#ive been trying to get a permanent full time position

[madtomedgar]

I moved so far beyond applying for jobs with the expectation of getting them that I don't even think about "you will maybe work here and do this." I just feel like I'm clocking in for my boulder rolling shift at the sisyphus factory.

[guiltyasdave]

are you ever dreaming of me?

series masterlist • this is part IV

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: This got very dark very quickly, but it had to be done. It’s basically just one big love letter from me to Dave and his character. I know Dave’s behavior in the last chapter has been a little frustrating but I hope it’ll make more sense now (it’s still frustrating though ngl). I also know this is not as smut-heavy as the other chapters, which might come as a disappointment to some. Stay with me here, more filth is coming soon, I just had to get emotional for a second. <3 (also, please be nice because I lowkey hate this, actually)

word count: ~3.1k

summary: Dave’s side of the story.

warnings: ANGST, bits of fluff if you squint, age-gap, mentions of killing people, mentions of death, mentions of rough sex, power imbalance, able-bodied reader, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, dubios morals (Dave is cheating on his wife… kinda), idiots in love, this whole serious is still very much 18+ only, mdni… did I mention angst? (As always, please tell if if I forgot something!)

dividers by @/saradika <3

find my full masterlist here!

Dave York isn’t a good man.

He isn’t a good man and he hasn’t been in a long time. He probably had been, once, when he first joined the military, when he still thought that he was doing the good thing, the right thing. Before he killed his first man. Now he’s living in shades of gray, where nothing is as simple as right or wrong.

He knows that what he’s doing is not right, but then again, the people that he’s killing aren’t good men either. He’s doing what he’s good at, what he has been trained to do for years. He doesn’t really know what else he’s good at. If there even is anything else.

He makes enough money to provide well for his daughters, the only thing in his life that he really cares about, the two girls that he loves more than anything. He loved their mother too, once, when they were both young. They were high school sweethearts, got married quickly simply because that was the thing that you did, only to realize later that adult life with each other wasn’t what either of them had imagined.

He’s never told Carol what exactly it is that he does, trying to protect her, which then led to her not understanding what was going on when he came home feeling cold and empty, a void inside of him that nothing could fill. They both grew distant from each other, not sharing any real connection anymore, just living aside one another. It works for him; their daughters are still the top priority for both of them, and they’re going to do everything in their power to give them the best possible childhood.

He suspects that Carol is seeing someone else, with the way she’s sometimes working late for no good reason, sliding out of the room to answer her phone at odd hours, the way he occasionally finds a position on their shared credit card bill that he doesn’t have an explanation for.

Dave knows that if he cared, he could easily find out every little detail about it. If he cared, he would probably be angry at how she’s not even making an effort to hide it. But the thing is - he just can’t bring himself to care. Has never done the same thing either, neither out of spite, nor because he had any desire for it.

Until he met her.

Sitting in a hotel bar, two seats over from him, when he’d just gotten a job done and figured that a quick drink might help him fall asleep easier. The whiskey’s burn in his throat didn’t ease the coldness that felt like it had permanently settled into his chest, not that he’d expected it to.

He had just decided to retreat to his room and get out of the city first thing in the morning when she sighed loudly and downed her own drink abruptly. He had noticed her when he walked in, the way he always clocked every person in any room he entered, and every possible exit route. He had absentmindedly noted that she was attractive, then dismissed the thought immediately. Probably here for a date, much younger than him, not paying him any mind. Not a threat, and therefore not important.

Not important at all, until he found himself turning to her and offering to buy her another drink before his mind had even caught up to his actions, learning that she had just been stood up for what would indeed have been a date, noticing the glint of interest in her gaze as she eyed him up and down, feeling a kind of longing that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Getting her to go up to his room with him had been easy. A mutual understanding of wanting each other, the desire to turn a shitty evening into something else, something that he doesn’t think either of them understood at the time.

Kissing her for the first time had been easy, too. Touching her, feeling her hot skin under his fingertips, her entire being so much softer, lighter than he was, felt easy. It felt right, like something that he hadn’t known he was missing right until that moment. He wanted to devour her, make her his, get her as close as he possibly could, before he inevitably had to give up this fleeting moment of something that suspiciously felt like happiness, and happiness never stayed within his reach for too long.

Sinking into her for the first time, hearing her gasp, her breath hot against his neck, felt even better. This was never gonna last, things this good never did. The way she clenched around him when he first slapped her ass and her whimper of “harder, please” turned him feral in a way that he hadn’t known before. How she gave up all control to him so willingly when his entire life had felt out of control for so long - it was addicting. He had known that he would come back for more again and again before he had even spilled himself into her for the first time.

He hadn’t planned for her to stay the night. Hadn’t planned for the way she kissed his lips in the morning, acting a little shy, like she was worried that he might send her away, but so clearly showing him that she wanted more of him, if that was what he wanted. And god damn, did he want to give her more, give her all that he had to offer, if only it wasn’t for the fact that any more of him would be enough to scare her away for good.

So, he didn’t give her more. Made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t looking for an emotional attachment, told her about his marriage, told her that they couldn’t be a thing. She was quick to hide her disappointment, but not quick enough for him not to notice. He half expected her to walk out then, that this wasn’t something she wanted, but instead she scribbled down her phone number, gave him a flirty smile and told him to call her “whenever”.

He knew he was being greedy, that he should have kept it a one time thing that he could keep a fond memory of, but of course he called her. Kept making stops in her town before flying back home, started spending weekends with her, the feeling of being around her too good to let go of.

He knows that it’s not right, that he’s probably taking advantage of her in some way. Of course he sees how badly she wants to please him, how she looks at him like he’s hung the moon for her. She has never denied him anything, no matter what kinds of depraved things he’s wanted to do with her. Hesitated, yes, but she has never said no. Never called red, never asked him to stop. Not when he first told her to call him “sir”, not when he spanked her for the first time, not when he’s edging her until she’s barely coherent, not when his fingers tightened around her throat for the first time. He could leave her a crying, shaking mess on the floor, and by the end of the night she’d still look up at him with those wide eyes and thank him.

It’s addictive and he can’t stop, always comes back for more when it feels like his whole life is spiraling out of his control again, when the darkness around him is threatening to swallow him whole. She’ll let him grab at her with rough hands, mold her body into any shape he wants, let him spit filth at her and let lose until he feels grounded again, until some of the darkness around him has dissipated.

Lately, work has been weighing on him even harder. Maybe he’s just getting older, maybe he has finally reached his limit, he’s not sure. With the whole week off, an incredibly rare occurrence, he knew who he wanted to spend it with. She had seemed stressed lately, like she needed a break too, so it was easy to convince himself that he was doing this for her. That it wasn’t just a selfish plan of his to spend more time with her.

Because somewhere along the way he has come to enjoy the time with her way too much. He enjoys lying in bed together, both of them catching their breaths, laughing about a stupid joke, the little tidbits from her life that she shares with him, the rare occasions when they’re walking around her neighborhood. The way she shyly grabbed his hand the first time, like she was scared that he would pull it away. The smile that she tried to but couldn’t hide when he didn’t.

This isn’t right and it’s not going to last, he’s well aware of that. As clear as he has been about his intentions, he still feels like he’s leading her on sometimes. But it feels too good to stop, to let go of one of the few comforts that he has in life.

The past few days with her have been heaven. He hadn’t anticipated how much he would enjoy spending so much uninterrupted time with her, how good it would feel to be around her the entire day, just watching her be herself and listening to her talking. And he has been talking as well, the feeling of speaking to someone without an ulterior motive, of someone listening to him just because they wanted to, more meaningful to him than he could put into words.

And all throughout, she had so willingly bent to his every wish, put all her trust into him, secure in the knowledge that in the end, he would take care of her.

So, Dave had let his guard down. Relaxed. Then the dream happened.

Last night, he had come home to find the girls slaughtered in their house, their small bodies soaked in blood. It’s a recurring nightmare, a fear that he can never entirely shake off, that haunts his subconscious every couple of weeks. He’s being thorough in his work, never leaving loose ends, keeping his private life concealed from the world that he moves in. The risk that anything could happen to them is as low as he can push it, but it’s not zero. Never zero, and it’s eating at him. Usually, he wakes up alone, gasping for breath, the sheets soaked with sweat. Him and Carol haven’t slept in the same bed for a long time.

Last night, it had been different. It had been different because she had been there beside him, shaking him awake and holding him in her arms until he calmed back down. It had also been different because she had been part of the dream. Just as dead, just as blood-soaked as his daughters.

She had been so sweet when he woke up, and it broke his heart. He wasn’t a good person. He was endangering everyone around him, he was endangering her by not being able to end this thing with her, and yet here she was, oblivious, comforting him.

He had always thought that eventually, he would be the one to break things off. But what if it was her? What if she figured out what a pathetic excuse of a man he was, that he couldn’t give her anything? Not a real relationship, and no future. He couldn’t let her in, couldn’t let her see who he was. What he did, what he was afraid of - and just how realistic those fears were.

He couldn’t even bear to picture the look on her face if he ever told her. The betrayal, the disgust, and eventually the fear. He couldn’t tell her. He wouldn’t. But how could he go on with this, knowing that every minute that he spends with her, he puts her in danger? Someone could find out. Someone could find her.

So does what he does best. Makes a plan. Suppresses his emotions until he’s sure of what to do. How to keep her safe. The logical part of his mind arrives at a solution pretty quickly: She’ll be safest if she stays away from him.

The emotional part of him, the part that he tries to keep shut down, doesn’t approve of this idea.

He has to tell her. Sooner rather than later, while the dream is still fresh in his memory, while he can still see her dead body when he closes his eyes.

Because he obviously knew about the dangers of being with him when he first laid eyes on her. When he kissed her for the first time, texted her for the first time, walked up to her apartment for the first time, when he booked this damn vacation because he’s unable to stay away from her. Unable to think straight when it comes to her. There’s a million reasons why he shouldn’t be with her and yet, he always finds a reason not to quit.

He tells himself that he’ll speak to her as soon as she gets up. Then once he’s done with his phone call. Maybe after they’ve had breakfast. At the end of the day, when they’re back in the room. He never does. He can’t.

The tension has become unbearable at that point. He knows that she’s confused, that she has questions that he doesn’t have answers for. His life feels out of control once again, so he tries gaining it back in the only way that he knows.

He half expected her to refuse him, but she seems just as relieved as he feels when he tells her to get down on her knees. Afterwards, he doesn’t feel better. Possibly hates himself even more.

He can tell that she’s off afterwards, and he’s battling himself to comfort her. This is not what he should be doing. None of this is what he should be doing.

Usually, she tucks herself into the space between his shoulder and his chest before he can even say a word. Not tonight. Tonight, she had her back turned to him before he had even switched off the lights, the “good night” that she normally breathes against his neck nothing more than a murmur from her side of the bed.

He stares at her backside in the darkness of the room, the way she seems to be curling in on herself, and he has no idea what to do. What they just did seemed like what she wanted, she had appeared eager, enthusiastic even, but maybe he read her wrong. Shit, he hadn’t even asked for her color once.

It’s quiet for a long time. He finally feels himself slowly drifting off to sleep, when her hears her sniffle. His eyes fly open again. It’s only minimal movements, but he can see her tremble ever so slightly. Fuck it, he thinks to himself as he reaches out towards her.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

You tense at his words, at the fact that he’s apparently awake. Has probably been the whole time. You try your hardest to make your voice sound normal, even though you know that it’s pointless.

“Nothing.”

It comes out even weaker than you had anticipated. You keep your back to him and feel him shuffling closer, his hand gently pulling at your shoulder to turn you towards him. “Baby. Talk to me.” His voice is soft in your ear and your heart is beating painfully in your chest. Baby. He has never called you Baby before. You feel a fresh wave of tears welling up in your eyes and shake your head but let him turn you around until you’re facing him.

His eyes search your face in the faint moonlight that’s filtering into the room and his hands cup your damp cheeks, his thumbs gently running over the skin under your eyes. The worry that’s so evident in his expression right now makes you want to break down. You’re exhausted, and confused, and you don’t understand the man in front of you and his contradictory behavior at all. So far you’ve been crying silently, but you can feel your bottom lip trembling as you try to suppress the sobs that are threatening to crawl up your throat.

“Did I- shit, was I too rough, did I hurt you? You didn’t say anything, but I never asked- I should’ve checked, I’m sorry, I-“

“You didn’t hurt me,” you whisper, cutting off his frantic rambling. He didn’t, not in the way that he’s referring to, anyway.

“Then what’s wrong?” he pleads, his hands still on your face, “Talk to me.” You inhale deeply. You really don’t want to have this conversation, but maybe it’s best like this. Rip the bandaid off, make it quick.

“Do you want to leave?”

Your voice breaks on the last word. He stares at you for a beat, his eyes wide. “Do I- What?” You shrug, unable to bring yourself to ask a second time. One of his hands slides down to your shoulder, holding you there. He doesn’t speak, his eyes boring into you.

You can’t hold his gaze any longer, your eyes dropping down to his chest instead. “You’ve been… weird. Today. I thought- I don’t fucking know, that I had done something or that you’ve-” a sob breaks free and interrupts you, “that you’ve had enough of me. That you don’t want to go on with… this.” You gesture helplessly between the two of you.

You’re certain that now you’ve said too much, that if he hadn’t had enough before, he definitely has now. You’re supposed to be fun, a distraction, not someone who’s clinging to him, but you’re feeling too exhausted, too raw to keep pretending like this thing between you doesn’t mean something. To you, at least.

“Fuck,” Dave mumbles, and you gaze up to see the anguish in his eyes before his arms envelop you and he presses you against his chest, speaking into your hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

It’s quiet for a minute as you’re inhaling his scent, trying to calm yourself down, when something occurs to you. “You didn’t say no,” you whisper into his chest, “you said that I didn’t do anything, but… you didn’t say that you don’t want to leave.” Dave freezes for just a second, searching your face, then he sighs heavily. He sounds defeated, you think.

“No, I don’t want to leave.”

taglist/people who have expressed interest in this: @joelscurls @reddedmiller @iamasaddie @guelyury @theywhowriteandknowthings @amanitacowboy @corazondebeskar @vabeachazn @mellymbee @bbyanarchist @untamedheart81 @missladym1981 @no1-nosesitter

let me know if you wanna be added, also no hard feelings if you wanna be removed! 🫶🏻

if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging <3

series masterlist

[feathcrcd]

‘ deniz can aktas, cis man, he/him, 30 / 300 , half fae / half illyrian ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems ELDAR DRAVEN has been teleported to the dusk court, the LORD from NIGHT COURT is said to be ALLURING and is said to describe themselves with A PERMANENT LOOPSIDED GRIN TO DOWNPLAY ANY SITUATION HE'S STUMBLED IN, ESCAPING RESPONSIBILITIES IN THE SHADOWS OF HIS SIBLINGS, DRAGGING YOUR TEETH AGAINST A LOVERS NECK CONTEMPLATING WHETHER TO KISS OR BITE and with all of this in mind their IMPRUDENT nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time.

basics

birth name : eldar draven. nicknames : n/a. title(s) : lord of the night court, illyrian warrior. species : half high fae / half illyrian. allegiance : the night court. age : 30 physical age / 300 actual age. birthday : june 13. gender : cis man. orientation : heterosexual.

physicality

face claim : deniz can aktas. hair color : black. eye color : brown. height : 6'2. notable features : illyrian wings, pointed ears, tattoos on arms and back. abilities : flight, winnowing, siphoning.

personality

inspirations : cassian (acotar), jacks aka the prince of hearts (ouabh), kenji kishimoto (shatter me), ruhn danaan (crescent city). alignment : chaotic good. positive : alluring, charismatic, witty, loyal, determined, confident. negative : imprudent, irresponsible, avoidant, excessive, assertive, spiteful.

relationships :

father : former high lord of the night court (deceased). mother : illyrian (deceased). siblings: half brothers and half sister. other: cousins.

story

i. there were many orphan boys in the war camps of the illyrian mountains, but not many with the sort of rumors surrounding them as eldar. his existence was not planned, he should not have been. there were very few who had believed his mother's tale, the child being the offspring of the high lord of the night court when he had children enough in his court, but eldar's appearance was not possible to avoid. he was no mere illyrian and a war camp was no easy place for a child to grow up, but it was even less so for both a halfling and orphan.

ii. his birth had been too heavy for his mother, she did not survive for more than a few weeks after he was born. for the first years of his life he was brought up among others who had no one to take care of them, but when he was about 6 years old, his grandmother took him under her wing, starting a turmoil of a relationship between them. his grandmother had originally dishonored her daughter for getting herself involved with the high lord who was a married man. the true nature of their relationship lost with his mother, but the avoidance of his existence by his alleged father for the first years should have said enough. there was a switch in the years that followed. some days and weeks and months were good, some he spent locked out of his grandmother's little hut after having been kicked out for the millionth time for finding ways to slack or forgetting to keep his mouth shut when he should have.

iii. others already looked with disrespect towards him, but once the high lord met eldar and acknowledged him as his, the quality of his life improved, but at the same time there was a huge word plastered right on his forehead. bastard. as a child eldar was brought to court every once in a while to see his father though the two spent very little time together, his half siblings, to be taught the ways of the court. every time he was thrown back in the mountains he felt even less like he belonged anywhere. his mother did not want him, perhaps his father had, but that did not matter, if he was to be his project, he would be a failed one. the illyrians had no plan to claim this young privileged prick as theirs, but he would go on to try to prove himself to them and to himself as well.

iv. through the rough conditions that he grew up in and the complete change to be pulled to court full of snakes, eldar grew up with a thick skin, his defense mechanism being humor and it was kind of hard to hate someone who made you laugh first, wasn't it? this way of avoiding problems no matter what became his mantra and it did wonders for his training as he was finally able to at least make the impression that he fit in despite his fae ears. eldar proved himself as much as possible, he finished the blood rite first in his year and after continuing training was gifted a siphon, but it was obvious the war camps was not the place for him. he trained the younglings for a few years but his father called him to court, as if called in to pay back all that support from him, to find his place here, but eldar was determined to stay spitefully useless and indulge in all the luxuries his court and other courts could offer.

personality

eldar tries to be charming, witty and funny and enjoys usually everyone's company, but it could not be said the other way around. he has a very very long lovers list and he is determined to keep on working on it for the rest of his existence, very often finding himself in the sheets of beautiful fae, and therefore also trouble. he tries to take life easy, indulging in the many pleasures it offers him, so rarely does he say no to something.

he is not afraid of a challenge when he wants something, but it rarely is something that is not superficial as he avoids responsibility at all cost. he has never even for one second considered taking the load off any of his siblings in court. at times eldar does go too far with being a little too arrogant and full of himself at times, but he's convinced he deserves all the good things that come with being related to the high lord since he has suffered from that just as much.

on the outside he appears to be a pretty shallow male, who seeks the easy pleasures of life and is not afraid to be honest about it, who likes to act like he is completely okay with everything, but there's a lot of trauma and unresolved issues hiding behind all that.

