#they suggested trying prescription food for a bit to see if that helps any but I'm just....

[steorransaluki]

back at the vet 😵‍💫

[endivinity]

Hey yall!

it's been one of those weeks. a very, very expensive week. my savings will be completely wiped, but I can't open commissions, so it's not looking too hot for me right now. I'm not in any danger of eviction or other major consequences, but I can't front the costs by myself.

If you'd like to help out by chipping in a little bit, I've got the tl;dr over here! https://ko-fi.com/endivinity There's a pack of every public deathclaw artwork available through that as well, if you'd like a bonus incentive.

Long version and plan of attack under the cut!

I've been medically unemployed for a couple of years now. I've also been recently diagnosed with ADHD - inattentive. I was given an initial trial course of meds for them, which so far aren't working in any helpful ways. NZ has free prescriptions... but it does not have free mental health diagnoses, and especially not for adults. The initial diagnosis appointments cost me $1100, and there are at-cost followup appointments and other medical related costs that are chipping away at it. My medication will need reviewing and possibly switching, which requires more at-cost appointments. This was fine for me to pay! But. Miraculously, I barely self-medicated prior to diagnosis but when I did.... it was with sugary foods. I'm sure you can see where this ends up :'D

The other day I got hit with a dental bill that was not only staggering, but the treatment itself was a gutpunch. I'm not quite at root canal level but two of my teeth are tending towards it, even as the dentist commended my brushing and flossing. The quote is between $3200-4000 (give or take a couple non-priority preventative treatments). I can get government funding assistance up to $1000, and anything beyond that is a loan.

And unrelated I NEED new glasses, because the vision in my left eye from uveitis has deteriorated significantly. this costs less at i think $200-300, but the government does NOT assist with this for... some reason??

The plan of attack:

I'd - hoped, that the meds would let me focus more on owed work. I'd hoped I'd be able to clear the board. That's not the case right now. I'll keep trying, but for now I have to focus on the present.

So, the Ko-fi page is open! There's PWYW files of every deathclaw art I have, so if you'd like to help me out and get convenient lizards instead of browsing my posts, that's the option for you. I will also be making deathclaw designs to auction. I'd like to do customs in future because there's a hungry hungry market out there, waiting for me to do so, but that'd be a commission and I wouldn't complete it. So, premades it will be. My Inprnt store is currently barren; I will see about getting it filled. That'll be linked later. I can't mail out my print stock I use for cons, because I don't have a car or easy access to shipping packaging for larger prints. (And shipping would be immense because, NZ)

So far those are my only attainable options. If you have other suggestions though, please let me know! <3

[catt-nuevenor]

Soap

I am about to get extremely nerdy and excited about ancient soaps. Consider yourselves warned, this is gonna be me getting giddy about tracking a plant through linguistic records, and botanical records.

All who don't want to geek out about this topic, I hope you enjoy your future scrolling and have a nice day. All who do, click the read more and join me down the rabbit hole.

So, soap.

There's an unfortunate belief that we in the modern period are the first descendents of the ape to understand the need of personal hygiene, sterilisation, and washing. This is wrong. We've understood dirt is bad for general health (as in food, water, and wounds) for thousands of years.

Allow me a few examples for the sceptical:

Galen, Hygiene Vol I, Book I. written between 165-175 CE.

And for those looking for something a wee bit older:

Unknown Author, writing style Sumerian dates to Third Dynasty of Ur, c.2158-2008 BCE. Page from Healing Hands by Guido Majno 1992

As Manjo points out in his discussion of this prescription, note the hot water as well as the beer.

I could go on, but I hope you see why I find 'all ancient peoples were dirty and only had a bath once a year,' an asinine statement. So, onto the 'Dark Ages'.

I needed to figure out what compound or substance the Lǽce, or medical practitioners in the story, would use to clean their hands after an examination. I've recently been looking into something of a plant 'shopping list' cross-referencing archaeological records and written records for what came to Northern Europe and when. Here's where I attempt to introduce you all to the term 'archaeophyte'.

An Archaeophyte is a plant that came to the geographical area or region of study before 1500 CE. Any plant that made its way to an area before this date, be with human intervention or without, falls into this category. A plant that arrives after this date is a Neophyte.

An example for the UK; Corn Marigold, Chrysanthemum segetum for all you folks who want to see me fight my way through Latin, arrived in the UK first in the Iron Age (in this context being about 940 BCE to 43 CE) as evidenced by archaeological finds, with later examples occurring in a Roman, then medieval context.

See Archaeolophytes in Britain, Preston, Pearman, and Hall for sources and more information

Right, so I've been constructing this list of plants I can use in the story. My rules are that it must occur in a Pre-Roman context North of Frankfurt, Germany, and West of Warsaw, Poland. The reasoning for this ruleset is too complicated to go into in this post, so just try and accept this as my baseline.

I started to go through this list this morning, looking for a plant that could be used for cleaning hands in a medical setting. I looked at Yarrow to begin with, it being an Archaeophyte for the area with archaeological evidence dating back to the Neolithic period (10,000-4,500BC) in the context of feasting at stone henge. It has limited scientific write up, but there is some evidence to suggest that it has antibacterial properties, anti-inflammatory properties, and may help with the staunching of wounds (see Medical Plants, Simmonds, Howes, and Irving 2016, Royal Botanical Gardens Kew, and Culpeper's Complete Herbal modern edition edited by Steven Foster, 2019).

