sequel also in the works! I just decided I wanted this out first. Special thanks to @thecrowslullaby and @lickoutyourbrains on tumblr for beta'ing this and many other wips for me. Please let me know if I need to add any more tags!

(Takes place after Long Road Home but before Wide Eyed In Wonder.)

-----

Of all the things that would take time to adjust to, Patton wouldn’t have considered the amount of time spent doing nothing, just sitting in the carriage as it drove. Roman wanted to hold the reins almost constantly, and the other three would shuffle between sitting inside and sitting on top of the carriage itself.

The first few days, Patton had found himself fascinated by how spacious the little room was; it looked nowhere near as sizable from the outside. The inside benches were lightly cushioned, so one could stretch and lay down for a nap, and they were long enough to fit two people sitting comfortably. Logan spent a lot of time reading and taking notes, pulling a long desk-tablet down from the wall to keep his writing steady.

Virgil had spent several days trying to teach Patton some dice and card games, using the tablets, to mixed success.

The roof of the carriage was carefully guarded with a railing and gate that had to be hooked into place or Roman would refuse to drive. There was a bench up there, as well, although this one had no padding. (That didn’t stop Patton from sleeping on it occasionally; the steady motion was relaxing enough to ignore the hard surface. And certainly, it was more or less as comfortable as anything he had slept on at Wardenthall Manor.)

But outside of losing games of chance, watching the various roads and woods pass by, or borrowing Logan’s books, there was nothing to do. Patton wasn’t used to being so bored.

He wouldn’t go back to Wardenthall Manor for all the money in the world, but at least when he was there he’d been busy. There were letters to run into town, packages to collect, trinkets to dust and polish and all manner of things to keep clean. He took kitchen duty every other day. And several of the other staff often took advantage of the knowledge that if something wasn’t done, Patton would be blamed for it.

Even when he wasn’t doing chores, he took a lot of time to fix his clothes and blankets, knead used lumps of wax back into some semblance of candles, keep lists of what the manor and his own supplies were low on. Very rarely, when he’d been younger, he would sneak into His Grace’s library to find something to read.

He loved the opportunity to travel, but there was no real busywork until they stopped to make camp, and even then, the others only gave him the lightest share.

He was laying down now, on his side, trying (and probably failing) to discreetly watch Logan as the other man was reading. He could just barely see around the edge of the book from this angle, and looking up, the scholar’s face was lit beautifully by the mid-afternoon light. He looked like a warm painting, almost. His eyes flicked around the pages while his face twitched with the thoughts of whatever he was reading; small smiles or frowns, his lips pressing together as he made a note of something he disagreed with.

That was one of Patton's favorite things about Logan; he annotated all of his books.

It was really helpful for Patton to catch up on history and events; he hadn’t exactly had the best continued education at Wardenthall Manor, not that he’d bring that up to his companions. It was embarrassing enough to be caught not understanding things; he didn’t want to bother Logan with having to tutor him too.

Besides, Patton looked forward to those annotations. They were Logan’s voice, guiding him along the pages and pointing out what was important, what needed to be given more thought. There were also occasionally translations; Logan could read and write in Runic, the written language of spells and magic, and he spent at least part of his time during stops in the various cities and towns they happened upon cross-referencing other languages that may be available for translation. His newest books would have thin strips of ribbon throughout, marking pages that needed further research.

Patton thought he was brilliant.

Virgil would be up on top of the carriage right now; playing with his strings or sketching patterns, ‘keeping an eye out for assailants’. Bandits were apparently a rare but unfortunate hazard of traveling via the main roadways, and though the carriage had some form of magical protection, and all three of his companions were well-seasoned fighters, they tried to avoid violence as much as possible. Incapacitate instead of kill, trap instead of wound; that sort of thing.

Patton was so lost in his own thoughts, he barely noticed Logan’s gaze flicking up and catching him staring. The scholar smiled, although he continued to peruse his pages, and cleared his throat. Patton’s attention snapped right to him.

“Either you find something fascinating in my face, or you are daydreaming,” Logan said, his tone even but with a hint of mirth. Patton felt his face flush, and he stammered.

“Well – I – I mean, I didn’t mean to be staring –“ he jumped to cover his face with his hands, and struggled to get his words in order; almost missing Logan setting his book down and leaning over, gently ruffling his hair.

“It’s all right, Patton. I’m not upset.” Logan’s voice was soft, and although the fairy was still embarrassed, he felt himself calm a little further. Patton shimmied into a more comfortable position, lying on his back, and Logan leaned back onto his own bench. “We should be stopping soon, anyway; I’m at as good a passage as any to pause for the evening.” With that, the scholar folded the tablet back up and set his current book aside.

They were quiet once more, Patton watching the shadows on the ceiling and listening to the sounds of the woods around them. They would have to set up camp for the night, which would finally give Patton something to do. It was his turn to make dinner: and though all they really had was a fire, a spit, a cauldron, and a heavy cooking plate of some sort, Patton found he still enjoyed the activity. His time in the kitchens was probably the most positive memories he had from the past twelve years.

They had some oil left over from some meals in the last town; somehow, unbeknownst to the other three, Patton had ended up wandering into the inn’s back kitchen and been seen by the Innkeeper’s wife. And since he had so much trouble saying no, and his clothes were his typical worn out traveling shirt and pants, she simply assumed he was a new hire her husband forgot to mention, and put him to work.

He was back there three hours before the others found him. Poor Virgil was on the edge of a frenzy, and had little crackles of lightning running through his hair.

The Innkeepers had been grateful, though, and the people staying there quite liked Patton’s cooking, so he offered to keep cooking the second day they stayed over, to give Logan more time in the local library.

At the end of their stay, he outright refused payment, so the group was sent on their way with things Patton considered more valuable than gold - well-rendered cooking oil, fresh vegetables, and a small jar of local wild spices. Really, nothing tasted better than the things clever people could gather from the world around them. All four travelers savored every bite.

They still had a few vegetable scraps; Patton was good at rationing, and had been put in charge of food supplies by Virgil so Roman didn't cook everything in one go and waste all of their good food. The vegetables and some dried venison over a hot cooking plate with the rest of the oil would do for a good, hearty meal for them.

Finally, Patton heard Roman’s high whistle, breaking him out of his thoughts, and he felt the carriage slow to a stop. He sat up a little too suddenly, and shook his head to clear the head rush. Logan was halfway out the door already, and tried to pause to check on him, but Patton pushed himself to his feet and gestured for Logan to go ahead.

Patton wanted out.

Setting up camp was hard work, but at least it was work, and Patton set right to it before Virgil had the time to climb down or Roman could dismount.

The storage box fixed to the back of the carriage was also enchanted; Patton knew there was no way a normal luggage box could hold as much as this one did. He’d packed enough boxes for travelling nobility to know.

Opening the box, the first thing to appear was the tent itself, sturdy canvas rubbed down with wax, wrapped around the poles and nails that would support the fabric and stretch it tight. It was a fairly heavy and ungainly bundle, but Patton managed. He heard Roman say something as he hefted the supplies, but wasn’t quite certain of the words until the Prince appeared behind him, easily swiping the bundle from his arms.

“Hey!” Patton whined, “I was carrying it just fine!”

“Yes, but it’s also your turn to cook tonight,” the Prince said with a sly smile on his face, “I don’t want your arms to get tired.” Patton felt a little petulant, and grumbled wordlessly as he pulled out other supplies for Virgil and Logan to spread out and set up. Virgil took their bedrolls, giving Patton a little kiss on the cheek as he did so, and strolled off to help Roman pitch the tent.

Well, maybe it wasn’t all bad…

Logan was dutifully laying carved stones around the camp; some kind of protection circle that they used every night to ward off anything with bad intentions. Even if this was the first time he was traveling, Patton knew how dangerous the woods could be without protection. He really wished he had the nerve to ask Logan what the runes meant though, since they seemed to somehow ward off regular animals as easily as the supernatural.

Sometime later, the camp was set and protected, dinner cooking slowly over their little fire, and the sun was almost gone completely for the night. Roman was singing some traveling song with a steady rhythm; following the bouncing tune of a music box sat somewhere near the tent. He danced around the fire and occasionally pulled Logan or Virgil in for a few steps. The pair pretended to only tolerate the Prince, but Patton could see the little sparks of joy in their eyes when Roman dipped them or set them in a spin. The three were so sweet together.

Turning back to their meal, the fairy wondered once again just how they had met; how had Virgil gone from the shy orphan boy Patton remembered, to a fierce and protective fighter, and the companion of a Prince. Where had Logan come from, and how had Roman singled him out to be an advisor? When had the three agreed to become romantically involved?

What made them want him to butt in?

Patton frowned, and shook his head again, trying to clear the negative thought. They want me here, he told himself. They asked me to come. They’re my friends.