[tojikai]

it was the way i hoped for toji and then rubbed my hands cackling when my wish came true and then instantly started squealing and kicking my feet for me 🥹😈

i liked seeing gojo’s perspective and while i can see now what the mind process was i still felt like he’s so dense and egotistical. i felt a little bad but it lasted about 2 minutes and then said fuck it we ball not enough to root for him so he can choke 🥰🫶🏽

baby megs putting naohoemi (i know what i said in the first ask about her being nice to yui but i was trying to be positive lmao but i couldn’t do it after reading it a second time) in her place and toji dealing the finishing blow had me smiling like the grinch and me monologuing about giving that man the sloppiest toppiest guack guack 9000 at the house 😤🤣

when n**mi said we can all fix it together i said out loud “i think tf not you trick ass bitch” bc i’m just so tired of her lmao pls exit stage left and stop inserting yourself the martyr complex is irking me

also wanted to mention that toji having money and being a present dad is so heartwarming and i love that despite mamaguro there’s room in his heart for reader (fix you put me through it at the time lmao) and the sims are so cute 🥰 since i’m a woc (black) i already imagined yui to look like the sim except for my skin and hair texture so seeing it had me like kai, your mind ☺️ but also imagining braiding her hair and putting beads in them 🥹😭

me 🤝 kai = same brain

i am highkey rooting for toji bc despite maybe seeing him as ooc may be a thought for others some part of me likes to think that he could have had that in canonverse had things been different which is why the characterization feels right for me. he’s so sweet to reader but also nasty 🤪😂 and the kids get along too so i am heavily invested in that. also when it was mentioned reader wanted three kids she already has yui and if toji is endgame then megumi is added. would she want more kids even if she had one with toji? i also want to see megumi accidentally call reader mom (despite mothergate with “n***mi”) but at the same time have both megs and toji being shocked but liking the new dynamic since reader isn’t taking anyone’s spot or icing out others

now idk if you’re going to do an epilogue for sundered or a different piece set in the au (and honestly i’m just down for the ride either way) but the way you explore the family dynamics and reveal the psychological aspects just tickles my brain so i’d like to see yui’s thoughts and perspective and just her being mommy’s little angel menace to society and delivering the karma to both of them. whether its naomi and satoru and his mom being ripped a third buttcheck bc she’s over it or just her reading them all for filth bc she knows the truth

i think to make it easier for my thoughts on each chapter i will do separate ones with slight commentary that way i don’t spam your ask box lmao (meaning i will redo reviews on each chapter bc i genuinely love talking about the fics with you! you make it fun and also you don’t get annoyed when i’m constantly standing outside your askbox or when i’m cussing out the characters on main lmfao 😂💕

i also think that ill do it for the rest of the series i’ve read from you just bc i know you’re an author im comfortable with talking to and ive been around even before permanent mark despite that being the start of reaching out. i think it’ll be fun for me and maybe to you but honestly maybe its just bc i talk a lot lmao and that we both are down bad astronomically for toji. also off topic bc this was a review and turned into a platonic confession/appreciation post but i saw you are a leo and it made my heart feel full bc my mom is a leo too lmao

- paragraph/theory aka paratheory anon

that statement abt how you feel abt satoru is just the way i feel abt him whenever i write. i just start scolding him like im not the one making him say or do those things, it's funny when i think abt it now LMAO and toji being ooc JDKSLSL that's true😭 but for me, it's bc i headcanon him as being really good w kids and family stuff. his life in jjk's just ...not the right place to show that side of him and it makes me hurt for him so bad bc where is he gonna put that soft side now😭 i enjoy writing him like that, ngl. and yui's pov would be so interesting and cute😭 depending on how it'll end, it'd be fun to see what she thinks and how she acts abt it as she grows !! anwww omg yess im a leo, that made me feel warm, paratheory anon, thanks so much 🥺♥️ your asks are always great reads<33

[crimeronan]

hi!!! do you have any writing or anything abt those characters nova, sol, devin, and ruby? im scrolling thru ur tags trying to figure out what their deal is lol

(also that luz + hunter qpr fic you wrote permanently changed my brain chemistry. thank you for putting it into the world. undoubtedly one of my fav owl house fics ive ever read)

oh thank you so much re: the owl house fic!! i love luz and hunter so Much and want to write like 100,000 more words about them

i don't have a whole lot of new snippets to post of the original fiction project but you can look thru my tag for it to see some notes and scenes drafted over the past ~3 years. granted, the project has evolved a lot since i started writing it, so plenty of stuff is no longer canon-accurate!

that said, it's been a while since i talked about these characters and the story they're in, so!

like most of my owl fics (and fics for other fandoms), it's a story that's largely about grief and chronic illness; it's also a story about power and what people do with it

without getting too heavily into plot spoilers, the main cast are:

sol (she/her): full name "winter solstice," certified loner bitch with very clear Issues. she has a stranglehold on the sex work industry in her fictional city in this fictional world & very little interest in ceding that power. she's originally from a place that has been blighted by famine & has a bunch of trauma from all kinds of sources, nowadays she only trusts two people in the entire world fully -- devin and ruby. also, she hates nova's guts and wants nova dead in the most grisly way possible.

ruby (she/her): full name "ruby sunrise," hails from the same place and cultural background as sol, shares her native language and her traditions. ruby cares more than sol about preserving both sides of her heritage & culture (she's biracial), and she's very invested in kindness and decency. what she wants more than anything is to leave a positive mark on the world, but she's lonely and lacks a lot of the support she needs. she loves both sol and devin fiercely.

devin (he/they/she): in pain pretty much constantly because of a chronic illness that's Supposed to be a "blessing"; they're a powerful magician who functions as the reincarnation of a god. this position comes with a lot of responsibilities and varying miseries. devin has made a lot of questionable choices in her quest for autonomy and for making the world better; nowadays she spends a lot of time helping sol do grisly crimes and trying to protect underprivileged people. all while knowing that their magic is a terminal autoimmune disease.

nova (she/her): like devin, she functions as the reincarnation/personification of a god. because of this, she and devin are fated soulmates, which she is determined to honor even though devin hates her and does not want to be her soulmate and has made no secret of that. she comes from a privileged background with an idyllic childhood, tons of adult support, and very little strife. she believes that the best thing that she can do is serve her purpose of preserving the status quo, and she's Extremely Vexed when people make this harder for her. also believes she can outrun the autoimmune part of her magic with yoga and jogging.

all four of them function in my usual sweet spot of "people who all kind of suck and are making kind of terrible terrible decisions, but who are also doing the best they can with what they have." and. i love them

[miekasa]

1+1 (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: modern au, fluff...... again....... is it getting boring and predictable yet lmao, once again the dog’s name is captain and no i do not regret it

↯ word count: 2.5k

↯ summary: levi ackerman is a cuddler, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. (aka me once again pushing my physical affection is levi’s love language agenda because he’s a poor, touch-starved little man).

i. the lap pillow: person A sits upright, while person B rests their head in person A’s lap. head pets and hair playing option, but highly encouraged.

Levi spent an obnoxious amount of time picking out the perfect couch for his apartment. He might have paid a little bit more than what he’d originally budgeted for, but it was worth it; his soft, plush couch and accompanying cushions were equally comfortable and beautiful, matching the interior of his living room, and posing at the perfect nap spot when Levi was too tired to make it to the bed, or wanted to lounge around with Captain for a while.

Or, well, it used to be worth it. Because now, Levi would rather lay his head on your lap than on his stupid, expensive couch and all its cushions.

Sure, the couch still provides comfort or refuge for the rest of his body, a comfy cavern to stretch his limbs or crash on after a long day, but with you there, all the benefits go to his head; literally, because when his head is in your lap, you stroke his face, comb through his hair, pad your thumb against his lips—whatever, Levi doesn’t really fucking care, because all of it is heavenly.

“Do you want to go to bed?” you question softly, hand raking through Levi’s hair. He’s lying on his back, not even pretending to have been watching the TV, as to let you have maximum access to his hair and face.

“No,” he says shortly, shifting his foot around to allow for your yorkie puppy to curl up at the other end of the couch, “Comfortable here.”

You try to hide the chuckle from escaping your lips. Levi certainly wasn’t shy about how much he liked your affections, especially within the closed walls of his apartment; but it always amused you just how simultaneously clipped, yet clingy he could be about it.

“Your neck is going to hurt, love,” you tell him, slowly moving your right hand from his hair to trace along his eyebrow, then down his cheek.

Levi huffs, ever so slightly. Then, gently, turns on his side, rotating his body and head, so that his cheek is now pressed along your thigh, legs curled up to his stomach, allowing Captain more space to curl into a ball at the base of Levi’s feet. He bends his arms, both coming to rest on your thighs as well, just an inch from his face.

“It’s fine like this,” he grumbles, voice thick with sleep—and a bit of frustration, because you’ve ceased playing with his hair at this point, “I’m going to take a nap, don’t move.”

You can help your laughter from escaping, “I don’t really have a choice, now do I?”

He hums in affirmation, shifting around just a bit to his comfort. You smile at the way he wiggles his toes, Captain taking it as an invitation to snuggle closer to Levi. You rest your right hand against Levi’s shoulder, lightly massaging his muscles as to not disturb his drifting to sleep, and resume your focus on the TV ahead of you.

Just when you’d thought Levi was on his way to falling asleep, he lets out a discontented grunt, moving his arm backwards to grab at your wrist, and with gentle, but firm force, moves your hand that was massaging his shoulder to the top of his head. He says nothing, only moves his hand back to its previous position, and once again shifts to readjust his napping position.

You get the message, and with a wide smile, you carefully begin to thread your fingers through his hair again; and with a satisfied purr, Levi snuggles his head into your lap, and finally drifts off to sleep.

ii. the half spoon/chest rest: person A lays flat on their back, while person B curls into their side, laying their head on person A’s chest.

Levi rarely falls asleep before you do, so he’s had quite a bit of time to observe your sleep habits—as non-creepily as possible, of course.

You’re a pretty normal sleeper—again, not that he spends his time watching other people sleep, or anything—but you do have your own quirks; most of which Levi finds endearing on some level or another. Like the way you always have to have a minimum of three pillows on your side of the bed, even if you don’t sleep with all three of them at the same time. And the way your arms subconsciously curl up, usually around a pillow if Levi isn’t there, or even around yourself if there’s no object for you to grasp.

One of your sleeping ticks he isn’t particularly fond of is the way you move around. Not sporadically, and thankfully, not to a point that leaves you sprawled across the mattress at an obscure angle, but just… around. He especially hates when you roll away from him, because you usually roll away and never roll back.

Which is why Levi is generally fond of cuddling positions in which he’s holding you, as to make sure you don’t, quite literally, roll out of his arms. Because nothing pisses Levi off more than waking up and realizing you’ve rolled away and taken to snuggling against your pillow instead of him. He’s much better than a pillow. Warmer, too. Not mention, a real, actual human being.

Right now, you’re tucked almost expertly into Levi’s right side, head laying on his chest, your right arm over his stomach, hand just barely tickling the exposed skin from his shirt riding up. Levi likes the feeling of your shallow exhales rippling against his shirt, and the warmth of your cheek pressed against his chest.

He’s about to fall asleep himself, when he feels you shuffling, and oh no, not on his watch. Before the worst can happen, Levi secures his right arm over your shoulder, as to hold you against him. The urge to roll seems to leave you then, the only movement is of your right arm, which you bend at the elbow, now laying your palm against his pecs.

Levi exhales, content. Now he can sleep peacefully. Well, almost. There’s one more thing he likes about this position, and it’s his ability to use his free hand to reach down, scoop under your knee and drape your leg across his waist—and he does so happily; smiling to himself as you subconsciously burrow yourself further into his side.

Much better, Levi thinks, letting his eyelids flutter shut. It was time for bed, after all, and he had a feeling he’d be waking up warm and cozy in the morning.

iii. full contact cuddle: person A sits or lays on their back, while person B rests almost directly on top of them.

“I don’t get why you like this so much,” you say, words mumble, as you shimmy up Levi’s body to lay your cheek against his chest, “How do you possibly benefit from this?”

If you asked Levi, this was probably his favorite way to cuddle. Something about having almost all of your body weight on top of him, your head against his chest, and his arms wrapped completely around you just made him feel warm, and cozy, and content. Plus, the added bonus of you laying directly on top of his dick.

He could say all of that, but instead he opts for a minimal hum, and, a simple, “It’s warm.”

“Yeah, because you’re warm, Levi,” you point out, but burrow into his skin anyway. You’re not exactly complaining, laying on Levi is nice; especially a shirtless Levi, with how warm his body runs. And, well, for other reasons, too.

Once again, you’re met with a non-committal hum. Levi just holds you for a bit, listening for the way your breathing slows and evens out, feeling for signs of your body slowing down against his.

After a while, he shifts his arms, moving so that they’re no longer stacked atop each other, but with his palms both resting against your back, creeping under your shirt. “It’s the weight,” he replies carefully, moving his right hand to rub against your skin, “It feels nice.”

“The weight?” you question, lifting your head to look at him, your chin poking into his chest. Levi looks down to meet your eyes, a small nod in reassurance.

“I can’t… explain it,” he tells you truthfully, “I just like the feeling of you against me. It’s not symbolic or any shit like that, it just, feels good. Sometimes feels like we’re… I don’t know, connected or some shit. I can feel you breathe when I breathe, and all that.”

It’s a poor explanation, and nothing close to what he wants to be able to convey, but you understand him anyways; you always do. You have to hold back your overgrown smile, just barely letting the corners of your lips turn upwards at Levi’s response. You extend your neck briefly to place a short kiss against his jaw, before turning to head to lay back on his chest.

“No, I get it,” you reassure him, snuggling against him for extra measure, “Feels nice to just know you’re there.”

Levi hums in affirmation, his hand squeezing at your waist affectionately—a silent thank you for being able to read between his lines. You lay like that for a while, your exhales tickling against Levi’s bare chest, while his hands massage at your back.

“Besides,” he says, his hands slowly venturing down past your waist; he squeezes at your hips, adjusting you so that your center is directly on top of his, and encouraging you to lift your upper half, so that you’re looking down at him, a full view of the wicked smile on his face, “I kind of have a thing for you being on top of me.”

iv. the seated snuggle: person A sits upright, maybe slouched a bit, while person B cuddles into their side; a hand wrapped around A’s waist or arm, and B’s head resting against A’s shoulder.

Levi likes his alone time, but even when he’s focusing on himself, he’s acutely in tune with you and your emotions. And to be honest with himself, he spends a lot of his alone time thinking about you—consciously or not, you find a way into his brain, and Levi has long since accepted that you’re a permanent, and very welcome presence in his life, one that can be more powerful and enjoyable that his own solitude.