So far so good, but not in anyway perfect. Then, while flicking through one of my books to locate yet another entry on yarrow to triple check my notes, I skimmed past an entry for a plant called Soapwort. To say I sat and stared at it dumbfounded for a while is an understatement.

My first thought was that the suffix 'wort' was a very good sign. 'Wort' comes from the Old English 'wyrt', which basically means a usable plant, be that edible as food, used in dyes, or applied in medicine. However, Old English speakers are infamous for making new compounds up of familiar elements to suit imported objects or ideas.

What I should have done next was to look up the etymology of the word 'soap', but I didn't. Instead, I went running back to the 'Archaeophytes in Britain...' article and did a ctrl F search for the Latin name, 'saponaria officinalis'. As soon as I typed it in, my heart sank.

Soap - Saponaria

That's a little too close for comfort, implying that the names were not only related, but likely came from the Old Latin, indicating that I was dealing with a re-emerging Roman export. Briefly, the Anglo-Saxons, the speakers of the Old English Language, came to the UK sometime in the 400s CE, after Rome withdrew. There is a marked dip in Roman culture, architecture, goods and especially language in this time, indicating some think, that the Roman settlers were not widely integrated with the Brittonic peoples. Latinised, or Late Roman, culture and influences do not really re-enter the UK until the Christianisation of the Anglo-Saxons some time later. When it did re-emerge, the Latin was favoured in academic contexts over the Old English, and for this reason I choose to use the Old English as a good waypoint for pre-existing features.

Back to the article on Archaeophytes. There is no known record of soapwort in the UK before the 1500's CE. However, it is found in Germany and Poland as a 'native' species, meaning that it predates 1500 CE, and reached the geographic area without human intervention (this can be discerned through where a sample is found, for example bog or wetland pollen deposits, or ancient forest remains). This slots it nicely into my 'can use' category.

It was only at this point that I decided to look up the etymology of 'soap'.

Soap <- Sope Middle English <- Sápe Old English <;- Saipá Proto-Germanic <- seyb- Proto-Indo-European

Which rather made all the fussing I did about Roman and Latin mute. -_-

The Anglo-Saxon's called Soapwort either leáþorwyrt or grundsópa by the by, meaning literally lather wort and ground soap.

The plant Soapwort contains large amounts of Saponin (about 20% when flowering, according to Wikipedia). This produces a lather when in contact with water, and basically breaks down various cell membrane components. That's about as far as my limited grasp of biochemistry leaves me high and dry, I'm afraid, but hopefully you get the idea.

In short summary; the Lǽce in the story can literally use soap, and I should always look up etymologies before I go traipsing through academic papers. Hope those who made it this far found it interesting!

Photo Credits to TeunSpaans Wikipedia

[fireheartedpup]

I... I might have said too much to the vet that's trying to help me, but I'm REALLY frustrated with certain aspects of Modern Animal's app.

They still don't have her heart medication in the prescription list.

It's really neat that there's a prescription list! Some of the instructions are very detailed, and I've never seen any other vet office give such specific step by step instructions before. That part's great.

What's not great is that it's been over a week since she visited, and they still haven't uploaded everything we talked about during the visit. I know the tech was taking notes. I'm not sure what happened.

I called the location, and they told me to use the chat function in the app. Okay. I would prefer to talk to the person who previously examined my dog, but okay.

They say that they can see that her heart medication had been prescribed by a different vet, but that they hadn't prescribed it, and that it can take up to 48 hours for the new prescription to show up.

Forgive me for saying that her prescription should have been uploaded immediately after her examination.

She's been on it since before the pandemic, so that's around 5 years now. We've been through a few different clinics in that time, and some of those clinics had different vets every single time, so at least five different vets have agreed that she needs this medication, including the vet who saw her in person.

They made sure to upload the prescription for heartworm prevention, but not for the medication that keeps her heart beating properly.

I'm not, like, mad at anyone. I'm extremely frustrated with this entire process. I was trying to make my life easier. If the TWO HOUR CONVERSATION I had with the vet is not reflected in the records that the online vet is able to check, then I am not sure how we are supposed to have effective communication.

They also assumed I was talking about the bland diet when I asked about the prescription food that was discussed in person. That one is partially my bad, but again, they would not have made that mistake if the conversation I had in person was properly reflected in the online records.

I was asking for help when my dog was leaking. They suggested the bland diet. That was unhelpful; I'd already put her on the bland diet again. I am not new to the concept of the bland diet, and I find it difficult to not feel insulted when people explain things to me that I already know.

Especially because one of the concerns the vet had during the in person vet visit was that my dog had been on the bland diet for months.

I looked up probiotic/enzyme blends myself, went through the ingredients, and chose one I felt comfortable with. It did the trick! She hasn't had issues in a few days. I fixed it.

So I did apologize for not being clear on that point. I just don't understand why the vet talked about putting her on prescription food, the prescription for that food was not uploaded, and the person who is supposed to be helping me apparently has no idea that this conversation ever took place.

