#jokes aside this part is wild and i have only read like. 24 chapters???

[beanghostprincess]

I started reading Steel Ball Run and I for sure did not expect Johnny to enter the race only because of Gyro's balls but I believe this to be pretty in character for a Joestar

[blarrghe]

Shall We Not Revenge? Ch. 24

I finally wrote something!! This was going to just be a drabble, but now it’s a chapter. A very short chapter that I am posting the entirety of under the cut because it’s been so long since I wrote anything.

I recently broke my Inquisitor’s heart, and fortunately/unfortunately he and Dorian took the leap to start their relationship at pretty much the exact same time. I’ve had it in my notes to write a bit on how that affects things, so this soft bit of drabble quickly became uh,,, sad. On a lighter note, I got to make use of my extensive knowledge of curly hair physics. Ps. Shout out to @midnightprelude for giving me the push I needed to finish this thing. Sorry it got less fluffy, in senses both literary and literal... Read on AO3 or under the cut!

“Mm,” the sound Dorian’s waking mind made in response to Taren’s movement beside him was muffled by pillows at his lips. With eyes still closed he turned his head to breathe in the scent of Taren’s hair, and found it brushing up against his lips, wisping as it did in light, messy locks over Taren’s neck. Dorian shifted a little closer, hooking an arm around his torso and pulling Taren’s body up against his so that he could feel the bones of his hips press against the curve of his back. His hands clutched over his chest and then seemed naturally to drift downward, pulling his torso into place. It fit so perfectly there, pressed snugly up against his own. He leaned his head in and pushed his lips through that soft cloud of tickling, lightly pine-scented hair until they found purchase at the base of his neck, and the kiss he left there fell out of him like instinct, barely conscious and utterly natural.

“Soft.” Another murmur from his still mostly-slumbering mind tumbled out of his mouth as he nudged the delicate locks aside, as he brought a hand up to brush his fingers over the smooth section of hair that had been shaved close and patterned for the ball in Orlais. That night seemed oddly far away now, and Taren hadn’t tended to the intricate hairstyle whatsoever, but the soft fuzz left there betrayed the shortness of time, and Dorian could still feel the light bumps of texture under the stroke of his thumb, playing at his fingertips like embossed velvet.

Taren responded to his sleepy mutterings with one of his own.

“Hmm?” It came with the inflection of a question, as he turned his face and shook the loose hair from where it draped over his forehead and eyes.

“Your hair is so soft.” Dorian muttered the explanation into his neck, his nose still poking through some of it. Soft.

He felt Taren’s laugh rising up through the warm neck under his lips, lightly shaking the body his arms were hung around. The movements pulled him just a little closer to wakefulness, and a little farther away from the uninhibited musings of sleep. He was doing that thing again, he realised as he opened an eye and started to allow daylight and reality to float in, that unguarded thing. Waking up drooling and even a little sweaty - ungroomed, half naked - in another man’s bed, mumbling inarticulate compliments about the softness of hair. No wonder Taren was laughing.

“Thank you,” Taren replied between chuckles. He turned, breaking from the secure mould Dorian had made for him only to press himself back into place, his hands finding their way into his hair now, as though to compare their morning states of unkempt.

“Good morning.”

Dorian opened his other eye as Taren’s fingers delicately swept some of his own hair off his forehead, and as he came into focus, so did his thoughts. Mostly, they were pleasant; grateful observations on Taren’s full lips and bright eyes, and a more fully conscious appreciation of how good his body felt, still connected to him from belly to thigh, how comfortable. A leg shifted to wrap itself over one of his, and he couldn’t help but smile. But there was another thought, too, worming it’s way uninvited into the forefront of his mind: the nagging little voice that berated him for his naivety in being kept so close - in being seen and held and woken up with in such an unmanicured state. For a second, his blissful morning was soured by the thought that he shouldn’t really be there at all, but that he should have at least risen a little earlier, and fixed his hair.

His hair. It was getting long too, going uncared for as it had on the extended trips across the demon-ridden and war torn regions of the south. There was no one to cut hair in Skyhold - at least, no one he’d trust. For one entirely unsympathetic reason, he was beginning to regret not joining Taren on his recent excursion to free the man formerly known as Blackwall from a Val Reauex prison: it would have provided an opportunity to seek out a proper barber. He kept that thought neatly to himself; southerners never seemed to understand the importance of a well-styled appearance.

Taren’s hair tickled his nose again as he nestled deeper into the embrace, and he let his vanity fall aside without even trying to, though that little voice insisted on whispering a new question into his collection of lovestruck anxieties. How might Taren perceive his close attention to appearance? Would he find it tiresome, once the novelty of it all wore off? Look at you, it seemed to say, you’re being vain, and you aren’t even doing it well. Taren’s approach, of course, seemed only to be to keep himself cleaned and sweet smelling, without a single care being given to the rest. It suited him, but there seemed to Dorian to be a certain bravery to that which he did not possess.

But here he was, unkempt and drowsy, spending another morning where he shouldn’t, waking within arms reach of the thing he had told himself he wasn’t allowed to have. His hair was long, and without creams or pomades to keep it in check, and Taren was pushing it out if his eyes, and he was feeling a strangely comfortable uncomfortableness with all of it. Taren’s lips met his forehead, and the voice reminding him that this was a perilous position to be in quieted a little more.

“Good morning.” He returned the greeting as he let his fingers fall through Taren’s hair and graze the length of his smooth cheek, taking the moment to study the little straw coloured flecks that sparkled in the mossy green of his eyes. Dorian leaned in, pulling Taren’s chin gently with one hand and his waist in tight with the other, and kissed him deeply, morning breath be damned. Taren returned the kiss, and he eagerly invited the quickening of his heart that came with it, falling into the all-encompassing sensation of warmth that drove away all his other cares. He let his mind go back to being mostly unconscious, let it go on with uninhibited wanting and appreciation for the softness of hair, of lips, of warm skin on his. His hands moved and he kissed and kissed and rolled Taren over him and pulled and felt and squeezed. Waking up where he shouldn’t, doing that unguarded thing with his thoughts and feelings and actions, keeping the day away for just a minute longer. And Taren kissed him back, dug his hands into his back and squeezed himself into it with his eyes closed and his breath quick, until he didn’t. Two blinks, and a sigh.

Taren was positioned over him when he stopped, blankets tangled about his ankles and morning sun glowing through his wild hair. Dorian’s hands were at his waist, poised to become more than just gentle guides for his hips - ready to reprise the passion of the previous night. Taren rolled off of him, slowing things down with a quick run of his fingers through his hair, which smoothed under them but sprang back in all directions as soon as they were through. Some of the curls broke apart with his fingers, and if anything the mess only grew from the attempted taming. He moved to sit up, looking away with an expression Dorian couldn’t read, but kept his legs wound over his.  

Dorian sat up too, staying close and planting a few more kisses onto his shoulder and neck as he did, then taking his own hands up to the soft tangles sprouting from Taren’s head.

“Sorry, I… um -” Taren gave his head a shake and flashed Dorian half a smile, one that was still lopsided and warm, but sad at the edges. He wondered which weight was holding it down - there were plenty to choose from - but commented on the hair instead. He patted down a lock that had gone particularly upright, tucking it carefully behind his ear and regarding the rest with a smile that bordered on laughing.

Taren caught his amused look and the smile seemed to rise just a little higher. He grabbed a few more locks from their stray places and tried to find them homes behind his ears, but they didn’t stay. Dorian chuckled.

“What - why, what does it look like?” Taren was back to speaking through quiet laughter, and he leaned his shoulder into Dorian’s.

“Magnificent.” Dorian replied, meaning it. Chunks of hair in all directions, some lumped to the side in a cloud of not-quite curls, and some smoothed into a crushed, bent fold where his head had pressed it into his pillow overnight. Some shorter pieces near his forehead stood straight up in little spirals, and the whole coiffure had no discernible part to it, with sections tossed this way and that. It was wild, hilarious in a way and unbearably sexy in another.

“Sometimes I think I should cut it all off.” Taren joked, pulling it all back now. With a few quick flicks of his hands he’d wrangled it into a thick braid, the ends of which still splayed out in haphazard curls and waves, but of a more orderly sort. The short pieces that didn’t make it still stuck up, but for the most part the wildness had been tamed.