Even when he’s sitting on the couch, right leg bent and tucked under his left at the knee, a book Hange had recommended in his hand, with a shitty hospital drama playing as background noise on the television; even then, when he’s relaxing and enjoying his novel, he purposefully feels out your presence and gauges your emotions.

Though, if you asked him, it shouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to understand that you were feeling a little out of it today—maybe not quite sad, but moving a bit slower, perhaps tired, or annoyed by your day at work—despite the cheery lilt in your voice. But Levi knew, he could feel it, that something was off; but he could also feel that this something wasn’t getting talked about today, or that, perhaps you just didn’t have the words to express it right now. 

Levi greets you as he would when you come through the door, tilts his head up when you lean down to give him a kiss, and lets you pad into your bedroom to change and shower. You shuffle around after that, making your way to the kitchen to reheat the dinner he’d cooked earlier, and flitter between your bedroom and the living room after that.

And Levi knows; he knows that you want to talk to him, but that you wouldn’t dare to interrupt his alone-time, because you know how important it is to him. What you fail to understand is that you’re just as, if not more, important to him because you give him space.

So, Levi waits until you’re hovering by the doorway of the living room again, and then, without looking up from his book, silently opens and extends his left arm. He counts three seconds before you come shuffling over to him, wasting no time tucking yourself into his side, and resting your head on his shoulder. Levi hums when he feels your cheek press into his neck, and wraps his arm securely around you.

“Long day?” he questions, eyes still on his book, but reading at a marginally slower pace now.

Your eyes flutter shut at the question, working harder to snuggle yourself into Levi, wrapping your arms around his waist, “The longest.”

Levi hums, finishing his page, and tucking the ear to mark his spot before closing his book. He turns his head to press a kiss into your forehead, and pulls you a little closer against him. “It’s over now, I’ve got you.”

v. the times together/pretzel: person A rests with back against a wall/couch/object, and person B mirrors their positions; both A and B’s legs are intertwined, while they look at each other.

Levi will only take a bath after he’s showered, because there’s no appeal in sitting in your own wet dirt. That being said, post-shower baths with you are something he looks forward to, especially after a long, drawn out work week.

You both sit facing each other, legs bent and intertwined, your empty champagne glasses resting on the tiled floor beside the tub. Levi lets you make bubble beards on his face, and smiles as you splash them away and placate it all with a crescendo of kisses.

“I love you,” you smile between presses of your lips, the palms of your hands squishing Levi’s cheeks together—and he just lets you, because he loves you.

Levi thinks it’s his turn now, though he has no interest in bubble beards, or mohawks, simply mirroring your actions to cup your face with his hands, pull you closer, a whisper on your lips.

Wet thumbs pad against your cheeks, and Levi thinks that even like this, with only the flicker of candle flames illuminating your face, that you’re beautiful, and the best thing he’s ever gotten the opportunity to love and care for in his life.

So he lets you know, “And I love you.” And he means it; and you know he does.

[dirk-has-rabies]

Gender variance and it's link with neurodivergency

Okay so this is it going to be another long one

All quotes will be sourced with a link to the scientific journal I took it from

Okay Tumblr, let's talk gender (I know, your favorite topic) my preface on why this topic matters to me is: I'm autistic ( diagnosed moderate to severe autism) I'm nonbinary trans ( in a way that most non-autistic people don't understand and actually look down on)  and I went to college for gender study ( Mostly for intersex studies but a lot of my research was around non-binary and trans identities) I will be using the term autism as pants when I have experience with however when ADHD is part of the study I will use ND which stands for neurodivergent and yes this is going to be about xenogenders and neopronouns.

autism can affect gender the same way autism can affect literally every part of an identity. a big thing about having autism is the fact that it completely can change how you view personhood and time and object permanence and gender and literally all types of socially constructed ideas. let me also say hear that just because Society creates and enforces an idea does it mean that it doesn't exist to all people it just me that there is no nature law saying that it's real and the “rules” for these ideas can change and delete and create as time and Society evolves and changes.  gender is one of those constructs.

Now I'll take it by you reading this you know what transgender people are  (if you don't understand what a trans person is send me an ask and I'll type you up a pretty little essay lmao,  or Google it but that's a scary thought sense literally any Source or website can come up on Google including biased websites so be careful I guess LOL) anyway to be super basic trans people are anyone who doesn't identify as the gender they were assigned at Birth (yes that includes non-binary people I could do a whole nother essay about that shit how y'all keep spreading trying to separate non-binary people from the trans umbrella)  some people don't like to use the label and that is totally fine by the way.

now autistic people to view the world in a way differently than allistic (neurotypical) ppl do.  we don't take everything people teach us at 100% fact and we tend to question everything and demand proof and evidence for things before we can set it as a fact in our brains. This leads to why a lot of autistic people are atheist (although a lot of religions and this is not bashing on religious people at all I am actually a Jewish convert)  this questioning leads to a lot of social constructs being ignored or not understood At All by a lot of autistic people and personally I think that's a good thing.  allistics take everything their parents and teachers and schools teach them as fact until someone else says something and then they pick which ones to believe. autistic people study and research and learn about a topic before forming an opinion and while this may lead to them studying and believing very biased material and spitting it out as fact it can also lead them to try and Discover it is real by themselves.

because of this autistic people are more question their gender or not fall in a binary way at all as the concept of gender makes no sense to a lot of us. “ if gender is a construct then autistic people who are less aware of social norms are less likely to develop a typical gender identity”

no really look: “ children and teens with autism spectrum disorder ASD or Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder ADHD  are much more likely to express a wish to be the opposite sex compared with their typical developing peers” That was posted in 2014. we have been saying this stuff forever but no one wants to listen. the thing is gender variance (being not cisgender or at least questioning it)  has always been closely hand-in-hand with autistic and ADHD people I'm even the doctor who did that study understood right away that it all made sense the whole time: “ Dr. Strang said they were initially surprised to find an overrepresentation of gender variance among children with ADHD. However, they later realized that prior studies have shown increased levels of disruptive behavior and other behavioral problems among young people with gender variance”  SEE YOURE NOT WEIRD YOURE JUST YOU AND YOURE NOT ALONE IN THIS!!

5% autistic people who did the study were trans or questioning. it was also equal between the Sexes fun fact. that may not seem like a lot till you realize that the national average is only .7% that's literally over 700% higher than the national average. That's so many! and that's just in America.

 in Holland there was a study in 2010 “ nearly 8% of the more than 200 Children and adolescents referred to a clinic for gender dysphoria also came up positive on a assessment for ASD” they weren't even testing for ADHD so the numbers could be even higher!

now I want to talk about a  certain section of the trans umbrella that a lot of autistic people fall under called the non-binary umbrella. non-binary means anything that isn't just male or just female. it is not one third gender and non-binary doesn't mean that you don't have a gender. just clearing that up since cis people keep spreading that. non-binary is an umbrella term for any of the infinite genders you could use or create. now this is where I'm going to lose a bunch of you and that's okay because you don't have to understand our brains or emotions To respect us as real people. not many allistics can understand how we see and think and relate to things and that's okay you don't have to understand everything but just reading about this could be so much closer to respecting us for Who We Are from you've ever been and that's better than being against us just for existing.

now you might have heard of my Mutual Lars who was harassed  by transmeds for using the term Autigender (I was going to link them but if it gets traction I don't want them to get any hate)  since a lot of people roll their eyes at that  and treated them disgustingly for using a term that 100% applied correctly.  Autigender  is described as " a neurogender which can only be understood in the context of being autistic or when one's autism greatly affects one's gender or how one experiences gender. Autigender is not autism as a gender, but rather is a gender that is so heavily influenced by autism that one's autism and one's experience of gender cannot be unlinked.” Now tell me that doesn't sound a lot like this entire essay I've been working on with full sources…..

xenogenders and neopronouns are a big argument point on whether or not people “believe” in non binary genders but a big part of those genders is that they originated from ND communities and are ways that we can try to describe what gender means us in a way that cis or even allistic trans people just can't comprehend or ever understand. Same with MOGAI genders or sexualities. A lot of these are created as a way to somehow describe an indescribable relationship with gender that is so personal you really cant explain it to anyone who isnt literally the same as you.

Even in studies done with trans autistic people a large amount of them dont even fall on a yes or no of having a gender at all and fall in some weird inbetween where you KINDA have a gender but its not a gender in the sense that others say it is but its also too much of a gender so say youre agender. And this is the kind of stuff that confuses allistic trans people and makes them think nonbinary genders are making stuff up for attention, which isnt true at all we just cant explain what it feels like to BE a trans autistic person to anyone who doesnt ALREADY know how it feels.

In this study out of the ppl questioned almost HALF of the autistic trans individuals had a “Sense of identity revolving around interests” meaning their gender and identity was more based off what they liked rather than boy or girl. That makes ppl with stuff like vampgender or pupgender make a lot more sense now doesnt it? We see that even in the study: “My sense of identity is fluid, just as my sense of gender is fluid […] The only constant identity that runs through my life as a thread is ‘dancer.’ This is more important to me than gender, name or any other identifying features… even more important than mother. I wouldn't admit that in the NT world as when I have, I have been corrected (after all Mother is supposed to be my primary identification, right?!) but I feel that I can admit that here. (Taylor)” and an agreement from another saying “Mine is Artist. Thank you, Taylor. (Jessie)” now dont you think if they grew up with terms like artistgender or dancergender they would just YOINK those up right away????

In fact “An absence of a sense of gender or being unsure of how their gender should “feel” was another common report” because as ive said before in this post AUTISTIC PEOPLE DONT SEE GENDER THE WAY ALLISTIC PEOPLE SEE IT. therefore we wont use the same terms or have the same identities nor could we explain it to anyone who doesnt already understand or question the same way! Participants even offered up quotes such as “As a child and even now, I don't ‘feel’ like a gender, I feel like myself and for the most part I am constantly trying to figure out what that means for me (Betty)” and also “I don't feel like a particular gender I'm not even sure what a gender should feel like (Helen)”

Now i know this isnt going to change everyones minds on this stuff but i can only hope that it at least helped people feel like theyre not broken and not alone in their feelings about this. You dont have to follow allistic rules. You dont have to stop searching inside for who you really wanna be. And you dont have to pick or choose terms forever because just as you grow and evolve so may your terms. Its okay to not know what or who you are and its okay to identify as nonhuman things or as your interests because what you love and what you do is a big part of who you are and shapes you everyday. Its not a bad thing! Just please everyone, treat ppl with respect and if you dont understand something that doesnt make it bad or wrong it just means its not for you. And thats okay.

[moonknightly]

Could Feel You Surrounding Me : Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: “Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.”

Warnings: Uhh mentions of injury, blood, cursing. That’s it I think? This one has a happy ending fellas!

The first emotion you experience is shock. It’s unfathomable, how someone you love and care for so deeply, with every inch of your being, could be at the forefront of a situation you thought only existed in dramatized TV shows — under harsh lights, covered in bandages that turn from white to red and only do so much to hide the cuts and the bruises that mark their skin. Attached to various tubes, drains, and IV lines. So many different wires.

The sight is near unbearable, and it doesn’t get any easier, no matter how many hours or even days pass by in a blur of fast-moving staff wearing stethoscopes and scrubs. And everytime you close your eyes, you tell yourself that once you open them again, you’ll finally be used to it. You tell yourself it’s not gonna hurt as bad this time, but it’s even harder than it was before.

And the sounds. God, the sounds. The unfamiliar, almost haunting beeps and buzzes that start to become a comfort because they serve as the only reminder that they’re still there. The excruciating and traumatic cries of a family’s hearts breaking from down the hall mixed with rare periods of somber silence. The rapid-fire exchange of incomprehensible medical terminology, so many different medications and diagnoses and explanations that you just can’t wrap your head around.

It starts with the shock, because while you knew that this reality existed outside of those damned TV shows, and while you were aware of the possibility of having to live it yourself, given his line of work, you never thought you would actually have to face seeing Santi lying in the ICU like this.

Because he promised. Each and every single time he went out on a mission, he promised you that he’d come home to you, safe and sound and in one piece. And Santiago never broke his promises. Not a damn one.

But it had been a freak accident, and he hadn’t even been on a mission, and that was probably what freaked you out the most. The new realization that it could happen at any given moment, at any given time in any given circumstance.

All of the sleepless nights spent in your empty bed, praying to any divine being that would listen, worrying over his safety and just wishing him home, and he’d managed to land himself in this position during a boy’s trip into the mountains for a little leisurely camping.

They’d been rock climbing, something they were all five well-trained in, but the rope had been settled against a rock with a rather sharp edge, and the constant pulling of his weight had cut straight through it. It was a fall that he was lucky to survive. The paramedics who arrived on scene hadn’t expected to find him alive, and definitely hadn’t expected him to come back once he needed to be resuscitated.

His neglect to check the ridge was something that seemed so out of character for both him and the other boys. No detail was ever overlooked. It was hard for you to believe that he hadn’t noticed how sharp the edge of the rock had been, but you also knew Santi — he never would have thought it would happen to him

There were several things the nurses told you that you didn’t quite understand, and honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ask them to clarify, or put it into words that actually made sense. As ignorant as it was, you almost didn’t want to understand. You didn’t want to focus on all of his injuries and the no doubt long recovery ahead until he opened those big brown eyes of his that you so adored and kept them open.

Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.

What you did understand was that he had several broken ribs, some injuries to his spinal cord, and a moderate traumatic brain injury amongst other things blunt force trauma to his abdomen and chest caused. He’d needed a blood transfusion down in the ER, and he was on so many different medications, you couldn’t keep up.

They’d sedated him after a mild seizure, keeping him in a medically induced coma for the first two days before waking him again. He hadn’t been able to stay awake for long though, and while your eyes had briefly met, you don’t think he really registered who you were or what was going on.

It was day four now, and he was breathing on his own. He was waking up unprompted more and more, usually to vomit, but would fall back asleep after only a minute or two. Sometimes he would glance towards you as if to make sure that someone was still with him, sometimes he would only blink at the ceiling. He’d move, but only if a nurse asked him to touch his nose or wiggle his toes, and he hadn’t said a word.

But neither had you. Each time he looked at you, you could only stare back, blinking away your tears until you were sure he was asleep again. Only then would you let yourself cry, and fuck, did you cry. You were sure you had cried more in the last four days than you ever had before.

Only one person was allowed in the room at a time, and the only time you left his side was to let one of the boys visit. Frankie usually sat with you in the cafeteria while the other three took their turns, trying to get you to eat something, but he’d convinced you to use the time that day to run home and get a shower in, and grab yourself some clothes and other things you’d need since it was apparent you wouldn’t be leaving. He knew no one other than Santiago could convince you to stay the night in your own home rather than in the recliner by his bedside.

Frankie also knew that as brave as Pope was, he’d want you next to him through it all. He’d be heartbroken if he woke up and you weren’t there.

You’d be just as torn up over it.

A nurse checked on him every hour, and it was this particular nurse’s last round before shift change. You liked her. Her name was Casey, and she was always so gentle with him. It was obvious that she actually cared about her patients, not just for them, and you appreciated it to no end, words failing every time you tried to properly thank her. You knew the comfort was something he needed, something you were still too scared to give him. You were afraid to touch him, so terrified that you’d hurt him or cause him even an ounce of discomfort. You hadn’t even touched his hand.

But, it was something you needed to get over. You both needed it.

You watched as she worked around him, checking to make sure everything was still in place, double checking it even after she was sure nothing had wiggled its way loose. She peeked over her shoulder towards you. “The doctors are bringing in an occupational therapist tomorrow.”

“For what?” you asked, shifting in your chair, eyes flickering between her and Santi.

“We’re hoping to keep him awake long enough to get him to write a few things down. See if communicating that way is a possibility. And if not that, maybe we can get him to point at a chart with different letters to spell things out.”

You shifted again. “Is he ready for that?”

“The doctors seem to think so. The longer he stays awake, the better we can gauge where he’s at cognitively.”

You stayed silent at that, your stomach flipping as another bout of fear moved through you.

Casey seemed to know exactly where your head was at though, and she stopped momentarily to reach back and set a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“He’s expected to make a full recovery sweetheart. I’m not the type to believe in miracles and things like that, but given what he’s already pulled himself through, he’s one lucky man.”

You smiled gently, putting your hand over hers, but a frown quickly worked its way back onto your face. “I’m just scared he doesn’t recognize me. Every time he looks at me, it’s almost like he’s looking through me.”

“And does that make you love him any less?”

You were taken aback by her words, completely shocked. But you immediately shook your head, eyebrows furrowing. “Of course not.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s not his fault.” Your answer was again immediate. “Because he just went through some shit and it’s not his fault at all. I vowed to love him for better or for worse, and that wasn’t a promise either of us took lightly.”

