#like yes they are funny. but is this who i am to you

[pendingnomdeplume]

hold me hard and mellow pairing: hozier x female!reader rating: explicit (18+) tags: Miscommunications/Misunderstandings, Pining, Drunk Flirting, Drunk Sex words: 4.0k

[Read it on AO3]

title from Pillowtalk by Zayn divider by: sylusz

Though your 30th birthday was months ago, it’s difficult to ignore some of the changes that aging has brought on. You’ve noticed a few new gray hairs sprouting where there were none before, and your cheeks have lost some of the cherubic plumpness that made you look like a high schooler attempting to swindle shops for alcohol every time you wanted a beer. These changes don’t bother you. In fact, you’re excited to look a little bit older, more like your actual age. 

What catches your attention is entirely different. Something embarrassing, really. Something that you’ve been mildly self-conscious of while living in a giant, moving tin can with several other people and absolutely no privacy.

It takes exactly one Google search to confirm what you already started to suspect. 

Why am I so aroused all the time??? 

The question marks aren’t necessary, but they feel right given how perplexed you are by this development. What’s returned is page after page of different threads and message boards, all filled with women over the age of 30 confirming that, yes, their libido also increased with age. In fact, it seems fairly commonplace for women to experience their sexual peak a little bit later in life. 

While you’re relieved that this phenomenon isn’t unusual, you’re still frustrated by the fact that you feel insatiable. There’s absolutely no time to take care of yourself as often as you’d like, no space with enough privacy to even try. Your bunk on the tour bus is your only sanctuary, but even then, the curtains are easily ripped from their velcro tabs, and someone is always awake when you’re at your most desperate. 

Hotel rooms aren’t any better. You always end up sharing the space, which you can’t begrudge anyone for, really. It’s a matter of pragmatism made up for by all of the other perks of touring with Hozier—or, Andrew, as he prefers from colleagues. 

Therein lies your other issue: Andrew is currently the bane of your entire fucking existence. Not for any malicious reason, it’s just…well, you have eyes, and he’s an attractive lad. A kind lad. Funny, sensitive, talented—the list goes on. But he’s Hozier, for Christ’s sake. If he’s not a household name by now, he’s very well on his way with the release of “Too Sweet,” perhaps to his chagrin. 

Honestly, it’s just a silly crush that you would handle a lot better were it not for the fact that you live within 20 feet of the man constantly. You’re either singing on stage behind him, or sitting a stone’s throw away from him on the bus. The only reprieve you get is on hotel nights, but even then, you’ve been dragged out for dinner and drinks on several occasions, somehow always ending up either seated directly across from him or squished into a booth next to him. 

Recently, you’ve been trying to maintain a reasonable distance. You’ve stepped out of rooms he’s entered, hidden around corners as he strides by, and recused yourself from group outings for your own peace. It’s not as though anything would ever come of your crush, and it’s better to maintain space than force yourself into proximity to him and suffer at the hands of your own libido.

Honestly, you never expected him to take notice. Sure, he’s kind to you, and he’ll strike up a conversation with you when he’s in the mood, but otherwise, you’ve always thought of yourself as inconsequential. Not like Alex or Rory who have been with him since the beginning. Not like Larissa who enmeshes themself into the fold with their radiating energy and charm, nor Kamilah who is the human embodiment of glee.  

Tonight is another night of planned avoidance. The group is getting ready to go out for dinner and enjoy their evening off before the show the next night. You’ve already declined the invitation in the group chat, already fended off Joy and Mel who follow you with exaggerated pouts and pleas. In the end, they respect your decision to stay behind and promise to bring something back for you. 

With the next few hours to yourself, you curl up in bed and crack open the same book you’ve been attempting to read for the past few days—some fantasy novel with a gratuitous amount of steamy, spicy scenes that are…a little silly, if you’re being honest. But it’s fun, nearly brainless entertainment. A dessert of a novel, or perhaps the after-dinner mint. 

A quiet, polite knock at the door startles you out of your reading not even 20 minutes later. You wonder if it’s Mel, if she forgot her damn room key again, and hop out of bed in your pajama shorts and tank top without another thought. 

When you open the door, you’re surprised to find that it’s Andrew on the other side, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. 

“Oh, hey!” You greet, befuddlement obvious in your voice. “What’re you doing here? I thought you went out with everyone else.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Nah, I wasn’t feeling up for it tonight.”

“Ah.” There’s a few beats of silence as you stare at each other, until you finally ask, “Did…did you need something, or…?” Because, really, why the fuck is he here?

He’s quiet as he studies you, head tilting to one side. You’ve never been on the receiving end of his scrutiny before—at least, not that you’re aware of, anyway. It’s slightly intimidating, mostly because of his stature, but also because his attention is solely directed on you in a way you haven’t experienced previously. 

Finally, he lets out a little huff and asks, “Are you avoiding me?” 

Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops open. You quickly snap it shut, a flush already making your ears go hot.

“No! Of course not! What gave you that impression?” Lies, lies, lies, but what are you supposed to say to a question like that? 

Andrew looks rightfully unconvinced. “I just…haven’t seen you around lately.” 

He noticed?

“Right, yeah, uh…” You flounder for a response, rubbing your clammy palms against your shorts. “I’ve just—I’ve been busy, y’know? With stuff. And things.” 

“Stuff and things,” Andrew repeats back slowly with a half-smile. 

You nod, smile tightly. “Mhm. Stuff and things. Matters, even! And, um…affairs. States of affairs.” 

“Of course.” He nods sagely. “It just seems like one of those very important matters that you’re tending to might be avoiding me.” 

“Oh,” you reply lamely. “It’s—I’m not—” You’re beginning to panic, trying to think of anything to get out of this conversation that doesn’t involve slamming the door in his face. 

“Because you haven’t gone out with us in weeks,” he continues as you stammer. “And you’re fairly quick to leave any room that I enter. Or, is that just a coincidence?” 

Annoyance buzzes beneath your skin.

“There have been stranger occurrences, I’m sure,” you reply evenly.

“Right. I’m sure.�� He pulls a grimace of a smile, lips pressed together tightly as he knocks once on the doorframe before taking a step back. He almost looks dejected, though that’s probably just wishful thinking on your part. 

You’re ready to close the door on him, ready to curl back up under the blankets and try to sleep off your embarrassment. Just as he begins to turn away, Andrew stops and turns back to you with a curious half-smile. 

“Would you like to go down to the hotel bar with me, then?” 

You blink. “What?” 

He shrugs easily, assuredly. “Since you’re not avoiding me, come down and get a drink with me.”

Anxiety grips your heart as your stomach flutters. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Being alone with Andrew under the influence of alcohol? You can only imagine that being a one-way ticket to a massive disaster that ends with you getting kicked off the tour entirely. God knows what dumb shite will spill out of your mouth the moment you start to feel loose.

His smile turns coy as he tilts his head. “Or I could always bring something up for you. They’ve a lovely wine list here.” 

You swallow, searching his face as he raises a questioning eyebrow at you. 

Finally, you sigh and let your head rest against the doorframe. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” 

Andrew laughs, shakes his head. “No. Unless you tell me to fuck off, of course.”

You can’t help but smile and shake your own head. “I would never. Can you give me a few minutes, though? I can’t go down looking like this.” 

He waits outside like a gentleman, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. He smiles as you reappear in clothes more suitable for a public setting—merely a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but it’s good enough for a booth in the dimly lit, fairly empty hotel bar. 

You order a glass of blush wine, smirking when Andrew requests the bottle for the table instead. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” It’s light, airy, asked as a joke and nothing more. 

Andrew looks at you with a sly tilt of his head. “Trying to find reasons for you to stay a while.”

The answer stuns you, your face going pink as you avoid the waiter’s amused expression.

He orders a glass of Woodford Reserve, neat. When the waiter drops it off, he holds it out to you for a taste, and you hold out your wine glass in turn. The whiskey is bitter, spicy, and makes you cough into the crook of  your elbow as the amber liquid burns all the way down to your stomach. 

“Good lord,” you splutter as he grins at you. “That’ll put some hair on your chest.”

You study him as he sips from your wine glass, as he tilts his head in thought and nods to himself assuredly before commenting that it’s actually quite good despite blush wines not being his thing.

“So…” you start, hands folded on the table as you level his stare. 

“So…” he echoes as he rests his head in his hand, elbow planted firmly on the table. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

The question startles a laugh out of you. “Straight to it then, yeah?” 

He shrugs, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s not typically how I operate.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head, an exaggeration of his own mannerisms. “And what makes me the lucky one to be graced with your focus and attention?”

Andrew chuckles. “I think you’re trying to dodge my question.” 

“And I think you’re trying to dodge mine.” You smirk before taking a sip from your glass. 

There’s a brief pause as he studies your face. “Honestly? I think my ego is a little bruised.” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he continues, “You can’t deny that you’re avoiding me, yeah? It’s been fairly obvious. And I…well, you've been on my mind, is all.” 

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. He’d been thinking of you? Apparently so, and often enough that he’s not only noticed the distance you’ve maintained from him, he’s actually hurt by it. The thought of hurting him at all makes your chest feel tight.

“It’s not personal,” you say weakly. 