“Don’t you dare.” Dorian tugged gently at the braid, pushing Taren’s head toward his own for another kiss. The kiss that Taren returned was full and warm, but as he pulled away the edges of his mouth were reluctant again.

Dorian frowned. “Something on your mind, Inquisitor?” He said it teasingly, hoping for an eye-roll and a playful reprimand, instead he received another sigh.

“Just a lot of work to do.”

Maybe bringing the title into the picture was the wrong choice, as Taren seemed now even more ready to jump up and begin his usual unceasing bustle about the fortress.

“Of course, no rest for the wicked.” Dorian kept his tone teasing, and nipped at his neck with sensual emphasis for wicked.

Taren didn’t take to the opportunity, however, and shuffled his legs out and his body up into still more of an upright seat. He kissed Dorian tenderly, once on the cheek and then softly on the lips.

“I have to get going.” He said apologetically, something dark and unreadable again behind his eyes. Dorian ceased his attempts at temptation and let him rise, watching him as he made his way to the folded piles of clothes on his dresser and hastily threw some on. The drab beiges and browns of wool and leather were a disappointing sight after the glow of tan skin and artful tattoos, but he tried not to let it show on his face.

“If you ever take a break, you know where to find me.” He said, trying to sound casual despite the flutter of his heart. The rejection felt shattering in a way that was utterly unreasonable and almost certainly unfair, but the sneering little voice that had been silenced under soft messy hair and impulsive kisses was screaming at him now,  and it was all he could do to keep it from biting into the tone of his speech as he tried to say something gentlemanly and take his leave.

It isn’t that, he told himself once he’d settled into his own work in a quiet alcove of the library, carrying on a debate with the suspicious voice in his head that insisted that whatever was wrong, he must surely be the cause. It had taken him the better part of the morning to weed out his selfish reactions from the truth. There was plenty to choose from besides his breath or hair or his being an Altus, plenty to worry an Inquisitor which had nothing at all to do with him. The most genuine person he had ever met was telling him that it was the work, and who was he to make it all about himself, anyway?

He sighed, rereading a sentence in the dusty tome before him for the seventeenth time, words tangling about like Taren’s morning hair. Hair that was messy and soft and sexy and wild, but wilder, he knew, because of how he had spent his night tossing and turning in his sleep, restless with some nightmare that crept into their bed even after he woke.

He shook his head at the jumbled words and runes that refused to make sense before him, letting the unhelpful little voice get one last word in. You are good for sex and excitement, not this, it said. You have never opened your heart to anyone, why should he trust you?

[rhodanum]

COVID-19 roller-coaster

Despite its personal nature, I'm making this entry public, since it may be of aid to others as well, in these circumstances. Particularly for people who might end up having highly atypical symptoms like I did.

Long story short, I've been scarce from most forms of social-media for over a month because I caught COVID-19 some time before my country instituted lockdown measures. I was in hospital from the start to the middle of April (roughly two weeks) and started showing symptoms as early as March 18 (runny nose, sneezing, that I ascribed to a common cold, since at that time they weren't considered something that could present in the case of COVID-19). It took me well over a week and a half of battling symptoms at home and calling four ambulances in that time-frame, always getting dismissed on account of my symptoms not matching up with the standards presentation (aside for the runny nose and sneezing, the vast majority of my symptoms have been gastrointestinal, neurological and renal in nature, not pulmonary) before I was finally tested (on April 1st) and admitted to hospital the following day, when the test came back positive.

My timeline of events has been the following (and I'm still currently symptomatic + showed one new COVID-specific symptom even after two negative tests and discharge from hospital):

March 18 - March 23 -- constantly runny nose, post-nasal drip, sneezing all the time, a light cough. Nothing too bothersome, I dismissed it as a seasonal cold. At this point I started burping heavily, out of nowhere, for seemingly no reason.

March 24 -- woke up with a terrible back-pain, roughly in the area of both kidneys. The pain lessened as the day went on. In the evening, I had my first very clear neurological symptom -- my eyesight filled with a sort of black static (like a TV without cable signal), to the point where I could no longer read letters, discern my own features in the mirror or tell how many fingers my father was holding up. Thinking I was having a stroke or hell knows what else, I called an ambulance. The static-like effect lasted around 20 minutes and was completely gone by the time an ambulance crew arrived. They checked my blood-pressure and it was high due to the panic (174/109), so they dismissed the static as a result of the high BP and gave me an ACE-inhibitor pill to lower it.

March 25 -- started feeling kind of grotty around lunch-time. At around five in the afternoon, I vomited up all of my lunch completely undigested. An hour later, the true wave arrived. I went to the toilet with explosive, orange-colored, watery diarrhea, massive urination (wasn't drinking more fluids than usual) and vomiting, all at the exact same time. I'm not joking in the slightest when I say that I had my head in the sink, to puke and my ass in the toilet, to pee and shit out orange water, all three at the same time. The puking subsided, but the diarrhea and the urination kept up and, for the next two hours, I went to the toilet to shit and pee every fifteen minutes. By this point I was getting dangerously dehydrated, so we called our GP. She, suspecting it might be Norovirus, told me that the diarrhea needs to be stopped ASAP and my father went to buy me the necessary medicine.

March 26 -- the diarrhea was relatively under control due to the medication, but I was still pissing buckets and having to constantly drink tea to stay hydrated, with how fast my kidneys were clearing fluids. The light cough that started on March 18 got a bit worse, but not by much. I had no appetite whatsoever and attempted to eat a little at lunch, but only ended up puking again. I was worried enough about the whole thing that I called an ambulance again. The doctors claimed it couldn't be COVID-19 (by this point I was reading reports of diarrhea as a common early symptom). He listened to my lungs and said they're clear. Then he gave me an anti-emetic shot in the bum (so I wouldn't keep throwing up) and tapped my kidneys a few times. When I flinched, he said it might be a urinary tract infection and prescribed me a list of medication, with the antibiotic Ciprofloxacin at the front of it (keep this one in mind, it's very relevant for what happened next). I didn't actually have any pain when I urinated and the urine itself wasn't dark, but rather almost as colorless as water. I was just peeing far too much and the area round my kidneys was tender.

March 27 -- woke up with a persistent cough early in the morning and a sensation of  tickling in the throat, which made the cough worse. This morphed into a  very specific kind of migraine, starting from the very back of the skull  and radiating to the front, to the point where the backs of my eyes  hurt terribly as well. Still peeing a ton and drinking tea and water to stay hydrated. General state of malaise, as if there was something terribly toxic in my body, leeching all the strength and vitality out of it. Started taking the UTI antibiotic (Ciprofloxacin). My eyelids were twitching involuntarily and I had an up-and-down sensation, with some parts of the day being slightly better (able to sit at my desk and watch an episode of a show) and others, just one or two hours later, making me feel so horrid that all I could do was lie motionless in bed. Still had no appetite and force myself to eat a bit of vegetable broth Dad made for me.

March 28 -- horrendous night between the 27th and the 28th. A sensation like a knot developed in my throat and got worse and worse. To the point where, at around three in the morning, I could no longer swallow my own saliva. I could still breathe perfectly fine, no shortness of breath of anything else like that, but the feeling was as if my esophagus went and swelled shut. I had to gather up a large quantity of saliva in my mouth, tip my head back and struggle for several dozen seconds, to be able to swallow. I very nearly choked when trying to take my medication in the morning, after a sleepless night. The inability to swallow subsided, but the sensation of a knot in the throat remained. Feeling of malaise and weakness grew worse. A sensation of brain-fog came on and I could no longer focus on anything. I attempted to read fic on my phone and just ended up reading the same chapter three dozen times, because my brain could no longer process the words. Difficulty speaking and articulating my thoughts. I could still think well enough, but translating said thoughts to words or writing was incredibly difficult. I spent a whole minute just trying to get the word 'insulin' out through my mouth. I knew it, I remembered it, I just couldn't transform it from a thought into a word without a great deal of effort.