“Exactly,” she shrugged, pointing to him. “Because that’s still your husband. He’s still your Santiago. There’s just a few kinks to work out, and even if those kinks did become permanent, you’d still love him, right?.”

“Absolutely.”

“Then there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You knew she was right. You knew that even if he didn’t recognize you at first, the doctors were near positive that he would eventually. And even if he didn’t, and he had to relearn you completely, it’d be worth it. Because at least he was still alive, still breathing. You still had him.

“Thank you.”

Casey smiled, smiling and squeezing your shoulder gently before turning her attention back to Santiago.

Once she was finished, she turned towards you again, tilting her head to the side. “You know, he could really use a bath. And I think he’d appreciate it if you were the one to do it instead of me.”

The smirk on her face was entirely noticeable, and you knew exactly what she was doing, but you still nodded your head, suddenly craving the physical contact, that connection.

“Great,” she hummed, leaving the room to grab the supplies you would need in order to give him a sponge bath.

She returned a moment letter with a cloth, some soap and deodorant, and a basin of water, instructing you to stay clear of any bandages, and to not worry about his hair. If he woke up, you could try to wash his back, but otherwise she didn’t want you to worry about that either. You nodded your head, listening intently even though it was all pretty straightforward. She turned off the bed alarm, showing you which button to press once you got up again, and left the room.

Once Casey was gone, you took a moment to just stare at him, even though you hadn’t truly looked at anything else in the last four days. He looked better than he had when you first saw him, really. He had some color back in his cheeks, and the lines on his forehead had smoothed out. He looked almost peaceful.

You sighed gently, giving yourself one final push before stepping forward, carefully peeling the blanket and the sheet away from his body.

Should you try to wake him? Or would it be better for you to just go for it? You decided on the latter, thinking it would be better if he woke up on his own accord. If he stayed asleep, then it was obvious his body needed it.

“Hey, sweet boy,” you whispered as you sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing a few sweat soaked curls away from his forehead. “I’d ask how you’re doing but that seems a little redundant right now.”

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you reached for the cloth, wetting it and applying a little bit of soap. You started on his arms, staying away from his IV and the bandage near his elbow. Your touch was gentle, slow, but the feeling of his skin under your fingertips after not feeling it for days set both your body and soul ablaze, chest so full of love and something else that you couldn’t quite place. Relief, maybe? You didn’t know.

“The boys have been in and out,” you continued, even though he couldn’t hear you. You just wanted to talk to him. “Frankie told me you woke up for a second the last time he was in here. He cried a little bit, but he’s never gonna admit it.”

You hesitated, moving to untie the hospital gown as much as you could, pulling it down just enough to reveal his chest, being extremely careful not to accidentally disconnect a wire for the heart monitor. You started on his upper arms.

“The boys feel like shit. They all think there was something they could’ve done to prevent it, even though everyone knows it was just a stupid accident. Benny’s taking it really hard.”

You brought your free hand to his lower stomach, your fingertips tracing random shapes and patterns into his skin as you moved the cloth over his right shoulder, your eyes glued to your movements.

“I miss you so much,” you sighed, shaking your head slowly. “I mean, I know you’re right fucking here, but you know what I mean. I miss your hugs, your kisses. Your voice. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes of yours.”

The tears started before you even had a chance to realize. You could feel them trailing down your cheeks, falling onto the sheets below.

“I just really need you to be okay, you hear me baby? I need you.”

Your voice cracked, and you felt yourself begin to shake, the sobs moving through your body with relentless force. You made yourself stay quiet though, not wanting to scare a nurse or a family down the hall, or even Santi himself.

Nothing had ever been so hard. This entire experience had been more than difficult, but as you sat there, thinking about how things could have gone in an entirely different direction, and how you could have walked away a widow instead of a wife, you realized exactly how true Casey’s words had been. Santi really was lucky, and so were you.

And if this was hard for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard it would be for him once he was fully conscious again, and able to make sense of everything that he’d been through. The doctors were still unsure of just how far his brain injury ran, but they were sure there were things that would take time to come back to him — like his ability to speak, possibly his ability to walk. They predicted that he’d have migraines for months. Light sensitivity, some dizziness and confusion that could last just as long. Fatigue, general weakness. Pain. His recovery was going to be hell, and there you were, having sat by his bedside for four days feeling sorry for yourself.

How could you have been so selfish? In a time where your husband needed you most?

You felt selfish even crying, but you couldn’t stop. The tears just kept pouring, and the hole in your chest grew and grew as you continued to spiral deeper and deeper into your thoughts.

You were only pulled from them when you felt a set of knuckles gently brush against your cheek, and for a moment, you thought one of the boys had managed to sneak their way in, or maybe it was even Casey coming to check in one last time before heading home for the night.

The last thing you expected to see when you blinked your eyes open was a familiar pair of warm brown ones staring right back at you.

Brown eyes full of recognition and worry.

You gasped, not able to stop the sound before it left your lips, but you did refrain from throwing your arms around him, knowing the action would probably hurt him or knock something loose. Instead, you reached up, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.  

“Santi?”

He blinked a couple of times, looking as if he wanted to say something in response, but he could only frown, and you knew him well enough to notice that his inability to speak was already frustrating him.

But you almost took that as a good thing, because it showed that he remembered waking up before, and how he hadn’t been able to speak any of those times either. The fact that he remembered was good, right?

And he might not have been able to verbally speak, but there were still so many things he could say without words. You felt him squeeze your hand, three times — a silent “I love you”, something he had started doing not long after saying it to you for the first time.

“I love you too, baby. I love you so much.”

He pulled on your hand, trying to bring you closer to him, and you started to shake your head, still worried about hurting him.

“Santi, no-”

This time he gently smacked your hand, effectively silencing you as he pointed to his shoulder, and you knew what he was trying to tell you — you wouldn’t hurt him if you were only lying against his shoulder.

He knew exactly what you were thinking without you needing to speak, too.

And you couldn’t deny him, not when he was looking at you with those puppy dog eyes he knew would get him anything he wanted.

You tossed the washcloth back into the water, and pulled his gown back up, redoing the ties before scooting further up the bed. You made sure that everything was out of the way before leaning back against him, keeping your eyes trained on his face the entire time. Only when he didn’t flinch did you finally relax.

And you both simply laid there, staring at one another, letting your eyes do all of the talking. Neither of you looked away, not even once. Not until Santi’s eyes started to close again, his exhaustion taking over once more. You kissed the corner of his mouth, and you watched as his lips twitched upwards into a small smile before he gave into unconsciousness.

He’d managed to stay awake for over half an hour this go around, and for twenty minutes the next time he woke up, and another twenty after that.

And when morning came and Casey walked into the room for the first round of her shift, all she could do was smile.

Santiago was awake again, and you were the one asleep, lightly snoring from your place on his shoulder, looking so completely at peace.

And he was looking at you like he was the luckiest man alive.

[joshslater]

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I would normally be able to roughly keep track of time by how thirsty I was. Master didn't usually tie me up, but there had been many scenes planned by others that had kept me in different kinds of bondage for many hours. This was different on a whole new level. The penis gag kept leaking small amounts of something not quite water. It was the same viscosity, but it tasted more like cum. Perhaps diluted cum, but that wouldn't taste as much as this did, I would guess. It would slowly drip from the end of the rubber dick, back in the mouth where you could easily accidentally inhale it instead. And since you are gagged you can only cough out the liquid through your nose. You quickly learn you can suck it and get a full shot at once, and then nothing for like a few minutes until it starts to trickle again. Makes it bearable, but keeps you awake. I'm getting off-topic I guess. I'm exhausted. I would think that's understandable as this has been by far my longest session, days possibly. I have no way to tell.

This isn't the first time they've changed something or moved my position, but this is the first time they are letting me walk. What a sight that must have been. I could feel them remove the restraints and the other things, one by one. All except the gag, the hood, and the chastity cage. God, that cage has probably been worse than any of the other stuff they did. I have no idea what nasty stuff they smeared on my dick, but I would happily fuck a tube of bengay instead any time. After they smeared the dick in whatever that was they slipped on the tight cage, the kind the also go up the urethra. I've been caged before many times, but pretty soon it just sits there, keeping you horny and impotent. But this shit, it acted as viagra gel, constantly keeping my dick struggling to break free. I can feel it's still trying. But I'm rambling again I guess.

It's the mental version of what pathetic spasms I do when they help me up to walk once the bondages were off. There are at least two of them I can feel, one on each side helping me up, and supporting my steps forward. I feel my mobility is getting back, though we are slowly going somewhere. I can't see where though, for the black sock or whatever covering my head. We are indoors, but it is a bit chilly. That might just be me being naked and suddenly have a blood flow. The floor feels like concrete, I think. Hard and cold.

We walk pretty far, only turning once, and the sound I hear sounds like echoes of a corridor. We turn right and walk into a new room. I can hear more people here, though no one is speaking. After a few turns my guides stop me and something is rolled towards me from behind. I can hear them fiddle with something, then they grab me again, and one of them tells me to sit down slowly. They still hold me, guiding me to whatever I'm supposed to sit on. I suddenly feel a blunt point going up between my ass cheeks. Another butt plug or similar. I slowly lower myself onto it. It is well lubed, and I have had far bigger things up my ass just in the last hour, so I manage to impale myself easily and sit myself down on the modified office chair. It might not be a very thick plug, but it goes deep. Hands grab booth my ankles and pull them backward on either side of the central pole below the seat and I can feel them being secured in some sort of padded, stiff shackles mounted below the seat. Finally I hear a wheel on the side of the chair being turned quickly. I feel the butt plug slowly expanding in my ass, forcing me to sit more and more upright. Certainly more than what I would have liked with the legs folded back the way they are. Then they leave.

I'm more or less naked, secured to a chair, but my arms are free for the first time in I don't know how long. I had cuffs on while master took me to this place. I'm fighting the urge to stretch my arms. I don't know what this is, but if it is a test, I want to succeed. I suppose I could remove my face sock in one quick motion, but that would definitely be a fail. I don't think I want to touch my dick. As painful as it is right now, I don't think it will be any better if I mess with it. Nothing will improve, and then someone will see it and punish me. Who are the other people in this room? I can hear breathing. Are they spectators, or are they secured to furniture like me?

This is worse. When you are tied up you are helpless. You can test the strength of your bondage, but they have so far been rated far above what I can muster in strength. But here you are just sitting almost free, with no idea what to do with your arms. Just waiting, listening, and sucking rubber dick. How is it still feeding liquid by the way? I try to lean back, to see if there is a backrest to the chair, but the buttplug makes it impossible to lean that far back. I know it isn't possible, but it feels like the plug is reaching all the way up to my lungs. Or is it possible?

There's a distant sound getting closer. Several steps getting closer and closer. Once they get into the room, somewhere to my right, I hear them walk to a spot just next to me. Then the same rolling sounds, and the same voice telling the person next to me to sit down slowly. I guess the other people in this room are in the same situation as I am.

They complete the same procedure as was done to me, best I can determine from the sounds. Then they leave, and it's all calm and silent again. You would think I would be used to that by now, after having master tell me to sit somewhere and wait, only to be gone for hours. He doesn't allow me to watch TV or read books, so all I have is to think about what has happened recently, what I'm feeling right now, and on the rare occasion what was long ago. That's on purpose of course, so my thoughts center on master, myself and nothing else, but I can't help thinking like something has been taken from me. Thoughts I might have had.

Footsteps again, lots of them. How long was it since they left us? I tried to keep count of how many times I suck the gag dry, but gave up when I came to about eighty for the third time. I think it was the third time. They don't talk. Their steps all sound the same. It must be at least four of them.

I'm completely unprepared when someone behind me pulls the sock off my head and the light of the room burns my eyes. I haven't seen any light since master put a gym bag over my head, however many days ago. The entire wall on the left is windows. This is a run-down classroom, almost stripped bare. The green blackboard is still on the wall in front of me, and on the small elevation where once a teacher's desk stood a man is standing. There is a desk in front of me, out of reach, with some papers and a pen neatly placed on top of it. There's a line of desks. I look to my sides and see five other naked men locked to modified office chairs. All have a gag secured around their head, with a transparent plastic tube attached to the gag in one end, and a drip bag hanging on an IV stand next to them. This isn't just a weekend at one of master's friend's home.

The man in front of us simply stands still, observing us. Handsome, muscular, short hair, black boots, blue jeans, and white T-shirt. Once bored with our puzzled looks he starts to speak to us.

"Congratulations. Your master has decided to improve you to better serve him. I don't know your master, or what he has done to you before, but I'm pretty sure this next part of your life is going to be your toughest so far. I'm not going to tell you how long this training program is. I'm not going to tell you what you will learn and unlearn. I'm not going to tell you what alterations will be made to your body. But I am telling you that your master knows the answer to these questions, and have handed over you and a sizeable amount of money to implement these changes."

He makes a sweeping gesture in our direction.

"These are your classmates. You will never learn their names, should they still have any." He made a crooked smile. "Though I guess you will be very familiar with what each and every one of them smells and tastes like. While the majority of the program here is the same for all of you, there are some customizations that are unique to you, as per your master's wishes. Parts of the program have already started. No doubt you have reflected on the uncomfortable feeling in your dick and balls. As you know all too well the point of a chastity device is not only to control when you get hard, but also to create an ever-present low hum of horniness, so you are always ready to please. A side effect, though some see it as a bonus, is the ever-shrinking dick size after prolonged wearing."

I wasn't sure what the rules were, but one of my hands sought its way down to touch my cage. I got a wave of dull ache in response. The man's eyes shifted to me, but he showed no change in expression and continued to talk uninterrupted.

"The process you have all started will rapidly accelerate this, both in terms of horniness and dick shrinkage. When you leave here you'll have not much more than a circumcised dick head rubbing against your panties, leaking precum, and keeping you horny. You won't need a dick cage. You'll be unable to play with your dick anyway without a vibrator."

Suddenly someone behind me pushes the chair forward, stopping just behind the small desk. Everyone else has been moved forward as well.

"In front of you is a contract waiving any rights and objections you might have to this education and to any modifications done to you. Nothing done so far is irreversible, but once you graduate we will have done our utmost to make it impossible for you to go back to a normal life. We're talking permanent physiological changes. You think it is water you're sipping on?"

He made a pause, letting it all sink in. I love my master, and this past year with him has been lovely, but is it all I want out of life. What does he mean by physiological changes? Can you actually develop a dependency for sucking dick? Is that what he means?

There is a spray of mist coming out of the man to my right. Sounds like he tried to not swallow any more of the liquid after what he just heard. He makes horrible noises while he recovers. No one moves an inch towards him to help him.

"Read the contract if you want. Put your initials on every page. Sign the last page."

[suekre]

So ive followed you a VERY long time (like from the deviantart days lmao) and i only just realised that you were talking about ocd in that post. Just wanted to let you know that i have ocd as well and god it is exhausting and i know exactly how you feel! I finally start therapy for it in 2 weeks. Pls know that i love your art and you very much and appreciate everything you create and share with us. All the best!! X

Hey you, I know you! Thank you for coming to my inbox and sharing this with me, I appreciate that so much. :) I am SUPER happy for you that you are about to get the help you need, that is awesome. I wish I could have had it at the time!

(And oh boy, the good old deviantart days, haha! Always happy to have my longtime followers around! :D)

OCD is exhausting indeed. People who aren’t affected can’t imagine what a nightmare it is. I, personally, am more prone to intrusive thoughts than actual obsessive-compulsive behavior. When people hear „OCD“, they usually think of obsessive hand washing or „leaving out every black tile while walking through a kitchen“ or so, while it can manifest in other ways. I didn’t know back then. I just thought I was going completely crazy at the time. I think I mentioned my disorder at times but I never actually openly talked about my own experiences (where I come from, mental disorders are a big NO NO, because it’s all in your head, just pull yourself together, other people are ACTUALLY suffering, it’s just dumb thoughts, you just need to think positive, y’know).

I kinda feel like doing it now. Just to get it out, and also to occupy my brain and hands and hey, maybe someone else can pick this up and find themselves in my own experiences. I sure know how relieved I was when I found out I wasn’t alone with my what I thought was a ‚Very Weird, Unique and Niche Problem‘.  

I gotta admit first - I’m doing much better nowadays. Even my worst days, as horrible as they may feel at the time, do in no way compare to the hell I went through in the second half of 2015. I have come a long way since my last (and so far worst... omg, oof, I hope there won’t be another) episode of intrusive thoughts. But, oh boy, was it intense.  It was the absolute worst time of my life, ever. I’m not writing this to scare anyone. Anyone who is familiar with this, will know how bad it is and anyone who can’t relate at all won’t feel affected anyway and will maybe even think something along the lines of „What the fuck?!“. I get it. It DOES sound crazy.