“Feels personal,” he retorts. “Have I done something or said something to…I don’t know, make you not want to be around me?”

“No! No. Of course not.”

Andrew frowns. “I haven’t made you uncomfortable, have I? I try not to be too forward, but I suppose it’s the Pisces in me. Or something. Alex told me that once, I don’t know.” 

You blink. “You haven’t made me uncomfortable.” Not in the way he would expect, anyway.

His cheeks turn rosy as he runs a hand through his curls. He seems almost frustrated, as though your answers perplex him further. Andrew takes another sip from his drink, and you decide to follow suit, gulping down the last of your wine. Before you can even reach for it, Andrew takes the bottle and begins to pour a generous refill into your glass. 

You meet his eyes as he sets the bottle back down with a thud before bringing the glass up to your lips again. He watches you carefully, unable to maintain your stare as his eyes flit to your mouth, your throat, your fingers carefully curled around the stem. 

“Good. Grand.” He sighs. “If I haven’t made you…I mean, is there something else, then?” Your puzzled expression makes him frown. “Or, someone else, rather?”

The gears slowly begin to turn in your mind.

“Someone…else?” 

It must be your tone, the obvious confusion in your voice that clues him in, a look of understanding softening his features. Embarrassment quickly overtakes him as he covers his reddening face with a nervous laugh. 

“You—you’ve no idea what I’m—? Oh, Jesus…” He avoids your eyes as he slams back the remainder of his drink in one go, then sets the glass down with a wince and a grimace. “I think we may have a misunderstanding here.” 

Your own embarrassment has you speechless, mouth opening and closing as you process what he’s just said. Surely, he didn’t mean…? No, he couldn’t mean that, because things like that don’t just happen, at least not to you. Not when it’s Andrew of all people. 

It’s the wine that grips your throat and controls your voice, and you laugh incredulously as you ask, “Oh my god, do you have a crush on me?”

He groans into his hands, then smooths them back over his hair before collapsing onto the table with a laugh. His face is tinged pink with drunken embarrassment, and he smiles at you before turning to hide his face in his arms. 

“In no uncertain terms,” comes his muffled reply.

You laugh again and cover your own face, unsure of what to say. Your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest, your pulse thumping as a familiar heat begins to pool in your stomach. 

After a moment, Andrew lifts his head again and pulls himself from the table until he’s upright once more. His eyes are tinged red now, bloodshot from booze. Your own head swims as you rest your head in your hand and smile at him warmly. 

“D’you want to know why I was avoiding you?” You avert your gaze to the table, then sigh before the words tumble from your mouth. “Because you’re too fucking attractive. How am I supposed to get anything done when you walk around looking like this?”

He splutters a laugh as you gesture vaguely towards him. “Oh?” 

The wine bottle is nearly empty now as you encourage him to pour some for himself in the empty glass on the table.

“It’s terribly inconsiderate of you,” you hum, and you catch his grin before he takes a drink.

Andrew grins. “My apologies for being such a distraction. I’d no idea I caused such distress.” 

You chuckle and eye him coyly. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it distress.”

“What would you call it, then?”

“Hmm…” You scrunch your face as you pretend to think. “Intrigue, certainly...and the uncanny ability to make me—” 

“Anything else for you?” The waiter’s voice startles you both, and you whip your head up to look at him wondering how much of that he heard. If he’s heard anything, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he mostly looks bored, and you can see the black booklet in his hand that surely contains the check. 

Andrew is quick to take it and scribbles in his room number for the charge, nearly shoving the booklet back into the waiter’s hands with hasty thanks. 

You’re both drunk enough to make bad decisions that you know you’ll regret come morning, but it’s difficult to care about that when he’s pressing you back against the wall in the elevator and kissing you like you’re his only source of air. When his hands are all over you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“C’mon,” he murmurs as the doors open to let you onto his floor. 

You stumble over yourself with a whispered, “Shit!” as he pulls you over the threshold of his room, and he laughs and apologizes before flipping a light on. 

Andrew is a messy creature, and his room looks as though his overnight bag spontaneously exploded while he was out. It’s weirdly charming, another reminder that he is, in fact, just a regular fucking guy with standard quirks. 

A thrill runs through you when he kisses you again, softer this time as he cradles your face in his hands. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” The question is sudden, his eyes wide as he searches for any hint of doubt. 

You’re quiet for a moment as you turn the question over in your mind. Even in an inebriated state, he’s still so concerned about your comfort, your consent. It’s unsurprising given how anxious he seems in general, but it’s sweet all the same. 

Finally, you rest a hand on his arm and look up at him with a smirk. “What I was saying earlier, about you and intrigue…well, you have a knack for making me weak in the knees, amongst other things. It’s typically based on your proximity, though.” 

You see his mouth turn up in a half-smile just before he crowds closer to you, pulling you flush against him as you wrap your arms around his neck and laugh into another kiss. 

“I don’t normally do this,” he breathes just before moving to kiss along your neck. 

“I feel like I should be the one saying that.” You gasp when he bites down, not hard enough to cause any truly lasting damage, but enough to know that you’ll still be wearing his marks come morning. A thrilling thought, though you’re sure you’ll be mobbed by the ladies and Larissa for details later on. 

Your hoodie is in the way, impeding his access, and he steps away to tug at the hem until you’re helping him peel it off. He stares at your chest, clearly surprised by your lack of bra and the way your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your tank top. 

“In my defense,” you say with a smirk, “I didn’t expect all of this to happen.”

He laughs quietly as he walks you back towards the bed. “You’ll hear no complaints from me.” 

The sheets are rumpled and easily kicked away as you shuffle back on the mattress. Andrew drops kisses along chest, teeth grazing your skin and leaving little imprints. You squeak when he shoves your shirt up roughly, and he throws an apologetic look your way. 

“Sorry, just a bit enthusiastic,” he muses. 

You laugh, feeling breathless as his hands wander along your newly bared skin. 

“You’ll hear no complaints from me.” 

His responding laugh— a low, warm sound, sweet as honey—makes you blush. You gasp when he gently bites your nipple just before taking it into his mouth. It sends a shiver through you as he moves to the other, and you squirm beneath him, almost glad that you’re too drunk to really be embarrassed at the moment. 

Once your jeans are off and tossed away, Andrew freezes, his eyes greedily taking in your nearly nude body before snapping back up to meet your stare. He dips a hand beneath the waistband of your panties—a simple black pair without any details or flair, because you didn’t expect to have Andrew’s hand shoved into them like this.

He seems surprised to find you an already slick mess, his fingers dipping easily into you before pulling them back to rub your clit in slow circles. 

“I told you,” you huff a harsh laugh that breaks into a small moan. “Weak in the knees, amongst other things.” 

Andrew’s grin is obscured by his hair that curtains his face. He continues to touch you slowly, methodically, while capturing you in a kiss and swallowing down every little sound that escapes you. 

He breaks the kiss with a small gasp and asks, “What do you—how do you want to—?”

You’re far too impatient for anything that isn’t his cock inside of you right fucking now. You’re aching, feeling empty in a way that you have so many times over the past few weeks. Except this time, the object of your affections is stumbling over himself to rummage through his bag after you ask about protection. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you muse as he approaches you again with something square in hand. 

“So are you,” he shoots back, and he watches in awe as you slip your underwear off and cast them aside without batting an eye, emboldened.

He licks his lips before saying weakly, “Oh, you’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

Andrew is far too impatient to remove everything, barely able to focus on even shoving his own jeans down and hastily rolling on a condom with shaky hands. 

The feeling as he presses into you is heavenly, so full, warm, and satisfying. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder as he sets an even pace. The slick sound of your arousal makes you blush, but it’s obvious how much it spurs him on, delighting in your body’s reaction to him, his touch, his everything.

Weeks of wishing and wanting, and now you can’t hold back your moans as he fucks you the way you’ve imagined. You can feel the way he stretches you as he fills you, and he gasps when you clench around him. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes screwing shut as he takes a deep breath. 

You reach up and brush a stray curl from his face. “Are you okay?”

When he opens his eyes, he gives you a little smile and a nod. “Yeah, yes, grand,” he huffs, then lets his head fall forward until his forehead rests against your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good.” 

He grips your thigh and squeezes gently, a silent bid to get your legs around him. 

At first, he’s slow, taking his time as he kisses you between breathy laughs and whispered swears. It isn’t until you murmur, “You don’t have to treat me so preciously,” in his ear that he hums and shifts to press your legs further, damn near folding you in half. But it’s good, so fucking good, and you can barely form a thought as your eyes roll back and flutter as he picks up his pace.

And, Jesus, how are you already so close to your peak? Another testament to your seemingly insatiable desire. You cry out when he rubs a thumb against your clit roughly, out of sync with his thrusts as you press back and grind against his palm.

The stimulation is enough to send you tumbling over the edge. Tears blur your vision as you let out small, sobbing moans against his neck. Each wave of pleasure has you clenching down around him.  and then he’s snapping his hips one, two, three more times before groaning in your ear while his cock twitches with his release.

Andrew is quick to collect you into his arms after collapsing next to you in bed. He reaches blindly for a blanket to tug over both of you, seemingly more of a courtesy than anything. You allow yourself to relax into him, nuzzling his shoulder before settling with your head on his chest. 