I'm getting more frustrated more easily because I'm fixing my sleep schedule again and I'm EXHAUSTED, it's the week before my period so I'm a bit hypomanic (I think), and I'm finding it a bit more difficult to back down than usual.

So yeah. I said most of that to the online vet. Sorry.

[slashertempo]

Handle Your High..?

Handle Your High

When I was a kid, acid was my drug of choice. Friends were smoking weed, or buying a lot of cocaine, and I just didn't get it. Their stuff was expensive, and I was doing a goofy drug that came on a tiny chip of paper for a couple of dollars. It lasted and kept me up for about 8-12 hours, it made the lights pretty, and the music hit my brain HARD. That and a Long Island Iced Tea, if I could afford it, was all I needed for fun at the clubs. I don't think I ever tried coke, and weed hurt my chest, probably the asthma...

The music would be really intense and I was just there to soak it in and dance for hours, usually by myself. I went just for that, my friends knew that and would be off doing their things, and find me when they were ready to take off. It was always a perfect and simple night for me to blow off steam from my restaurant job, I could tune people out, smoke a bunch of menthols, and hear new sounds every weekend...

Speed was cool, it would get me wired, so we could club all night, and then I could do an opening shift at Carl's Jr. I don't think anyone there ever knew I was tripping or super wired. It kept me pumped for the lunch rush, and then I'd go home and sleep through the daylight. I got away with doing that while living in Chicago.

I've told the story about meeting David Bowie in the early 90's, it was probably a night after a club night, being the reason I was so tired and unable to remember anything about him, but his nasty cigarette breath, heh...

Looking back at those days, and reflecting on it all, at 55, I don't think any of that is something I could get away with, not so much. These days, I enjoy a rum and coke, or a 7up with some red wine in it, or maybe a single Warsteiner or Sam Adams. And they make me feel... maybe a slight buzz, a warm fuzzy drunk, and always tired and ready for bed.

So back to our current timeline, a few days ago I finally got to see a doctor about my breathing, she was understanding of all of it, and saw that I needed to adjust what I was getting used to. She wrote up a few prescriptions, one of which was one of my least favorite drugs. One of the few I usually refuse to take, Prednisone. I don't like pain killers, and I stopped anti-depressants long ago, and Prednisone is right up there with those. If you've taken it, you may be familiar!

Prednisone is a steroid, and it makes you hyper, energetic, perhaps a little high, bordering on seeing shit and your brain seriously wanting to tune out. That's how it makes me feel. I had a ton of trouble the first few days and was awake three days straight, work was insane by the third day, but I made it through, had a day off yesterday, and it was still really weird! I went shopping and spent all my money, bought really stupid food, and a bunch of clothes. I would not have done that if someone was with me, but it is what it is...

So, here I am staying home from work, again, because it is making me feel a bit loopy and strange, and I have a little bit of the shakes. I sent a note to my doctor over the weekend, asking if I should stop, but she shot back that it's really going to help the other asthma meds get a start on helping my routine, and I'll be happier with the results after a few more days. She told me what to look out for, and she was the one who suggested staying home if I could. I'm trusting that and trying to keep relaxed for the day.

So here I am, writing and thinking about how when I was younger, there was always some kind of prep work involved when I was planning to be high. Who was driving, where I needed to be at what time, how long I would be awake, and when I worked. But it all went fine. I was always the type who would follow the "handle your high" rule.

Not to slight any of you friends, but I never wanted to be that "I love you guys, man!" or the one who was tripping all over and everyone had to help me get home. If I was going to become a burden or draw awkward attention to myself from my drinking or drugs, then they were removed from the plan and I'd go without, hah...

So now, I'm taking something that makes me feel out of control. I'm indeed, NOT handling my high, and I hate it, even though there's a lot of positive coming from it, this time. Some of the kids were having a laugh at me a few days ago. I was so wired and loopy, they commented that I was not the usual crabby character I am and that I was super jumpy and giddy about everything. They were still cracking up at my joking, but it was different, I was a clown, apparently. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" one of them joked...

So now I'm here at home, jittery, a bit lucid, and I can feel a sense of hyperactivity moving in. Hopefully, it will be around the time, the kid wants to go do some grocery shopping and laundry and can at least keep an eye on me. If I'm good, maybe I can get 'er to grab me some Chili Cheese Fritos and a coffee drink!

...like I really need one of those, right now! (maybe a choco milk).

[beels-burger-babe]

Double Vision

*This is completely self-indulgent as I officially have to wear glasses now and got my first pair today, but I figured to give you guys some content in between me being stuck on the two stupid drafts that I'm writing, I'd give you this I guess this is a series of shorts?? Either way, enjoy! -B*

Summary: It's the night before the first major test of the RAD school year, and MC has been holed up in their room all day. The brothers are concerned and go to check in on them, but they notice something different - MC is wearing glasses

CW: Asmo being Asmo. His bit is a little suggestive at times

LUCIFER

Although he'll never admit it, Lucifer was really concerned when you had disappeared for the entire day.