I have always been an overthinker. I always needed more validation and reassurance than other people around me and for the longest time I had no idea why that was. It was usually subtle - always kinda there but never strong enough to actually affect my life in a negative way. I just felt off at times, and not always super good. But I was generally ok, I could always manage.

Until that one episode that changed my life forever. I know that sounds dramatic but, even though I am in a good place nowadays, it sure DID change my life. I was 31, I lived together with my then-boyfriend and I still remember the exact date. Friday, July 24th, 2015. I remember the exact moment when my entire mind collapsed. It’s so weird, it literally happened from one second to the other. I am not making this up to sound more dramatic, it was a matter of seconds.

I was on my way home after work and I felt… restless and stressed. It felt good to get off work (it was my first full time job and... it didn’t go well, to put it nicely) but I was no longer really looking forward to my week off, and our trip to our favorite Open Air the following week. I picked up some dinner on my way, I came home, and I saw my boyfriend in the middle of the living room, he was making some preparations for our upcoming trip. When I saw him, tall and handsome and smiling at me, I smiled back but inside I felt like crying. My smile was fake. Kissing him felt weird, and also fake. And all of a sudden, there it was. The life changing thought:

„I don’t love him anymore.“

A simple thought. I had weird thoughts before, like anyone does, but they never had any greater impact on me. This time, though, that one thought knocked me off my feet. Not literally, I had turned into a pillar of salt somehow. This was the Perfect Man Of My Dreams (at least that was what I thought back then). The man I wanted to spend my life with, the man who made me happy every day! How could that even be, how could I even think something like that?

I felt even more restless. I didn’t tell him, of course. When he asked how my day was, I put on my fake smile again and said it was okay. We ate our dinner (although I had instantly lost any appetite), and I kept looking at him and the thoughts... just kept coming back.

You don’t love him anymore. What if you don’t love him anymore?

On repeat. It was awful. I just couldn’t shake them off.

It’s the stress, I tried to tell myself. You’re overworked. It’ll be good, you just need some rest.

But I couldn’t relax. My heart was racing, my blood was pumping. I didn’t know what was going on. I begged him to leave his work undone and take me out for an after work drink and he agreed. All the time, the thoughts wouldn’t leave my mind. I didn’t want to think them, but they were merciless, they just kept coming back. I felt so helpless.

A few drinks later, I had calmed down a bit, at least so much that I could stand to look at my BFs face again without feeling guilty. There you go, I said to myself, not quite convinced, you’ll be good. It’s already wearing off. When we crawled into bed later, I was tired and relaxed (and tipsy) enough to sleep and convinced that this was just a little glitch, that things would be just fine in the morning.

When I woke up, I felt exhausted. My heart was racing... and the thoughts came back IMMEDIATELY.

You don’t love him anymore. You gotta leave him.

What. The. HELL!? Why are these thoughts still a thing? Why are they still there? Why do they keep coming back?

I kept trying to push them away but the more I tried, the more intense they became. As if they tried to spite me. I started losing focus on everything else around me, the world slowly started to blur. It was just Me And My Thoughts from here. I tried my best to hide my state, and I think I managed for a while, but I felt like a robot any time I talked to someone. When people would pick up on my confusion, I usually brushed their concerns off. It’s nothing, I’m good.

I mean... how do you even tell someone that you just. can’t. stop. thinking. about whether you still love your boyfriend or not? According to the world, that is something you “just feel and know” after all. Except that I didn’t. I had no clue. I couldn’t feel anything. But, according to the world, that was perfectly normal, too. “Honeymoon phase is over at some point, babe. That’s everyday life, you grow comfy, it’s no longer a flash of feelings every day, you know that. You guys have been together for a while after all, what did you expect?!” ... what I felt didn’t feel like comfy everyday life either, though. Comfy everday life shouldn’t come with high key anxiety, sleepless nights and a loss of appetite at any lived second. If that was comfy everyday life, I sure didn’t want it.

So, what do you do when you have no clue about something? Right! Google! Go and ask the world! “How do you know that you still love your partner?”, “Is the love gone?” ... I spent hours, DAYS doing that, but no answer I found was remotely statisfying (or maybe it was for a minute, but the reassurance never lasted long) and I felt that those articles didn’t actually understand what I was asking in first place. I would spend every day like that. Permanently asking myself the same questions, analyzing myself, testing if the Big Feels for the man had decided to come back... nah, not really. Maybe NOW? If I just look at him close enough?! ... maybe if I squint a little?! Fuck, still nothing! Niente! Nada! I am a horrible person, aaah!

(Our open air trip was an emotional disaster by the way, I felt horrible all the time, and the permanent rain didn’t help. -3/10, do not recommend).

If I had known at the time that I wouldn’t spend just a few days but (more or less) six months with this shit... oof. I was already exhausted after those few days.

Over the course of the next weeks I stopped eating almost entirely. I just couldn’t. This permanent tight anxiety knot in my stomach made me want to throw up at the mere thought of food. At my worst point I weighed 138 lbs (63 kg), at 6 ft 1 (1,85 m). I often joked about how I had almost reached runway model standard. I was sick, I was weak, I was scared, but I just couldn’t eat and the bits I DID force myself to eat were burned almost right away by my crippling anxiety. (I still have clothes from that time, and I sometimes beat myself up for no longer fitting into them before I remember that I should NEVER fit into them EVER again.)

Instead I smoked a pack a day. I hardly got any sleep and when I did, it wasn’t relaxing. Always in Fight and Flight mode. My body was at alert level any minute, any day. I’m still asking myself how it could be that I never actually... collapsed. I was always tired, exhausted and malnourished... I dunno, you tell me.

The thoughts never really disappeared. They kept coming back in all variations. You don’t love him anymore. You have to leave him. You may not want to, but you have to. You don’t love him. I had very few “good moments” in between but in those good moments, my mind was usually frantically looking for explanations and reasons behind all this. For ways to improve my relationship, to feel better about my boyfriend. I came up with the WEIRDEST shit. Almost every day I found something new that bothered me. One day he was a little boring. That’s it! We gotta go out more, do more stuff, that’ll change everything. ... aaah, no. Guess not. The next day, it was something else. The day after THAT, it was something entirely different again.

I was suddenly prone to making some HELLA weird impulsive decisions, too. „I gotta break off contact to that one person RIGHT now, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!“, “I gotta talk to my mom about THAT particular incident in my childhood right now, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!”, “I gotta make a trip to the mall JUST NOW, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!”… the decisions made total sense to me the second I made them, for about ten minutes at most, but the initial rush of relief started to fade again quickly and I frantically started looking for new solutions. Google was my best friend. I couldn’t go a day without googling exessively. Overthinking, pacing, googling. Any day, any hour awake. Over weeks. A few months even. My mind was constantly reeling. It was a bottomless pit.  

I cannot put into words how exhausting that was. Sometimes the idea of throwing myself out of the next window seemed SO tempting, not because I wanted to die, but because I wanted the thoughts to stop tormenting me.

(I was out of regular therapy at the time, btw. I thought about calling my therapist about it but never did it. I felt isolated, I literally thought I had to do this all by myself.)

At some point, a few months into it, I somehow transferred to zombie mode. The thoughts became a little less intense over time. They were never gone but not quite as nagging anymore. But any time I wasn’t in alert mode, I felt just hollow instead. Sucked dry of any joy, of any emotion, of any sign of life. I just... functioned. Still tried to hide it. I dunno how well I did with that. Probably not at all well. I kept it all to myself, just because it felt that ridiculous. Tried to find excuses. “I’m just tired.”, “You know, there’s a lot going on in my head right now, but I’ll be good.” ... truth is that I don’t remember a whole lot of that time, it’s all blurry. There are just a few significant moments.

Such as that one evening, after work, when I left the building, made a few steps and stood five (or ten? fifteen??? who knows?! not me.) minutes on the spot, motionless, because I could no longer remember my way home.

I got fired from that job, by the way. I’m sure it was mostly due to low performance, I get it, but I can’t blame my poor state alone - they were also assholes.

Anyway.

I had, of course, never stopped the googling and one day, after hours of browsing any niche I hoped I hadn’t browsed yet, I somehow found a blog written by a young woman like me. The description tackled almost all of my thought patterns and I was blown. away. She asked herself the very same questions, with the very same twists, and... she even had a name for it.

ROCD. Relationship Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

I cried for what felt like hours. Out of relief. There was a person in this world who knew exactly what I was going through. And she even had tips how to overcome it. It wasn’t the first time I had heard about OCD, but as it had never affected me in any way before (I, too, associated it with compulsive hand washing and tile jumping), I wouldn’t have thought of it. After doing my own intense research on the subject, a huge part of me and my life finally started making sense to me. Not much was known about ROCD at the time, but it kinda didn’t matter anyway. What mattered was the OCD part. The subject of the thoughts is entirely interchangable. It’s the chain of thoughts itself that has to be broken. Don’t focus on the relationship. Break the chain instead.

The internet also recommended exposure therapy but as therapy wasn’t an option at the time (weird German laws... regular health insurance covers only a limited amount of therapy lessons within a certain span of time and I had used mine up and there was no way I could pay myself), I decided to try it myself, the key points being:

* No more googling, no more reassurance. Learn to live with the uncertainty, learn to live with Not Knowing.

* Let the thoughts happen. Watch them pass by. They’re just thoughts, they can’t harm you. Don’t fight them, just recognize them and let them stay, they’ll get less scary over time.

* Focus on other things, as hard as it is. Try to occupy your mind and your body. Any minute you spend doing something else but brooding is a win.

It all sounded so very abstract at the time, but I was determined to give it a try. Oh gosh, was it hard. After months of emotional torment and getting used to unhealthy ways of coping, it was SO DAMN FUCKING HARD to NOT google. To NOT think. It felt like torment all over again. How was I supposed to just let the thought sit with me!? It was scary, I didn’t want it! Just ONE little peek, only a second, come ON! I won’t do it again after that?!

Oh god, it was the worst, it really was. Trying to break the chain while I was so desperate to save my relationship was terrible. I honestly don’t remember HOW I made it... but I made it. I somehow... clawed and bit my way out of it. I went right through the pain and made it. It’s not actually a linear process but there comes this point (and I know a few people I met on online platforms who would back me up on this) when you know the worst is over. You just know it. Things weren’t exactly good by the time the thoughts were history but I had reign over my own head again, I could actually SEE the world again, and that was worth everything plus my body weight in gold.

I’ll stop right here because the following months weren’t about my OCD anymore, but about figuring out needs, figuring out myself and what I wanted from life and this particular relationship and it’s not quite relevant and another story. (I DID love my ex-BF but it turned out he wasn’t at all good for me, I had ignored all the red flags for too long, and it didn’t take long after this for us to go separate ways)

I hated this particular time in my life while it lasted but I have learned and taken so much from it. It has changed my life in so many ways. I learned that things are never set in stone, not for anyone. That there will always be uncertain times on our ways. That change is always scary. That it’s okay to be scared. That staying in crappy situations for the sake of it isn’t always the right thing to do. Sometimes, doing the right thing (aka leaving a relationship that isn’t good for you) can make you sad. Love does not equal compatibility.

Looking back, I am - in a very bizarre and twisted way - grateful for the experience. It was an incredibly important lesson for me that taught me to be kinder to myself, to look out for myself and to listen to my own needs. That I should put myself first at times. For the first time of my life, I really got in touch with myself and my own emotions. I learned to understand them, I learned where they come from. I learned to cut myself slack at times.

The list goes on and on, but you get my drift. I know myself inside and out at this point. That wasn’t always the case. Not until 2016.

It still comes back at times. Not with such full force, but it keeps creeping back in, pretty much any time I have to deal with uncertainty in my life. Bad news at work, not hearing from a friend for a while that I’m dying to hear from (inevitably thinking that they MUST be mad at me) or when I spot a few symptoms of sickness that I’m not familiar with (I practically never get sick). Not Knowing What Will Happen drives me CRAZY. I hate uncertainty, I need my life to be stable and calm to fully function.

Now, in COVID times, it’s mostly the fear of suffering from an incurable disease. AGAIN. I’m familiar with that, too. I’m not even scared of catching the virus, I just fell right back into overthinking any symptom I have, even if it’s just a short pain in the neck or whatever (you know, things that one usually brushes off). When my life was busier, I was MUCH better at handling those thoughts. Most of the time, they didn’t even come up in first place. Sitting inside and avoiding contact 99,9% of all times, and having little to no actual distraction („reading/watching movies“ doesn’t help me personally, it does’t occupy my mind enough, I usually just stare right through the pages/screen), however, leaves FAR too much time for the thoughts to unfold, once they come up.

This subtle but lingering concern for my health puts my body into a permanent state of anxiety once more. Fight and Flight mode. The pace of my heartbeat is always slightly, but perpetually, increased. It isn’t always outright panic attacks, it’s this constant state of having to be… alert. Something MIGHT happen, y’know. Be prepared. Relaxing and doing nice things becomes almost impossible. Instead, I get tired and exhausted. Depressed, even. It sucks the joy right out of me. I feel like living under a glass dome. I see what’s happening around me but I am unable to connect, emotionally. People keep living their lives and I can watch them, but I can’t be a part of it. It’s a deeply crushing feeling. I manage to somehow function but I don’t really feel alive. My abandonment issues and fear of „getting left behind“ kicked in again, too. I want to catch up and take part but can’t so I stress myself over THAT, too. This only adds to the exhaustion and makes me feel even more isolated.  

Hello, vicious circle, my old friend.

I didn’t even realize that I had such huge potential to fall right back into it. It all started… I dunno, by mid/end of January?? It’s a bit blurry this time. It is directly connected to Germany’s recent lockdown, though. A massive case of Not Knowing How Things Will Turn Out. I failed to take better care of myself in the past few weeks. And now I’m here. AGAIN. Ugh.

But well, as I said, it’s not as bad and, as I said, I have at least learned some important things over the years. In this particular case of intrusive thoughts, the first rule is: NEVER GOOGLE SYMPTOMS. And never google shit like „chances to survive (whatever illness think you have at the time)“, either. The mind longs for reassurance but googling symptoms is BAD, as we all know by now. It’s not even reassuring when you do it. Because you’ll inevitably end up diving through the vast internet for HOURS, picking up an entry that some person named Kevin made on a cancer forum way back in 2004, saying that his uncle died the next day after finding out he has cancer and that is, OF COURSE, what will happen to YOU, too. There is no other way. YOU WILL DIE.

Excuse the text walls. I took an opportunity to ramble about my own experience, for the first time ever since it happened (not including the few short talks I had with the few people I met on internet forums).

To anyone who made it this far: Thank you so much for reading. It sure felt good to write this down for once, even if it’s just a short summary (yes, really, I mean, we’re talking six-ish months here), and the descriptions fall woefully short. If anyone affected by the same happens to read this -  I am so, SO sorry you are suffering so much. You are NOT alone and you are NOT weird. Talk to someone. Open up. To your doctor, or you therapist, if you have one. To a person you trust. It is the worst but there are ways, there is help. I wish I had known at the time it started for me.

You know now. :)

P.S.: DON’T FUCKING GOOGLE:

[danideservedbetter]

Day 7, 8, 9, and 10 / Elaboration

Hey y’all! I said yesterday I would elaborate a little more on what my doctor’s visit yesterday told me, and here I am to do just that! I meant to yesterday, honestly, but by the time I got home my medicine had worn off and that wasn’t looking very likely 😅😅 But regardless!!! Here is what my results look like and honestly? These things probably have been affecting my sleeping disorder to a degree I’d previously disregarded without detailed info I’ve gotten from these tests.

Full write up under the cut!

—I got two major tests done, blood work and a genetics test. Back in my hometown the nurses couldn’t even figure out how to open the damn swab, but technology here managed to map out my entire DNA sequence which is utterly NUTS to me.

—My body is deficient in almost every important vitamin known to mankind, which makes sense because my diet is not… the best 😅 So, I started on several (SEVERAL) supplements to start out.

—I say start out because it’s very likely that I’ll be taking vitamin C and some liver enzyme through an IV once a month. A younger me might’ve thought something like this was scary, but at this point I’m so desperate to be healthy that getting nutrients drip fed into my system for them to work quicker sounds just fine to me.

—Other than that it’s normal lifestyle stuff. Eat more fruits and vegetables (I’ve been eating olives by the can for like days and I intend to buy fresh fruit packets for breakfast whenever I can afford them) as well as staying more active— which I DEFINITELY have been since I moved closer to New Orleans, in Louisiana proper where my dad lives.

But enough of the boring medicinal stuff. I’m sure you guys are much more interested in the whys— is there a reason my hypersomnia is so bad? Is there a deeper explanation than “lack of vitamins bad and you should feel bad”?