It was hard to remember, sometimes. Hard to remind himself that, despite everything, he was allowed to travel with them. More than allowed, they often said. And yet, it was hard to take Virgil’s hand carefully when they decided to walk instead of ride, and not think of Logan’s sharp eyes watching from the carriage window. It was hard to feel Virgil’s strong arms around his waist or the mage’s lips on his forehead, and not worry that the Prince was glaring at him for daring to tempt Virgil away.

It was all in his head, but that was the problem. It wouldn’t go away.

“Is the grass around here really so fascinating?” Roman’s voice was suddenly significantly closer.

Patton spluttered and looked up, right into the warm, brown, teasing eyes of the Prince himself, and felt his cheeks turn scarlet.

“I - I wasn't distracted!” He said in a rush, the only thing he could think of in the moment. Roman’s smile only widened, as he leaned in and took Patton’s hand from the stirring spoon.

“Well, then, I'll have to try harder!” The Prince declared, pulling the fairy to his feet. Patton was a little dizzy from the change, and wholly confused; even more so when he felt Roman’s hand ghost lightly over the back of his waist.

Impossibly darker red, Patton stammered and looked away, “I d- I don't know how to dance, Your Highness…” and yet, Roman laughed, and said in a conspiratorial faux whisper,

“Don't worry, neither does Logan.”

The royal advisor let out an indignant ‘hey!’, but Patton couldn't say any more before Roman had begun leading Patton in a slow, repetitive series of steps; softly murmuring praises in Patton’s ear while the fairy stared resolutely at his shoes, cheeks burning.

Roman’s hands were soft, and princely, but he had calluses at his fingertips and on his palms from driving the reins and all the finer work of travel. He swayed with Patton in rhythm as the pair circled the fire, uncaring when the fairy accidentally stepped on his feet or stumbled. Thankfully, dancing was just patterns of steps, and Patton was able to build a little confidence with it as they went.

It was certainly longer than Roman had danced with Logan or Virgil.

They carried on like that for a while, the time becoming a lazy blur; before suddenly Roman let go of his waist a moment and twirled him, guiding him back into a low dip. Patton was dizzy with the low light and flickering fire, the enchanting eyes of the Prince holding his gaze; and he squeaked in surprise, grabbing at His Highness’s shoulder for balance. The Prince was breathing heavily, his eyes sparkling and his smile wide and radiant.

Virgil’s voice came from behind him, breaking Patton's trance;

“Gentle, Princy…” the young mage warned. His voice was playful but protective, and Patton couldn't help but giggle from the ridiculousness of it all. Him, an orphaned half-blood fairy nobody, dancing in the woods with a Prince. And then behind them, his lost childhood friend and semi-romantic partner threatening said Prince, as if Patton was delicate.

As if he was a treasure.

“W-well, he is a gentleman after all!” Patton declared, at the edge of hysterics. His Highness laughed, and pulled Patton back upright; this time grabbing the fairy’s waist firmly and lifting him, spinning around carelessly.

“That was brilliant!” Roman laughed.

Now Patton really was dizzy, and he stumbled when the Prince placed him back on the ground. Another pair of firm arms snaked around his chest, keeping him from falling flat onto his face.

“Gotcha.” Virgil's voice was now low in Patton's ear, the mage’s arms holding him steady as the fairy caught his breath. The closeness and the whisper of Virgil's voice made Patton involuntarily shiver. Virgil held him close, his chest against Patton’s back, and seemed uninterested in letting go as he tucked his chin over the Fairy's shoulder and leveled his even gaze at the Prince.

“I thought I told you to be gentle.” Virgil chided the Prince, but without any real malice to it. His hold loosened, just slightly; a lazy hug that still kept Patton from falling.

Or walking away to tend dinner, like he was supposed to be doing…

Roman stuck out his tongue playfully, teasing Virgil, who huffed. The mage gently pressed the side of his face to Patton’s, knocking their temples together and smooshing Patton’s cheek. A soft gesture, a reminder of when they were little. They’d both tried to explain the action to Logan and Roman, but it simply didn't have words. It was just comfort.

With that, he squeezed Patton’s sides mischievously, making the fairy ��eep!” as his most ticklish spots were attacked, and the mage slunk back towards the prince for another dance.

The fairy turned back to his cooking, finding that Logan had, thankfully, taken over so the meal didn't burn. He took the spoon back with a soft “thanks”, and Logan leaned in to kiss his forehead before going back to the carriage for his books.

Patton watched the meat and vegetables sizzle, the fire licking at the edges of the plate. In the dusk, the dancing light was almost hypnotic. He poked and stirred the food, letting the smells wrap around him like warm cloth. His mind wandered back to Wardenthall Manor, to the mornings that were almost peaceful; before His Grace had been awoken and the other servants stirred from their apartments. Roasting slim slices of turkey or wild pheasant, carefully brewing the perfect amount of fancy coffee that was ordered from another kingdom, a whole world away.

His Grace had always been particular about each meal; feasts and parties were another matter entirely, but for his own food he picked careful quantities and ingredients, and had a strict schedule of when each type of meat could be served. His god was a ruler of Order and Purity, and His Grace was firm in the belief of caring for his body and mind, so that he remained in his favor.

Patton wasn't allowed to speak the god’s name on His Grace’s order; he was only half human, his Purity was sullied with the wild blood of Faerie. He didn't know much about the other gods.

A piece of venison popped, spitting a tiny bit of hot oil at Patton’s fingers, and he blinked, landing rather roughly back in the present after tumbling out of the memory.

Patton suddenly realized that the music had stopped, and now his companions were standing next to the tent, Virgil and Roman apparently playfully arguing about something. Logan had wandered off somewhere, perhaps to study nearby flora. 

“Guys?” the fairy called hesitantly, looking over his shoulder “Is something wrong?”

Roman huffed, not meanly, and shook his head. “Someone over here has decided to be a Sensitive Storm Cloud about where he sleeps.”

“That nickname was pitiful,” Virgil smiled and gave the prince a playful shove, before turning his attention to Patton in full. “I told Roman I wanted to sleep on the outside tonight instead of the middle, and now he’s throwing a royal fit.” The mage’s smile grew with the verbal dig, and Roman crossed his arms in mock offense. "Roman always takes the outside position in bed, or wherever is closest to the door. He acts like it's to keep guard of us. It's not."

Roman threw his hands up in frustration. "I like being the big spoon ok? I like to hold you both! Slap me, why don't you?"

Logan appeared just then, and with a mischievous smile that was rarely seen, he reached up and smacked the back of the Prince's head as he walked past.

"Hey!!" Roman spluttered, this time with real shock and indignance.

Logan smugly returned his arms to their neutral position clasped behind his back, smirking to Virgil and Patton as he walked back to them.

“I was only following your express orders, your Highness.” he said, teasing heavily apparent in his voice.

Virgil was laughing heartily at this exchange, and Roman continued to splutter, before his face changed to rigid frustration and determination. He grunted, and Patton had a few moments of panic wondering what the Prince would do about this offense. Logan was still walking away, and before Patton or even Virgil could say anything, he charged at the scholar.

Patton would have screamed if he wasn't choking on his own tongue.

Roman deftly grabbed Logan's sides, and there was a short cry of surprise as Roman lifted the scholar up over his shoulder; acting as if the other man was a particularly ungainly log. Logan squawked, and swatted at the arms holding him.

“Put me down, you brute!” he thundered, but there was a smile breaking out on his face, and Roman was laughing too, and Virgil was recovering from his own mirthful fit. They’re fine. Everything is fine. Patton tried to take in a few steady breaths as he turned back to the stewpot, although he felt his face heating once more from embarrassment.

They loved each other. They were playing. No one was mad and everything was ok.

His Grace had never been one to act in violence, preferring others administer the lessons Patton was to learn. But the set of his jaw, the darkness in his eyes, were always the first sign that Patton had screwed up. There had only ever been one time His Grace had handled the situation himself - an important business discussion over dinner, when Patton had inadvertently insulted another Lord and cost His Grace a vital land contract.

He’d backhanded the fairy so hard the bumps of his knuckles left bruises that were tender for almost a month. Patton learned better than to speak unprompted after that.

He had no idea how much time had passed before Patton felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the Prince watching him with soft, concerned eyes. The fairy was suddenly aware that all three men were staring at him, and that his whole body was shaking.

“Are you alright?” His Highness asked, keeping his voice low. Patton nodded stiffly and fixed his attention back on their dinner. It was almost ready.

“Just – J-just – ah… Startled, I guess.” He stirred the pot mechanically; three times clockwise, three times counter-clockwise, and over and over again; internally begging his hands to stop shaking, and swallowed the lump in his throat harshly. “Worried Your Highness was offended…”

Even coming out of his mouth, the word sounded silly. Felt silly, even.

The Prince sat rather ungracefully on the rock next to him, the hand on Patton’s back moving to wrap around his shoulder. The contact was warm and steadying, despite a few minutes ago. Roman was a Prince, yes, but Roman would not hurt him.