He was so used to hearing you laughing amongst his brothers, or pestering him in his office, or even just lounging in the living room that your absence had left him feeling like something was wrong.

Using the excuse of bringing you food to prevent you from starving, he comes to your room and knocks once before entering.

"MC, I know your studying, but do try not to forget that you...need..."

He's cut off mid-snark as he saw you staring back at him behind a pair of framed lenses.

His heart stuttered in his chest and Lucifer Morningstar is left speechless.

Your hair was a mess from the countless times you had run your hands through it. There were bags of exhaustion under your eyes, and there was a hand-shaped mark on your face from where you had been leaning into your palm.

But with those glasses, you looked studious and sharp.

If the eye-wear added this much to your beauty when you were clearly sleep-deprived as you were, he couldn't help but imagine how you might look dressed up in business wear with them.

"Lucifer?"

He snapped his head up, as you caught his focus one more, and noticed, with a frown, how you had removed your glasses.

"Did you come here for something?"

Lucifer walked over to your desk and set down the plate in front of you. "I was ensuring that you actually ate some food between all the reading you're doing." He picked up your glasses and casually inspected them (although mentally he was taking note of the style so that he could buy you more). "I was unaware that you wear glasses, MC."

You rolled your eyes and took a bite from the food in front of you. "That's because I don't need to wear them all the time. Just when I'm doing activities that can strain my eyes."

Lucifer hummed and looked closely at you. You rose an eyebrow at the demon, questioning his odd behaviour. Before you could say anything, he leaned forward and gently slid the frames onto your face.

You felt your cheeks heat up as his eyes remained locked on yours, and a sly smile graced his lips. "You should wear them more often," he whispered softly. "You look lovely in them."

MAMMON

Mammon sighed heavily as he sat upside down on his bed.

He was bored. You had locked yourself up in your room all day for that stupid test and had kicked him out since apparently he was "distracting" and "prevented you from getting any work down."

Well, fuck that! He wanted to spend time with you, damn it!

Mammon marched down the hall and banged on the door once before throwing open the door. "Yo human! Studyin' time is over! It's Mammon ti-...time..."

He trailed off for a moment as he noticed you glaring heatedly at him. However, it wasn't the glare that made him surprised. No. It was the fact that the glare was being filtered through a pair of glasses that he had never seen before on your face.

"When the fuck did you start wearin' glasses?!" He screeched and marched over to you, grabbing your cheeks to pull you closer and get a better look.

You let out a noise of frustration and swatted his hands away. "Mammon quit it! I'm trying to study!"

Surprisingly, he pulled back his hands, but he remained barely an inch away from you. "I didn't ask if you were studyin'! I asked about the glasses!"

You felt yourself blush and pulled your face away. "I've always had glasses. I just don't always wear them. That's all. Wh-Why does it matter?"

Mammon opened his mouth to give a retort, before snapping his jaw back shut. His face grew rapidly warm as he scratched the back of his neck. "I-I was just wonderin'! You've been down here for what? 3 months now? And I ain't ever seen you wear them."

You averted your eyes from the clearly flustered demon and nervously played with your hands. "Yeah, well, I didn't really want any of you to see me in them. I look pretty silly and-"

"What the fuck are you talkin' about? You're adorable!!" Mammon shouted before slapping a hand over his blushing face. The two of you stared at each other with wide eyes full of shock. "I-I mean, glasses are cool, ya know? I wear glasses all the time! And if the Great Mammon knows anythin', it's style! So, of course, you look cute- I mean good- I mean gorgeous- I-I mean GAH!" Mammon turned around and stormed out of the room.

A couple days later, you found a pair of tinted glasses, identical to the ones Mammon wears, in your prescription sitting by your door.

LEVIATHAN

Levi groaned as he looked at the books in front of him.

He wasn't the most studious of his brothers, and this test was draining the life out of him. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with you and watch anime, but because of this stupid test you were both holed up in your respective rooms studying.

Leviathan let out a huff as he laid his head on his desk and glanced over at his manga collection. His gaze paused on the side of a particular school manga with the two main characters studying on the cover.

Levi shot out of his seat in realization, "I can just go study with them!!!"

Levi quickly gathered all his textbooks and went straight to your room. He knocked on the door and nervously waited for you to answer.

As the door swung open, Levi's jaw dropped and his books went scattering across the floor.

Glasses. You were wearing glasses. Glasses that made your eyes look slightly bigger and just overall made you so freaking cute. Oh goodness. He didn't know that you could pull off the cool, studious type so well. You were just so cute!

"Oh shoot, Levi! Your books!" You bent down and quickly began to gather them for him. It was just like a scene from an anime!

"S-So kawaii," the otaku muttered, as he tried to hide his red face behind his arm.

The reddening got worse as you looked up at him and tilted your head. "What was that, Levi?"

He frantically waved his hands took his books back from you, "N-NOTHING! Just, um, I-I was wondering if we could study together? I'm not having much luck on my own, a-a-and you look smart, especially with your new glasses, which look amazing, and I-I thought maybe..."

You smiled softly at the otaku's mumbling and grabbed his hand. "Of course, Levi! I'd love to study with you!"