March 29 -- another nightmarish night. Not due to problems swallowing, but inability to actually fall asleep. All attempts went the exact same way:

closed eyes and attempted to fall asleep

started hearing a loud, constant and almost nonsensical monologue in my head, in my own voice, often jumping from one language to the other (English, Romanian, Italian, etc all languages I knew). It's difficult for me to describe the contents now, since they barely made any sense, but they were almost everything from a recitation of a shopping list all the way to narratives that didn't make any sense ("and then, get this, the clock bashed his face in!")

started seeing images behind my eyelids, almost as nonsensical as the words -- parades of wild color, me falling through Salvador Dali-like landscapes, images shifting hundreds of times per minute

None of these were dreams, everything was happening while I was still awake and struggling to fall asleep. I'd close my eyes, struggle mightily to empty my head and go the fuck to sleep... and within seconds, the cavalcade of words and disjointed images would erupt again, with me having almost no control over it. After a few minutes I always found the strength to jerk up and open my eyes, which silenced the voice and ended the images... but then I'd have to try closing my eyes again and the circus would repeat again. This happened hundreds of times over the entire night, before I was finally able to fall asleep for a few hours, at six on the morning.

Woke up absolutely soaked in incredibly foul-smelling sweat. So much of it that my bedsheets were wet as well, not just my pajamas.Used what little strength I had to strip the bed, take a shower and change my pajamas. By lunch I was feeling the worst I'd ever felt, shaking convulsively without having any kind of fever and begging 112 (our emergency number) for help. Several friends were worried I might be going into some kind of shock. Our ambulance service was swamped and Dad used his connections to get a hazmat-equipped team to come home and test me for COVID-19. The hazmat team claimed, like the previous ambulance crew, that I couldn't have COVID-19 since I didn't have a fever and wasn't coughing my head off. I pressed to get taken to the hospital and tested, but between them berating me for taking the risk and Dad looking petrified at the idea of me going to a hospital (and getting exposed, at this time he was still convinced I just had a strange flu), I caved and remained home. They said I was probably having an anxiety attack and left.

March 30 -- yet another sleepless night with visual and auditory hallucinations whenever I attempted to fall asleep. Utterly desperate and frantic, I spent the night scouring the Internet for links between COVID-19 and other viral illnesses and hallucinations. In the end, while reading the prospects for all the pills I was taking, I found the culprit -- the goddamn Ciprofloxacin, the antibiotic for the presumed UTI (the area around my kidneys still kept hurting, but the urination continued to be painless, clear and frequent). Hallucinations and psychotic episodes were listed as one of its 'rare side-effects'. Not so rare in my case and other researchers are now taking a hard look at it and other antibiotics in its family, since the numbers of people who end up hallucinating while on the things is apparently larger than previously suspected.  

I immediately contacted my GP, who was shocked at what reaction my body ended up having to Cipro. Nevertheless, she immediately switched me over to another antibiotic we had in the house -- Augmentin, a more broad-spectrum one, but one I'd taken in the past for bacterial infections and responded well to. Urinating slightly less and able to eat a bit more, but the pain in the kidney area was getting worse.  

March 31 -- night hallucinations continued, but at a slightly reduced intensity, once off Cipro. Woke up completely covered in horrible-smelling sweat once again. Left arm numb and then painful, a reaction I was left with after a long bout of the monster-flu two years ago left me with peripheral nerve-damage due to the immune system going completely bonkers and attacking the nerves. This symptom appearing again made it clear that I was experiencing autoimmune issues once again, as a result of my immune system fighting against the SARS-CoV2 virus.

The pain in the kidney-area was growing worse and worse, even with the Augmentin treatment. By evening, I'd called a fourth ambulance in roughly seven days. The paramedics were even more dismissive than the last crew, said I just had some sand or maybe a small kidney-stone and to wait it out at home. They completely refused to take me to the hospital, claiming that I ran the risk of a COVID-19 infection over a small issue.

April 1 -- a slightly better night of sleep, the hallucinations reduced to 10% of their previous intensity, so clearly an effect of the Cipro. The brain-fog was still presence and further research pointed to it as a possible effect of COVID-19, rather than the antibiotic. Woke up drenched in sweat once again, with my cervical area hurting horribly, my kidneys in pain as well and my left arm numb once more. Completely furious and utterly fed-up, I said "fuck the ambulance service!" and begged Dad to take me to the nearest ER by car. By this point I was fearing for my kidneys and feeling so horrid that I was 100% willing to take the chance of COVID-19 infection, if I didn't have it, just to figure out what the bleeding fuck what happening to my body. He refused initially, fearing I would be infected, but was left with no choice in the matter when I threatened to walk to the hospital by myself if he wasn't willing to help.

At the ER closest to our apartment, a hazmat-equipped doctor working triage had me sit down and fill up a questionnaire of symptoms. Even without fever or difficulty breathing or persistent cough (my cough came only in the morning and lasted just a few minutes each day), everything else was enough to make him note "possible COVID-19" and give me a paper to present to our national institute of infectious diseases, so I could get tested. So Dad and me left the ER and drove to Matei Bals Institute, where the doctors were rather puzzled by me, coming in without a fever  and not coughing my lungs out. The chest x-ray turning out perfect (nothing in the lungs) only seemed to increase their skepticism, but they nevertheless tested me, before sending me home and telling me I'd receive the result in 24 hours. Their only recommendation was to talk to a nephrologist on the phone, re: the kidneys.

April 2 -- felt slightly better, though still under heavy malaise and the kidneys were more painful than ever. At about nine in the evening I got a phone call from our local public health authorities, who told me that my RT-PCR test for COVID-19 was positive. Honestly? Instead of being frightened, I was relieved. After almost two weeks of the strangest collection of symptoms I'd ever had, I finally had an explanation as to what on earth was causing them and was vindicated re: the four ambulance crews that dismissed me. The authorities sent an ambulance that picked me up, right along with Dad (quite unwillingly in his case, he only had some sniffles and a minor indigestion, despite having nursed me for well over a week). We got taken back to Matei Bals Institute, where Dad was tested and sent back home (since he didn't have much in the way of symptoms and they had no reason to keep him) and I was admitted into one of the wards. The time was roughly two in the morning.

April 3 -- barely slept due to the noise and light in the ward. Had blood drawn, for blood-work. Malaise as terrible as ever. Started treatment with HCQ (Plaquenil), the anti-malaria drug. The rest of my ward-mates were absolute sweethearts, but I was much too weak to do much other than get out of bed to trudge to the communal bathroom down the hall. Urination (which had slowly reduced in frequency from March 25) still a bit more frequent than usual. Begged the doctor for something to let me sleep and was given a few metallic-tasting, oily drops to drink in the evening. Had the first good night of sleep in well over a week.  

April 4 -- at this point, the kidney pain got so bad that I could barely walk to the bathroom and would grit my teeth in pain whenever I sat down in the bed. Asked one of the nurses for help, with no visible result. The pain was getting worse and I could no longer get out of bed, just lying there in a listless lump. Several of the other people in the beds next to me went to pound on the door separating the 'red zone' from the 'green zone' and demanded that the nurses or doctor see to me. In the end, a young nurse came and struggled for almost thirty minutes to get an IV in me. She was inexperienced and, coupled with having to wear three pairs of gloves and a visor on her face, she could barely see or feel my veins. The result was that she ended up blowing thee of my veins (two on the right hand, one on the left) before she finally managed to get the IV needle in and secured it. Then I got put on a heavy-duty regimen of IV Ceftriaxone (antibiotic), hydration fluids and painkillers, for the next few days.

April 5 - 7 -- slowly got better on the IV regimen. Gained a bit more strength, the pain in the kidney area subsided and I could walk again. Gave urine samples twice and they came back clean (no bacterial infection in the kidneys or urinary tract). On April 6 we were told that the whole lot of us (the seven of us crowded in that ward and everyone else in the same wing of the Institute) would be transferred the next day to Colentina Hospital, just a stone's throw away, which had been officially designated as a COVID-19 support unit. The reasoning was that we'd be placed in smaller wards and the Matei Bals Institute could focus on the critical and very difficult cases, that required everything from oxygen support to full intubation. My IV needle was removed on April 7 and we, dragging our luggage after us, walked from our wing at Matei Bals to the entrance to Colentina, just two hundred meters away. We were dispersed all over the Internal Medicine wing and I got lucky enough to be placed in a room with just two beds, sharing with a lovely 81 year-old lady, who was COVID-19 positive, but utterly asymptomatic. Got blood drawn again and also had an EKG done (no cardiac abnormalities). Also had another x-ray, lungs still entirely clear. Got tested for COVID-19 once again, but the result came back 'inconclusive' the next day. The treatment with Plaquenil was ceased and I received no further medication, save for what I requested to handle inconsistent stools.  