“Were you worried I would hurt Logan?” Roman asked. His voice was still ever so soft, and there wasn't a hint of accusation to it, just concern. Patton shrugged, looking back down into the stewpot.

“I don't know…” he replied after a few beats of silence. “I don't think you ever would; I know you wouldn't! But you looked angry, and your eyes changed, and… I…” he huffed, frustrated and unable to string his thoughts together. He felt his face heat up, and his shoulders hunched slightly.

“I’m sorry I worried you, dove,” Roman murmured, and Patton’s heart beat just slightly faster at the nickname, although his cheeks still burned with shame. “I’m sure it’s hard to go against the instincts that protected you for so long.”

Patton shrugged at this, staring down into the pot and quietly continuing his stirring, feeling the Prince’s thumb rub over the curve of his shoulder, as their sides were pressed together, just slightly.

“It’s stupid,” he whispered finally.

“Not really,” Logan’s gentle voice floated around them as the scholar sat on Patton's other side. “The fears you have now are what kept you safe for twelve years of your life. The way that you watch others and keep notice of their faces and body language gave you a keen intuition of each situation you were in. You are a survivor.” Patton didn’t know what to say, effectively surrounded with comfort and still trying to stop his quivering. He shrugged again.

Logan’s slender fingers brushed Patton’s jaw, and gently took his chin to make Patton turn, locking eyes with the scholar. Crisp, midnight blue eyes fixed into his own.

“You. Are. A survivor.” The scholar repeated, softly spoken and yet the tone firm.

Patton felt tears rising up, but he was hesitantly smiling all the same. Still, he sniffled, and the smile wobbled.

“I just… I thought I was getting better…” his voice was watery, holding back tears. He gently pulled away from Logan’s hold to wipe at his eyes.

“You are.” Virgil's voice murmured in his ear, taking a place standing behind them and once again wrapping his arms around Patton.

And a blanket that he had apparently pulled from the carriage or the tent at some point.

“It’s only been three months. You were under that prick’s thumb for twelve years.” Virgil spoke quietly, and nuzzled his cheek against Patton’s, mirroring the soft way they had snuggled together as children. “You're allowed to still feel afraid. We’re here to support you, however you need, okay?”

While he calmed down, it seemed Roman had taken over their dinner; serving out portions and pulling apart a loaf of bread to compliment the meal. Logan had gone to fetch water for them all. The forest was growing dark around them, the crackling campfire casting its flickering glow around the four.

They ate, and chatted idly, as Patton watched the sunset shrink lower and fireflies flicker higher. The world grew softer, and warmer, somehow, as it became dark. Once again, Patton found himself enjoying the other three’s easy camaraderie; listening to them laugh and tell stories, watching them slowly slide closer and closer together.

It wasn't that Patton wasn't interested in a relationship, and they had certainly offered, many times, for him to join them at night. He knew it was largely just to sleep, as well. But he still felt a bit… bashful. Even though they'd seen every scar a hundred times over, he still hesitated when it came time to change for the evenings, or when Roman wanted to go swimming if they passed a river or lake. He felt the scars creeping up his back like fresh little snakes, imagining them shiny red and tender like the first day Virgil had changed his bandages.

And that didn't even begin to account for nightmares. They were more and more rare, as he moved farther and farther from Wardenthall Manor, but still there. And the risk was too high; waking one or all three in the middle of the night because he’d bitten Logan’s hand while holding it instead of his own to muffle a cry. It was easier to keep it all inside his own tent; his own bedroll, and his own mind.

Still, it didn't stop him from watching, and wanting, just a little. The light gentleness the three of them seemed to have; they way they fit together like pieces of a well-oiled puzzle box. He wondered if there was a space there; a place where they said he would fit just fine, but he wasn't certain. He had to keep looking; afraid the box would break if he wiggled it wrong.

He would figure it out. He just needed more time.

[green-goblin-59]

Log 004

Tw:contains mentions of sh and substance use

4/7/2005

<Please enter password: F I R E L I G H T...|>

<Password accepted! Welcome back Mr Osborn. It's been a good twenty five years since we've spoken! (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠) Would you like to record a log for old times sake?>

«Yeah sure. Run a health check on my body too, please. I feel kinda malnourished.»

[SCANNING IN PROGRESS...]

<HEART RATE: irregular... Heart arrhythmia is present in the vessel.>

<BLOOD: Average pressure. A peculiar variety of 3050 goblin serum and high levels of heroin present in bloodstream.>

«Heroin?! God we gotta get him off that straight away.»

<BRAIN: No signs of severe damage. Brain structure indicates trauma during developmental years. Chemical imbalance present: severely low amount of serotonin, almost nonexistent, possibly of depression is high. Fatigue and exhaustion also present.>

<BONES: Unusually strong. Lots of old damage. Metal bolts present in the knee and hip joints.>

<GUT: Empty. Gut bacteria is imbalanced. Vessel hasn't consumed food in two days. An old bullet is present.>

<SKIN: Dry and flakey. Scabs from skin picking. Possible side effect from drugs present in the bloodstream. Severe scarring on the chest and inner arms. Possibly from self harm. Needle scars on the upper inner arm and inner elbow regions.>

[SCAN FINISHED. OVERALL HEALTH: LOW. RECOMMENDATIONS: EAT NUTRITIOUS FOODS. AVOID HEROIN AND GOBLIN SERUM. DRINK WATER. SLEEP 9HRS.]

«Norm, how long has it been since you've been turned on?»

<A day.>

«So, you would have definitely seen where his needles and whatever he uses to harm himself are, correct?»

<Mr Osborn only switches me on when he wishes to read the logs and view photos of your loved ones. I don't see him using the substances present in his system, nor do I see his weapon of choice. (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)>

«I'll snoop around and get rid of them. Gotta get him clean and mentally sound. Norm, record new log entry.»

[RECORDING IN PROGRESS]

*Shuffles through the other mer's belongings*

This is the first time I've been fully sentient inside my new vessel. So far my new habits are more self aimed than aimed at others and the new vessel is clearly very mentally ill. Im not really sure where this place is but it's definitely not the same place I remember leaving behind. There's no firelight present, which is unexpected, as I'd thought resetting with him would mean I'd be in the same place as him. This doesn't seem the case.

*opens curtains*

Why's there really old technology everywhere?. Like... ancient tech I'd find in Bowes dimension? And why does this new variant of me keep the windows boarded up? Is he maybe in trouble with someone?...

*shuffles through mer's desk drawer. A thud can be heard as the bottom of the draw falls open and pens scatter all over the carpet along with a small leather bound planner. He picks it up and flips through the pages.*

I found this old fashioned journal. Reading through some of the previous passages isn't helping. I've got some serious issues. Something about faces and involuntary service...

*flips through more pages and skims over a few sentences, looking at the dates and seeing that it was all written in the early 2000's. It's only when he feels the dog tags around his neck that he realises what the insane rambling is about.*

Poor guy. I've gotta get him stable agai—

*eyes glaze over*

—in. AAAAA! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ON AGAIN?! TURN OFF, TURN OFF!

<As you wish Mr Osborn! ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡>

[LOG RECORDING ENDED]

<<Previous page.

[ahungeringknife]

365: March 31

Eido came around the central planning tent. Her father was bent over the holographic display with Esis and they were deep in talks of some sort. Braldos was nowhere to be seen but it was sunset, the Baroness had probably retired for the night. She sidled up to the display and cleared her throat to get their attention.

"Oh, Eido, we didn't see you there," her father said.

"It's fine. I see you two are busy planning good things for our people," Eido said cheerfully.

"Yes," Esis said, "Its a shame construction needs to be halted until we can run proper infrastructure through the roads."

"Better to do it now than dig up the roads later," Misraaks said.

"Yes and-

"Father it's getting late," Eido interrupted. She knew if she didn't they could early spend all night here talking about their plans. She'd seen and heard Viksiskal come down here scolding the both of them for staying up too late dreaming and not enough time sleeping to enact on those dreams. Eido always thought it was funny to watch the Kall scold her father. Almost like the Kell of Light was some misbehaving hatchling. She supposed the Kall had plenty of experience with that at least.

"Ah, you're quite right. We will pick this up in the morning. Apologies for keeping you Esis," Misraaks said graciously.

"Not at all. This is the most fun I've had in ages," Esis chirped and her lower hands clapped together.

"Perhaps you'd like to join us for dinner?" Eido prodded, keeping her eyes perfectly polite and was very glad her mask was on so they couldn't see the way her mandibles moved suspiciously.

"What? I wouldn't want to intrude," Esis said.

"Nonsense! You're a valued community member and this means you can carry on the conversation and I can force my father to take a break. I believe the Guardians have a saying for it? He is a 'workaholic'?" She used her lower hands to quote it as she had seen Amanda and other Guardians do before.

Esis's laugh was a sweet tittering sound and she put her hand under her veil over her mask to quiet herself. "Eido," Misraaks said with great gravity for the situation.

"If it is no trouble?" she asked.