“Wow,” he says after his breathing has evened, and he laughs quietly as he squeezes you. 

“Yeah,” you hum.

There’s another stretch of silence, and your eyes begin to feel heavy as you follow the pattern of his breathing, feel the rise and fall of his chest. 

Another small laugh from him stirs you, and you look up at him questioningly. 

“We’re going to feel fucking awful tomorrow, aren’t we?” 

“Oh, yeah.”

“Is a hungover breakfast a proper first date, d’you think?” 

You grin at him and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Proper? No. But we haven’t done things by the book so far.”

[gracemisconduct]

This has been a strange Christmas. The first without my dad. I've always struggled with being explicit about emotion; this is the second major grief in my life, and the first nearly killed me. This time, I'm trying to be open, less self destructive, but man, it's hard work. My mother, still here, is...someone who loves me better from afar. She also struggles to accept that this has happened to more than her. And yet, Christmas, funerals, and the time of year forces proximity, and forces everything that comes with it.

He died in increments, then all at once. I first saw him die a little ten years ago, getting a pacemaker. Then a little more two years later, when he was so breathless he couldn't walk across the small medieval town I lived in. I saw him die a little bit when he was diagnosed with cancer, and when he broke down crying at my wedding. I saw him die most and fastest this year, when he went from visiting China to not having the strength to sit up in bed by himself. And then, all at once, he died.

I never knew there was so much admin involved in death. People would ask how I was; I had no idea. I was too busy sourcing a death certificate, arranging a funeral, writing a eulogy, telling friends and family he'd died, sorting my mum's finances. Every now and again I'd burst our crying. Then I'd stop.

Through it all, two things kept me just about sane; walking, walking everywhere, and fantasy. Good fantasy, bad fantasy. Smut and angst and fandoms and AO3 and all the wonderful ridiculousness of it that teen Grace loved and 20s Grace tried to pretend she didn't. Now I'm in my 30s, no shits are given. It was a balm, a source of humour, a relief. A place of happy endings of all kinds. A lot of BG3. It even made me think about doing a little writing of my own, though we're far from there yet. Thanks, hellsite, for the wonderful wildness of this place. Thanks, makers, for putting your work out there into the world for me to get lost in and cling to like a life raft.

____________

So, who was my dad? He was the most accomplished man I ever knew; nearly 40 years curating Japanese art and metalwork at internationally renowned museums, published books, honorary positions, a photographer, a ceramicist, a singer and more. His eulogy took days to write just to remember everything he did, and we still missed things.

His curiosity for culture, his love of learning, his collecting of obscure facts and bizarre stories, was infectious. It was the golden thread of my brother and I’s upbringing, with weekends and holidays punctuated by museums, bookshops, National Trust properties, standing stones and sci-fi movies, and everything in between. It was this same passion and curiosity that meant his list of friends and admirers was longer than your arm. He was a G.I. and so am I. Yes, I stole his badge.

When we were looking for readings for his cremation, we came across this poem. It's a later addition by Tolkien, written by Bilbo as he travels to the Grey Havens, thinking about his life and what comes next. I think that dad - LOTR narrator, deliver of funny hobbit voices, old hippy - would appreciate it. I hope you do too.

Day is ended, dim my eyes,

but journey long before me lies.

Farewell, friends! I hear the call.

The ship's beside the stony wall.

Foam is white and waves are grey;

Beyond the sunset leads my way.

Foam is salt, the wind is free;

I hear the rising of the Sea.

Farewell, friends! The sails are set,

the wind is east, the moorings fret.

Shadows long before me lie,

beneath the ever-bending sky,

but islands lie behind the Sun

that I shall raise ere all is done;

lands there are to west of West,

where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star,

beyond the utmost harbour-bar

I'll find the havens fair and free,

and beaches of the Starlit Sea.

Ship, my ship! I seek the West,

and fields and mountains ever blest.

Farewell to Middle-Earth at last.

I see the Star above your mast!

- J.R.R. Tolkien

notes on grief - chimamanda ngozi adichie

[castillon02]

“You ‘have amnesia,’” Dr. Sharma repeated, her eyebrows arched. 

“Oh yes,” Q said. He cheerfully waved his hand at his bandaged head. “Mugged this morning. Terribly traumatic. Physically, not mentally, since I don’t remember any of it, of course.” 

Dr. Sharma’s eye twitched. “I see.” Over the past year of therapy, she had grown inured to Q’s shite, but this was perhaps a new level of it for her. “Amnesia,” she repeated. 

Q beamed. “Judging by the dark circles under my eyes, this seems like a bit of an opportunity for a fresh start anyway,” he said. “Past me looks overworked.” 

Dr. Sharma had been trying to get him a holiday for the past four months. Her “I see,” every time M had denied his request for leave had become steadily sharper. Now her eyes gleamed. “Amnesia,” she said, smiling wider than Q had ever seen. 

(Also on AO3)

—

“Amnesia,” M said, squinting at him from behind his desk. “Really, Q?” 

“M,” Q replied, tasting the name as if he’d just learned it. “Seems a bit funny to work for a letter, but I suppose my past self had his reasons.” He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes around the room as if those reasons might be visible if he looked for them. 

M’s hand twitched toward the security button on his desk lamp. “You answer to the letter Q,” he pointed out. “You clearly remember some things.” 

“The name Q has silent vowels,” Q said, straight-faced. “Q-U-E-U-E. A long line in A&E is the first thing I remember experiencing, so it seemed fitting. You know, waiting for something that never seems to come gives you a lot of time to think.” 

M glared. “If this is about your leave—” 

“I am leaving, yes,” Q interrupted. “I even have the paperwork filed for Queue Smith, since apparently you lot do that here.” He quirked his eyebrows. “You still haven’t told me what I do, exactly, but I assume it’s some form of tech support, not anything crucial. Something other people have been trained in.” Like Q had been training R and X for the past six months, for instance. Specifically to deal with M’s bizarre separation anxiety. 

“You are actually one of our most valuable assets,” M gritted out, clearly aware that said valuable asset was a lying liar who was lying to him at that very moment. 

Q smiled. “What a shame I can’t remember anything, then,” he said. “No value whatsoever now. In fact, Dr. Sharma distinctly said I was as useless as a pin-pricked prophylactic, and the rest of the medical department agreed with her.” 

M’s eyes narrowed and he sat a little straighter. “Dr. Simmons would never go along with this.” 

“Dr. Simmons thought the whole thing was very novel,” Q disagreed. “In fact, he said amnesia might be under-diagnosed, particularly in injured field agents being recalled for missions.” 

M frowned. “How patient-centric of him.” 

“Oh, terribly.” Straightlaced Simmons, head of Medical, didn’t always see eye to eye with Q, but they both prioritized the health of the people under their care. M wouldn’t find anyone in-house who would challenge Sharma’s diagnosis. Now for the killing blow: “Everyone says that if I’m lucky and have a nice long rest, then I might remember some things. But who knows? Amnesia is unpredictable. I could be out of the game for good.” Q gave an innocent shrug. 

“It can be dangerous, walking around ignorant in the world,” M said.

“Maybe,” Q said. “But I got mugged while I was working here with all my memories intact, so really, nowhere is safe, is it? Might as well be unsafe in the Maldives.” Q gave M his most beatific expression. It was rather cute of M to threaten him with being killed, as though Q didn’t have a dead man’s switch for exactly that contingency. 

M gave him a long look but eventually sighed. “I’ll put you on an indefinite medical leave. Don’t do something stupid with your free time.”  

Q stood. “I’ll do whatever I please. Since that is, in fact, the point of the term ‘free time.’”  

—

Q spent five days eating take-away and playing Elden Ring in his pajamas. On the sixth day, he had enough energy to move, so he took the train and then a bus to a little town in Andalusia, dreaming of egg-and-potato fry-ups and sunny olive tree-laden views. 

Warmth. Sunshine. Red roofs and white stone buildings. An outdoor cafe where he could drink his tea and people watch. 

Down the street, a wrinkled old woman stooped down to scratch a brindled dog whose whiptail flew back and forth at the attention. Q watched them until they rounded a corner out of sight. When he brought his gaze back to his own table, Bond was sitting across from him. Shite. 

“Amnesia,” Bond said. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Q stared him down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” If Bond asked about a mission, Q was going to send him back to R and X for replacement corneas. 

But Bond shook his head. “You can call me James. We don’t know each other outside of work,” he said. “I thought we could change that.” Bond gave him a half-smile, somehow sheepish—different from his Target Acquired smile. His bright yellow I Heart España t-shirt was more camouflage than Q had ever seen him in. 

“Caminito del Rey has beautiful vistas,” Bond added, his blue eyes locked on Q’s. “Or I know a place with good tapas if you’d rather eat than hike.” 

This might be a work-shaped trap. But there wasn’t any tech in the Gaitanes Ravine, and yellow wasn’t the color Bond wore when he went anglerfishing. Additionally, traversing a treacherous one-meter-wide walkway carved into a rock face a hundred meters above a river sounded like it was genuinely Bond’s idea of a good time. “If we went hiking,” Q said, “it wouldn’t be efficient. I take pictures of cool bugs. I lollygag to look at spiderwebs. I get distracted by rock formations.” 