April 8 - 9 -- kept getting stronger and stronger, able to sit out of bed and walk for extensive periods of time. Bowels still somewhat disturbed and shifting between constipation and diarrhea and then back again,with the stool always being a bright, sun-yellow. Otherwise no pains or other malaise present. Got tested for COVID-19 once more on April 9.  

April 10 -- some of the first ever symptoms I had, in middle March (runny nose, sneezing, stomach constantly full of air and always burping) came back at this point, along with noticeable muscle soreness in my upper arms and shoulders, even though I'd never made any great physical effort. The test taken on April 9 came back 'negative', so the doctors ignored me when I told them that I was having old symptoms come in for an encore. Tested once again.

April 11 -- the burping and stomach-distention due to air grew worse. The 'knot in throat' symptom returned. The test from April 10 came back 'negative' as well and since I fulfilled the criteria of two negatives in 24 hours, I was discharged and had Dad come and pick me up. The Colentina doctors, completely inexperienced re: COVID-19, claimed that my gastro symptoms were likely caused by something else.

April 12 - 16 -- uncertain period, with the typical 'up and down' pattern making a return. One day I was feeling fine and had energy, the other way I was wiped out and could barely get out of bed. Frequent urination (once every twenty minutes) decided to make a return as well and I broke down in tears. Also got a brand-new symptom -- pink-eye straight out of nowhere, which has also been associated with COVID-19 infection.

April 17 -- worst day since the first ones in hospital. Completely exhausted and dealing with a horrible pain at the base of my skull, that was pulsing slowly, radiating down the spinal column and up into the skull. Doesn't respond to Paracetamol and I didn't want to risk taking Ibuprofen. Getting dehydrated due to the constant urination once more, so I started drinking water with electrolytes whenever I could. Fell down on my way to the bathroom, when a veil of darkness passed over my eyes for a few seconds. Everything was spinning and I felt as if I was disassociating and floating away from my own body. Felt better only after more water with electrolytes.

April 18 - 20 -- still felt crappy, but marginally better than on the 17th. Pumped myself full of vitamin C, vitamin D (have a long-standing deficiency there), magnesium and potassium from bananas, kale, spinach, probiotics from yogurt with live cultures in it, to re-balance my likely ravaged gut flora. My appetite, decent in the hospital and shot to pieces again on the 17th, was slowly making a comeback once more. Still burping and full of air no matter what I ate, still pissing frequently. One of the things with COVID-19 was that it made my GERD flare up about ten times worse than usual. Started treating it with a proton-pump inhibitor (Omez) which handled the extra acidity and the heartburn, but not the burping and trapped air. Kidney region started hurting again and at this point I didn't know if it even was the kidneys themselves (both urine samples and blood-work in the hospital showed no problem whatsoever with the kidney function, in spite of the weird symptoms) or just nerve-pain in the area of the kidneys.

April 21 - 23 -- slowly gained strength once more, able to get out of bed and work at my PC. Pain in the kidney region came and went, urination slowly started to reduce in frequency once again. Still drinking water with electrolytes, taking vitamins, eating as varied as I can.

April 24 -- best day so far today (hope I don't bloody jinx it). Energy levels almost back to my baseline, though still left with burping, constant air in stomach and general laziness in digestion. Stool of normal frequency, color and texture after the probiotic regimen. Left with lingering nerve-pain in the cervical area, the shoulders, the lower left ribs in the front and the lower back. Urination frequency reducing to more normal levels once again, feeling less like a constantly dehydrated prune.

It's been... almost five weeks since the first symptoms. A long and exhausting ride and I still don't know what might pop up again. But still far preferable to those poor souls who end up unable to breathe and in full-blown ARDS, needing to be sent straight into the ICU.

Why did I have another flare-up, after two negative tests? Your guess is as good as mine, right now. I have a few theories:

consistent with those articles coming out of South Korea, false negative results might be more widespread than we suspect, in some cases. Either because the virus might be able to hide in the central nervous system and pop back up again for another tangle with one's immunity or because the immune response can lower viral concentration in the body enough for a test to come back negative, without the virus actually being defeated for good.

the test results are correct, the virus is gone from my body and all of what I'm still dealing with are a the result of post-viral systemic inflammation. Not an unlikely thing, since I have a short history of dealing with autoimmune bullshit after that flu two years ago left me with enough nerve-damage that I was unable to walk for a whole month and took six months to recover fully + still wake up with the left side of the body temporarily numb and huge pain in the spinal column if I ever sleep on a shitty mattress, that doesn't offer decent back support.

I want to do more blood-work, see if markers for autoimmune activity show up, but unfortunately, that's pretty difficult to do now, with most hospitals up to their eyeballs in COVID-19 and private clinics charging an eye-watering price for such tests. Dad is almost broke until pay-day, due to how much money he spent in the last month on medicine for me, so it will have to wait or we'll figure something out if my situation worsens again and it becomes imperative to get treatment against autoimmune response. Taking this thing one day at a time.

An overview of my COVID-19 symptoms, good to keep an eye out for:

Gastrointestinal:

explosive, orange, foul-smelling diarrhea

excessive flatulence

vomiting

aggressive flare-up of GERD

excessive burping

swollen, painful stomach due to constantly trapped air

difficulty swallowing

feeling of knot stuck in throat

lack of appetite

Neurological:

temporarily failing vision due to static-like images over the eye's perception

twitching eyelids

nerve-pain in the cervical area

migraine starting at the back of the head and radiating to the backs of the eyes

nerve-pain in all sorts of odd places, coming and going (the left ankle, the left front rib, the right back rib, the kidney area)

dizziness

brain-fog and temporary difficulty with focusing / with coherent speech

Renal:

very frequent urination, though blood-work indicated no disfunctionality with the kidneys

Upper respiratory:

runny nose, post-nasal drip

sneezing

light cough, early in the morning, accompanied by a ticking in the throat sensation that set it off

Unsure how to categorize:

foul-smelling night-sweats, intense enough to soak through clothes and sheets

pink-eye

No shortness of breath, no fever, no lung involvement in my case. This is a virus that the human body responds to in ridiculously varied ways, from that cute little old lady at Colentina, who was totally asymptomatic, to me, where it manifested almost like bloody cholera (the violent diarrhea, vomiting and pissing at the same time, like something was trying to squeeze all of the water out of my body), to one of my ward-mates at Matei Bals, who had developed pneumonia and required moderate oxygen support and was well on the mend when we got dispersed, to the unfortunate souls who end up in ICU with ARDS.

Take care of yourselves, be vigilant and stay safe.

[olympivnshq]

congratulations nina ! if i’m dead honest, you had me with your first sentence in your description, consider me a fan ! THANATOS is an underrated deity very close to my heart and my hopes for him, while in no way rigid, were specific to say the least, and you both fulfilled and surpassed that in the most — dare i say, sublime way. we’re pleased to have you with your first faceclaim choice: CILLIAN MURPHY.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  OOC INFO.

Hey there! I’m Nina, 24 yo and I’m from GMT+3 timezone. It’s a pleasure to meet you all and I hope you guys have a good reading (sorry about how long this actually got, it wasn’t my plan).

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  DEITY  —  GENDER. AGE RANGE.

Thanatos — Cis male, 38-43.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ MORTAL NAME. JOB/OCCUPATION. BOROUGH/NEIGHBORHOOD.

Ambrose Malachy Raven, Professor of Theory of History and Historiography at Columbia University, Brooklyn.

☆ﾟ*・ HOW WOULD YOU PLAY THEM?