"No trouble!" Eido cried before her father could say anything. "And perhaps you'll even spare me a moment over my father during dinner," and Esis giggled again. Eido could see her father was getting quite cross with the teasing but she knew he'd forgive her. Esis nodded. "Wondrous. Our tent is this way, if you'll follow me," and she beckoned Esis.

Esis followed her and Misraaks turned off the table and trailed behind. She could tell he was grumbling under his breath.

The Eliksni district had been raised and in its place Braldos' outfit had constructed a tent neighborhood for the time being for House Light. As Kell Misraaks had an especially large one for himself and Eido and was more or less a normal home, be it with fabric walls. The kitchen, so to speak, was communal but Eido had already gotten dinner for her and Misraaks and also Esis and laid it out on the low table for them to sit at. A helpful Ghost had fabricated the table out of pure glimmer and Eido had spent an entire day asking Ghosts about their ability to glimmer hack like that. The inside of the tent was also lined with a thin plastic polymer that allowed it to be about seventy percent air tight. Tight enough for the ether diffuser to keep the air breathable for a moderate amount of time. You still had to sleep with your mask on but one could live in the tent and only bring the mask up now and then to take a breath without suffocating.

She'd gotten dinner for the three of them already. It wasn't anything special. Just some half pigeons for each of them. She'd never had pigeon until coming to City but they were everywhere and delicious too.

Eido showed Esis their home and played it off that it couldn't compare to a Baron's ketch. Esis just said, "You don't live on your father's ketch? I see it all the time on my way here from the Lucent Dawn. It must be more comfortable to sleep without a mask on up there. And you are a Kell's daughter."

Eido played with her lower hands awkwardly. Misraaks was removing some of his Splicer regalia in his room so thankfully wasn't there to give Eido a look when she said, "The ketch is not pressured for ether."

Esis' shining blue eyes went wide. "Really?" and it was almost incredulous. Eido saw her visibly check herself. "Excuse me. I forget myself," she said apologetically. "House Light doesn't have the resources our outfit has," it wasn't a slight it was just the truth. "But we'll change that," she assured Eido.

"I certainly hope so," Eido said and removed her mask as her father came out of his room, dressed down. He no longer wore his Splicer gauntlet or great heavy coat and cape or his intricate mask. He just wore a simple rebreather around his neck but not over his face. Eido did not miss the way Esis' head tilted slightly seeing him. "Great you're ready for dinner," she said to her father. She'd already removed most of her own gear before going to get them and was just in her tunic and wraps, foregoing her helmet and hood and all her extra pouches and belts and things she carried around with her.

"Yes. And I find myself quite hungry after such a day of arguing with Baroness Braldos," he said gruffly. Esis giggled privately and Eido made a soft little trill of a noise. Misraaks went and sat at their table and the two of them quickly joined him. Eido was still waiting to see what Esis looked like under her veil and mask.

Esis removed her helmet as she sat and her veil and mask were one piece she just pulled down. Eido looked at her father for a reaction and was delighted to see him frozen, looking at Esis while she was adjusting her scarf and mask to make it easier to eat. Eido was quietly smug and finally also looked at Esis. Eido wasn't particularly interested in romance with others, or even sex, though she had engaged in both (a secret she kept from Misraaks) but she could still recognize when someone was attractive. And Esis was. She had blueish-purple flesh and carapace and without her helmet you could see all her edges were rounded and soft but not in the way of someone polishing their carapace. Even her mandibles were curved in such a way to appear that her head from the front was a perfect circle and the ridges over her large evenly spaced eyes were small.

Eido would surmise that in a way a human would say: Esis was 'hot as fuck'.

"Thank you for sharing this meal with me," Esis said, perhaps oblivious to Misraaks' staring. "My father said House Light says a prayer before meals?" she asked.

Eido kicked Misraaks under the table gently making him start. He coughed and cleared his throat. "Yes. To give thanks to the Great Machine and our friends here in the City," he said.

"I see," Esis nodded. "Do not feel you must change your ritual for my benefit. I will partake."

Eido offered Esis her hand across the table and grabbed Misraaks' as well. Esis delicately took Eido's hand and Eido's mandibles shivered back and forth in amusement to keep from snickering watching her father fumble just holding Esis' hand for the prayer. Eido closed her eyes and bowed her head when Misraaks said the familiar prayer, giving thanks to the Light, the Traveler, the people of the City, and (a new addition the past few weeks) the Baron's outfit for their aid. "By the Light," Misraaks said to end it.

"By the Light," Eido repeated and let Esis' and Misraaks' hands go.

"I hope this isn't a probing question Esis-

"If you say that that means it is," her father growled a warning.

She ignored him. "But you aren't a Light worshiper are you?"

Esis didn't mind even as she cracked the leg of her half a pigeon. "Not so much. Many in the outfit are machine worshipers. I was raised as such. As you can imagine my daddy is one," she said sweetly. "I did not grow up with stories of the Traveler like I'm sure you did, Eido."

"What about your other parent? The Kell?" Eido asked.

"Baron," Esis said as a natural correction but not upset Eido would call him a Kell. He should have been if everyone referred to Viksis as Kall. "Hmmm. Papa wasn't the religious sort if I am truthful," she said thoughtfully. "Or if he was it was something he did in private. But our outfit does have some Light worshipers and some who worship the Great Machine. But being so removed from it our outfit turned to machine worship."

"Makes sense seeing as your Kall is a Splicer," Eido said, barely touching her dinner.

Esis made a face. "Viksis didn't believe that until he met the Light Kell," she said and looked at Misraaks who was trying to look as dignified as possible while eating his pigeon.

"I don't know how," Eido said. "The first thing he did when he joined our House was learn the names of the Servitors; from them themselves!"

Esis giggled. "Yes. Daddy is a humble sort when it comes to his abilities."

"He says you out pace him but you are not a Splicer," Misraaks said.

"I'm not," she said. "I don't hear the machine speak he can or feel the change in electronics or manipulate the Vex Net like you Misraakskel. I'm just an engineer."

"Just!" Eido cried. "As if you didn't create a Prime Servitor. An extinct machine."

She waved that off. "Viksis helped a great deal in that creation though will downplay his intervention. I simply created the shell that the spark of a Prime could live in."

"If Viksis was the one who did it why did ours not spark?" Eido asked.

"I don't know. I haven't been allowed to look at it," Esis gave Misraaks the side eye.

"I thought the planning of our new neighborhood to be more important," Misraaks said. "And you have risen well to the challenge. You have quite the eye for city planning."

Esis chittered happily. "Thank you. I helped the other engineers plan all the ketches in the fleet for optimal space usage for our outfit."

Eido let them talk about the city planning for a while so she could eat her dinner. Listening to them talk about running sewer and water lines and trenching fiber optic wire was not what Eido would normally consider flirting but the way her father was sitting towards her, making direct eye contact, and using his lower hands to gesticulate was flirting. Especially with the how attentively he listened when Esis spoke. The only people she saw her father listen to so acutely were Ikorakel, the Young Wolf, and Eido herself. Her father was more guarded when talking with Esis while Braldos or sometimes Viksis or another outfit officer was around but in their home he was very open. Eido was glad to see her father getting out there. He'd never done it since he'd adopted her that she could remember but she knew many Eliksni in House Wolves lamented that Misraaks was too busy being a father and Mara Sov's 'stooge' to notice when anyone desperately flirted with him.

They all started when a strange shank appeared in the tent. "What-- where'd that thing come from?" Eido asked.

"Oh-- gosh I'm so sorry," Esis said apologetically.

"Is this your shank?" Misraaks asked.

"No? Yes? It belongs to my friend Fasik. He sends it looking for me when I don't return home at a reasonable time and I've stayed up too late working," she said, absolutely embarrassed."

"Fasik? I've not heard of him," Eido said.

"He's a tinkerer on the Lucent Dawn with me. A dear friend. What time is it?" she asked them. A flap on the shank's top snapped open revealing the time. "It's passed midnight? Already?"

"We kept you," Misraaks said.

The shank bumped gently against Esis' arm. "Yes yes. I know. I'll be back soon. Run along," and she shooed the shank away. It flew back out of the tent. "I had quite a lovely dinner don't think you kept me up," she assured Misraaks. "But I should be going. Tomorrow is an early day," and she leaned over to pick up her helmet.

"I'll see you out," Eido said and got up.

"Thank you," Esis said put her mask and veil back on as well.

Eido left the tent with her. "Esis," she said quietly before she could go.

"Yes?"

"I hope this isn't too forward. Do you have a family?"

"I assume you mean other than my parents and siblings?" Esis teased her. Eido giggled and nodded. "I have a child," she said and Eido's heart sunk a little. "But they're grown and work in the mechanics gang in one of the ketches," she said cheerfully.

"I see. And their father?"

"We're just friends," Esis shrugged. "We thought we were in love but after we had a baby we realized we were better friends than lovers," she sighed dramatically. "Thankfully we were friends or my papa would have killed her where she stood for leaving me right after we picked from our spawn," and Eido could laugh at that and Esis made an amused noise, eyes squinting in a laugh. Then in a kind voice she said, "Why? Did you want to know about Fasik?"