“If I wanted efficient,” Bond said, “I’d wait until you ‘got your memory back.’” He offered Q a wry tilt of his mouth. “I have it on good information that you’re currently useless, and I don’t expect we’ll need any of your skills from the office.” 

Bless the medical staff’s ability to gossip. Q exhaled and slouched a little. “You’re really here just because?” he asked.  

Bond shrugged. “We’re good at being useful together. I thought we might be good at being useless together too. If you like.” He tilted his head. 

Q stood without answering. 

Bond stood with him. His designer blue jeans stretched flatteringly around his thighs. No concealed carry. His watch wasn’t one of Q’s. He had a knife in his boot, but that was sensible enough. His t-shirt showed off tan arms criss-crossed with pale scars and a smattering of graying hair. He had a red España bucket hat tucked into his belt. 

007 on holiday. 

Q smiled. “Lead the way.” He extended his hand. 

Bond took it. In the center of a rural village steeped in machismo culture, Bond held his hand. “I have a car,” he said, and they walked, still linked at the fingers, to where Bond had parked his entirely normal Mitsubishi Mirage rental. Good god; a hatchback. Not even four-wheel drive. Bond was really giving this ‘useless’ thing a genuine effort. 

If this went well, Q would have to send 006 a basket of explosives. Rather than leaving his mugging-based amnesia up to fate, he’d rather desperately arranged for a surreptitious blow to the head from one of Six’s experts in cranial violence. He hadn’t expected that his memory loss would lead to something so lovely.  

[cyberkinks]

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 ︙ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍 ・♡ (𝐌)

⤷︎︎ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬, wom(woman)!reader x co-worker!namjoon. kissing, sexual intercourse, rough sex? work beef, boss interfering, bestie bora, friendzoned.., helping Namjoon scratch his back 👀. ☃️

⤷︎︎ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, use of foul language, use of pet names (maybe), misspellings (maybe), use of alcoholic drinks. 🎄

⤷︎︎ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞, smut, angst, non-idol au. ☃️

⤷︎︎ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲, Ah, Christmas what a wonderful time of the year, isn’t? The snow, family, friends, food and ETC. it’s just a wonderful time of the year that everyone enjoys. Your boss invited you all on a trip before Christmas and obviously you said yes but Ehat you didn’t expect is that you’d be sharing a room with one of your co-workers whom you absolutely hated over the years. ✨

⤷︎︎ 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞��!, this is for entertainment purposes only! 🎄

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hello! sorry for not posting but I’m back and I hope y’all have/had a good holiday! Merry Christmas or Holidays and happy new year to you all! 💋 hope you all enjoy and have a good read, also I’m back in my writing spirit so I’m glad for that. ☃️

⤷︎︎ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝?: yes, partially edited. 🎄

Christmas is a time to give thanks for the love, hope, and joy. It's often celebrated with decorated trees, presents, and a Turkey, Ham, or Chicken feast.

It’s also a time to celebrate with your family and friends..or you’d think.

This year, your boss wanted everyone to go on a month-long Christmas vacation with her. Of course, you wanted to plus it was free!? Hell yeah!

It was a couple of days away but she did give you guys enough time to pack. The reservations were already set, and the trip was already planned. Everything was a go! It was currently 6:34 AM and you guys landed at 9:55 AM.

However, when you got there, you thought you could just choose a room when all of a sudden the rooms were already picked out for everyone.

You look over at your best friend/co-worker, Bora waves over at you and you smile and wave back. You were confident that your boss was gonna let you and her share a room, obviously…right?

Wrong. She announces that you’ll be sharing a room with your emeny/“least favorite” worker, Kim Namjoon. You blink twice before looking over at him who looks over at you.

You hoped this was a dream and that your boss was just kidding with you two, right!? I mean that had to be it. She knows that you two bicker at work like children. This couldn’t be real, the co-worker that you hated was your roommate on a month-long vacation, please say it wasn’t so.

Once it was sorted out, Bora came over to you and snickers. “So, it’s gonna be funny being bunk buddies with Namjoon, hm?” Bora asks with a soft smirk across her lips.

Her words make you roll your eyes. “Har-Har and no, it’s not, I mean you see how that bastard treats me at work, hell no,” you say, folding your arms as she just chuckled once more “Oh, (y/n) just give up the act, already, everyone he knows you two like each other.”

You frown at her “no the fuck I don’t! I can’t stand him, he’s always calling me a lazy worker like ew and he steals my coffee, do you know how long it takes to refill the coffee machine at work!?” you huff at the thought of him.

Bora looks at you, raising an eyebrow “Oh cmon, he just likes teasing you and you like teasing him, you two are perfect-“ “No, no we aren’t and I do not, it’s never intentional, it’s only because he starts it.”

You sigh softly before pinching the bridge if your nose. “This is gonna be one hellish month,” you grumble making her laugh and you shoot her a glare as Namjoon walks up to you. “Hey, roomie, got our key.” He says, dangling it in front of you.

Your eyes narrow at the sight of him as your expression hardens. Bora looks at you both “Am I interrupting something?” she asks, making you both look at her. She was about to say something until you shoo her away.

you snatch the keycard away from him before walking towards the elevator. “What floor?” you ask as he gets in. “5” he says and you quickly click it.

As the elevator ride goes on, he couldn’t stop looking at you. The way your body looks in your outfit has his mind spinning.

You and Namjoon have been at it since you first started working there. He was out for your blood so you started being out for his and it turned into some kind of war and it only got worse when your boss announced that both of you were her favorite employees and that only one of you can get a raise. It started off as entertaining but it slowly started becoming more irritating.

You felt his eyes on you but you ignored him as you pleaded in your mind for the elevator to go faster. Once it reaches the floor, you quickly walk out and towards your room number. I glance at your keycard making sure it was sure it was the right number you saw before unlocking it.

You walk inside seeing your bags already in, your face full of confusion as you look at your bags. ‘Did he personally ask her before we even got here?’ Is what you ask yourself before shaking your head and then starting to unpack

1 hour later, you were finally finished unpacking so you took a nice long relaxing hot shower before changing into something comfortable which was a random T-shirt and some leggings. You lay down in bed, your back against the soft mattress.

A sigh left your lips as a smile appeared across them. As you were relaxing, you heard the hotel room open and closing. you look over seeing Namjoon. “And there goes my relaxation,” you say before huffing and he rolls his eyes. “Ha-ha, I didn’t come in here to bother you, (y/l/n).” he sits down on the other bed.

“That’s what you always say, but eventually you do, and it gets fucking annoying.” you say, glaring at him and a soft chuckle leaves his lips. “You know me so well.” “Duh.”

You look at him, folding your arms. He looks over at you, raising an eyebrow. “What?” You shrug. “Just waiting for you to tell me what you want.”

He frowns slightly. “This is my room as much as it is yours, I can go in and out if I want,” he says, leaning back against the headboard.* “See.” you point at him. “That’s how I know you don’t need anything.”

He shrugs. “whatever floats your boat.” you roll your eyes before facing away from him and reaching over in your purse, grabbing your phone to update your family groupchat that you made it safely.

As you were typing, his eyes were on you, imagining that he was spooning you, his hands caressing your sides.

A little secret is: that even though you two bicker like complete idiots, you both often thought about each other whenever you two were at home. He’d slowly stroke himself as he thought about you, while you would be at home touching yourself at the thought of him “making love” to you, his hands roaming your body making sure no place was untouched. No one knew that secret about either of you and you wanted to keep it that way (and so did he.)

Anyways, back to the present. His eyes were still on you, admiring you and your body. His teeth tugs on his bottom lip, before finally looking away. you barely notice it since you were typing but you 100% knew he was staring at you “Take a couple of pictures, it'll last longer.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at your words. “You’re not that entertaining to look at, babydoll” You frown at his words before scoffing. “Yet you were still staring at me, and you do so at work” You stuck your tongue out at him afterwards “Plus you aren’t either.”

He chuckles darkly “Says you, and I know you stare at me at work too, like you’re undressing me with your eyes” A look of disgust at his words spreads on your face “You wish I’d undress you” You tease him even though deep down you both wanted to undress each other but he has to keep it rolling.

“No, I don’t” he glares at you before getting up from the bed and you flick him off as he turns his back.

Later on during the day, it was around 8:32 PM when your boss decided to throw a small Christmas party at some club. You obviously went and you were currently wearing a short red dress with a black sweater and black heels, and your hair was in a sleek bun.

As you walk in, Bora walks over to you and instantly compliments your outfit “That dress looks so hot on you, babes” she says before taking a sip of her drink and you thank her with a smile.

You felt eyes on you and you look over seeing that Namjoon is also present making you roll you eyes making Bora laugh. “Speaking of, how’s that going?” she raises an eyebrow at your expression. “As well as you’re thinking,” you say before huffing and walking towards the bar and ordering a Cosmo.

You sat down on a bar stool and that’s when Bora pointed at a guy who’s been looking at you ever since you came in and a smile spread across your lips. As he starts approaching you, Bora walks away to give you two some room meanwhile when Namjoon sees it, a ping of jealousy fills his body and he frowns.