There is a cruelty in his ways that borders elegancy. It is subtle, extensively developed. He moves like a force of nature, compelling eyes to turn and passages to open, not through violence, but by an innate power that requires no effort from his part. Wherever he goes, the rawness of a child brought up in history always surfaces in the way he holds himself: poised, ageless, sharp. He couldn’t go unseen with the everlasting dark circles under his eyes and a burning cigarette between his fingers. Composure as well as wildness. A conflict in itself. But it is the kindness and honesty in his rare words, the eyes always reading the room, that makes him look somewhat broken, utterly dangerous. The man whose arms once provided comfort for every living thing can’t really shelter himself. The irony of a skin that can’t convey your own meaning.

It scares him so profoundly, Ambrose keeps the world at an arm’s length. The intelligent boy, who was once so free to love and to trust, grows reclusive as years go by. Because, somehow, he feels like there is something inside ready to come out. Someone who’s cruelty he wore everyday, a wildness he can’t really master. In a way, Thanatos was always a big part of who Ambrose was, almost as if they were intertwined throughout existence. The timelessness of a god who is vastness itself, who is cruelty and kindness, was bound to find its way into the surface. After all, death cannot be contained no matter how hard you try. And while the man fears his own wildness, the god dwells in it. He’s freedom, silence, eternity, absence. He’s memory, terrifying, peaceful, forgetting, heritage. Thanatos is the end, inevitable. And this ruthlessness is what scares Ambrose the most. He doesn’t quite know where he ends and that thing begins. Could it all be insanity? Or was it real? Is there any kind of separation to be found?

answer these questions: 1. would you like your character to be entering the roleplay at this stage in the plot, with or without their memories? Without their memories. I would rather have the chance to go through it as the game goes on. More opportunities to plot interesting things <3 2. are they more likely to stand with the pantheon or against it?  ( if you are choosing a god they may endeavour to dismantle it for whatever reason ) Thanatos doesn’t really have an agenda as of now, but he could be persuaded to fall for a side, depending on how things go. 3. what is their stand on mortals? Thanatos has spent his entire existence carrying souls into eternity. He watched them, held them close and gave them as much peace as they deserved. Aside from Hypnos, mortals are probably what Thanatos loves the most. Their fragility, intensity. It’s just fascinating how beautiful and ugly they can be at the same time.

☆ﾟ*・ GIVE US A SAMPLE OF YOUR WRITING!

SAMPLE PARAGRAPHS:

(So, I read through the main and decided to do two samples to cover up the first task I wasn’t around to do. The first one is about the metal cage idea and the other is a dream I kinda imagined Ambrose having about Hypnos. Hope this is ok!)

Brooklyn, 4:35 a.m.

When the light creeped through the window, his eyes opened in a familiar urgency.

Breath came violently into his lungs, heart beating fast enough to shatter itself into pieces. Blind and desperate, Ambrose realized it hurt. The fragility of a body that seemed incomplete; the vague feeling he needed to remember something, but couldn’t. Was this what insanity felt like? As though you had wings once and somehow lost them amidst the air, falling into a reality that didn’t belong to you, over and over again, until you were left screaming for someone you couldn’t remember.

But should he remember?

The cage cold to the touch. A nothingness surrounding him as though he was absence. And a name. The one which left his sore throat tired of screaming. Ambrose knew, as he did every day, that he had been dreaming. But the sinking reality of his mattress in a cold New York morning did nothing to erase those memories, nor did it hide the fact that there were parts missing. Of what happened, of who he was.

A month had gone by this way. Waking up on those sheets at the crack of dawn, grasping for air, and feeling like this skin was incapable of keeping him from falling apart. To look in the mirror was to see himself disfigured, and yet, to know that nothing had changed. Sometimes, Ambrose just stood there, allowing the tip of his fingers to run through his shape, outlining the muscles, the sharp cheekbones and the tattoos on his body. “You’re Ambrose Malachy Raven”, he would say, quietly, to himself. If words had power, his name should keep himself from going under.

Because, now, sleeping was actually dangerous. It brought pain he didn’t know existed. Confusion beyond repair. Could it be that Ambrose belonged to that suspended moment of violence, where sleep took him in his arms and held on into eternity? If so, to wake up screaming would only be reasonable. After all, to be torn apart from the one thing that made sense to you was actually cruel. It was like finding himself in this world in-between and being denied his own identity. No one deserved that.

Yet, all he had was this. The pain in his chest, those blue eyes looking back at him, chest falling. If only he had wings, Ambrose would fly back into silence and lose himself there, hoping to never be caged again.

Somewhere lost in time and space.

The moon was on its peak when the man stepped out for a walk. With a rather elegant cane on his hand to match his suit and the water rushing against the old constructions, he could feel his legs failing under him.

This body wasn’t young as it was once before. And it haunted him. To be this relieved it was over, and this scared because he didn’t know if or when he would come back. Time was always against him, it seemed, and Thanatos couldn’t help the feeling that he was just too far, too gone.

It was wonderful, though. This world, always getting older, not necessarily wiser. This city, full of history, like him. This night, a reminder of home, of family.

Shame that appreciation came always late. Pity that he felt such an urgent need to close his eyes and stop at the middle of the bridge, anxious to look down, terrified of looking back. He could hear the steps following him, the urgent breath as the much younger man stopped at his side. It was as familiar as his own hands. The sounds, the smell, the rhythm of his heart beats. Thanatos could be reborn over and over again, that Hypnos would always fit into him, no matter how distant, no matter how estranged.

“I don’t like this body now, Hy,” Thanatos breathed out, eyes fixed on the reflexion in the still water, the night sky framing the pale face who looked back at him. Hair too white, eyes too blue, bones too sharp. It felt like he was coming undone, decaying at every breath. “It’s frail looking.”

              And it was.

Like glass at the mercy of an everlasting threat of chattering into pieces. As if those features couldn’t fit the vastness of him. Couldn’t quite grasp his meaning. He missed his wings and looked at that half body with fear, disgust. How could he be condensed into this form? This fragile and small thing? Because it seemed even worst with his mother’s figure putting it in evidence. Like the night was cruel to its child in ways he struggled to understand.

And Hypnos felt it too.

“Life is frail looking, Nat,” his twin smiled gently, one hand holding Thanatos’ as if they were extensions of one another. “That doesn’t mean it’s less or worse than what we’ve grew acquainted to before. It just means it’s different. And that’s ok… you need to know that much, do you understand me? For as long as we’re here, you must understand this skin is all you’ve got. With all the parts missing.”

Thanatos looked away from his reflection, hand still tightly around his brother’s. He couldn’t remember a life time where Hypnos wasn’t around for at least part of it. Like the gods knew they belonged with each other and their cruelty wasn’t so great as to tear them apart. Thanatos wondered if he had forgotten parts of his existence, or if the gods were actually that merciful with him, just to take Hypnos away when it hurt the most. There was no way of knowing, and that kind of uncertainty was powerful enough to chatter him, slowly, painfully. To take away, piece by piece, whatever made Thanatos who he was.

Maybe this way the joke would be on him. Always next to his brother, but not always recognized. After some time, after all the pieces are gone, what will be left to be remembered by? Would he just be absence?

‘I’m not sure I wanna stay here’, Thanatos’ eyes seemed to say while his mouth couldn’t. And in a million ways, Hypnos understood. For silence was louder than words at that moment, and though they were separate beings, he was the white to his brother’s black, the peace to his brother’s final chapters. So he forgave Thanatos. Allowed the tip of his fingers to draw his twins’ sharp bones, as if to never forget his form, his lines.

In that moment, one finger said ‘I love you’ to his skin and the other said 'I’ll miss you’, when the rest made promises of never letting go. This was all they had. Ancient, in this part of this existence, there was not much left. One of them would be called soon. Maybe years would pass before they could see each other’s faces again. And the reality of it hurt more than the certainty.

They were making promises they didn’t know if they could keep. A wrong of the greatest kind.

“Don’t forget me,” Thanatos said, his arms bringing his brother into a hug, the night sky about to go. In a world of loneliness, at the mercy of a curse he had no power on, Hypnos was all he had. Home, family, friend. It was all him. “Whatever you do, no matter how long it takes, find me, Hypnos.”

Please.

☆ﾟ*・ ANYTHING ELSE?