"Uh-- um-- well-

"Fasik is just my friend. I don't have a partner at this time. I'm usually too busy."

"Really I figured as the Baron's daughter you-

"Eido," she said, voice still gentle. "You're a good daughter," and Eido flushed realizing she'd been caught out almost immediately.

Eido leaned over close. "My father is also usually too busy," she told Esis as a secret.

"I know," Esis said and those two words spoke volumes. "Perhaps next time he'll invite me to dinner himself."

Eido's heart jumped excitedly. "I'll drop some hints," she said and they shared soft secret giggle of knowing something the Kell of Light didn't. "Safe passage back to your ketch, Esis."

"Thank you. I will see you tomorrow," and she bowed her head and walked off.

Eido threw the door of the tent open, startling Misraaks who was cleaning up the table. "Eido, you're letting the ether out," he scolded her.

"She's totally into you," Eido said, letting the flap close.

"What?"

"Father, don't play dumb with me."

"I don't have to. I don't know what you're talking about," Misraaks said, putting the chairs back properly.

Eido folded both her arms. "Of course," she said because of course her stuffy father wouldn't admit to something as base as wanting to court a Baron's daughter. Or anyone's daughter. "I'm going to notate what we talked about over dinner before bed," and she went into her 'room' in the tent.

[mr-entj]

Hi Mr. ENTJ, congrats on the new job offer. It's good to hear INTJ and Kobe & Co. are doing well, too.

I'm an ENTJ currently in my fourth year of my Computer Science PhD specializing in Machine Learning/Data Mining, and I know that you know how quickly this field moves. There's loads of advice about how "doctoral programs a marathon, not a sprint" and students need to pace themselves and have work-life balance in order to not burn out. Following these principles, I've made it this far unscathed (in terms of mental health deterioration) and managed to stay in my program.

With luck, an understanding advisor, and low amounts of admin work (emails, meetings-that-could-be-emails, etc.), and good self management, I have been able to work 40 hour workweeks for the most part and stay on track. That being said, I am currently in a period of time where I am increasing to 50 hour workweeks in order to meet a conference deadline at the end of June 2023 (time of writing is mid-late April 2023). As long as I show up to work every day and do my best, I expect this paper will be finished by the time my internship starts. This is fine by me; deadlines need to be met, and I want to continue with my current 5-year PhD trajectory (as opposed to taking longer).

Speaking candidly, I have ADHD and am also Autistic, and maintaining this 40hr/week is critical in preventing the "I wake up in the morning wondering if I've accomplished anything meaningful with my life" feeling that gets in the way of me doing very much at all with my day. I also notice that when I am in the *deep throes* of burnout, my ability to pull back and look at the bigger picture takes a nap and I make myopic, hasty decisions. It's a recipe for bad research.

I've relaxed my "good work-life balance" constraint to simply "do not enter the *deep throes* of burnout". My question is for what lies after this period of time: I will be entering a summer research internship. I am concerned I will not perform well at my internship and will not be able to study as hard for full time interviews as a result of my choices now. Any tips for optimizing this recovery time and post-burnout damage control? Is this an ill-posed question, and there is no way to have my cake and eat it too?

Thanks for your time and consideration, Mr. ENTJ.

You can have your cake and eat it too, you'll just need to endure for the next few months.

Some thoughts on your situation in no particular order:

Get therapy and medication for the ADHD and autism if you haven't already. Mental health issues should never be left untreated especially when you're attempting ambitious and difficult goals. It would be like trying to win a race with a broken leg.

Set strict guardrails to get adequate sleep and nutrition. Don't compromise on either of these two because it'll severely impact performance. During the most intense periods of my life, meal planning worked really well so I could grab and go healthy meals without long prep time. Poor health choices lead to low energy, brain fog, and bad moods. Healthy food/snacks, hydration, vitamins, exercise (even a quick 15 minutes of cardio when my scheduled was packed) made me 10x more effective.

Reach out to the summer internship team and learn more about expectations so you can start planning ahead to manage your time and prepare to hit the ground running. Most summer internships aren't time-consuming and energy draining to the point they'd grind you down to dust. This is because interns require a lot of time to onboard which cuts into the 3-month summer term and they have limited access to information, skills, and experience needed to do more complex work. I wouldn't jump the gun and stress about underperforming without knowing the full scope of your role and responsibilities.

Ensure that you have at least one person from your summer internship who can speak highly of you. In the unlikely event you don't perform well in your internship, you'll still walk away with a solid professional reference to use for future full-time job offers. Pro tip: Companies won't interview every single person at the internship even if you fuck up. As long as they can verify you worked there and you have at least 1 person (more is better) who can speak to your abilities, you'll be fine.

Prioritize full-time job interviews > summer internships if the summer internship has a low chance of conversion to a full-time role. If the opposite is true, reverse that order. If you need to prioritize one of these two, prioritize the one that secures your desired outcome.

Focus on outcomes over input. Focus on the things you achieve, the milestones you reach, and the obstacles you overcome-- not the amount of hours you put in. A few weeks ago I fixed a $5 million problem by clearing up a misunderstanding with a 90-minute conversation. This 90-minute conversation was way more impactful than the 40-50 hours of work I put in the previous week. There's that John Wooden quote: "Don't mistake activity for achievement." Benchmark your progress towards achieving a 'meaningful life' with impact, not input.

[jenroses]

How do people with chronic illness and no background in advocacy or research survive? I know the answer is often, "they don't." But I'm marveling at the amount of executive function I'm having to aim at simply maintaining access to the medications and supplements I need to find existence tolerable, the length of time the system is willing to shrug about severe new pain and the diagnostic tests for it, and the amount of research I need to have in hand in order to have a hope of getting what I need covered by insurance and if I'm daunted, with my background and skill in these specific areas, what hope does someone have if they don't have those skills?

That said, here's a list of things I've found that have helped that were hard to get or challenging to learn about:

1. Topical metformin in lipoderm cream is a compounded version of metformin that can assist in blood sugar control which has few-to-no intestinal side effects.

2. For insulin resistance, a combination of liraglutide and topical metformin has worked better for me than insulin.

3. If you have painful fat on your body (not just fat, but fat that it's very pressure sensitive with trigger points that rival fibro and are frequently misdiagnosed as such) you NEED to research lipedema. My pt does lymphatic drainage that is life changing and drastically reduces pain in reasonably lasting ways.

4. If you go low carb for glucose control, do not rely on almonds as a major replacement for wheat, especially if you also have POTS and need a lot of sodium as the combination is a recipe for kidney stones which suck a lot. Almonds are very high in oxalates.

5. Genetic testing can point out some weird ways in which your body differs from the norm and this may explain weird medication results. For example, long after I realized that swimming pools made me sick and warfarin was a dangerous drug for me, genetic tests discovered that I do not process certain chlorine byproducts normally and that I have multiple genes that cause me to process warfarin very slowly. I'm also bad at turning t4 into t3 which is probably why synthroid was so bad. And we discovered an extra, rare recessive blood clotting disorder. This was from running my raw 23&me thru Promethease.

6. If you don't tolerate a medication, check the inactive ingredients. Things like povidone and sodium lauryl sulfate are used to help solubility but can cause allergic reactions/intolerances. I found this out after years on Xarelto, which was exacerbating my joint pain, probably from the sls. Switching to injectables fixed the problem and I've been more stable on my ra meds since.

7. Not all supplements work as advertised and there are many garbage brands out there but there are also better companies which have quality products and some supplements can be very helpful.

Vitex: chaste tree berry can drastically improve hormonal balance and normalize cycles. This means more regular periods and often less pmd.

Magnesium (doesn't have to be fancy, even cheap mag works) can drastically improve chronic asthma. You don't have to use it instead of drugs, but I found I just didn't need the drugs once I started supplementing a normal amount daily.

Turmeric: I went off this due to the whole herb having high oxalates but the extract form is lower oxalate and the anti inflammatory properties are a mercy for me. I can't take nsaids, but I tolerate turmeric well and it reduces my pain level quite dramatically, improving sleep quality.

Milk thistle products are helpful for liver function and since my liver is always kinda iffy the milk thistle is super important to me continuing to tolerate my medication load. When I was on warfarin the stabilizing effect of milk thistle was quite dramatic and measurable until other factors kicked in.

A negative: if you are on any medications that process through the liver, CBD can be dangerous to your health. This varies by drug and pathway. Natural is not always safer. Do your homework beforehand.

I take other things but those are some of the most dramatic helps. I can do a list of supplement manufacturers I trust if people are interested.

What I currently do for pain is a combination of lidocaine patches, very low dose oxycodone, turmeric, physical therapy, ergonomics, and mobility/accessibility aides. I'd be happy to do a different post just about that.