As you pulled him into your room to sit at your desk, Levi blushed and followed behind you, mentally thinking of the number of glasses-wearing cosplays he could get you to try.

SATAN

Satan took a sip of his tea as you sat down at the library table beside him.

Test season had always been a favourite of his for a number of reasons, but this year, those reasons could all be narrowed down to one big one: he got to spend more time alone with you.

It made him more grateful than ever that his brothers were morons and that he was the only dependable demon in the house that you could study with.

He had constructed an easy-to-follow study guide for the two of you that would guarantee both your success for this test. You'd get good grades and avoid Lucifer's wrath, and he'd get to spend time with you. It was a win-win.

He flipped through a textbook to find the subject of the test. "Alright. We should get started if we're going to stick to the plan. Now, how comfortable are you with..." he stopped short as he looked up and saw you staring at him with a pair of glasses on your face.

He blinked.

He had never seen you were glasses before. He couldn't help but think that now that he had, he never wanted to see you without them again. You look so stunning and elegant with them on. He absolutely loved it.

Of course, he couldn't just tell you that though.

Instead, Satan tilted his head and smirked. "You are aware that just because you're wearing glasses, it won't make you any smarter?"

You gasped in mock offence and lightly hit his arm as Satan laughed. "I'll have you know these are prescribed! I have to wear them when I'm doing any strenuous activities."

Satan flashed a roguish smile and went back to flipping through his book. "Pity. I'd rather like to see you wear them more often. You look wonderful," before you even got the chance to respond or acknowledge the light blush on his cheeks, Satan cleared his throat. "Now, on page 364, you'll see..."

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus hummed to himself as he walked towards your room with a basket full of facemasks and nail polish in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

You had been tucked away in your little room all day studying, and he just knew that you needed a break. That's where he came in of course, offering you all the love and self-care you could ever desire.

Asmodeus joyfully knocked on your door before slipping inside. "MC dear, I've come to free you from your..." he inhaled sharply at the sight before him.

You were laying on your stomach, kicking your legs behind you as you read whatever book you were studying from, dressed in an adorably oversized sweatshirt. That alone would've been enough to make him squeal.

But you were also wearing glasses.

Asmo shrieked as he jumped onto the bed with you and tackled you.

You let out a yelp as the two of you tumbled to the floor. "Wha- Asmo! Get off!"

Asmodeus giggled and sat up beside you. "Sorry, darling! I couldn't help it! You look so cute with your little glasses. AH! It's delightful," his eyes sparkled with intrigue and pleasure. "Sexy even," he purred as he leaned in close.

You chuckled and pushed Asmodeus away as you stood up. "I'm just studying. The glasses are so I can read without getting a headache."

The demon hummed as he walked back over to the door to regather his supplies. "Well, have you ever considered buying some for accessories? I have a pair or two that would look gorgeous on you. It'd be a shame if the only person who ever got to see how scrumptious you look with glasses was your books," he smirked knowingly as he turned around and saw you flustered.

Asmo grinned and held the basket and wine bottle. "Now enough with the studying. It's time for a break. So sit back and relax, and let me take care of you."

You raised an eyebrow at him, and damn that glare was more effective from behind a pair of lenses. "Asmo," you warned, causing the demon to shiver.

Asmo pouted and gestured to the basket. "Self-care of course. Gee, MC, why must you think such filthy things."

BEELZEBUB

Beel made his way towards your room with his arms full of snacks.

He was proud of you for taking your test so seriously and really putting in the work to do your best, but he was also worried. He had barely seen you come out of your room even once today, and that meant that you probably hadn't eaten enough.

Seeing as you were always carrying around snacks for him, he figured it was time that he returned the favour.

He frowned as he got to your door and realized that he had no hands to knock with. He tried rearranging the food in his arms but nearly dropped the entire load. Beel huffed and stared at the door for a couple seconds before leaning forward and butting it with his head several times.

He heard a groan and some shuffling on the other side before the door opened.

His eyes widened as you stood before him, yawning as you rubbed your eyes underneath your glasses - yes, glasses.

You were always small in comparison to Beel, but now with the glasses, there was something about it that made you look even more delicate.

"Cute," Beel said as he looked down at you.

Your face instantly flushed as you blinked up at him. "H-Huh?"

Beel smiled softly and felt his fingers twitch with the urge to ruffle your hair. "Your glasses. They look very cute," he explained honestly.

You squeaked and quickly took them off, too embarrassed by Beel's forward compliment. "Th-Thanks Beel. They're um, they're just for studying."

The urge to ruffle your hair, or pat your shoulder, or even simply touch you grew stronger, but Beel's hands were still full. So, much like with the door, Beelzebub thought of an alternative.

He leaned down and gently kissed the top of your head. His warm gaze met yours as he gently whispered, "You always look pretty, but with them on, you look even prettier," and then, as though he hadn't just stolen your heart, he grinned and held out the food. "I brought snacks."

BELPHEGOR

Belphie had been wandering around the house late at night in yet another round of restlessness.

He had just walked past your door when he noticed your bedroom light was still on. Belphegor tsked and began making his way over. It was bad enough that he wasn't getting any sleep. He didn't need you picking up on his awful sleep habits just because of some boring test.