Playlist.

Headcanons:

-> Ambrose is the eldest of five siblings and the only man. And as his father left when they were very young, he’s actually completely crazy about his sisters. Though they drive him mad, he tries, even in his seclusion, to be not only a good brother, but a participating uncle. He calls them frequently, and attends recitals, competitions, birthday parties, games and all there is to see for his 6 nephews and nieces without exception. As one who probably won’t have any children of his own, this is the closest he believes he’ll ever get from being a parent.

-> Apart from specific occasions, though, Ambrose isn’t very present in the day-to-day life of his family. He calls them, yes, but that’s probably all he’ll ever be comfortable doing. His mother resents him for that, but his sisters are quite accustomed to it. Better have some part of him than nothing at all.

-> Ambrose loves his profession. He teaches ever since he left Grad School and can’t really imagine a life where he’s not in a classroom.

-> He was born in London, England, and a part of his family still lives there. He and his younger sister are the only ones who left, and they occasionally go back together.

-> Ambrose was married once to a colleague of his, but Lara died of cancer five years ago. Since them, nightmares are a frequent aspect of his routine.

[the-plural-of-cris-is-crises]

Spoilers below the cut.

Progress:

Part 1: Wretches of the Sea

In which Cristóbal Rios meets a mermaid—and takes it on the lam

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Founding "Godfathers" excerpt

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Part 2: The Flight from the Forest

In which Cristóbal Rios finds the garden—and gets pinched

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

All Our Lives excerpt

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Part 3: The Traitor in the Flames

In which Cristóbal Rios sees a ghost—and get the kiss-off

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

In the Company of Giants excerpt

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Part 4: The Earth in the Window

In which Cristóbal Rios goes to ground—and hits paydirt

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

The Letters of Jean-Luc Picard excerpt

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Dedication: "a +1 to my wisdom" Nerd

Part 1: Wretches of the Sea In which Cristóbal Rios meets a mermaid -- and takes it on the lam.

Chapter 1: A year after Ibn Majid. That's about when I expected Rios to get La Sirena. Anyway, this is cute. Rios is sassy and taking La Sirena for a joy ride. "Are you going to sit in that chair or marry it?"

Chapter 2: Rios is having way too much fun with this. La Sirena!! Hans Christian Andersen! It's weird that Rios isn't into paper books yet? Did I read that right? That's interesting. Are they going to develop that more in this book?

Founding "Godfathers": The Iotian Paradox: Okay, that's really cute. I wonder if they're going to have more of this essay spread throughout the book? I hope so!

Chapter 3: Poor Rios. I adore you so much. Also, "concrete galoshes" I get that reference. Also wouldn't have if I hadn't just rewatched the episode, so I'm glad I did. Poor Rios just wants a smoke. Also, the fan thing is adorable. And Rios just staring down at the floor contemplating his life choices. "The answer was not in the concrete floor, no matter how long he stared at it" baby I love you

Chapter 4: No, Wolyx! Is he really dead? :(! I liked him. Raffi mention!! Aside from the occasional fear for his life, Rios is kind of thriving. Absolutely fascinated! All the name jokes, too. I know I say this all the time but Rios my love. Interesting that they say that Ibn Majid was the only ship he served on? He got all the way to commander, usually they're on other ships. What was he doing before that? Was he on the Ibn Majid since he was ensign and they erased her completely?? I'm confused.

Chapter 5: Well that was... Bloody.

Chapter 6: Ohhh. So Wolyx just left to get Rios's stuff. I am so glad to see him. Well that was wild. Wolyx came just in time. Poor Rios. That must have been exhausting. John Jackson Miller is not shy on Rios whump and I am here for that. Sorry Cris.

Chapter 7: Cris!!! "Cris" spelling confirmed! I am happy! Also, Raffi. More than a mention this time! And apparently, according to this book, Cris and Raffi knew each other when he was on the Ibn Majid. They rescued her once. Huh. That means she met Vandermeer. I thought they met shortly after he was discharged, but that was completely made up in my mind, so I knew that may not be the case (and this being the case here doesn't make it canon, I know). Okay but the stuff about the tattoo? Clerical error. That's funny. But also true, the Greek sirens aren't mermaids, they're more birdlike if I remember right. "Does swabbing the deck make you feel more like an ancient mariner?"

He whistled, and Raffi heard him. "What is it?"

"Jesus."

"He's in there?"

I wouldn't be surprised, Rios thought.

I love how La Sirena just, like, makes things appear in your hand?? How cool is that? Even if it is the wrong kind of screwdriver

Chapter 8: "Captain's Log: There will not be a captain's log." Disaster

Cris that is not a proper meal please eat food and stop drinking alcohol. You are a mess.

"Jesus -- who was indeed not in the storage room --"

Oh Cris. Baby. The love of my life. You're drunk. You're very drunk. My poor baby boy. "where he knew a lovely railing awaited. It was as he remembered: cool to the touch, and supportive by nature. It had never let him down. The aguardiente, however, had abandoned him-- or at least he couldn't see any more of it in the bottle"

"You're damn right. I'm the captain!" My love yes you are. You are also drunk and I have heart eyes. Cris my baby my love my light. Go to bed.

Ouch. I'm crying. Ouch ouch ouch. Poor Cris.

Aw. Sitting in the navigator's chair talking in an Irish accent. My baby. That's Enoch. You're imagining you're Enoch, who doesn't exist yet. This is sweet.

Wow. Verengan. That was... Huh.

Chapter 9: Cris why were you naked? Disaster. So the mystery room is the holodeck. That makes sense. It did sound like he was up on the upper deck, not the lower deck, since he threw a thing down into the lower deck earlier.

Ledger. They found him.

Chapter 10: Well. Huh.

Chapter 11: She's flirting with him.

Ohh I like that they brought that up. I commented when watching the episode that the subtitles kept spelling it Okmyx but they kept pronouncing it Oxmyx.

Well. I am so sorry Cris but Ledger had that coming, honestly. Just sucks that Rios is dragged into it and stuck with her (although, to be fair, he did kind of screw them over)

Chapter 12: Aw, Rios stepping in to rescue someone being beaten up. Also, that creature literally fed on angst. I thought that was figurative.

Lol he thought they were married.

Chapter 13: Ugh. So many people. Poor Rios. I wouldn't want to have to deal with them either.

Chapter 14: "You should replicate hats with feathers. And your feather should be bigger than anyone else's" Raffi. Dork. She just likes Cris wearing hats with feathers, apparently (I mean, who doesn't?)

Oh, Yerm. Yerm, Yerm, Yerm. I want to give you a chance.

Chapter 15: Oh, what a mess. It turns out that Ledger's hires are just as incompetent as Cris's. Wow, that was.......... Wow.

Chapter 16: !!!!! Emil!!!! My love, my light, my life! "Curious flooring choice" I adore you, Emil. I have heart eyes.

Chapter 17: Ledger is loving this stuff with Emil. Also! According to this, she's the one who named Emil after her "Uncle Emil" that he sounded like. Huh.

Chapter 18: Oh, Ledger. You can't just kill people.

Them: "Kivas Fajo"

Me: "I feel like I should know that name. They're definitely setting it up to be an 'Oh!' moment"

Me: *Googles Kivas Fajo* "Oh! Him. Ew."

Part 2: The Flight from the Forest In which Cristóbal Rios finds the garden -- and gets pinched.

Chapter 19: I do not trust Kivas Fajo. He stole Data. He's terrible. But I have to admit the whole conservation/Romulan culture museum thing is not the worst thing ever.

But what's up with T'Pau?

Chapter 20: Wait, like it's actually her?? I??

Ohhh. Huh.

Rios: "Afraid I didn't take philosophy" ?????

Honestly Parch's stuff is freaking cool. Parch-meant. Haha. Punny.

Anyone else think that thing that was in Cris's holodeck is going to be something important? No, not a grenade, Rios, or a kid's toy.

Rios has a crush on Quimby apparently.

All Our Lives by Jean-Luc Picard: So is this that book of Picard's Rios meant when he say "I read one of your books one time" as if that's all he knew him from? It looks like they're going to put an excerpt from a paper after the second chapter of each section? But like, a different paper each time. Huh. I like reading this in Picard's voice.