“And you are?” you ask while the bartender hands you your drink. “Christian, you?” “(Y/N)” you hold your hand out for him to shake and he does, giving your hand a firm grip.

As you two were talking, Namjoon watched close by, gulping down the rest of his drink. Bora approaches him and folds her arms. “Watching your future girlfriend flirt with some guy? Real classy.” She says and he looks at her with a look of disgust. “What? As if.”

She laughs making him frown further. “That’s cute but I bet by the end of this trip, you two are gonna be a thing.” she says making him shake his head. “that’s crazy talk, I don’t like her,” he says, clearly and 100% lying and she knew it. “We’ll see,” she says before walking off.

He shakes his head at her before looking back at you, his gaze on you as he sees the guy getting closer to you. he didn’t wanna interfere since he knew that’d cause you to be suspicious of him but if he didn’t, he was 100% gonna hear your bed creaking while he’s trying to sleep.

He was conflicted with his feelings, not knowing what to do at all. he looks around before walking towards you both.

you continue talking with Christian, getting to know him. it was clear that you were feeling his vibe..maybe a little too much. you took the last sip of your drink and set your glass aside. “Yeah, I’m currently working for a Magazine Company,” you say with a nod and he looks at you, his eyes full of interest. “Oh really?”

You nod with a smile and he grins back “Well, that’s pretty cool.” he says and you are kinda caught off guard and before you can say anything further, Namjoon interrupts you both making you frown. “Hey, (Y/N).” He says, his arms folded. “Who’s this?”

You glare at him, completely suspicious of his behavior and annoyed.. “this is Christian, my new buddy.” You say and Namjoon looks at him before shaking his hand and then looking back at you. “We were talking so if you could please..excuse us,” you say, your eye twitching.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, clearly trying to annoy you so you would take him back to your shared hotel room. you grin at Christian before getting up from your seat. “Namjoon, let’s dance really quickly.”

Before he could protest, you grabbed his arm and led him to the dance floor. you look up at him “What are you doing!?” you ask him with a frown.

“Nothing, why?” he shrugs before doing some little random dance, along with you “bullshit, you interrupted my conversation with that hottie” You frown while he celebrates…in his mind “Maybe I was just helping you out of a boring conversation.” “yeah right." you roll your eyes at his weird behavior.

“We could've danced later,” you said with an upset expression. he chuckles to himself, making you frown further “As if you’d want to dance with me.” he says and you nod, still pissed off. “you’re right.” he rolls his eyes at you “Maybe if you stop being stubborn, you’ll actually get laid.”

a gasp left your lips from the words that came from his lips. “and maybe, if you weren’t so cocky, someone would want your cock.” is what you say before walking off, leaving him speechless and he stands there trying to process what you just said.

you walk over to Bora, immediately telling her what happened and she chuckles “You both always fight like an old married couple.” “Well, we’ll never be one, can’t stand him.” she raises an eyebrow at your words. “for now.”

you frown at her. “no, never, plus that guy was really hot but it’s whatever…I guess.” Bora looks at you before looking over at the guy you were talking to which makes you look to see that he was still over there. “you think i should go back over there?” you ask her and she nods. “I think so, plus it looks like you both were feeling each other.”

you smile before getting up and walking back over to him, sitting down. “sorry about that.” he shakes his head “No, problem.” you bite your lip at him before asking him to dance and he agrees.

Christian gently grabs your hand, leading you towards the dance floor, and as you both dance, your hips swaying slowly as his hands rest on them. you look up at him as he looks down at you.

while you were in the moment with this stranger, Namjoon’s eyes were on you both. the pang of jealousy stinging his heart once again. he watches you both, taking small sips of his drink.

he couldn’t stand seeing you with other men, it irks his soul but he can’t do anything about it or you’ll know that he wants you. he was confused and conflicted about what to do, but what was there to do besides him being confusing and not telling you how he felt without showing it?

you had his heart, mind, and soul and he thinks that he’s alone with his feelings not knowing that it was the same way for you. he was down bad for you but why doesn’t he ever wanna show it? why does he pick fights with you? guess we’ll never know.

later on in the night, you’d had way too many drinks, and all you remember is the guy you’d just met (Christian) wanting to take you home but Namjoon didn’t trust him one bit.

you barely remember what happened but Namjoon 100% took you home since you could smell his cologne over and over. he helps you inside your shared hotel room, helping you on the bed. “so soft..” you sigh as you look around making him chuckle.

a soft groan left your lips as he slips your heels from your feet before helping you take off your jewelry and your makeup, his touch was as gentle as ever. “you’re a piece of shit.” you slur out, making him chuckle. “if I was, I would’ve let him take you here and not me.” he says, placing a bottle of water on the nightstand.

he was about to walk away and you stop him. “don’t go.” a pout forms on your lips. he looks at you, conflicted still “You don’t want me to go?” you shake your head no at his words.

he knew you were out of it, he knew you needed space but he lays down beside you anyway and you place your hand on his chest. “Namjoon..” you whisper, your slightly blurry eyes on his. “I like you.” his body froze at your words. “so much..and I want you,” you grumble out as your eyes start to close.

“you’re just drunk, I know you don’t mean it.” he says, wanting to doubt it but you slowly open your eyes again before looking at him and his eyes are on yours. “I know what I mean.” you slowly sit up before softly kissing his lips.

he didn’t know what to do but he was much of a gentleman to deny you since you were drunk “Get some sleep.” he whispered. you sigh before laying back down and closing your eyes again.

your words repeat in his brain over and over again, the sound of your voice and the way you said his name is just stuck in his mind.

he’s completely conflicted.

The next morning, you woke up with a horrible headache. you groan in pain as you hold your head while sitting up on the bed, the sun shining from the curtains

you look over seeing that someone was in your bed since the sheets were messy. you also notice that everything you had on (except your clothes) from last night was off.

you bite my lip thinking if it was the guy from last night but that couldn’t be possible since the cologne was different. you heard the bathroom door open and that’s when you saw Namjoon who had a towel around his waist, water dripping from his body.

you eventually look away once he looks over at you. “take a picture next time” he says in a teasing tone. you roll your eyes “please no one wants to look at you.” you say, getting up from the bed “that isn’t what you said last night.” he says and you froze at his words “wait what are you talking about?”

he looks at you “you don’t remember?” you shake your head no, completely scared and worried. “no, I don’t, now tell me.” he sits down on your bed. “well, you had too many drinks last night and I took you back here and last night you told me that you liked me” he pauses for a moment looking at your shocked facial expression “and that you wanted me.”

you take a deep breath before responding “well, i was drunk so-“ “drunk words equals sober thoughts” he says with a shrug. you lick your lips, thinking of a lie to come up with but he stops you “aren’t you tired of playing cat and mouse with me?” he asks standing up from the bed and walking towards you.

you look up at him “i was drunk, people say things when they’re drunk..” he scoffs, shaking his head. He thought he could get through to you but he forgot how stubborn you were. “excuses is all I hear.” he says, moving back from you “when you’re tired of dodging me, give me a holler.” is all he said before grabbing his clothes and walking into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

you stood there completely confused at his words but…the fact you just seen him shirtless was also stuck in your mind.

you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts but…it didn’t work because later on that night, after you boss took all of you out to dinner…you were in the shower with..a certain type of toy, plunging it into you over and over again.

you cover your mouth to shush yourself, slowly slipping it into you. you shut your eyes as your body shudders and trembles, feeling yourself getting close to the edge and that’s when the bathroom door open making you scream and quickly turning onto your side.

Namjoon quickly closed the door back and yelling ‘Sorry’ before walking off. you take a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in and turning back around. you look at the door before biting your lip and pulling the shower curtains forward and starting back again.

after your intimate shower time, you got ready for bed, doing you skin and bodycare routine. you walk out of the bathroom after tidying it up and slid into your sheets, laying your head comfortably on the pillow.

Namjoon sat on his bed still conflicted on what to do but he knew he was tired of playing games with you. he wanted you so fucking badly and he needed you. he looks back seeing you laying in bed before getting up from his and walking towards you. “(Y/N)?”

The sound of his deep voice makes you open your eyes, looking at him and groaning in annoyance. “I’m trying to sleep, what?” you ask with a slight frown and hint of curiosity.

he didn’t say anything, he just looks as you making you kinda nervous. he leans down and softly brushed his lips against yours and butterflies instantly fills your stomach. “what are you..” you whisper and he tucks your hair behind your ear and asks with his deep voice, filled with sensuality and desire “can I kiss you?”

you were took aback at his words, but you knew this day would come. a where you’d both finally admit that you both like each other. you look at him before nodding and whispering “yes.”

he cups your face before softly kissing your lips, your hands resting on his shoulders. your lips move in sync as he tilts his head, kissing you deeper. his hands goes down to your gown, slowly lifting it to your abdomen and grabbing your hips, pulling you closer to him as he hovers over you fully.

a moan leaves your lips, your hands pulls him closer. he moves your legs apart before slipping your underwear off as well. he licks at your lower lips, asking for entrance which you gave to him. another moan escapes from your lips, making his lips curl into a smile.

he kisses up your chin, going higher to nip your jawline and then kissing at your neck. “Namjoon..” you whimpers out his name and he hums before continuing his trail down your body.

his hand goes under your nightgown, gently gliding across your thighs until he feels your slickness, taking it into his hand. you roll your hips against his fingers, soft moans leaving your lips.

a groan leaves his lips as he feels how wet you were just for him. he pulls his hand away, pulling down his sweats making his hard on fling out. he looks at you for a moment “are you sure you want this?” he asks and you nod eagerly, your hands resting on his shoulders.