Without bothering to knock, Belphie opened your bedroom door. He opened his mouth to tease you but found his words catching in his throat.

You weren't awake after all.

You were passed out on your desk, face smooshed up against an open book with a pair of glasses sitting uncomfortably askew on your nose.

Belphie felt his cold heart melt at the sight.

He let out a deep chuckle and walked over to you. He carefully removed the glasses from your face and snorted at the red lines that had been left in their wake. He pressed gentle kisses to the marks before scooping you up in his arms and carrying you over to your bed.

"Silly MC," he whispered as he draped your blankets over you. "Everyone knows that you're not supposed to sleep with glasses on," he smiled tenderly at your sleeping form as he brushed a few hairs from your forehead. "No matter how cute they may make you."

*And that's that! I hope you enjoyed this cute little thing I just threw together! Sorry I haven't been able to write as much lately. School and work have just been insane and I honestly don't think the workload is gonna get any lighter. Thank you for your patience and your support!*

TAGLIST:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @victoirey @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino @rulaien @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10

[fictionadventurer]

Wait! I’m intensely interested in what you call the Gaskell approach to mental health!

Basically, it's an approach to mental health that starts with: don't sit inside reading all the time, go outside and get exercise and sunshine, and eat good, nutrient-dense food.

I'll never forget the day that I was sitting through a training course about mental health that gave statistics showing that America had better rates of recovery from mental illness in the 1850s than we do today. The 1850s. You know, before widespread psychiatric care and medications were available. I'm not saying that these advances haven't done good things, and clearly the historical approach to treating mental illness had, to put it mildly, some major flaws, but if they were having better recovery rates in the 1850s than we do today, it suggests they were doing something right.

The training went into a few of the details that might have contributed to this--and it has been a few years since I saw this training course, so I'm probably going to get the details wrong, but here's what I can piece together (with a bit of help from Gaskell). Doctors would prescribe things like taking walks or going out into the sunshine or changing diet--and these would be written out with instructions that should be followed like any other prescription, giving guidance that was more specific than "You should get more exercise." And there was a general idea that mental health problems were temporary. You'd have a bout of depression or some kind of nervous breakdown, the doctor would provide treatment, and you would get through it and return to health. And of course there were more severe and difficult and chronic cases, but judging by the fact that they had better recovery rates, people did get cured.

Reading Gaskell earlier this year gave me a better idea as to why. In Wives and Daughters, we have Osbourne, whose temperament tends to depression, which gets worse when he suffers several severe setbacks. He isolates himself, staying inside and trying to write poetry. His family urges him to go outside, get out of his own head, and stop reading so many books--not with an anti-intellectual bent, mind you, because Roger is even more of an intellectual, but with the understanding that it's not healthy to sit inside and wallow in thoughts and emotions so much, and that good fresh air and sunshine and exercise could do a lot to help pull him out of his funk. And though Osbourne never quite listens to his family's advice, he does do better when he's doing something and going somewhere.

What rocked me even more (and made me label this the Gaskell approach to mental health) was reading Cousin Phillis. There's a scene where the narrator's boss suffers a severe illness requiring a lot of recovery time. Phillis's family urges the narrator to bring his boss to their farm over the weekend, because they're certain that the fresh country air and sunshine will do him loads of good. The mother even says something along the lines of, "We'll give him milk from our best cow, and her milk is as good as cream." That floored me. From a modern perspective, it was insane to see something labeled as a health food because it's higher in fat. But it's such a common-sense approach to nutrition. Fat is a nutrient. Your body needs nutrients, especially when it's trying to recover from illness. Your brain needs fat to function. When a modern person would have been counting calories or calculating out exact percentages of every nutrient, the Victorians were going, "We'll give you as much good food as possible." To be clear, good food also included a lot of fresh vegetables and meat, so it's not like they were just shoving him full of fatty junk food, but the idea was that food was a good thing for health. It's so much more human to look at food, not as an enemy, but as a tool for healing.

When you think about our modern world, where people live more than ever in urban areas, sit inside reading screens all day (often as part of their job), and those screens are telling them that they need to resist food, calculate food, war against food, is it any wonder that people aren't recovering from mental illness? We've had tons of advances in analyzing and treating mental illness, but reading Gaskell makes me think that people of the past already had a pretty good idea of how to promote mental health.

[thunderheadfred]

🦅Hawks HC’s🦅

This is SO unnecessarily long. Some NSFW. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

Has zero social life or hobbies outside of work. He knows it’s unhealthy, but like, who has the time?? Oh? Lots of people do?? Haha what are healthy work/home boundaries? He desperately wants to retire and always talks about a world without heroes, but the truth is he would have no idea what to do with himself if he got his way. Take him to a park at midnight and watch him turn into a giant repressed child on a swing. He’ll do a standing-360 and it will be terrifying.

Listens to music way too loud in his headphones to drown out wind noise. Probably half deaf at this point. His musical taste is wild; listening history all over the fucking place. Algorithms have no idea what to do with him.

That visor? It’s prescription. Wow is he far-sighted. He wears glasses. He’s not blind without them (rather the opposite) but they help him see things directly in front of him without massive eye strain. Yeah, he looks really hot in glasses.