Chapter 21: Ouch. Poor Cris. And the start of his mermaid collection! Also, finally he gets a good cigar. Then Ledger crushes it, of course. Someone who knows Verengan! I wish Rios activated Steward. He would have had a better meal made.

Chapter 22: Sassy Emil! I love him so much.

"The Ferengi again."

"Problem with the hypospray?"

"Bullet wound."

"Not a side effect the serologists warned us about."

Chapter 23: "What did you call the ship?"

"La Sirena"

"The La Sirena--"

"No, just La Sirena. The La is already a the."

Thank you!!!! I am so happy about that comment, honestly, you have no idea, I have literally said that.

"And this time, we're damn well going to beam over the containers, too!" Oh gosh, imagine having that all over the ship without containers. La Sirena would never be usable again, there wouldn't be enough cleaners in the galaxy to get that out.

Poor Rios. He is, of course, going to counsel Yerm because he is a giant softy and, like he said, no one was there to counsel him, he'll be there to counsel Yerm.

Chapter 24: Dang. Poor Cris. That's really got to mess with him. Everything is a setup. After the stuff with Starfleet and Vandermeer, I don't blame him for not trusting anything and this is so not helping at all.

Chapter 25: Commander? Someone knows him from Starfleet, I'm assuming?

Chapter 26: Someone from the Ibn Majid! I really don't like this guy. No wonder Rios Vandermeer had him kicked out.

Chapter 27: 1. Rios like the Marquesa. 2. That was unexpected. I hope Hain's alright! Of course Ledger would be thinking about that at a time like this.

Chapter 28: Ledger! You stole that!

Chapter 29: Aw. Rios/Liselle. Also, so Hain was poisoned? Not surprised, honestly. They've had that kind of luck.

Chapter 30: I knew that was going to come back to bite him. Kind of surprised the Marquesa didn't see that last night, when they took their clothes off. He should have returned it immediately. Ugh, Ledger. Nothing is going right. Poor Rios. Oh. She did find it then.

Frack. Poor Cris. I hate Claggett so much.

Chapter 31: I'm sorry Liselle. You don't deserve this. But Claggett certainly did. Rios had way too much fun with that delivery method for the rest of the manure.

Chapter 32: I knew Hain wasn't going to make it. And now Rios has his philosophy books. Guess he settles on existentialism, because all of the books we see him with in Picard are existentialist in some way. It's an interesting interpretation, but not the one I would have gone with. Huh.

Part 3: The Traitor in the Flames In which Cristóbal Rios sees a ghost -- and get the kiss-off

Chapter 33: Oh. John Jackson Miller made a mistake. Rios didn't know about Raffi's son until after Freecloud on Picard.

Ouch. Rios talking about Abraham and Isaac relating to his past made me cry for some reason?? I just get emotional when it comes to what happened on the Ibn Majid. Ouch.

Chapter 34: Aw, Cris is interacting with Emil more! I need more holos, honestly. This is a fun simulation of Sto-Vo-Kor. I like the Discovery references. And honestly, loving all the easter eggs. "The Moriarty Protocols". I forgot to mention earlier about that reference to that Perfect Mate episode of TNG.

Rios seems to know quite a bit about Klingon history.

In the Company of Giants: The Parch Actualities by Alexandra Quimby: Still loving these fictional academic fragments. Also the whole concept of Parch's art is really cool (Parch kind of seems like a future Banksy when it comes to the anonymity of their true identity).

Chapter 25: "I need you to diagnose Verengan."

"I believe the clinical term is 'dead'."

"I'd say it's taking holomedicine a bit far." I love Emil so much.

Anyway, this is fascinating. The whole puzzle box thing.

Chapter 36: Well that took a pleasant turn. So this is why La Sirena has estate rooms? Also, the flirting.

Chapter 37: Ah. The sequel to The Book. That's actually a really clever gift.

Chapter 38: Xandra! This book has decided to give us a few new Rios ships.

Rios, make sure she knows you're joking about the sun thing. Also! Activate the other holos! Especially Steward -- I mean, Mr. Hospitality. The EHH. He'll be able to help! I wonder who Raffi knows that's looking for him?

Chapter 39: Steward!!! Steward is amazing and he is saving you, Rios, why do you hate him???

Poor Ledger.

I knew Sovak would be the brother.

Chapter 40: I guess Rios inherited quite the mystery when he bought (ish) La Sirena.

Chapter 41: Again, I knew Liselle would be here.

Chapter 42: Hm. So Xandra's after it too? Not surprised but slightly disappointed. I kind of liked Cris/Xandra

Chapter 43: And here's the Big Boss. People keep flirting with Rios.

Chapter 44: An Actuality. Chang. Huh.

Chapter 45: What the heck? That's Rios's.

Chapter 46: No, Cris, what does Raffi want? Is it important? Is it relevant? I want to know!

Chapter 47: Okay, that conversation with Quimby was pretty weird.

Chapter 48: "'Yeah, well, I owe you' and damn near everyone else" Poor Cris. This book has not been kind to him. What's got Raffi all worried? Finally we're going to find that out.

Chapter 49: Marta! Poor Cris. He just broke. Dissociated big time.

Chapter 50: Well, Cris has hit rock bottom. Poor Cris. Raffi, he needs you. Please help him.

Part 4: The Earth in the Window In which Cristóbal Rios goes to ground—and hits paydirt

Chapter 51: I like this Sto-Vo-Kor program. It's good for Cris.

Chapter 52: Emil and Steward! It's interesting that they don't interact with each other at first. They certainly do by the time of Picard.

The Letters of Jean-Luc Picard, Excerpt from a 2392 personal correspondence to Admiral Marta Batanides: Huh. So they wrote to each other about him and he didn't know it. I wonder if he put it together later on? (I know this isn't canon, but still).

Chapter 53: So Cris did know it. Huh. Anyway, Glake stole it from Fajo?

Chapter 54: Never underestimate someone in this book. What will the Miradorns turn out to have done? Murdered their own sisters? (Also, they're adorable as a couple, I hope they're the only ones not lying about anything)

Chapter 55: Emmet! Enoch! Emmet + Chilean slang! Is Cris suggesting Emmet is perpetually hungover because he was when he made him because that's hilarious

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[cruzrogue]

One More Push Preview-chapter one (notes)

An olicity AU story about Felicity getting into trouble with a meta that has time warping capabilities and she is sent into the past. This is just a preview on certain chapter 1 highlights. Meeting Oliver in Lian Yu. 

She was on a yoga pose when she heard a branch break nearby. Hoping it was Oliver but also knowing even if it was Oliver he was a danger to her. She did the most mundane things since she been here from reading, dancing, to light exercise. She told herself to think of this as a mini vacation, do stuff like paint things that Oliver would not consider a threat.

“Hello?” She called out as she scanned the area. So much greenery and the light breeze moving tree branches made to many shadows. She called out again, “Is there somebody out there?”

She heard a throat clearing and she looked in that direction and she saw him. He was wearing the top part of his hood and some shabby clothing. His beard grown out but she knew that face. She almost called out to him but held herself. Instead she said, “Hello, do you speak English by chance? Or Chinese um hold on … I know I’m going to butcher it but here goes Nǐ huì shuō yīngyǔ ma”

He nodded.

“Um… so Iet me get this straight you nodded because you understand English right? Please.”

“I speak English.”

“Oh thank god. My Chinese is really non-existent.”

“What are you doing on the island?”

“Wow direct to the point. Nice to meet you too.”

“This island is dangerous not a tourist attraction.”

“You sound like the ship captain that called me a crazy American. He said a lot of other Chinese words most likely calling me an insane woman.”

“Are you insane?”

“I’m a genius some class it as a fine line between genius and insanity.”

“Why are you here alone?”

“Seriously? I’m an independent woman I take offense to that.”

“So you’re not married.” He said in an amused tone.

“Again, seriously?” She gave him her best really come on look.

He left it at that.

“Why are you on this island?” She finally asked.

“Penance.”

“Oh.” small pause “Well my name is Felicity Smoak.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” He turned around to start walking away.