He softly kisses your lips as he slides into you, a soft moan leaving your lips, your juices coating his cock instantly. you kiss him as well, your hands going to his bare back, grabbing at it making him wince a little as your nails digs in his skin.

you look up at him as he slowly and gently moves into you, letting you adjust to his size while slowly speeding up. he starts to thrust into you, your body already adjusting to him.

“Namjoon..please.” you whine while he looks down at you, his eyes full of lust. he takes in a deep breath through his nose before hitting your sweet spot and you immediately start moaning out loudly. he kisses your lips to shush you, his hands grabbing at the sheets.

his lips trails down to your neck again, leaving hickeys all over as he begins to speed up, his hips pushing into you. a groan escapes his lips as he grabs your legs, placing them on his shoulders.

“fuck” he mumbles out. you whimper, grabbing onto his hair, pulling slightly. you suddenly let go of his hair when he gets faster, gasping in pleasure. he continues to fuck you roughly, throwing you off balance “Oh god” you moan out, grabbing the sheets as well.

Namjoon moves back, his hands moving your legs to the side and leaning back down, his hand spreading your ass cheek as he slams into you, the gushy and wet sounds filling the room along with your moans and his groans.

you grab the sheets, his hands grabbing onto the pillows. “fuck, you’re so tight and wet.” he groans, watching as your ass bounces “s’fucking good..” he whispers, grunting afterwards while you cry out his name, your legs shaking.

“Fucking hell!” you whimper out, looking up at him as he throws his head back. “Joonie!” you whine as you felt his hand collide with your asscheek.

you felt a certain feeling in your stomach, letting you know you were close to your climax. you beg him to go faster which he does, his hand slapping your ass again.

within a few more pumps from him, you came onto his cock, youe body trembling while shaking more violently, a loud moan falling from your lips. your toes curl from the sensation while he kept going, his hips still moving into you.

you bite your lip as you lay there, letting him continue, your hand on his chest. “C'mon, cum for me,” you whine before your mouth falls open.

after a few more thrusts, he lets go inside of you, a loud groan escaping his lips. you hum as he does so, breathing heavily.

andd… after that, you both lay there not knowing what to say or do, the awkward tension and silence in the air. you didn’t know what to say or do.

You gulp before turning towards him. “Namjoon…” you whisper, making him face you. “Yeah?” he looks at you, hoping you’d say what he’s been wanting to hear for the last few years, but you didn’t, which made his heart drop. “I think we should just be friends,” you say softly, noticing the shift in his attitude.

Namjoon nods slowly, looking at you with regret in his eyes. “I should’ve known,” he says, making you frown. “Joon—“ “It’s whatever, (Y/N),” he says, getting up from the bed to put his clothes back on.

You sat there covering up yourself as you watch as he leaves the hotel room. you bite your lip as tears fills your eyes. It wasn’t him, it was you.

You weren’t…ready for a relationship since you didn’t give yourself that much time to heal from your last one. you took a deep breath as you try to keep your emotions in check.

so much for that talk.

Soon after the trip was over and everyone went back home, he barely said a word to you on the plane , even at work, and you felt super bad. Bora noticed it as well but she figured she’d just stay out of it until you’re ready to tell her which wasn’t probably gonna be for a while since you’re so fucked up about the whole situation.

You sat in your office at home, staring at your computer unable to focus after what happened a few weeks back on the vacation trip. after what happened between you and namjoon, it felt …weird, you felt weird. Especially since you two spent half of work time playing cat and mouse.

I mean most nights you could barely sleep since all you could think about was him. His voice, intelligence, his body…and etc. just him, as a person was all you wanted. you were so attracted to his energy and spirit that it was taking a toll on you but you were just too scared for a relationship since your career is the only thing in your mind besides him.

A sigh left your lips as you repeated what happened in your brain over and over again. your words and his. what makes things worse is that you actually wanted him, but what if it became too complicated? what if it affected both of you?

but you’ll never know unless you try, let’s hope you do try…in part two.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐜𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬

[superkooku]

Have you listened/watched epic? And if you have what’s your thoughts?

Personally I think it’s a good thing to show to a friend new to Greek mythology. I just finished watching the last saga and I have to say I loved it, beautiful. Sad it ended tho :(

It might not be very accurate but I love the hardwork the cast put into it and so I love it very much

My thoughts on Epic the musical

So yes, I know about Epic. I even participated in the secret santa thing and am what we may call 'a winion'.

I just finished watching the livestream too ! I especially loved seeing the cast members were reacting to the sagas (Luke Holt was so funny in this 🤣. Also, Jorge carrying Mico like a baby in 'Just a man' and Mason being extra the whole time... so many gems in that livestream)

Since Epic is finished AND I have animatics of the Ithaca saga, I'll use this opportunity to make a more in-depth review of the musical. Instead of separating it in "good" or "bad", I'm reviewing it criteria per criteria.

The cast

Like I previously said, I LOVE the cast chemistry. They're all so fun and lively. I follow some of them separately, like Janani or Troy Doherty, and they're just delightful. Especially Troy as Hermes, he always manages to make me laugh. Every single time 😂.

Also, he gives me a bit of Mettaton vibes since he's extravagant, always over the top and a bit self-absorbed (the Hermes persona, I mean, not Troy Doherty himself). Maybe that's why I like him so much :3

And of course, there's Jorge, mr. Jalapeño, the man with the plan. I love how both passionate and humble he is, how he takes the time to thank everyone and just how much of a bundle of positive energy he is. I know it's an internet persona, but what I can see from him is some hopefully really nice guy in real life too.

Anyways, awesome cast chemistry, everyone made me laugh and they're all having a good time.

The music

This music is so beautiful 🥰. All the motifs, the emotions, the instruments, the voices ! If I had to rate Epic from the music alone, it would be 5 stars. I'm not saying this in a professional angle or anything, it's my personal feeling.

Seriously, I don't really have that much to say about the music because, to me, it's just that good. I love the variety, how different instruments synch themselves and, yeah.

The characters

Annnnd that's where the blind positive praise stops, unfortunately 😂.

Don't get me wrong, it's not awful either and there are good points. My favorite Epic characters are Hermes and Athena.

The rest ? It's mixed. In order not to make this too long, I'll focus on only some of them.

The story is very character-driven so I won't really delve into it in detail.

Odysseus : he's a good protagonist, especially in the first act. His dilemma is interesting, he has a strong personality and I like that he is just a broken man and not some mighty overlord... except in the Thunder and Vengeance sagas. I feel Jorge exaggerated the monster message a bit too much, imo. Odysseus is supposed to be a witty liar, a warrior of the mind. Not someone like Achilles who solves problems by fighting or fights gods like Heracles, much less freaking Poseidon.

Poseidon : okay ! I liked him in the first act, because FINALLY Poseidon isn't a surfer dude. He's a terrifying force of nature that was angered by mortal hubris (though the hubris thing isn't explained by Epic). In Get in the water, he kept his intimidating side. Because he's, yk, the king of the oceans, one of the most powerful Olympian gods. But his defeat partially ruined him for me 😂. It just doesn't make sense. Why is Odysseus afraid of Scylla and even tip-toes around Hermes, who is friendly, when he can stabby-stab Poseidon ? Why didn't Poseidon counterattack? So many questions.

Zeus : my problem with Zeus is easier to explain. Again, he was awesome in the first act, less so in the second. What I loved initially is how regal he was. Powerful, intimidating, kingly, but not evil either. He warns Odysseus of the gods' will and of fate, which always realizes itself in mythology. In Thunder Bringer, he's fine. His lustful and flighty side is shown, but we could interpret his intervention as avenging Helios and punishing the ones who ate the cows, instead of "Zeus is evil". But in God Games ? He's so pettyyyyy and childish. Where is the kingly attitude ? This "Beast Zeus" should come against Kronos or Typhon, or maybe when Athena and the others threatened his position. Not after a freaking game ! He just strikes Athena with thunder because she won fair and square. At LEAST Luke Holt absolutely killed it, so it's cool to listen to.

Penelope : she's underdeveloped :( . Okay, her bond with Odysseus was respected, they're adorable together. On her own ? Eh, she's fine. Which is a shame because she simply didn't have enough room to exist outside of Odysseus. Also, the fact that she doesn't interact once with her son is criminal imo.

I do have some other issues with characters like Circe and Calypso (basically they're declawed compared to the Odyssey), whereas I'm completely fine with others like Eurylochus, Telemachus or every god except Zeus and Poseidon. Though they're not perfectly accurate either but I don't have problems with them.

The crew in general is also underdeveloped, so I didn't feel much for them (until discovering the scrapped Elpenor and Perimedes songs/lh). They played their roles correctly.