Prefers communicating via text. Sometimes it’s a lot of dumb memes, but mostly it’s sincere. He can say what he means when he doesn’t have to put on a public front.

Smokes like a chimney. Self medicates with stimulants. Coffee, tobacco, sugar. Fidgety, likes things in his mouth or hands. Gnashes on toothpicks and popsicle sticks. He really should go back to therapy, huh? His teeth are sparkling white for the cameras but his breath could use some work. Chews gum a lot to compensate, and always does it really loudly with a big shit-eating grin.

Impatient as fuuuuuck. Rude about it. If you take too long doing anything, you’re going to hear a foot tapping. He’ll smile and laugh it off, never ever directly criticize you about it. But lord, the dramatic sighs. He WILL nudge you out of the way and take over in order to finish a task faster, and it’s truly fucking annoying.

LOVES food. Has the metabolism of an actual bird. Will seize upon any excuse to eat. No need to be self-conscious about eating in front of him; he wants you to enjoy it. Steals bites from you and talks with his mouth full. Prefers street food and take-out, usually eats while walking or flying. Sit-down restaurants are an invitation for gawkers.

He’s one of those celebrities that looks way taller on TV. In real life, he’s small and compact. So you’re surprised the first time you see him in person. He has a big head. Literally.

If you’re taller or bigger than him, he does Not Care. He treats everyone like they’re four feet tall, even Endeavor. Everything you do is cute. If you’re actually short, he’s going to carry you around all the time, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Collects big chunky overpriced watches. All the better to tell you you’re late.

Half his clothes are brand fucking new. Sometimes he forgets to take off the tags. (Don’t look at the prices, do NOT) He never seems to wear the same thing twice. He also never seems to go shopping. Brands just give him stuff, and he shrugs and goes “yeah okay.”

The other half of his clothes are old, faded, and patched up. Every item he acquires for himself has deep sentimental value. If you tell him to throw away that nasty ten-year-old pair of frayed cargo pants, be prepared to find out how wrong and evil you are for even suggesting it.

He doesn’t snore; he coos. Loudly. Like a fucking pigeon trapped in a megaphone.

- - - - -

Dating

Gift-giving is his love language. Bringing your favorite snacks. Leaving novelty magnets on your fridge. He found a copy of that book/game/movie you mentioned like a month ago, don’t you remember? If he has to go out of town on a job, he’ll bring back the ugliest possible souvenir, just to annoy you.

He likes gifting jewelry especially. Covering you in shiny baubles, little golden things. Not expensive, but unusual. Antiques or handmade, even bizarre vending machine crap. Gets really handsy if you wear or show off his gifts.

Since you’re the first person who has given him The Feels, if you are resistant to his advances (like, say, because he’s way too famous and you’re terrified he’s gonna break your heart) he’s going to go fucking nuts trying to woo you. Doesn’t have a single patient bone in his body but will wait as long as it takes for you to come around. He’ll act like he’s cool with just being friends at first, just hanging out, haha. Oh you’re busy today? That’s cool. Inside he’s shrieking like a tea kettle. Go ahead, make him wait.

Don’t bother giving him a key to your place. He’s coming in through the bedroom window or patio door. Just put out a damn welcome mat on your balcony... or a bird feeder.

A bit of a voyeur. He likes to watch you do your normal routine without interruption. He can see from miles away so if you’ve got your lights on at night, he’ll creep for a while before he comes in. It comforts him immensely, seeing a little slice of the world that isn’t constantly in need of saving.

Is super talkative and funny but a terrible communicator. Makes more jokes the worse he feels. Will almost never tell you what he needs. Most of the time, he doesn’t even know. You will learn to read between the lines and gradually notice his tiny unconscious cries for help. Back rubs make him emotional.

He shows up at your place at the weirdest times. All hours. You’re never ready. At first it was infuriating, because you wanted to look your best and have time to prepare, but you figure out pretty quickly that seeing you in your natural state is his favorite thing. He never gets to be around normal people, doing normal things. A boring, lazy afternoon is his idea of paradise.

He’ll pick through your things and ask a world of invasive questions. A medicine cabinet raider. He wants to know every fucking tiny thing about you, live vicariously through you.

He actually lives in a top floor penthouse. Because I mean, where else? Never spends any time there; mostly he seems to roost on the balcony. He has used the front door maybe once. He much prefers your place, and will only take you back to his after months of dating. It’ll take like, an entire emergency. You’ll end up in his bed by mistake.

Because when you finally come over, he’s embarrassed. Its sparse. White. Things in boxes. A new furniture smell. Like he’s not done moving in, though he’s lived there for years. He wants you to move in So Bad but doesn’t want to be pushy. If you don’t start leaving your stuff there, he’ll steal things from your apartment. Where the hell is your favorite t-shirt? Or that pillowcase you like? Dammit Keigo.

He’s a decent cook, a habit he made himself pick up because he thought it might make him feel more normal. It... didn’t. He never actually cooks until you give him an excuse. He’ll bring you breakfast in bed and watch you eat every bite with big hungry eyes.