Well, yeah. YES. The genetics test revealed a metric fuckton to say the least 😂😂😂 but the most important was what kinds of diseases I’m predisposed to or how my body can process certain types of hormones/enzymes/proteins. Things like why caffeine won’t work for me (my body processes it very fast but not very thoroughly) or my metabolism being the strongest recorded genotype (which is why it’s been so hard to gain weight). Below, I’ll go into detail about stuff my new general doctor’s in-office geneticist (I still can’t believe that’s a thing I’m typing) has revealed about my disorder.

Naturally, this is specific to me because of my parents and our family lines. Maybe if you see info pertinent to yourself, looking into genetic mapping may be a good idea for you?

We are pretty confident that I have Idiopathic Hypersomnia. The reason for this is that a tiny link has been found between individuals who contracted mononucleosis in their childhood and adolescence and individuals who fell within the sleep cycles indicating IH. Now, IH will be genetic sometimes, but considering I’ve tracked my disorder to starting around 14, the same year I contracted Mono, the coincidence definitely doesn’t seem like… well, a coincidence. My blood test shows that I do in fact have the antibodies in my system, and they’re doing something… odd.

The geneticist found some “active” antibodies. Well, not some, really 😅 Basically, she’s surmised that these antibodies have a hair-trigger response and can react to any given environmental factor (stress, hunger, etc.) to the point where they activate as if they think they’re **fighting off a virus that’s been out of my system for ten years.** Of course this takes up an inordinate amount of energy, which is her hypothesis as to why my hypersomnia is so random and varies in intensity. The goal for this summer is flushing these antibodies out of my system.

My previous neurologist tried out a couple stimulants and then shit insurance prevented me from trying any others. So I’m stuck on something traditionally prescribed for adhd. A narcotic. *However* since my body is severely dysfunctional in general, the way I describe it is I basically have to induce a high to stay awake and function normally. We want to eventually get me off of these kinds of drugs, of course, since prolonged exposure weakens their effects and they’re highly addictive.

Another in credibly interesting thing we found is that I'm lacking in three major hormones. However, it's not because I don't produce them. I've never identified with symptoms of depression (anxiety, certainly, but not depression) yet for most of my life my childhood general practitioner insisted I had it. Well, the geneticist found that while I'm lacking in serotonin, dopamine, and melatonin, which yes are the two major mood enhancers and then the hormone that induces sleep, it's not because I can't produce them. It's because my neural transmitters are so damaged from a less-than-good diet and years of exhaustion that they simply can't process them. Just as the antibodies can have a hair-trigger response to environmental factors, so too can these processors. Simple things like a good meal, my high from my stimulants, or even micro dopamine shots from getting things done can activate the transmitters. Another thing on the docket for the summer is fixing these permanently with treatments of vitamins and supplements.

My stimulants have caused appetite issues, unfortunately, and that plus Covid at the beginning of this year caused me to get down to my lowest recorded weight ever, 94 pounds, which I haven't weighed since before I hit my final growth spurt way back in middle school. My dad does physical labor (he's a contractor who frames houses in the humid heat of the Deep South lol) so he's used to feeling tired. When he caught Covid, he said that he'd never felt as tired, drained, or out of it in his entire life. He never gets sick and hardly goes to the doctor and NEVER takes off work because of health, but in his last few weeks before full recovery he had to take off early multiple times. He was floored when he described the brain fog and exhaustion and I told him that I had no idea I even had Covid, because I just thought it was my disorder acting up. It was only when my grandmother started feeling tired that we got tested and we tested positive.

All that said, we think that there's hope for a future for me. She said that while there's no cure for IH, the cause that I have may can be mitigated by changes in exercise, diet, routine, and medication,to the point where I may mitigate symptoms of my disorder entirely. I'm still setting up appointments with a new neurologist here in the city, though, because technology is of course more advanced here.

And again, taking all of this into consideration, while it was looking likelier by the day, we've both agreed that I'll be here in the city 'til New Years. Which means no school this semester, but if I can go back in spring at more than 20% functionality and maybe succeed, I'm perfectly fine having to remain on break.

However, another good update: I weigh 103 pounds! I'm steadily gaining weight-- which means the other medication, the one for my appetite, is working as it should and as long as I stay on-track I should reach my goal of 120 by the end of the year as well.

So, yeah! That's what it's looking like. I have another appointment to go more in depth with the results tomorrow, but for now I'm planning out my week since I decided to let myself rest all last week. I'd love to finish helping out for our current podfic, ACTUALLY start the damn 100 Theme Challenge (LOL), finish betaing something that's been on hold for months, properly reconnect with our discord, catch up on all the media I fell behind on, clean my damn room, and establish a budget for this week on what I can buy. A more specific plan for today will follow, but til then, I hope this gives everyone some insight on what I'm looking at and how I'm gonna try to fix it.

Xoxo

Dani

[glowyjellyfish]

I started writing down an updated collection of thoughts and plans about my Megakingdom project, but they got very rambly and so I am beginning anew.

And no, I have not forgotten about Grimwood Abbey, but for my undiagnosed but likely adhd brain I gotta follow the fixations where they lead. It’s actually quite helpful to have several different Medieval Sims 2 concepts I want to play with while working on the excruciatingly long CC Sorting portion of the project, because I can bounce around from one to the other to find fresh things to think about without abandoning the CC project. I got through all the Teen and Child clothing, and everything in Buy Mode! I am halfway through Walls in Build Mode! I have some broken things to identify, some Star Factory stuff to check on updating (accidentally overwrote my fresh install of all those with some older duplicates and could not actually undo, Mia culpa), and a bunch of empty folders to check and remove. Then comes the real sorting. And a backup.

But today I am here to talk about the Megakingdom. I have realized I can’t just play it as a straight MCC, because I already have a king. And yet the Warwickshire rules are wayyyy too complicated for somebody who has yet to complete an MCC. So I am going to play mostly MCC, with a few Warwickshire rules incorporated early, using the advancements to replace unthematic community lots and make sure the community gets well-rounded. I’ll also be using the social advancement rules to earn sims the right to fill in a few empty class spots (for example, Pleasantview currently has no Gentry). I will probably start using some of the Warwickshire title guidelines once each subhood has a reasonable amount of sims in each class and sims start purchasing titles outside the basic ones. And I am thinking I might roll a THS for babies born in-game, but avoid randomized health hits and pregnancy health concerns until I get used to the system and/or those babies grow into adults.

The big difference I am planning from both rule systems is… frankly, I want to use the colleges and the college sims. The college sims are going to be a flexible marriage pool, but also, three is too many for just a couple of social classes to attend, and it really bugs me that college sims get more lifespan than non-college sims. So each college is open to a different selection of social classes. Academie Le Tour is the upper class university, and only royalty, nobility, and heir/firstborn gentry may attend. La Fiesta Tech is for non-heir gentry and merchants, and Sim State University is the trade school for yeomen and peasants who are sponsored by a noble. I’m not sure yet about the other two colleges, but SSU will for sure have a strong tuition fee, which peasants may request from a noble in exchange for becoming their serf. There will absolutely be many sims who still cannot afford to attend, and for those I’ll get some YA mods, but this plan will ease me into that play method AND will prep up some serfs for the megahood.

(I… will have to reread up on the lower classes and determine exactly how and who I want to set up as serfs, if I feel I need to start with any. For some reasons, I am constantly assuming that the lowest classes in these challenges do not automatically equal serfs and I might also just be wrong on that, and if I am I’ll figure it out.)

Some story plans and concepts:

Faith and Herbert Goodie are going to be church sims, with the Newsons moving in as a collection of orphans being raised by the church. Coral Oldie, meanwhile, is going to be a midwife (probably not the only one, but I haven’t identified anyone else for the role yet); I have set the Oldies as Merchant class, and so I might have Herb run a small business that complements her midwifery, perhaps selling herbs they grow or something.

I’m trying to figure out what’s to be done with Jessica Peterson; without the game lore she’s just an obvious peasant, but with it she’s divorced from Armand DeBateau, a duke, and therefore must be at least Gentry. I feel like the thematic way to handle this would be having her join the church or become an outcast, but I haven’t decided yet. By a similar token, I really want to keep Alexandra Teatherton nee O’Mackey’s “left family to become a pirate” story, but then I’d have to set up pirates and junk. Otherwise, she’s in the same position as Jessica.

Cassandra Goth is betrothed to King Malcolm Landgraab IV. I think that Don Lothario, a yeoman at best, has been trying to seduce her and making all kinds of promises in his efforts to bed her, but he never intended to actually try to marry her and is shocked at how seriously she took all his talk of running away together. That is way too permanent for Don Lothario, he just wanted to WooHoo her.

I did this same basic setup for a Steampunk Strangetown I played a while back, but I think the quickest and most interesting way to set up a kingdom in Strangetown is a. Olive Specter is the ruler, b. Ophelia has been raised as her heir, but c. Nervous is the true heir, kept secret because of his parentage but Olive plans to officially recognize him before she dies, and d. Loki learned the secret a while back and has been holding Nervous hostage in an attempt to either marry Nervous to Loki’s sister Erin or otherwise gain power. So that’s essentially what is happening here, Olive is the Duchess, Nervous is her heir, Loki is a mere Gentry trying some ruthless means of acquiring power and advancing his family’s status. Erin is a viable match for Nervous, but in my experience they usually don’t like one another; I think generally speaking I’m not going to force sims with X attraction to marry just because they’re a good match. Maybe for story purposes or if the pickings are too slim, but not in round one.

Oh, and I have designated a few ladies to be Duchesses of their subhoods, and a Gentry lady heiress here and there, but for the most part I will be sticking to full classic primogeniture. This is mainly for setup; I just picked the best/most interesting choices to rule each subhood. I.E., I’m not gonna make the Roths be the Ducal family of Riverblossom Hills when the Goths are right there ruling over Pleasantview, that is dumb, and Catherine Viejo makes a very interesting setup. Is Betty Goldstein her secret lover and/or lady in waiting? Is Andrew Martin her secret lover and/or gardener/serving man/serf? ...so Cleo Shikibu, heiress to the Duchy of Riverblossom Hills, and Florence Delarosa, Lady of Bluewater Village, will both have to find second sons or college sims to marry in order to preserve their respective inheritances (meaning, basically, they can marry Kent Capp or a college boy, because maxis families are really light on siblings generally). Olive Specter is technically another example, but since she has a male heir in Nervous, Ophelia is not being treated as an heiress and will just get married off wherever. (...not to Johnny, unfortunately for them. Johnny is a merchant. And thanks to Johnny’s heritage, it will be Difficult to cheat discretely. Sounds like Fun!) But I will be avoiding situations like this in the future, and will only allow heiresses if there is no possible male heir, and even then her duty is to marry a hapless guy and produce a male heir as soon as she can to preserve her family line.

I’m also pretty excited about my spreadsheet for the Megakingdom, making pages for simple round info, a full resident census, individual families and family trees, records of deceased sims and events, the neighborhood and treasury, maybe one day including full economic notes on sensible pricing for SMSF goods. And charts on viable marriage prospects for each class, which I am pretty proud of. They’re sorted by rank, red means not allowed, bright green is preferred, and light green is allowed. Generally speaking, sims get bright green within the same age group and light green outside it, making it easy to prioritize same age marriages over, say, adult-teen marriages or teen-child betrothals. Both of those are allowed but not preferred. And these charts will change as sims age, and sims will be removed when they get married and added when new sims are born or rolled.

I am very excited. The spreadsheets also give me something I can work on during down time at work!

[susiequaz12]

Carrot Top- 12: Silenced

Well, it’s here. I’ve been writing a lot more, I need to remember to edit so I can post stuff and not worry about it anymore. Also, woah. I didn’t expect this chapter to be as long as it turned out to be, but oh well I guess. Sorry not sorry.

CW: Restraints, defiant whumpee, possessive/controlling whumper, knives, non con touching (non sexual), dehumanization, blood, some mild gore? (idk I got kinda descriptive but not too bad I guess)

Tags: @imagination1reality0, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @thehopelessopus (let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

Masterlist is here. Previous part here.

- - -

Howe tried his best to calm the young man down as his chest heaved uncontrollably. His body was wracked with sobs. His heart pumped faster and his lungs beat harder as the tears streamed down the sides of his face.

The Doctor grabbed a clean rag and began wiping the tears away as best as he could. He was trying to hold back tears of his own as he gently cleaned the boy’s face.

“Shhh, it’s okay, calm down. You can breathe, you can breathe, you’ll be okay. Just remember to breathe now, come on.” 

He set the rag down and grabbed the anesthetic, beginning to insert it into the iv. Howe quickly turned back to the boy once it had entered into his system. 

“Don’t worry, this’ll all be over soon. When you wake up you’ll feel a lot better. You’re gonna get sleepy now, but that’s okay. Just breathe and relax for me. It’s okay, it’ll be okay.”

Andrew’s eyes darted back to the small box that contained the chip and he tried to hold back another wave of tears- but he had no control over his body. He didn’t want that thing inside of him. That was far worse than a collar- than a beating, or a couple of scars. That was permanent it was- it was full and complete control. 

A wave of sleepiness wafted over his body as his muscles ached and throbbed. He felt his eyelids getting heavier, spots coming into his vision as he was forced to relax.

Howe looked back towards the microchip and quickly moved it behind a pile of supplies on the cart next to him, hiding it from both of their views. He shook his head and wiped away the fresh tears that came, as Andrew’s eyes grew heavier.

“I’m just doing my job. I can’t- I-I have to, I-” He sighed, right as Andrew’s eyes fluttered closed. 

“I’m sorry.”

-   -   -

When Andrew woke up he was still unable to move. 

Not because he had the anesthesia or a paralytic or anything in his system, but because he was still strapped down to the table. 

The band going across his forehead had been released, and his head was instead propped up on a small pillow. But the thick straps still wrapped around his arms and legs, his hips, and his shoulders. 

Thick stitches and scars lined the front of his torso, a large line going from underneath his collarbone to his belly button. Instead of an intubation tube down his throat, a smaller one wrapped around his head hooking under his nose. 

It was a gentle reminder to breathe as he tried not to panic. 

Especially as he began to panic when the man that walked into the room was not Doctor Howe.

With the way that he was positioned, he was able to look down at his chest. He was able to see the scars that would stay there, able to feel the ache in his bones and the pressure that had been on his chest as he struggled to breathe. 

And all that he could think as Splice approached the table was that this was all his fault. 

And that anger rose throughout Andrew much stronger than the fear or the panic did.

For at least a moment.

“Go away.” Andrew croaked.

He didn’t realize how hoarse and tired his voice was going to sound. It made him instantly feel a lot weaker.

Splice ignored his words and pulled a stool over to sit down at the side of the table.

“The doctor fixed you up pretty nicely. How are you feeling?”

“Bothered.” He replied. “Leave me alone.” Andrew shut his eyes in an attempt to block out the man sitting next to him. That attempt failed as fingers locked into his hair.

Splice gripped the curls tightly and ran a hand through them, inspecting the strands before lifting them up and letting them fall back onto the table. 

“Well look at that. Your hair is already starting to fade. I wonder how long I can continue to call you carrot top before it completely loses its color.”

“Don’t touch me.” He growled.

Andrew’s eyes stayed close while the man ran fingers through his hair. He knew that that was a side affect of his powers. Using them too much had a tendency to deplete the pigmentation of his hair, and his freckles as well. It was almost as if his body was drawing the energy he used from the vibrance of his natural colors. When he didn’t use his abilities, it had no affect on him and his hair stayed a bright orange-red. When he overexerted himself, his freckles would fade, and his hair would begin to turn a bleach blonde, almost a white. 

He guessed that having his powers physically stripped from him through that device placed in his chest would have the same affect.

Splice traced a finger down the stitches along his chest. Goosebumps broke the boy’s skin and he couldn’t help but shiver. The man hooked another finger around the ring in his collar and tugged at it ever so slightly. Andrew jerked against his restraints but it sent a jolt of pain throughout his chest and he gasped at the shock.

The man laughed and shook his head. 

“Good to know you’re awake enough to move about. Or at least to wiggled.” Splice laughed. 

“Let’s see, should we have another grammar lesson? Surely you remember the first one.” 

Andrew kept his eyes closed and his mouth silent as Splice asked him the five questions.

“Who do you belong to?”

Silence. Splice sighed and continued.

“What are you.”

As the man’s frustration built he turned to another tactic and created a clone of himself. Splice seemed to melt from the top of his head, the ooze spilling onto the floor and then rising up again. The second man took shape and moved to stand on the other side of the table. 

Andrew’s eyes shot open as he felt two more hands on his body. Splice already had one on his collar and a grip in his hair, but now the clone placed a cold hand in the middle of his chest and a second one gripped his upper arm. 

“Where, and when?”

Andrew’s breathing got a bit heavier but he continued to remain silent, clenching his teeth. 

“Why?”