“Wait, Wait please.” She pleaded. He turned to look at her again. “Is there anyone else on this island?”

“No just us two.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

He then left her alone. Not going to far but enough that she thinks he left her alone. He kept observing her.

XXX

“Are we walking around in circles?” She says finally looking at a familiar tree with a weird tree trunk. She remembers this tree for it looked like it had a face.

He doesn’t answer her.

“We are aren’t we? That tree we passed twice so far in the last hour. It really has a serene face, only if a lot of these trees look glad to see us?” She pushed the conversation.

“Hmm”

“Come on Mr. Islander what gives?” She stops to look around noticing some more familiarities, “Oh and that rock there that looks like it might fall any moment and hit those weird bushy things. I saw that a while ago too.”

“Your right we have been circling around.”

“Okay, why?”

“Why are you on the island?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know this island was reserved just for you.” She looks at him and then ponders out loud, “Oh my gosh, you’re planning to murder me for my supplies.”

“What?” Oliver looks at her surprised.

“…and my boat.” She just has a mystified look.

“If that were true. You’d be dead already.”

“Oh so you admit that crossed your mind?”

“I wasn’t… you know what?” His mouth opened to say something snappy but he just stopped himself.

“Okay fine, maybe I have alternate motives.”

He knew she was being snarky so he took what she said like a grain of salt. “Nothing like a stranded bushy male with hospitable manners to just make a girl who rarely adventures to a park for a jog to journey half a world away and try to pick him up.” She is being so serious that she can’t believe what comes out of her mouth next, “Or better yet the truth like I’m from the future and you’ve blessed me with blue-eyed babies.”

He jokes, “Guess I can’t keep my hands off you then.”  He rounds a trail and says, “Be careful here it’s slippery.”

“Okay” As she takes the step around the thick foliage and is about to tumble when strong arms catch her.

She has a good whiff of him as her head bangs against his chest and mumbles, “You need some mountainy fresh soap.”

He doesn’t respond as she gets her footing and they continue.

“We have less than a mile before we are back at your enclosure and this walk is the safest route from here to where your boat is hidden.” That is all he was going to say on the route. He needed to keep busy and she practically begged him to come with.

XXX

“So…”

He was chopping wood as she sat there observing him. He wasn’t even bothered by the fact that she was ogling him.

“Do you have a name? Or shall I continue to call you Mr. Sexy Islander?”

After he swung the blade into the piece of wood he stopped and walked over to a stump and took a towel she gave him to wipe his sweat. Well they have known each other for less than 24 hours but he has observed her for two days before their introduction.

“It’s Oliver.”

“AHL-ə-vər.” She smirked and repeated it again, “Oliver. It’s a nice name. So Mister Oliver thee sexy Islander. Catchy.”

He rolled his eyes. He dropped the towel on a branch while Felicity watched him. “It’s actual Oliver Queen.”

She chuckled, “I am with royalty.”

“Shut up.” He couldn’t hide the grin. “So here we are Smoke and Queen on an island in the Northern China Sea.”

“Sound more like pirates story is to be had. But so you know its spelt S-M-O-A-K”

“It is getting late. I better get going.”

“Thanks for keeping me company. Mr. Islander Sexy Queen.”

“Good night Smoak.”

XXX

On her yoga mat stomach facing down she was reading a book on survival while also coaxing a little furry critter that was not so far from her spot. When she heard swoosh and a thunk sound she really didn’t want to look at the furry critter for she had inkling that Oliver just killed her new buddy. Trying to resist not looking but her eyes darted to that spot against her judgment and saw the arrow fletching sticking out and she groaned a little.

She heard movement coming up from behind her and knew he was coming to collect his kill.

“Of all the cute fluffy critters it had to be one I was trying to befriend. That is just rude.”

“Hmm, so you weren’t serenading it to surrender?” Now towering over her.

She fixated her eyes on him and pouted her lips. “First of all I was mewing cute little baby sounds.”

“Well I did it a favor and took it out of its misery.” His stoic self-replied.

She squinted her eyes and stood up to her full height which made him a giant looking down at her and her finger poked him on the chest. He was not expecting that even though she has proven to be feisty.

“You can be such a brute.” She declared as he moved to retrieve his kill. He pulled the arrow form the rabbit and walked to sit on a stump not too far away grabbing his handy knife from his boot.

“Well maybe I was hungry.” Was his retort.

Just as she wanted to jab another insult she quieted down instantly. She quietly walked to her ‘makeshift-Felicity-can’t-make-a-tent-right’ and came out with a container and a flask.

He was cleaning out his kill while she placed the items down and then started to gather wood. She knew he would need to make a small fire to cook the least she could do was help him out. It gnawed a tightness of knots in her stomach to know he was hungry. They have been coordinal towards each other for two in half days. He’s been around longer and she knew he was nearby this morning when she went to the flowing stream to collect water. She could feel his presence and she had no clue if this energy between them was two sided. She was far from a nature girl all this was bothering her so much. All the bugs she’s encountered to all the weird noises she’s feared. Oh she would have mentioned to her Oliver how much all this sucked and that she would give practically anything to be with her precious electronic babies.

“What’s in the container?” He words took her from her musings. He too was wondering how a city girl strayed to an isolated island in China. It was just so peculiar. A part of him was at war and he wanted to interrogate her but the stronger of his drive just wants to enjoy her presence. He felt a pull of easiness and well every time he tried to think why it just confused him.

“Just survival stuff, things you shouldn’t go into the woods without.” She parenthesized shouldn’t go into the woods without with her index fingers.  

“Father?”

“No my dad was not in the picture.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It is ancient history. I mean it still hurts.” She looked at him and stopped and continued explaining what was in the box as he opened and filtered through it. He had a wide smile.

“At least who ever gave you this wise wisdom knew what they were talking about.”

She smiled and shook her head it was all future him. He had branded that info into her mind on a wild adventure mission that could have gone sideways fast if not for how Oliver was such a neat organized not to say the least bit paranoid.

He took out a lighter and put the container aside. He grabbed a nearby rock and dig a very shallow hole and then took the offering of branches from Felicity as he neatly stacked them light a leaf and placed it to what to see if it caught and when the fire started to blaze he grabbed the arrow and skewed the rabbit and rested it against a rock to cook his meal.

Felicity not wanted to be still for too long were she knew her mouth would become her greatest weakness. Went to the tent and keeping herself busy stacking restacking supplies.

After a while Oliver called out. “Are you hungry?”

“No. I’m good.”

“Come on, are you living off crackers and peanut butter?”

“I’m allergic.”

“To nuts?”

She nodded as she came out of her tent with two packages that were labeled MRE.

He saw it and knew what her substance for food was.

“I guess you planned all this.” He took the package she offered him.

“Well I am a genius after all?”

His brow shot up.

“I also would not survive if I had to hunt. So these meals ready to eat packages are very handy.” Not waiting for him to ask. “I have a lot of these. There are cases on the boat still.”

“So I guess the kill me for my supplies makes so much sense now.” He beamed as he added, “I thought you carried books and weird vacation stuff in those bags up the hill.”

“Yesterday’s exciting walk around a segment part of the island was odd why did we really walk in circles?”

“I needed a walk and being you tagged along I didn’t know your fitness level. There are dangers all around this island and I stayed to the known safer passages.”

“Oh, so I slowed you down is what…”

“I’ve been observing you since landing on the island.” He took the rabbit and started cutting into it. Offering her a piece but she was content to the meal in front of her.

“I must be so weird to you. Being on this island with intent of just being here I know it sounds insane but maybe this is where I should be. Actually the captain thought I was insane for choosing this island he wanted to take me to a more suitable place but I saw it and just thought why not.”

“Should have probably listened to the man.” Oliver says offhand.

“Then I wouldn’t be here chatting with you.”

XXX

“So you want me to move in with you?

“Umm… I just want you to go to higher ground with me.”

“Where you live in a downed airplane.”

“Yes.”

“So move in with you or am I’m living outside?”

“Why are you making this more difficult?” He says exuberated

“Well we’ll be sleeping near each other right? You do sleep right?”

“Yes Felicity I do have to rest occasionally.”

“Do you snore?”

“If you keep this up you’ll never know.”