[sayakxmi]

[Magi reread] Night 70: Bird

Yeaah, wasn't exactly feeling very Magi lately. Or anything. Kinda hard to go back to normal uni mode from a winter break, so I was busy trying to make sense of my sleeping schedule, which, frankly, is still shit, but, hey, I'm doing my best here XD

Also, damn, I really like that new blog theme. It's so readable. For me, at least. No regrets.

But anyway, the actual chapter.

RIP Alibaba's Weapon DE burnt arms, you will be missed by ME, because I thought they were super cool.

Tbh, I don't think it evolved? I've always read it as Alibaba not mastering it fully, actually. I mean, most DE's cover the body better, and later naturally transform into Full-Body DEs. So, basically, it wasn't until that moment that he actually reached Weapon Djinn Equip.

Low blow.

Well, fuck

Very good catch, Morgiana.

Tbh, I don't think they would've died... Or at least, I don't think Sinbad would've died, cuz I think Alibaba could've cushioned him a little, but it also probably would've really sucked for him, too. Like, from that hit, his spine could've broken, probably...

Actually, damn, the fact that Alibaba's didn't break. Or, damn, shouldn't he have some head trauma? By now he probably should've. Anyway, but also I checked the previous page, and from the way he hit the wall, he sort of avoided hitting his head, but god damn, the fact that his spine is fine after this is a goddamn miracle.

You know, I really think it's pretty cool. Just, these two working together. Idk, man, I'm always weak for Sinbad and Alibaba.

It took me an embarrassing moment to realize he was being pulled by Djinn!Cassim's gravity powers...

This entire part deserved to be here. I love how aware he is that he can't do it yet, and just braces himself for a hit... that never comes.

10/10. And the fact that SAHBMAD is commanding them.

When did you get back there.

Also, love how he's so concerned for them, but Sinbad calms him down.

-claps- You go, guys

I genuinely love how desperate the situation is, and how everybody's trying, anyway.

Lowkey made me think about Honkai Impact 3rd's "Everlasting Flames" animated short. There's that quote "We're connected by this sword. It will burn up the darkness to make way for light!". Feels quite fitting.

Like, it has nothing to do with each other, obviously, but I just thought it was fun.

JUDAR FUCKING JUMPSCARE

Like, I genuinely forgot he appears here.

Also, damn, Alibaba gets no breaks, does he?

I love that Sinbad's immediately next to him.

Alibaba, being the normalest guy around: Al-Thamen: Nope, we can't have that.

Jokes aside, yeah, dude's not wrong. Alibaba might be nothing special compared to behemots like Sinbad or Kouen, but he's got an ungodly amount of willpower when push comes to shove, and is smart enought to maneuver himself in difficult situations. Tho the fact that he seems so unremarkable is also to his benefit, since people tend to underestimate him.

But Al-Thamen doesn't. It makes sense for them - they've been running the world from the shadows for hundreds of years. They know that just because somebody might not look like they can amount to much, doesn't mean they aren't capable of it. And Alibaba's given them the proof of it. He went not only against fate they'd envisioned, but also against the one Sinbad had. He is a threat-in-making.

Well, yeah, the situation really fucking sucks. I've said it before & I'm saying it again, I like how Alibaba isn't fucking fooling himself into believing he can do this... but at the same time, he doesn't give up. He has to do this, somehow. He just doesn't know how yet. And it's well in line with his characterization, just like his talk with Cassim about avoiding bloodshed. He doesn't know yet, but he will figure something out. There's too much to lose if he doesn't.

I mean, yeah, somebody had to handle this.

"That's...?"

._.

.__.

Like, bro, what do I say. This fucking sucks.

HIT ITAAAAAAHHHHHHH

I NEED A HERO~!

You know I had to.

[thetreetopinn]

My ADD Medication Journey - Mar 15, 16 & 17, 2024

Oops... got distracted by other things (visiting the parents over the weekend). Forgot to make an entry here.

Friday, March 15th

Slept a little better then the previous night. I'd guess I managed somewhere between 4 and 6 hours. Not quite enough for my liking but it was sufficient to get me through the day.

I had taken a sleep aid--some over the counter antihistamines repackaged and rebranded as a sleep aid--and put on some soothing stuff to listen to while I lay in bed. It seemed to do the trick. I hope I don't have to keep taking the antihistamines every night I've taken my ADD medication.

Woke up feeling tired, but I'm used to that. Took my medication as soon as I was able to get something to drink--around 8:30am.

Work wasn't terrible, not as productive as I might have liked, but I did get enough done to still feel accomplished. The workload has eased down substantially now that A) we've kind of streamlined the process a bit and B) the backlog is effectively gone.

There's still some older stuff sitting there waiting for me to tackle it, but it's not super critical, and I've got other matters to address.

Tremors weren't as bad as the previous day, but still enough to notice.

I was able to focus enough on the things that mattered such that the most important things got taken care of.

I left to go see my parents immediately after work. For a not small stretch of the night, mom sat with me to go over my taxes so that we could both be reasonably sure I hadn't missed anything. I'm not super fond of the tax preparation services, and my state doesn't offer a proper free-filing method... because... well... fuck this state.

I got notice that I've been approved for my new apartment, and had to deal with some paperwork with that. More will be coming soon.

Went to bed later than I would have liked, but such is life.

Saturday, March 16th

Had trouble sleeping, but I got something like 5 or 6 hours of sleep I think. I always have trouble sleeping in a new bed, even if it's one I've slept in before, just not in a while.

Not taking my medication on the weekend so that I can guarantee a good night's sleep.

Got up early enough to eat breakfast with dad at a local place. Came back in time for him to go with others to go see a movie while mom and I babysat. That kid has waaay too much energy for me to keep up with.

Energy level was markedly lower than the last couple of days, but not low enough to make me need to nap as hard as I had during the weekends while on the previous run of medication.

Ended up napping anyway, but not for very long.

Finally came back home later than I would have liked but oh well. It didn't take long for me to start feeling drowsy enough to want to crawl into bed. Fell asleep fairly quickly.

Sunday, March 17th

Slept pretty well. Got more than 8 hours, which helped with the sleep debt from the week.

Took the day pretty slow and lazy, didn't have a lot I needed to get done, but of the things I should liked to tackle, I only got some of it done--such is life with ADHD and you don't take your meds.

I ended up feeling pretty tired at about 1 or 2 in the afternoon, to the point where I fell asleep in my computer chair for a little while.

I don't know if it's specifically the sleep debt thing because of the medication, or if it's also a function of just getting older.

Feeling a normal amount of tired as I'm looking at going to bed here in just a minute. Hoping to have a normal night's sleep.

[erabundus]

i've  been  thinking  about  the  headcanon  that  ren  has  two  kinds  of  blood  for  no  reason  in  particular.  the  red  blood  (  "surface"  blood  )  which  goes  to  his  extremities  and  other  nonessential  parts  of  his  body,  and  the  purple  blood  —  or  what  filled  the  tubes  that  kept  him  connected  to  shouki  no  kami.  as  mentioned  in  the  original  post,  the  purple  "blood"  is  more  akin  to  liquified  divine  power  and  flows  through  his  innermost  workings.  it's  the  form  the  electro  energy  produced  by  his  core  takes  while  inside  his  body,  and  being  drained  of  it  is  one  of  the  only  ways  to  kill  ren  as  much  as  he  can  possibly  die.  thankfully,  it's  very  difficult  to  actually  wound  him  in  such  a  way  that  damages  his  "vitals,"  especially  for  someone  who  doesn't  know  where  they  are.  (  because  his  anatomy  is  weird,  and  even  being  decapitated  would  only  slow  him  down.  )

however,  assuming  he  does  sustain  a  wound  to  his  core,  and  assuming  he  does  manage  to  stop  the  bleeding  before  he  crosses  the  point  of  no  return,  the  RECOVERY  process  is ...  interesting.

ren  can  regenerate  what  "blood"  he's  lost  in  time.  his  vitals  are  designed  in  such  a  way  that  they  will  continue  to  generate  power  indefinitely  —  even  heightening  production  (  albeit  at  the  cost  of  straining  his  body  )  to  recover  however  much  energy  they  need  until  they  hit  his  natural  cap.  scaramouche's  parasitic  catalyst  actually  capitalized  on  this  by  feeding  on  miniscule  traces  of  his  blood.  using  it  would  fatigue  him,  but  never  to  such  a  degree  that  it  became  more  than  a  minor  INCONVENIENCE.  should  he  bleed  in  even  greater  amounts,  however,  he  basically  experiences  something  close  to  ANEMIA —  or  (  obviously  )  a  human's  reaction  to  blood  loss.   you could call it  low  power  mode.

his  body  prioritizes  recovering  energy  above  all  else,  and  basically  shuts  off  all  of  his  unnecessary  functions  —  or  has  them  running  in  a  more  limited  capacity.  he  gets  very,  very  tired.  in  particularly  severe  cases,  he  may  fall  into  a  COMA.  (  though  with  ren  being  ren,  if  he  still  has  the  strength  to  fight  off  sleep,  he  will.  )  words  come  very  sparse  and  quiet  —  when  he  actually  speaks  at  all.  movement  is  hard;  he  can't  walk,  can't  stand,  can  barely  sit  up,  fingers  gone  too  clumsy  and  sluggish  to  accomplish  much.  all he can really do is exist and wait and seethe a little over the inconvenience. he  also  gains  something  akin  to  a  fever  as  his  body  goes  into  overdrive  to  recuperate  what  it's  lost.

how  long  "low  power  mode"  lasts  depends  on  the  amount  of  blood  lost,  and  whether  he  makes  things  more  difficult  by  trying  to  exert  himself  unnecessarily.  it's  faster  if  he  sleeps  —  but  again,  barring  his  body  forcibly  shutting  him  down,  he  won't  do  that.