I hated the suitors (that's a positive in Epic) and laughed when Antinous died. Though I wished they were more pathetic and less threatening. Musically it'd be worse but story-wise more fitting.

The story

Overall, it's fine. Most of the best points come from the Odyssey itself, the one change I liked the most was having Odysseus and Poseidon meet (not the way it ended though).

Also, story-wise, I prefer act 1 over act 2, because it's less over the place and more grounded.

But emotion-wise and music-wise, forgetting about the Odyssey, act 2 wins the cake.

Those were my thoughts on Epic :3

I tried not to judge it too much according to the Odyssey and some of my friends are more demanding on that plan (for perfectly legitimate reasons btw). But it's hard to separate Epic from the wonderful work of Homer and it's lacking in some areas.

Still, this journey was very fun, I love all the passion Jorge, the singers and the animatic artists put in, there are a lot of good things about it (I can't mention everything). I don't want to rate it because it's too rigid of a system. I listen to the songs on loop and, ultimately, I'm thankful Epic exists :)

I may come back to this post and reblog stuff if I have new relevant thoughts to add. I'll probably rank the sagas in another post.

[onyx-is-a-loser]

!! SPOILERS !! Arcane: Season 2, Episode 7 (LONG A- BRAINDUMP)

Found this in my drafts and it’s kinda too funny not to post (sorry if it makes no sense, I was very emotional)

LITERALLY the most emotionally violent thing I’ve ever experienced and I NEED to talk about it:

OKAY so like, Ekko wakes up in this dream world where everything is perfect and I’m like "aww cute, it’s like a Hallmark movie," and then 2 SECONDS later “WAIT NO, THIS ISN’T REAL, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO ME” because the moment he gets comfortable, the show’s like, “LOL nope, here’s reality, have fun with the trauma, buddy.”

THE CONTRAST. THE JUxtaposition of dream vs. nightmare?? I can’t breathe.

I’m screaming because Ekko’s dream world is all golden light and perfect and everyone is alive, and I’m sitting here like “YES, PLEASE LET HIM LIVE IN THIS ALTERNATE UNIVERSE WHERE HIS FAMILY DOESN’T DIE” and then reality is sharp and cold and cracked and I’m CAN YOU PLEASE NOT JUST SHOVE THIS MUCH PAIN INTO MY FACE???

The clock motif is an entire thesis on grief and time, why is this show so goddamn smart?? Ekko’s dream world is a pristine clock, but the real world is “lol no time doesn’t work that way, here’s a broken, rusted piece of trash” and I’m sitting here like, YES, tell me more about how time is a construct and I’m crying because none of us can go back and fix things. THANKS, ARCANE, FOR THE PAIN.

ALSO

Powder in the dream world?? She’s soft and innocent and I “holy SHIT this is the Powder we could have had, this is what she could have been if everything wasn’t so messed up,” and then I blink and she’s Jinx again, chaotic, explosive, neon nightmare fuel, and I’m just lying on the floor like "why do I do this to myself." I LOVE HER DONT GET ME WRONG BUT I ALSO WANT HER TO BE HAPPY

And don’t even get me started on Ekko and Powder dancing like it’s some kind of tragic, beautifully animated nightmare. I’m crying, I’m sobbing, I’m screaming, because this is the kind of thing that could have been real if the fate of their world didn’t DESTROY THEM. Who hurt you, Ekko? WHO HURT YOU BOTH??

The soundtrack in this episode is too much for me to handle. It starts off all soft and whimsical like “oh, this is nice, everything’s fine, I’m fine,” and then—BOOM—reality hits and I’m curled in a ball crying because it feels like every note is punching me in the gut. (This will definitely be a separate post)

There’s just so much GRIEF in this episode. Like, Ekko doesn’t want to leave the dream world because it’s everything he ever wanted, and honestly, I GET IT. Who wouldn’t want to live in a universe where your worst trauma never happens?? But then he HAS to leave because it’s not real, and reality is just there, waiting to crush you like a hextech bomb.

And I swear to god, the entire episode is a metaphor for “it’s not your fault, but it still hurts, and you can’t change the past, and that’s the worst part.” So yeah, I’m just sitting here trying to figure out how to recover from this emotional rollercoaster that is literally breaking my brain.

Arcane is a work of art, but it’s also a weapon of mass destruction. And I am DONE.

[nettlebrand]

Proshippers are so weird because every argument they make is so easily debunked it's actually funny

First of all let's define a proshipper since everyone loves to argue over that. I will also acknowledge the history of the word

Proship in it's early years was defined as proship/anti harassment. It was a term used by people who believed people should not be harassed over what they ship.

But that's its term years ago, and the meaning of words change. Let's not be stupid when it comes to this argument. Proshipper is a term now often used by people who ship problematic things like incest, minor x adult, and abuser x victim.

THIS IS NOT A TERM USED BY PEOPLE WHO WRITE ABOUT THOSE RELATIONSHIPS AND PROTRAY THEM AS UNHEALTHY.

It's a term NOW USED by people who ENJOY and actively ship and romantize those relationships. You can write about a victim x abuser without romantizing it. Proshippers romantize it.

Now that we have defined it, we can tear apart every argument they try to use to justify doing it.

"It's my coping mechanism! My therapist said so!"

I'm going to state my credentials right off the bat. I have a degree in psychology and am currently getting my doctorate degree in it. While yes, many therapists say it can be used as a coping mechanism, it is a TEMPORARY coping mechanism. It is not a long-term mechanism that we recommend at all. On top of that, we certainly do not tell you to post it online for the public to see. No therapist would tell you to do that, and any therapist that says it's okay to do that does have you not have your best interest. We KNOW you will harassed and attacked on the internet if you post stuff like that online. It's why we specifically tell you that if you HAVE to use this TEMPORARY coping mechanism, to not do it publicly.

"Fiction doesn't effect reality! Grow up!"

I'm not defending the people doing the attacking either. IF YOU SEND DEATH THREATS OR HARASS PROSHIPPERS, YOU ARE BAD TOO! No one deserves death threats or to be doxxed because of fictional media even if it is not everyones taste. But therapist can not control what goes down on the internet, and neither can anyone else.

"Well it's fictional! It does effect reality but it's fiction that makes it okay!"

Fiction DOES effect reality it is why we enjoy fictional things so much in the first place. Saying fiction doesn't affect reality, which ignores so much human history and the basics of WHY people create fiction in the first place. Fiction DEFINITELY affects reality, and it affects the human mind greatly. It's why people can laugh cry and get angry at media in the first place. That argument makes no sense because if it didn't affect reality, it wouldn't be a coming mechanism, which is what a lot of proshippers say why they proship.

Romantizing a relationship other people have been through and trying to portray it as a good and well thing is frankly gross and disgusting. It hurts victims a lot and can make them question their own abuse they went through. It's not a good thing at all. If you honestly think on any speck of this planet that romantizing an abusive relationship, whether incest pedophilic or rape in any way is okay because it's fiction, you are honestly not much better than actual pedophiles and abusers. They get off to hurting people, and you also get off to the hurting aspect. Yes, even if you yourself are a victim. Being a victim doesn't mean you get a pass to do whatever you want, and I think a lot of people need to remember that. You do not get a pass to romantize abuse no matter what. It's not a good thing at all to romantize and it can make you worse and question your own abuse.

"Calling us just as bad as real abusers boo!"

I will. I will stand by that, too. Because that's how it starts. My abuser also started with "just writings" and "just drawings." Because that's how it always begins. In psychology, we can tell how far someone will go based on the things they consume and how they consume it. It gets to a point where the person consuming it will be a victim or be an abuser. It's why so many pedophiles when they are caught, have CP on their computers because "it was just images." I'm not saying all proshippers are going to turn out to be pedophiles or abusers because thats obviously not true. But the route you are going down is an addiction, and you eventually won't be able to stop even if you just stop at drawn images. It's why you crave to do it so much and can not stop. It's the rush you get of posting it online to the thrill of being caught. You enjoy every aspect of it. It's an addiction.

"You are dismissing/disrespecting real victims by comparing CP to drawn/written CP!"

I myself am a victim. A very severe one. There are pictures of me out on the deep web somewhere when I wasn't even in double digits. I am not disrespecting what happened to me or other kids. While I do agree with the argument that drawing a fictional child is not as bad as real pictures of children, it is still disgusting to be making at all. It's also disrespectful to victims to be romantizing stuff like that publicly, so you aren't allowed to use that argument as if you cared for every victim, you wouldn't be posting it publicly.

"You are limiting artistic creativity! This is conservative ideologies that wants to censor work!"

If censoring the romantization of abuse being portrayed as good is wrong, then I want to be wrong. Yes, everyone should have artistic freedom, but why in any way would you WANT to be known as the author or person who portrays pedophiles in a good way. Who portrays abuse as okay and romantic. Why is that something you want in your life. No one should want that, and if you do, I encourage you to seek a strong amount of help. Censoring the portrayal of abuse as good shouldn't be a controversial statement at all, but it somehow it. If you are writing pedophiles incest and abuse as a BAD THING and you MAKE SURE, it's portrayed as a bad thing that isn't proshipping. It's when you romantize it and try to treat it as a "cute fun silly >w<." Thing that I see MANY proshippers do that's bad. Yes, I want that censored. Especially when it's easily accessible to minors. Proshippers do not care if minors can access their work, and it's very obvious seeing it. Even if it isn't inherently, nsfw minors shouldn't be seeing and interacting with ANY FORM OF MEDIA that portrays abuse as good.