Splice gripped the collar tighter, lifting Andrew’s head slightly off the table as he forced him to look him in the eye. The boy hiccuped out a breath but didn’t speak.

“Why resist? It’ll just make it harder for you in the long run.”

The clone stepped back to grab something out of the corner of Andrew’s eye. He couldn’t make out what the object was as it was handed to Splice.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” His fingers latched back into Andrew’s curls. “Who? Who do you belong to?” 

The boy breathed deeply. 

Himself. He didn’t belong to anyone.

He spoke the words carefully as he answered the question.

“Me. I belong to me.”

All of a sudden there was fire spreading around his leg in his left thigh. It was small but seemed to grow larger as the pain seemed to expand. It wasn’t until he had let out a gasp and a choked back sob that he realized it was a knife. 

Just the tip poked into his thigh. It was barely half an inch deep but already he could see the blood wanting to seep out.

“Wrong answer.” Splice stated. “Let’s continue though shall we? What are you?” 

Andrew knew what he needed to say, despite knowing he shouldn’t say it.

“A human with- with thoughts and feelings.”

He gasped and groaned through his teeth as the knife pushed into his leg deeper. Splice just shook his head.

“Where, and When?”

“Away from you.”

“You haven’t learned yet have you?”

As Splice spoke, the knife drove further into the flesh of his leg. Andrew stifled back a scream that soon erupted forth. After the initial pain had died down he felt able to breathe again. 

“Lastly, Why?”

“Because I- because-” he took a deep breath, willing his voice to be steady before managing to get his answer out. “Because you’re cruel and inhuman.”

Andrew shrieked as the knife was pushed into his leg as far as it would go.  There was a squelch and a thump as the hilt of the blade met his skin, blood pooling over the sides of his leg. 

Splice melted apart to form a third clone.

“It looks like you didn’t learn anything from your last lesson. Shall we try again?” 

The clone stood over Andrew, lifeless, emotionless. Just an empty shell of a physical body positioned to stand in one spot for the sake of intimidation. 

Splice gripped the handle of the knife tightly, and Andrew could feel the cold metal of the blade inside of his leg, fighting against the throbbing muscles and bone. 

Slowly, the man began to turn the knife inside of Andrew’s leg. 

Andrew felt the knife tearing at the muscles, blood spurting out with every movement, and he howled. 

He bucked against the table, thrashing as best as he could despite the restraints. He felt desperate to get away from the pain that was flaring up and down his leg. That fiery pain seemed to spread to his chest, making it tighter and harder to breathe. He sobbed as tears poured down his face. 

“I hope you’ll finally learn something this time, hmm?”

Andrew clenched his eyes shut.

“Who do you belong to?”

The boy choked back a sob. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to give in, but more than anything he wanted to be away from the pain. And he knew that the only one to be free from pain, was compliance and obedience. 

Splice asked once more.

“Who do you belong to?”

“I- I’m yours. I belong to- to you.”

Splice smiled and pulled the knife out a few inches. Andrew gasped, throwing his head back as it the blade moved in his leg.

“What are you?”

Andrew heaved out a breath, the tears streaming down his face. 

“A- a tool. Used how- how you see fit.”

“Good, you’re catching on. Now where, and when.”

Andrew couldn’t breathe. Once more, he struggled for the breath that seemed to never come. But he had to answer. Answering meant less pain. Less struggle.

“Here. And for-” he hiccuped through a sob as he tried to form the words that he didn’t want to say. “And,- and for forever.” 

The knife came almost the full way out of his leg that time. Just the tip remaining inside his flesh.

“And lastly, why? Why am I doing this Andy?”

The boy choked back a sob at the nickname. 

That was something only his mom was allowed to call him. He’d lived without her for a few years now, but at this moment he wished for nothing more than to be curled up on her couch with his sisters- eating her home cooked food, laughing and smiling.

“Why?”

“Because I-” He could barely form the words throughout the sobs and wails that wracked his body. “Because I- I deserve it. I’m worthless.”

The knife left his body and clattered to the ground as Splice chucked it aside. Blood began to gush heavily from the open gash in his thigh, soaking his pants and pooling around the table.

Andrew was right. He felt worthless. He believed that he was. 

Otherwise he would have been stronger. He wouldn’t have been so weak and given in to Splice so easily. The last time he’d seen his friends was in an argument. They were mad at him because he was so selfish. Because he didn’t care about that, because he was a terrible friend.

No wonder they hadn’t come for him.

And they weren’t ever going to come for him.

Because he was worthless.

Splice smiled, clearly satisfied. 

“What did you say?”

Andrew moaned through his despair. The tears ran down his face. 

“I- I’m worthless.”

“That’s right.” Splice stated. He melted into another clone that took a spot around the table. “You are only what I say you are. Nothing more. This is no longer your life, but mine.” 

Beads of sweat dripped down the man’s forehead as he split into another clone, and then another. 

There were six of them now. They surrounded Andrew on all sides, leaning over him, blocking his vision. 

Splice was all he could see, and then it was all he could feel. 

Cold, unfeeling hands grabbed at his limbs, invading his space. They gripped his legs, around his arms and neck, resting on his head, chest, or shoulders. The hands didn’t squeeze, or pinch, or inflict pain.

They just marked their ownership. 

And Andrew was helpless to do anything about it.

He wished to be able to push them off. To throw himself off of that table and at Splice, tackling him to the ground, picking up the knife, to-

But he couldn’t.

He instead laid there. 

No longer himself, but an obedient mind inside of a useless body. 

Splice had claimed him. 

He’d marked him with a collar and a whip. The man had broken him- literally, and left him as an empty shell of the funny, charming and energetic self that he used to be.

“I. Own. You.” Splice stated. “Do you understand?” 

Andrew nodded. He was willing to do anything at this point to get the man’s hands off of him. To get Splice to leave him alone, to let him shrink into himself and hide. 

“I- I understand. I’m sorry. Pl- please don’t-, please- I understand, I do. I’m sorry, please just- just, don’t I- I’ll-” His words were cut off by his own choked back sobs as he tried to plead and beg. For what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe for a relief of the pain and despair that he felt. Maybe for some satisfaction in hoping that if Splice listened to his pleas, he would still feel some semblance of control.

“Shh, I have plenty of time to hear you grovel later.” Splice stated. “For now, you have to be punished for speaking back earlier. For being defiant and arguing with me.”

At the sound of a punishment the boy’s heart began to beat faster, and he started to panic again.

“No!” He cried. “Please! Don’t I’ll- I’m, I’m sorry. Please, don’t just don’t I’ll be good, I promise, -let- let me be good please- please… just don’t- don’t punish me, please-” 

Splice seemed amused and a little satisfied as the boy pleaded with him, but he remained stern. 

“This punishment is for speaking out, so don’t you think you might want to shut your mouth?”

Andrew’s pleas stopped nearly immediately. Instead dying down to a small whimper and a cry, as the man sent off one of his clones to retrieve what was needed for the boy’s punishment.

Andrew couldn’t see what was happening as large hands came near his face. The oxygen tube around his nose was removed and tossed carelessly aside. His eyes were swelled with tears, and blurry without his glasses. He couldn’t make out what was happening until something cold and hard was being pressed up against his lips. 

Instinctively he opened his mouth and the foreign item was shoved inside. It pressed up against his tongue and his teeth as he discovered it was made of rubber. As it was forced further into his mouth behind his teeth, thick fabric followed to wrap around his nose and under his jaw. The same cold hands lifted up his head, wrapping thick straps behind his neck and tightening them behind his ears.  

The material was a soft leather, but to Andrew it felt like the toughest substance in the world. It restricted all movement to his mouth, and the bit inside muffled any sounds he tried to make. 

A muzzle.

Out of instinct, he attempted to move his mouth to make any noise, form any word, but he couldn’t. He knew the efforts were futile. The leather was trapped too tightly around his face for anything to come out. 

A whimper died out quickly as Splice chuckled, letting the boy’s head fall back onto the table. 

“That should do it.” He stated.

Each clone melted one by one as Splice gave up the controls he had on them. They dissolved quickly, releasing their grips on Andrew’s limbs and body as the puddles evaporated.

Each of Andrew’s abilities to communicate had been stripped away. It had been nearly two days since he could move on his own, he had lost all control over his own body, and now, he couldn’t speak. 

All he had left was his eyes.

The boy’s emotions were clear just by looking at them. Tears welled up uncontrollably and flooded out, streaming down his cheeks and landing in his hair.

Splice chuckled, satisfied with his results as he left the boy alone. 

Broken, and silenced.

[jenna-jayde-the-renagade]

So my life has gone to shit.. I dont trust anybody anymore, and honest to god I cant help but keep thinking of ways to end it. My mom keeps telling me how to feel about this whole thing, that I should be grateful that i got in finally to see a specialist. Reality is I dont even trust those subhuman animals anymore, and frankly they're gonna have to earn my trust. After 4 fucking years, my life, my future being ruined. My mental health going downhill, all for the second time now. Add on to that, I dont get any meds for the pain so this has pushed me into addiction now for a second time. I've been dehumanized and humiliated, treated with nothing but the utmost disrespect while being stigmatized for being mentally ill, transgender and a recovering addict for most of it. They ignored me for 4 years, my body is damaged, and frankly help just might have came too little too late. I wont just suffer through the next one, the next time this happens I'm gonna end my life, my suffering on my own god damn terms. Atleast I still have control over that..

Fuck the canadian healthcare system. Some days I honestly just want to start selling drugs, and fly to a country where I can just pay to play and get the best care in the god damn world. Cause 4 years now I've been telling them to refer me to a specialist, I've been telling them that it's probably crohns or some other GI issue. They need to do a colonoscopy and a scope to find it, so that's what I would ask for. I would never get it, so i more or less gave up on the healthcare system. They would leave me on the floor thrashing in pain for hours. Treating me like a drug addict in withdrawal when I didnt even have any opioids in my system. I would be lucky if I got an IV for fluids, and even more lucky if they pumped me full of a bunch of over the counter drugs and others that didnt work like gravol, tauridol, buscopan, zofran, and haliperidol. I would tell them each time, that this was the hundredth time they tried gravol, and it doesnt help people when they're screaming in pain. They treat the nausea. Its bullshit because I am in so much pain that its making me nauseous and until they get rid of the pain, the vomiting is just gonna continue. They always treat me like I'm full of shit, and when I turn out to be right and continue puking, thrashing and screaming in pain, they just get angry at the fact they were wrong. Our doctors and nurses are a bunch of sociopathic, apathetic adult children who in my experience take pleasure in watching you suffer. The worse I get the more they smile. They are so stupid, blind almost because if their stupid fucking machine says I'm ok then I guess it's all in my head. They only think that theres nothing wrong with me because theyve only ever done a blood test or an xray. Never ever once have they done a single test that would have found the issue, crohns cant be found just on a blood test. The emergency room doctors think it can be, my family doctor and everybody else I've talked to says otherwise.

On January 1st I was having another flare up, and they shoved me in the psych observation room because they genuinely didnt want to deal with me. They ignore me, and I keep going in because I want help. I dont want to end up relapsing again cause I cant take the god damn pain! But nope, I get treated like a crazy person now.. they did it against my will. And they even tried to take my phone and my keys. I was puking constantly, I needed water to keep hydrated and they left me for 4 hours, locked in, no meds, no help or nothing. So I just cracked.. I had nothing to barf in, to wipe my nose with, or to wipe the cold sweat off me. So I puked in every corner of that room, I puked beside the bed especially because a mop wouldnt fit in there. I pissed in the corner, I would hack up some phlegm and spit it all over the floors and walls, I blew snot rockets on every surface too! After a while some nurse came in and gave me a barf bag. I threw it on the floor and just continued to puke over every hard surface in the place. I was puking every 5 seconds I swear, and the doctor finally came in at 3 hours and 15 minutes. At 3.5 hrs they give me two pills. I straight up tell them there is no point in even taking them. I couldnt even keep water down and these people are stupid enough to make me take pills? Come on. You need to hold it in for atleast an hour to see even the most minimal affects. I was puking every 5 seconds, to the point that I puked before I took the pills, and I puked them out the moment after I swallowed. They had given me a fucking gravol tab, and some Ativan, the latter of which I couldnt even hold under my tongue long enough. I barfed it onto the floor when it was half dissolved. They come back with this clear liquid shit in a shot glass. I swallowed it right after I puked. The liquid burned my insides, and i puked that shit out even quicker. I asked them to give me IV medications for that exact reason, I always ask for IV medications cause its literally a waste of your time and mine to just pump me full of pills when I can't keep them down and they hurt my tummy as they dissolve. They tell me to just "breathe deeply and relax" and to "just try jayden, you gotta try", so then I try, and when they end up being wrong, and I can't take shit. They end up saying that I'm manipulating, that I'm drug seeking or I'm not trying hard enough to make it work. Absolute bullshit, over the course of 4 years I have quite literally told them what to do. I have multiple family members with this disease, and my grandmother was ignored like this too. She told me to ask them for a colonoscopy and a scope, and to ask them to treat the pain, not the nausea cause the pain literally causes the nausea. The sooner the pain is gone the sooner I can be normal and tell them what's going on. Instead I'm left to suffer in the worst pain a human being can feel. I get treated like shit and told it's all in my head. I gave up on getting a diagnosis in year two. I just want to shoot dope whenever the pain comes. Dope atleast takes it away, after all they would be giving me some of the strongest shit they have at the hospital if I was some boomer with a sprained ankle. It would take the pain away. Thats for sure. Being a mentally ill, drug using, autistic tranny they just see that. I get nothing. No help, no answers, not even some relief when my screaming can be heard far and wide.

I want to die right now, and I keep trying to think of a painless way to do it.. buying $400 worth of street fentanyl and slipping into a nice, peaceful opioid coma seems like a wonderful idea right now.. that would end the fucking suffering atleast..

I wont be wearing a colostomy bag. Colostomy bags arent sexy, they are fucking disgusting and you cant just be body positive when you have a fucking bag full of your own shit hanging off you, and your only way of having penetrative sex sewed up permanently and taken away from me. Not like I could even be a decent fuck for anybody at this point anyways. Its painful to shit, let alone anything else. I dont want to give up food either. I love food, food is literally my life and the only way I have to bond with certain people! Like my family for example. Nothing makes me just want to slip.into that coma more then the worry of the future.

Will I be sitting at a family gathering eating bland gluten free, dairy free, all organic 100% vegan fair trade horse shit on a plate while my family actually gets to enjoy the food I used to be able to eat? Moms spaghetti, grandmas meat pies, the baked goods, fresh tomatoes out of my garden and others. A good fucking steak even? Cause honestly a birthday isnt a birthday if I dont have my birthday meal.

I know for a fact my body is damaged from 4 years of suffering. I used to bounce back, now it takes the wind out of my sails for a month.

Needless to say, I just want to fucking die more then anything else. Positivity and anything I love is gone, and all that I have left is knowing that Alberta health services, coast mountain health services, providence health services, and interior health services have all fucked me in the biggest way humanely possible. So thankful for free fucking healthcare!!

You get what you bloody well pay for!!

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 141

141

Keith was tucked up in bed, saline IV drip in his arm. Lance had been jerking them off when Keith threw up across him. Orgasm, puke, panicked Keith. Moment ruined. Getting Keith up, showered, the bedding stripped and changed, his boyfriend was finally asleep. So much for coming back with a level head... Matt wasn’t Keith sitting ever again. Still, he was kind of cute when he was sleeping and sprouting nonsense. It wasn’t even funny nonsense. Their twins had been upgraded to cupcakes... so that was kind of funny, but Keith obviously not his limits both alcohol wise and mentally.

Heading into the living room, Rieva was back. He really wished they use the front door rather than balcony hoping

“How’s yours?”

“Had to put an IV line. Yours?”

“Tequila hit and he’d acquainting himself with the toilet”

“Did Matt say much?”

“Only that Keith was pretty much babbling by the third shot and obliterated by the 5th shot...”

“Surprised he made it that long... Am I... I did this, didn’t I?”

“Matt did. He wasn’t supposed to take Keith drinking while Keith was upset”

“Keith was upset because of me”

They’d got a lot done with Keith and Matt gone. He’d drafted his will, two copies, one in case Keith didn’t come back, which was now shredded, the other Rieva acted as his witness for. He didn’t have much, but if something happened he wanted Keith and the twins to be provided for. Everything but the coffee machine left to his boyfriend, which went to Pidge as a joke. Keith would decide how to split his assets and if there was something in particular their two best friends wanted Lance was confident Keith would let them take it. Shiro and Curtis to raise their twins if something happened. He hadn’t told Keith, because Keith didn’t want to think about things going wrong. He had a copy of his mother’s will, she’d tried to leave him things but he knew his siblings would contest it. The one thing he knew Luis would want would be Mami’s wedding and engagement ring set, to pass on. He’d slipped it off her finger before they flew back to America, then slid it back on at the service. Even if Luis wanted it, it was where it belonged. Where their Papi had slid it into place all those decades ago.