[karthara]

Ok, let's break this down. Chances I would survive the initial outbreak are low, though better since I started masking. I used to catch every cold that went through our friend group but I've only gotten sick with a cold or a flu less then once a year since covid started and I have not yet caught covid. Pros I tend to watch weird survival stuff on you tube when I get into depressive funks so I know how to make a variety of traps and snares and I know the basics of skinning and gutting an animal and I'm fairly certain I could mentally cope with it as far as pigeons, deer, squirrels, mice and the like. I know how to fish. I've also watched multiple people do videos on how to prepare unusual meat like skunk or coyote, though as they have a higher chance of having eaten zombie meat they would not be what I would try to catch. For skunks it's be very careful about removing all of the scent glands and marinade in something quite sweet and acidic to break down the scent/taste. I know the basics of making vinegar. I own a copy of an old cookbook that my grandmother gifted to each of her grandchildren that was released around the time she got married. It's got chapters on how to break down animals from whole carcasses into usable food and is aimed at a homesteading wife kinda thing. I know how to make pemmican. I worked for a while behind the meat counter at a grocery store so I'm good with breaking down meat. I'm good with my hands and I enjoy gardening. We own a water filter and don't drink tap water habitually. I have much lower social needs then most people I know. If I have one other person with me I'd be good enough and I can go months without socializing before I start to feel it as a need. I own both a quarter staff and a sword. I have a biphasic sleep schedule so I'm accustomed to sleeping in short chunks at any hour. I wake easily at odd noises especially if I feel unsafe. I can sew and weave and I know how to make fiber from things like nettles. I've got enough body fat that with a small amount of food I could last months, though I would have to figure out a solution for water. I'd probably try to steal the plastic bins that the biodegradable waste goes in and hook them up to the gutters from my apartment building roof, but I don't think that would be enough for year round water. The river is too polluted and is through the woods so that is high risk. My wife and I have worked/help run a zombie survival lazer tag event for several years in the past. I'm a fairly good shot with a bow or an air rifle if I have time to aim. I've been researching farming quail and pigeons. I have seeds for several edible plants though we're halfway through the growing season and would only have time for maybe some radish, green onions, carrots, or spinach out of what I have. I own a pot for water bath canning and I would try to get my hands on a pressure canner. I know how to pickle. I took two years of shop class so I know my way around basic woodworking tools. Cons I live in a fairly populous city near down town. I am not physically fit. I have chronic pain and bad teeth, I get cavities often even with enamel toothpaste. I often wake up with pain and weakness in my hands. I have chronic pain, severe depression, and severe social anxiety along with some stuff I haven't figured out yet. We do get about a week of -40 c here in the winter that would be hell to deal with.

In conclusion, mentally I would cope fairly well and I don't think I'd be much worse off then I currently am. Physically I think I'd be screwed. I'm too stubborn to kill myself though.

[blackjackkent]

2s from each category for whoever you've not chatted about in a while :)

(Super Long Hopefully Fun Character Ask Game)

Hmmmmm. Let's go with Lucas. :D He's been rotating in my mind a lot lately but doesn't get much airtime compared to my BG3 OCs. XD

-----

Appearance #2: What would your character wear if they were told they had to gussy up?

In the last few months I finally got Lucas into a more casual fit that he wears most of the time, but for quite a long time his standard outfit was the Exemplar's Attire, so presumably that is still his go-to for any time he needs to look fancy. ^_^

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Objects #2 - What gift would your character give to someone they didn’t like but felt obligated to?

At this point, Lucas is an old hand at diplomatic negotiations and he's habitually pretty cool and collected, so he would be pretty good at this. Tragically I don't think Kryta has the concept of a gift card, but the fantasy equivalent in this case feels like him forwarding the person to one of his various merchant friends and getting them a discount, which has the triple bonus of the recipient being happy, his friends getting business, and him not having to deal with the person directly.

-----

Food and Drink #2 - Would your character prefer baking, cooking or mixing drinks?

Lucas strikes me as someone who would enjoy baking. It's a low-key activity that could be done with friends but also solo for some introspection time, focuses on technical precision while also leaving room for artistry, facilitates carb-loading for the vast amount of physical activity he is forced into, and produces tasty treats as an outcome.

-----

Weather and Nature #2 - Has your character had a meaningful encounter with an animal?

As a soulbeast ranger, Lucas's whole life is pretty much nothing BUT meaningful encounters with animals. It is a running theme/joke among his friends that he makes friends with basically any creature that he meets, even the terrifying ones that are dangerous to everyone else; no one (including him) really knows how he does it, but it comes naturally to him.

The first time it happened, though, was with a wolf that befriended him during the leadup to the Battle of Shaemoor and helped him win the fights there that catapulted him into adventuring notoriety. He named the wolf Asher (after its grey coat) and they traveled together for a long time afterwards.

These days he has other animals he travels with more often; Asher lives out his old age wolf years with some of Lucas's friends on a farm just outside Divinity's Reach and is something of a local curiosity.

-----

Community and Relationships #2 - What is your character’s favorite kind of social event?

Lucas is very attached to and loyal to his friends and enjoys spending time with them but is increasingly stressed out by the Important Business that he keeps having to deal with. So his favorite gatherings are the ones where it's just people he cares about sitting around in a pub and telling stories, maybe drinking a little but not raucously, and enjoying each other's company without having to worry about putting on a good face or accomplishing some strategic aim.

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Mind Body and Soul #2 - Are there particular sounds your character is fond of?

In keeping with the above comments about his connection with animals, Lucas is very closely bonded with his skyscale, who he named Princess:

His friends are all pretty intimidated by Princess, who is very ornery with everyone else but Lucas and has a tendency to bite. But with Lucas she is extremely gentle, and they often sleep with Lucas kind of snuggled up against her feathers and tucked under one of her wings. She makes soft little snuffling noises when she sleeps or is very comfortable and it is a relaxing sound to him that means everything is (for the moment) all right.

-----

Hobbies and Activities #2 - Does your character have a secret hobby?

I can't say that I've ever given this much thought, so we're gonna come up with a new headcanon on the fly and say that Lucas knitted the scarf that he wears in his current fit:

Furthering this headcanon to decide that this was a hobby he initially picked up all the way back during his days as a bodyguard in Divinity's Reach; the nobles he worked for didn't REALLY have too much call for his services most of the time so he spent a lot of time standing around and needing something to keep his hands busy.

Occasionally this got snarky comments from others in the business but they never got much of anywhere because Lucas is very hard to rattle and just ignored them. XD

He doesn't have too much time for it these days, yet another thing that he has been forced to deprioritize against the constant need of saving the world.

[breesasofty]

Tuesday. June 18th, 2024.

Yesterday's batch was made stronger. I took 1/4 of my usual dose and I was completely out. I vanished, went somewhere else; the pain was still in that somewhere else mind/body state, but it was fogged.

I was so eager to have the relief I've been taking these past few days. I lost control completely. My body feels tired from the troubled sleep, and I have an excuse for going past my personal limits of indulgence. I feel like I'm abusing myself somehow, the way I went back to smoking weed without even taking baby steps. I can manage myself throughout the day, but I have to bat off from high every single night, knock myself off with serotonin, dopamine, CBD, THC. It's like taking a dreamless sleep potion, but I always dream.

Vivid, anxious dreams. My dreams bring back to me what I want to run away from. It feels like I'm forever being chased by the things (and the people) that I want to leave behind. And this thing about feeling energies (the quintessence of understanding one's single note of smeared colors by a brush, resulting in something entirely unique; how one usually vibes [vibrates, their own signature frequency, a blueprint]) and having that note played in my dreams, right before the eye of the mind, the stage on my view... could be simply described as bothersome.

All the work I do during the day, keeping the right things fueling my brain, nourishing my soul, are ripped apart in destruction every night when I both-handedly give away any control of my being. I am reset every night from my own patterns of thinking, my own struggle to keep myself on the path I want to take. When giving it away (the weight of all my responsibilities, which lately have been crushing me impiedosamente), I feel momentarily freed. In exchange, I get a breath of fresh air to keep fighting the following day. All daytime is a battle; and during the night, I drop to my knees and feel sagged down by the heaviness of everything.