"What about NSFW artist!?? You don't want them censored!?"

I don't see this argument made as often, but it's still one I want to talk about. Most nsfw artists I see make... normal art that doesn't revolve around romantizing abuse in some way. While obviously there are exceptions, nsfw art is aimed towards adults, which makes censoring a lot easier, and theres an understanding between sex vs relationship. There's a difference between porn with bdsm aspects in it vs. a fanfic writing on two characters, and the abuse is romantical. Sex is different than a romantic relationship.

"Well my artwork is aimed towards adults! Adults can understand it better!"

Adults can still have an awful time with abusive and struggling relationships. Adults can also be uncomfortable and not want to see their abuse portrayed in a good light. While I agree that many adults can understand and differ fiction from reality, that doesn't change the fact that romantizing abuse in any way isn't okay. What a lot of proshippers tend to not understand is how its portrayed that's the problem.

I am a HUGE FAN of enemies to lovers. If they didn't try to kill each other once is it really love/j. But the major thing is it's the build-up and actual relationship that's different. If two characters are in love and one is on a lower power level, then another and just keep getting abused and beaten and mistreated even when they aren't enemies anymore. There's the romantizing abuse. A majority of the time, most don't even add warnings to this kind of content, which can heavily hurt past victims as well. Adults are allowed to not be okay! Adults are allowed to not be okay with seeing literal abuse be romantized! And that shouldn't be an excuse to do it just because your content is aimed for a more mature audience. Horror movies are aimed at adults and can portray murder as awful, proshippers shouldn't be an exception. Proshippers forget that antis tend to also get on people who use excessive gore without portraying it correctly as well. Urbanspook is a recent example who was HEAVILY flamed for his excessive gore without any real meaning or care behind the topic.

"Why do I have to demonize this! That doesn't mean I'm endorsing it!"

That's... what it means. If you do not portray a topic as serious as any form of abuse as bad then... why are you writing about it. I'm not saying it should be the main story because you can write about abuse and have it be a secondary plot point. Many stories do this, and it's don't correctly. But just writing about something just for the sake of having it in there without showing it as a bad awful thing, which is in the definition of abuse, is wrong and bad.

I'm not making this post to "change proshippers." Or "harass and bully them." I'm making this post because every argument they use is wrong and incorrect and hurts other victims, me included. I frankly don't care what proshippers do, but don't make mundane arguments about it. Just admit you want to do it just because you want to not for some anti conservative idea or because you believe it helps. There are better coping mechanisms, and posting yours online doesn't help your mindset. I hope all victims get the help and strength they need to heal from whatever they have been through, but posting romantic abuse online isn't going to help your mind or help anyone else. It's not some splatterpunk idea that slaps conservatives in the face and in fact pushes the idea to censor things more when kids come across it.

And honestly if any proshipper wants to have a debate about this I'm open to it as long as its cival. But frankly I don't see any reason to publicly be posting romantic abuse online.

[fuckmaster-unlimited]

what is it about me that makes people (specifically my friends) think “hey this guy is probably receptive to mpreg jokes”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)

[somerandomcockroach]

[inkskinned]

he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.

except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?

at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.

except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.

about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.

he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.

[egophiliac]

(breathing into a paper bag) FRALIO....

can't believe they gave us another guy. oh my god. so I guess Kelka is more, uhhh, more OOO then, and Fralio is Ankh? not that it matters too much, although they do seem to be doing something with the connected Riders so. who knows. anything goes! or if I may, anything gOOOes! god. of course they're the Ambition parallel. of course they are. oh my god.

fortunately there's nothing else they can throw at me right now that could possibly --

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[starry-bi-sky]

wolfpack. aka: if not friend, then why friend-shaped?

"Hey-- uh, Danny?" There's an almost imperceptible tremor in Tucker's voice.

Danny doesn't look up from what he's doing, his pencil scritching across his notebook as he tries to do another quadratic formula question. "Hm."

"What's -- uh -- what's with the dogs?"

He looks up now, and finally sees where Tucker is -- standing in the doorway of his room with an ashy look on his face and a skewed, nervous smile. He's got a white knuckle grip on the doorknob. Sam is wide-eyed behind him, and using him as a partial meat-shield.

Danny looks down to the two giant ghost wolves sprawled next to him lazily. One large green one with his head in Danny's lap, letting him use him as a prop-up for his notebook. Another equally large black one splayed against his hip, sleeping on her side with her head tilted inward to his calf.

Automatically, a grin tilts across Danny's face, and he lifts his notebook up to scratch behind the green one's ears. He opens a lazy eye, one that is bloody red with a ring of yellow around the pupil, before slipping it shut and leaning his head into Danny's touch. "This is Sirius and Procyon," he says, and reaches down to scratch Sirius' belly. "And they're not dogs, they're wolves."

"Great," Tucker says, his voice suddenly much smaller and faint, "Love that distinction."

Sirius makes a great big groan, and Danny's grin widens, his heart swelling with fondness. His hand slips away from her belly, and before he can put his notebook back down, Procyon pushes his head up his lap until his ear is against his stomach, demanding pets now too.

Sam peeks her head up from over Tucker's shoulder, "I think what Tucker's asking here is what are they doing here, Danny."

He shrugs, scratching under Procyon's chin. "They kinda just showed up. I tried sending them back to the Zone, but they keep returning." And they were weirdly intent on just following him around, which is the only reason he gave up on returning them. They weren't causing trouble, and they knew how to hide around the living. Plus, he just loves dogs. "So now I have two wolves living with me."

This, oddly enough, did not do anything to calm Sam and Tucker down. Tucker's mouth purses into a thin line, and he presses the sides of his palms to his lips in prayer. "How have your parents not found out about this?"

Danny wordlessly raises his hand, and his sleeve slides down to reveal a thin chain bracelet hooked around his wrist. He whistles sharply, and both Procyon and Sirius jerk their heads up to look at him, ears pricked up and eyes alert.

Silently, he points to his wrist and rattles it twice, and in unison both wolves stand up and pounce. Instantly, they turn into a respective, opaque black and green mist that swirls around the bracelet and forms into two, flat wolf charms.

Both wolves are posing in the stereotypical wolf howl, with little stars indented on the sides. Procyon's charm has the Canis Minor constellation engraved on it, while Sirius has the Canis Major.

Danny faces Sam and Tucker, and points at his wrist. "Like this."

[lucabyte]

Courtesy of @samhainian: The gang goes on hot ones

Bonus:

mean to them

[dyrpyn]

This election isn't looking great now.

BUT.

There is one thing you must ALWAYS. ALWAYS REMEMBER.

Your two greatest, most powerful weapons against evil, against bigotry and fascism, against hate, against even hate that comes from inside the self...

are Hope, and Spite.

If nothing else can fuel you, let these. Embrace these. Let these consume you, let them become all that you are.

Let Hope help you find light in the little details, silver linings to cling onto with bleeding hands and pockets of joy to admire in every day. Let it inject you with good faith, motivation to spread kindness where it is needed most, and deepening trust that this won't last forever.

Let Spite charge you with fury that carries you to make moves and take actions. Let it lead you to little victories right in the face of evil. Let it fuel you to do the strongest, most meaningful thing you can possibly do in this potential age: Thrive.

With enough reframing of perspectives and looking in the right places, even the most oppressed can find little ways to thrive in their personal communities, to find joy in every day. To forget how bad things are for even a second. To believe and see proof that they can change it all. To cling onto their Hope and Spite.

And THAT is the most powerful message you can send to those who wish to eradicate you.

We are the cockroaches who survive the radiation. We are the banged-up sewer rats who get in countless scuffles and still come crawling out of the tunnels covered in wounds to see the sunrise. For it rises every day no matter what may be brewing underneath its shine.

And we will watch every sunrise together. We will hold hands and sing in our defiance. We will always remain connected through our shared suffering and yet especially our shared Strength.

And with our weapons kept at our sides, we will all make it.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 299

Hear me out- Ghosts have wings. They have wings, which are affected by their cores, and can make them disappear from sight if they want or need to. You got that? Good. 

Ecto-contaminated people? Don’t have wings. Liminals and Halfas, who have developed cores? Do have wings, and they can’t hide said wings, because unlike ghosts? Their bodies are physical living flesh. 

Now Gotham? Ecto-contaminated, there’s no doubt about it. The amount of portals that have been opened there and death pits and death cults… yeah it’d be surprising if it wasn’t. But again, no one really notices, because at most? Most just get a bit of eyeshine. 

The Bats however? Oh man are they freaking out when they wake up with aches in their back and feathers starting to poke through their skin. Curse? Nope! Welcome to Liminality, enjoy the second puberty of wings, emotion-sharing, fangs, claws, and whatever else you might develop- also enjoy the whole eating fear thing. (Wait, the what-)