“Keith was upset because you’ve barely had time to talk about anything properly. Matt did mention you may wish to avoid the hotel lounge. Keith got a bit vocal about your sex life”

Lance groaned. Drunk Keith was a slut. Matt should have known better

“He’s lucky he doesn’t have alcohol poisoning... He’s also lucky Coran sent me back with extra medical supplies. Grab an IV bag if Matt needs one”

Rieva shrugged a shoulder

“He can suffer. I expected more maturity”

“I don’t know... Pidge turns to alcohol to solve all her problems”

“Yes, well. I only popped over to see how you were handling Keith. I can smell vomit in the air”

“Puked all over me. Gotta admit, as gross as it was, it was nice to not be the one throwing up all the time”

Not that Lance wanted to see Keith throwing up. He was pissed at Matt for letting Keith get into this state. Rieva was lucky he could see her and only smell Matt. His ego wanted to punch their friend in the face. Rieva screwed her nose up at his words

“At least mine made it to the bathroom. My plans for a swim are cancelled. Shall I pick you up something for dinner?”

“Yeah. That’d actually be great. Keith’s going to need food to soak up all the alcohol in his system. He still smells like a walking tequila bottle”

“He’ll be feeling it tomorrow. Alright, I’ll pop back soon. You should try rest too. You’re looking a little washed out”

“Try washing Keith when he’s crying, apologising, and groping me all at the same time”

“Nope. That’s a hard pass. I really am sorry for Matt’s actions”

“It’s fine. I totally owe you for today, so I’ll call it even”

“On the plus side, Coran’s fitting the drinks bill...”

He didn’t see that as a plus side. He’d have to pay something towards the room tab before they checked out. The rooms were something like $350 a night and he’d already been there twoish months... or was it three? He didn’t quite know where Keith got three months from. Maybe drunk Keith would tell him?

“... anyway, I’ll see you soon!”

Rieva was back out the window and across the next balcony before Lance could sigh. They were going to get busted for it. All it’d take was someone looking up and opening their big mouths over it. Just another reason why supernaturals shouldn’t be mixing with humans.

Heading back to Keith, his boyfriend was still in the same position Lance had left him in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed his hand on Keith’s hair, letting the soft locks flop over his fingers. He didn’t know what Keith was thinking. Him taking the bite? What kind of crap was that? Keith would probably die before turning. If he turned, he’d have none of the benefits that came with turning young. He was trying to sign up for a life he knew wasn’t as glamorous as Hollywood made believe. He wasn’t going to take Keith’s warmth from him. He wasn’t going to curse him to their weird life. He loved his breathing happy human boyfriend. The feel of his strong heartbeat. The softness of Keith’s warmth as if cocooned around him. His scent. His smile. His ability to function without coffee. Humans were fragile, but he wouldn’t let Keith take the bite. One lifetime with Human Keith was as good as a million with vampire Keith who risked insanity and the troubles of ego. The constant risk of blood borne infection. Their egos might not even get along. Keith’s might outright reject the parts of him he’d liked as a human, and Lance might never recover from the guilt he knew would come if he turned him.

Stroking Keith’s hair, he wished they’d stay like this. Together. He shouldn’t have kept things from Keith, but Keith severely miscalculated how low Lance was. He’d barely started recovering when Mami passed. Yeah, he knew Keith hadn’t had a fun time, but... yeah. He’d fucked things up. The pat on the head and the reassurance he craved came from Rieva. She’d gone to get herself a glass of water from the kitchenette, seeing all the injections and stuff Coran had him taking on top of fresh blood, that he now definitely assumed had been cut off thanks to Keith coming, though feeding from Keith was dangerous. A full feed would leave him weak, his body not able to keep up with his desires to feed Lance as much as he needed. He supposed vampires would simply call in pets to entertain other breeders, that wasn’t what he wanted at all. Love was worth more than blood. Could a human not love a vampire? Or was Keith struggling with the idea of mortality?

Then there was what he’d said. Marriage. Um. Lance wasn’t in a rush. He didn’t feel he had to be married to be with Keith. It went against his romantic heart, but he also didn’t want an engagement ring out of duty. Things like marriage should wait. They hadn’t been together a year, rushing to sign up for the rest of their lives without ironing out the teething problems asked for trouble. Werewolves were different with their concept of marriage. Vampires different again. Vampires generally didn’t marry humans. Humans were generally only ever pets. Keith was not his pet. Did Keith not see them as partners? Did he really see Lance as out of reach permanently if he didn’t take the bite? He hated the thought. The thought he’d drifted so far away from being human in his boyfriend’s eyes. Why couldn’t what they’d had and would have be enough?

*

Falling asleep against Keith, Rieva woke him gently. Matt hanging back, looking like shit

“I’ve brought dinner up if you’d like to join us”

It was food time already? His nap schedule ruined, and his body making it’s dislike known. He’d barely had anything to drink either. One day back with Keith and he acting like a kid

“Yeah... smells good”

“Chicken and rice. Extra for Keith”

“Thanks. I’ll give you the money...”

“We already decided we’re even. I know I told you to nap, yet, I can’t say you seem too rested”

“I got too caught up in taking care of him that I might have forgotten to eat”

Rieva took him by the arm, pulling Lance off Keith who whined in his sleep, patting around for him. Leaning back, Lance kissed Keith’s cheek, his boyfriend’s breath hideous, but trying to brush Keith’s teeth didn’t exactly work when his boyfriend wanted to suck on the toothbrush

“Babe, you awake?”

“Ngggh...”

Nope. He needed sleep. The more sleep the better. He was going to be hung over as fuck

“You just sleep. I’ll be back soon”

“Unmg”

“I know. You regret your life choices. It’s okay, just sleep it off”

“Mhndssf”

“I love you, too”

The three of them left Keith sleeping, Matt throwing himself down on the sofa with such force Lance was worried it was about to break

“I’m amazed you speak drunken Keith. He stopped making sense to me”

Lance shook his head

“Thanks for that. I don’t, and I don’t appreciate you getting him drunk”

“Trust me, dude. No more tequila for him. no mas tequila”

Matt’s Spanish was like nails on a chalk board, making him cringe. He’d even thrown in a very bad Spanish accent trying to sell the three words

“Did he try hitting on you? He’s a slut when he’s drunk”

“No. That would have been easier to deal with. It was all “I love Lance!”. “Lance likes it when I hold hips down and fuck him!”. “Lance is perfection!”. “Lance is life!”. I want my cupcakes!””

Lance groaned. He’d never be able to face any of the hotel staff again

“You shouldn’t have taken him drinking...”

“I know! He just seemed like he needed to let loose”

There was any number of things Matt could have taken Keith off and done...

“Then take him for Karaoke. Give him like two shots and he’ll get up there... Do you have any idea what he’s been saying?”

“That he’s serious about being with you?”

“That the wants to be bitten”

“Ah. He’ll get over that”

Matt waved it off dismissively

“That doesn’t seem like something he’ll just get over, Matt”

Not when Keith had this idea of forever being unnaturally long

“He had something like 8 shots. He won’t remember”

“That’s beside the point because I remember. Couldn’t you have picked something else to talk about?”

“Trust me, I tried”

Rieva interrupted the pair of them

“Aaaaaanyway, Lance, you need to eat. One full blood bag and your food”

“I will”

“You’ll do it now or you’ll forget”

“I don’t forget. It’d be so much easier if I did”

“I don’t care for your excuses, eat, now”

He wasn’t trying to make excuses. He’d come out to eat with his... pack. He was just trying to learn about what Keith had said while drunk. Not putting off eating. This was why he had a hard time accepting the help of his friends because, despite wanting the best for him, he now felt slightly smothered.

Thanks to the feeling of being smothered, Lance was distant through dinner. Before he knew what happened he found his plate emptied. Matt and Rieva also having finished eating, with Matt looking too well after the greasy chicken

“If you’re going to puke, please try to make it to the bathroom”

The scent of Keith’s vomit was bad enough. He didn’t need Matt puking, he was liable to start vomiting at any moment as it was. The chicken looked good, tasted good, but the amount of oil coupled with the scent was definitely not good.

Matt nodded, chicken bone still his mouth

“I think I’m going to eat and run before you start sucking down that blood”

“Matthew!”

Matt shrugged

“He said to go if I’m feeling sick, I’m feeling sick, take care of meeee”

Eh. Close enough. He had Keith to nurse as it was

“I’m sorry, Lance. Matt’s banned from drinking until we get home”

Good luck with that one. Matt not drinking was like Keith not having coffee. If he wanted to drink, he would. That was just how Matt was

“What? Babe. Nooooo”

“You should have thought about that before you ruined our plans. You reap what you sow”

“Lance, please tell me we’re on the first plane out of here tomorrow”

He got it. He was interrupting their lives. Yep. He knew it. Rieva and Matt should be back in America. He’d lasted long enough on his own. He could manage

“You guys can go if you really want to, but I want to spend some more time here”

Rieva elbowed Matt

“Lance, we’re not leaving until you are ready”

Open wound. Pour in salt. Bam. Same feeling as what he felt at Rieva mothering him

“I’ll think about it some more. Thanks for the help earlier. It felt good to get things organised”

“You’re very welcome. Don’t stay up too late”

That meant no walk along the beach alone at night. Too bad for Rieva that he was going to. Lance supposed it was a bit weird, but to him it was like a treat for making it through the day. He could walk the beach, swim if he felt like it, breathe in the salt air and just let go

“Alright. Off you both go. I’ll take care of the clean up”

He’d said alright. Not that he’d promised to. It’d been far too long since he’d been swimming and he’d always loved the water. Going home meant returning to dry inland heat and not a pool in sight. Why couldn’t people just trust him to make the choices that made him happy and his head less busy? No one bothered him. He bothered no one. He always dressed warmly enough... He’d wake Keith up and let him know before he went. No one could be mad at him for that. This was why he’d been keeping so much to himself. Because he knew his mental health was being a little shit and his ego a flaring arsehole. He’d asked for time, not for love to be shoved down his throat at the first possible instance until it choked him.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: Memory Lane

Had this been any other scene, I would have thought the the two weren’t well matched. Lu Mingze, who looked like a middle school child on his way to prom, held a frigid and superior glint in his eye, looking at Lu Mingfei like a stork would look at a fish. Lu Mingfei on the other hand, a man in his twenties, held a resolute expression, but the twitch in his wrist revealed his nerves.

“Didn’t I promise you, brother, that you could have anything you want... almost anything, for the price of your body... your soul?” Mingze spoke softly, almost soothingly, like he was trying to persuade someone away from the ledge of a building, while at the same time, not really caring whether or not he jumped. “And haven’t I dealt fairly with you? Right after we got off this boat, did you save Nono and kill the King of Bronze and Fire?”

“Only... I couldn’t give you the credit. So you were still sad and lonely. Even if you couldn’t admit it.” 

The young boy gave a bitter laugh, but his eyes were sad, his expression disappointed.

Lu Mingfei said nothing as he listened, but he didn’t smile or joke around. The turbulent wind lifted the waves under the boat and it crashed hard against the rough surf but both kept their balance.

“I could have killed Caesar and given you Nono, but you didn’t want that either. I don’t understand, brother. You could easily have the power to take the victory against all the hybrids in the world. But you would rather fight me to stay in your miserable life? Why?”

“Don’t act like you care about me, little devil.” Lu Mingfei finally spoke and his voice came out as a soft, hoarse whisper. “You only want my soul. You don’t care about how I feel or how miserable my life is. Or else you wouldn’t make such an unreasonable bargain.”

“How is it unreasonable? The amount of power I grant is the greatest in the world. It’s unreasonable to ask for a discount because you’re too cowardly to pay the price.” He said, his voice taking on a hard edge.

“Shut up.” Mingfei’s voice grew softer.

“Alright. You’re the big brother. If you want me to shut up, I will. But we don’t have to be enemies like this.”

I looked to Mingfei. Even though both brandished weapons, neither were eager to be the first to attack.

“Aren’t you going to take revenge on this world that ignores you, puts you down and manipulates you? What have I done to turn you against me and take the side of the world that mistreats you?”

Mingfei’s eyes, which had been downcast and pensive snapped into focus. He crossed the distance between them in a single blurred motion. The blades pressed against each other, squealing as they scraped along their length. “All of this is your fault.”

“Is it?” Mingze suddenly dropped to the floor, landing on the palm of his hand and lifting himself from the deck, drilling both of his feet into Mingfei’s stomach in a flying kick. He let his feet drop and leaped again, slamming his skull into his chin.

Mingfei staggered hard against the railing, dazed, blood tricking from his split lip.

“All of this is my fault?” Mingze stalked forward, crouching low like a prowling lion. “You have no idea of the ways of the world, and even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe it. Everyone around you is telling you... you almost believed them. But she dissuaded you. She lulled you back into your dream. And well... here we are.”

“It’s not me you’re fighting, brother. You’re fighting the truth. I think you know...”

Lu Mingfei wiped the blood from his lip. “If you have something to say, you should say it!”

Mingze stopped his advance. He straightened up, growing cool again. “No... you wont’ believe me. It’s easier to show you.”

He turned and looked at me. He moved unnaturally fast, like a pouncing eagle. But I wasn’t slow either. I caught his arm before he could plunge the knife into my chest.

His smile was absolutely delighted. “You’ve gotten stronger! Amazing!”

I pushed his arm away and kicked hard at his knees, but he was faster. My neck caught his forearm and I was knocked into rail and somersaulted overboard. 

I heard Lu Mingfei calling for me but dark tentacles reached up and wrapped around my neck and arms, dragging me into the depths of the water. I could see the moonlight above my head shimmering in the water’s surface.  The dark blue began to close in. 

“Mingfei!” 

I sat up. The world smelled of gasoline and garbage. Where was I now? An alley? I was in a city. A place I didn’t recognize. Across the street, a bright sign advertised an internet cafe in bright Chinese characters, but the cafe was closed.

“Mingfei?”

I gathered myself to my feet. This wasn’t my dream. These had to be Mingfei’s dreams. I was wet, but then again, it was raining. The dirt and the rain mixed together, staining my white skirt. I examined my clothes, wondering why I was wearing these.

Dark shadows suddenly appeared in the entrance of the alley. Four men approached, all of Chinese descent. They sneered at me, licking their lips. One snapped a pocketknife in his hand, opened and closed. 

“I’m not a helpless girl.” I told them. “You’d best move along.”

They weren’t listening. They actually started laughing. I pressed my lips together and prepared to fight. Even in the dream world, I was still a hybrid. 

I didn’t bother waiting for them to attack first. I went for the knife, grabbing the mans wrist and using his natural twitch response to propel my foot into his face. My momentum carried me over his head. I planted both hands on his shoulders like a gymnast on the bar. My legs opened in a full split, the heads of the men on either side of them making a satisfying crack. 

I landed easily and turned to face them again. I expected them to back off but now they seemed to be twice as large. In the blink of an eye, thye’d turned into monsters with batlike wings and eyes that burned like torches. They screeched, lashing out with claws like meat hooks that tore at my clothes and ripped into my skin.

“Meixiu!” Mingfei charged into the group.

But Servitors were nothing to be fighting without heavy weapons or a Soul Skill. He threw a punch that could have split a man’s skull but the Servitor’s head was firm like granite. Instead, it grabbed Mingfei’s arm and sank its teeth into him.

“Meixiu! Run! Run! Get out of here!” Blood gushed down his arm and splattered on the ground. His arc knives made gashes in the flesh of the monsters but he was surrounded and seconds from being overwhelmed.

I couldn’t run. If he died in this dream, he might never wake up! As I ran back into the fray, I heard a voice. “You remember this... don’t you brother?”

Mingze was watching, standing the rain, positively gleeful. “Do you remember what happened?”

I had no idea what he was referring to and I didn’t care. I leaped onto the back of one that was sneaking up behind him and dug my fingers into its eyes.

“Argh!” A spine suddenly protruded from its back and pierced me about a half an inch. I staggered away and landed, falling to my side. The pain was unbearable.

“Damn it!” Mingfei’s voice drew my eyes open. It wasn’t a normal human voice, but deepening and snarling with hatred. I looked up.

Mingfei roared in a fury, his eyes burned molten gold. He grabbed the servitor that had injured me by the head and gave it a savage twist. My stomach turned at the dull gravelly crunch. The servitor collapsed, lying prone, but his head turned completely around, staring into the rain with a permanent expression of surprise.

Mingfei dismantled these creatures, striking their joints into unnatural positions. Each blow made the air tremble and the armored skin of his opponents shattered like glass until he alone stood among writhing bodies, his eyes burning, staring into space.

Mingze was silent, expressionless.

I opened my mouth to call to him, but nothing came out.