It's like I'm given a limited amount of oxygen, so I have to keep coming back if I need more. It feels like I've forgotten how to emotionally recharge on my own. Before all that ordeal which I'm still sorting through, I had a guess I might have C-PTSD. Not to self-diagnose, despite knowing myself very well and majoring in these exact matters, having also been in therapy for almost a decade (not in sight of being discharged this time [let's take a laugh, shall we? It is indeed rather funny, the tragicomedy!]), but there's no way I wouldn't develop C-PTSD after such a troubled life. Oh, but once again, I have to thank my mind. I would've entirely succumbed to life if I hadn't been blessed with this brain of mine.

Knowledge is my solace and developing is my fuel. As it should be, I also have this requirement for anyone who's near me. I'd be dead by a bore after being sat with the ones satisfied with what they have, not progressing in their plans (what makes one self-satisfied? No, better! For how low will one settle?). But I also wonder sometimes if I'll ever be able to reach all I deem myself capable of reaching before my head explodes and then boom, game over. I can't say it'd be a complete surprise on the turning of events ruled by the universe and destiny if that happened. Now, more than ever, I know it's inescapable, not to face it when time decides that it's due and ends itself, taking whatever it may take. (These 'whatever' most times actually cost a lot).

I feel disconnected from myself and from my surroundings. I know it's a mechanism to protect myself from all the scary changes that have been happening, non-stop (I hate changes, have I mentioned that before?).

I don't really know what the future holds. I have myself and some money, but I feel alone in the world. Future steps are blank slates; the route that I've planned has been crushed. I feel defeated, but I'm still trying. I have been maimed and hurt, but I keep fighting.

[frogsandfries]

We went to a farmer's market today. For better or worse, I already splashed out on a very small Kwiktrip run. I didn't buy any soap, pretzels, or cheese curds. I don't know if this is a year-round thing, but hey, summer is just starting. I'll have plenty of time to hoard locally made soaps.

We got back, did some housework (it's a relief and nice not to have to do chores by myself). I ended up only having to mop the hall. My sister swept it, but I'm going to buy some microfiber towels and use those to dry mop the house instead. She had asked me to tape down the co-ax cable. She wanted dibs on the adjoined room next to hers, where the live port is, so now she officially has the better deal, which I guess is fair since she absolutely earned it, but I'm still the older sibling. Anyway, so I taped it down most of the way for now. I'm waiting to see if she has a shelf or something to put over or around or whatever, or what I should do with the remaining length of cable.

I wanted to work on Catbus today, but I don't have enough of this color of bead and there's always a bit of a concern over batch color consistency when having to order beads over a period of time that is anything longer than "all at once". It feels like it's just always going to be difficult to estimate the amount of beads I should buy, even if I can get a rough idea, which I absolutely can do because I'm not freehanding at least this project, I am working from a gridded pattern.

Then there's the issue what I purchased the Catbus colors that I did, solely at a guess that they would be good. Then life kinda happened and focusing on materials for Catbus was a very low concern.

Ugh, sorry. Forgive the rambling. I am so. Exhausted. I would like to cancel my subscription to Tired Daily.

Anyway, I ended up working on Eeyore.

The other project that I'm hung up on, in case you hadn't noticed, was the dumpster fire. I know I'm a little late to the party with that, but I wasn't into beading in 2020 or 2021. The other problem, besides not knowing how many to get, is not knowing if I can afford to buy 150 grams of one color all at once. With a lot of the beads I've been purchasing, that's about fifty bucks. I'm lucky if I can order fourty bucks of beads at once. So why not just get enough to hobble along until the next time I can place an order?

I gotta wrap it up here and go get some sleep. Tomorrow, I'll finish this front leg, and I kinda wanna start the second tummy piece. Soon here, I might have to purchase some polyfill.

I'd love to find a dusty rose color for this little chibi-ish elephant. I should also work up these patterns for these less cartoony, more realistic elephants that I have.

I think I'm also going to adapt Nelco Neco's shrinky carousel. I don't know about you, but what I want to do with it is, ideally, make two columns of horses that go up and down on their poles.

[sparethcsympathy]

“I wish I could hate you.” / tilly to negan

390 prompts || @nghtmarish || accepting

HANDS RUNNING DOWN HIS FACE, LONG AND SLOW. A LOW GROAN escaping past twin flesh. Kids, can't live with them... can't live without them. He does his best to keep that temper of his as tamed as possible. But it's also difficult when he is facing his mini-me. Negan ain't stupid. He gets why she's pissed at him, gets why she's being hostile towards him.

But to be quite frank he is slightly tired of the disrespect because believe it or not he is still her dad at the end of the day. Now, he admits he fucked up, but he can't go back and take it back. The ex-savior leader had tried to talk to her, wanting to treat her as an equal... a friend. FUCKING STUPID. That's where he messed up, and he's tired of trying to be a 'friend' It's getting him nowhere.

He's still her father, he still needs her to understand that though she has all the right to be pissed... it's also not fair.

Negan's tattooed fingers comb through his hair out of frustration, his other hand pressed firmly against his hip, he thinks he may end up bruising himself with the amount of pressure he's applying against himself. Feet tapping, anxiety caving in on him. " Listen... " He sighs. " I get it, Tilly. Believe me, I do. I'd hate myself too If I were in your shoes. But I've been trying don't you see that ? " A finger desperately jabbing against his chest right above where his heart lies.

The expression on his face is BROKEN... LOST EVEN. He was once good at this parenting thing... Could even cockily say he should have been rewarded with one of those cups that said father of the year.' Then... shit went down and Lucille had gotten cancer. They thought they could make it through.

She just had to. She couldn't just leave them.... leave Tilly.

GOD wasn't one to grant Negan any favors. NOT WHEN THE DEVIL had longed for Negan to CRACK. It was too late for God to save him from himself, the devil called dibs and it was there, at that very moment where Lucifer started working his magic. crept into Negan's family life, the darkness had wrapped around Lucille's mind.... and settled itself in her sick, sick mind... putting things in her head. Killing herself, making her leave her family behind, like nothing. She was tired, she was so tired but she was once a FIGHTER. Once... she was once... but she could no longer fight along them.

Oh, his Lucille.

After she died... he thought things couldn't get any worse. It did. The devil was there for him... but also wanted MAYHEM. The second he lost to Rick... was the second he felt something suffocating him. Something strange looming over him. Remembers through a blurry vision he thought he saw him. The shadowy-like figure looked down upon him as he was being saved by somebody from Rick's team. He can almost see the disappointment in his demonic features and then things go black.

Being locked in that prison was fucking torment. He didn't know what was going on out there. Didn't even know what happened to Tilly. Didn't ask because he didn't want Rick to taint his thought any more than it already was. Slowly of course he found out more. Tilly was there and that was a relief...

till the voices and loneliness began to SMOTHER HIM. Sleeping was hard, eating made him sick and he begged for those who came down to stop speaking of the outside world. To stop telling him of his daughter... just to fucking stop. Let him die. Kill him. Michonne couldn't and all he had left was Maggie. He prayed for her to come, prayed for her to finish the job. Begged her but she didn't.... and he cried.

Years went on. Rick is gone... life is going on. Negan is now free to roam around, but not freely, he still has limits. But enough to make conversation with those who don't hate him as much. Maggie told Tilly about their little chit-chat. Negan didn't blame Maggie, in fact, deep down he knew she would. He took so much from her, that it was only right for her to do the same.

. . .

" You're old enough to hear this. You ain't a lil' girl no more. That I see. So it's only right If I'm honest with you. " Negan eyes flickering to his leather boots, heart rapidly beating in his chest, his emotions coming down on him, making him feel so fucking small. Taking a deep breath he locks eyes with Tilly. " .... It was wrong of me to want to die while you still being out here. I know you felt like you didn't matter. And you know that ain't true kid. You matter so fucking much to me. The thing is... you-- you weren't there in that cell. You don't understand... and I pray to whoever the fuck is listening that you never get to find out. Being alone with your thoughts is dangerous. It's the worst type of torment you can ever experience. Being down there alone I would start seeing your mom... her- her as a walker. She begged me to come to her, to seek death and leave with her. I- I knew deep down that wasn't your mother talking to me..."

He chokes back, swallowing the lump in his throat. Feeling his heart become heavy in his chest. He feels sick. " .. But it hurt so much. All of it. I didn't have you anymore. I didn't have the Saviors. I didn't have your mom. I didn't have anyone.... yeah, you were out here.. but that's not the same. And then I thought well, maybe If I died you'd be free and you can live your life without having to stick around waiting for me. Don't you get it ? I am only human, I fucked up. We all do and I've been trying my hardest to make it right with you. If you really want me to leave you alone... I'll go. Hell, I'll leave to Hilltop to give you what you want. But just know I still love you. And you'll always be my daughter. I'm sorry, You have to believe me when I say I am sorry. I am."