He’s got a separate wardrobe for his hero costume and all his feathers. Yeah. His feathers. Because he can detach and control his feathers at will, when he’s alone at home he kind of just... shucks off his wings. The first time you see him do it, your eyes fall out of your head. He walks around in a tee shirt and boxers with these ugly little stumps covered in brownish, blood-red down. It actually looks kind of gnarly, like he got mauled by a bear.

He’s never dated until you. No one has ever been in his apartment until you. No one has called him Keigo until you. He has some bigass intimacy issues. Because. Y’know. The trauma. But god, he wants you in his life so bad, even if he has no idea how to make time for your relationship.

He’ll want to keep you to himself for a while. Once you go public he’s going to have an arm around your shoulders at all times. Publicly Displays his Affection way more than is socially acceptable in Japan, and gives precisely -100,000 fucks.

His fans either love you or hate you. There is no in between. He will immediately take your phone and threaten to drop it from a great height if he catches you reading shitty gossip about the two of you. Does NOT care about his public image anymore, doesn’t want YOU to care about it either. He’s gonna retire soon anyway, remember? That’s a lie.

Being a charming motherfucker is the core of his public persona, so you will get jealous. A lot. He will flirt shamelessly without realizing it. He will get photographed in compromising positions with gorgeous people.

Once you accept that he’s basically an actor 80% of the time and that Hawks and Keigo are separate identities, you’ll both feel better. When he comes home (to YOU) and falls over exhausted and stops being Hawks(tm), when he scratches his ass or burps in front of you, when he yells to you from the bathroom, when he groans childishly about his shitty day while laying face-down in your lap, you’ll know you have nothing to worry about. Keigo is all yours.

Boundaries? Never heard of ‘em. He’s either a million lightyears away or he’s glued to your hip. The whiplash is astounding.

Absolutely says “I love you” wayyyyyy to soon. It thrills you but scares you off at the same time, because there’s no way Hawks - The Hawks - can actually mean it, right? (He does)

Rings? Nah. When things get serious, he will make a necklace out of a feather for you, and if you ever take it off, you better be asleep or in the shower. Even then you’re on thin fuckin ice. If you’re not wearing it he knows. He’s never mean about making you put it back on, it just makes him nervous if he can’t feel your heartbeat.

- - - - -

SPICY CHICKEN NUGGETS

High sex drive. Horny like 25/7. Probably a symptom of having way too much pent up stress.

Often takes care of it himself when he doesn’t have the emotional resources for anyone else, even his S.O. Figures you don’t want him coming on to you as often as he would like to, but he’s too stupid to talk to you about it first. Morning masturbator.

Yes he’s fucked around a lot but he’s not exactly a playboy either. People have always thrown themselves at him, and before he met you he let them do it. Especially when out of town and staying in a hotel. Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, etc.

He’d never be unfaithful to you though; his loyalty and dedication are frankly a little unsettling. Sometimes you feel like the only thing in his life other than hero work. Teach this man to knit. Make him join a book club. Christ. Anything.

Does in fact have seasonal mating patterns and it’s super embarrassing.

An underwear-sniffing perv. He’ll definitely hump your pillow.

Gets a sick thrill out of breaking in and startling you. Coming up behind you in the dark, sneaking into your bed. It’s probably his worst habit, and even he hates that he does it. If you get better at detecting him he’ll be so proud. Land a slap on him and he’ll be a horny mess.

Dog-whistles at you. Often from rooftops, and you have no idea where he is but you know he’s leering.

He will call you a lot of really stupid pet names. He likes the way you blush when he finds a newer, stupider one. Calls you angel when he’s really far gone.

Likes to scratch you with his stubble until your skin turns raw and sensitive. If it annoys you or hurts a little? Even better. Making you squirm is his new favorite thing. Especially when going down on you. Your inner thighs are always exfoliated.

His cock is average in every respect. This is not a bad thing. He knows how to please you with every totally normal inch of that cock. He has some kind of homing beacon installed on your sensitive spots.

Goes absolutely insane for blowjobs. Any time, any place.

Likes to bend you around in all kinds of positions with an assist from his feathers to hold up an ankle here, an arm there. Get used to floating mid-coitus. It just seems to happen.

Spanky.

His number one priority is making you feel adored and at home in his bed. Ohhhhh he likes to make you smile. But if you encourage him to get pushy and dominant with you, you will have a good, good time.

He’s switchy, and will lose his shit if you initiate or take control. Again, he’s always horny for you, because he can finally let go. Breathe in his direction and he’s hard.

Doesn’t moan much, but Babe, he’s a dirty talker. He’s not smooth or deliberate about it, it’s more like he can’t fucking believe you let him do whatever he wants to you. You like that huh? Like he’s in stages of shock. He’s singing your praises to high Heaven and muttering oh shit oh shit oh shittttttt and laugh-crying as he cums. He never talks about his feelings; he fucks about them.

After. Care. King. He loves pampering and clucking over you anyway, this is simply another excuse to do it. He knows exactly how much water you drink in a day. Can’t take care of himself for shit, but you? You’ll never have a need he won’t try to fill. What’s all that hero work for if not this? Yeah, soak it up. You deserve it.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 131.2 Tease (Part 2)

(you can start with part 1 if you'd like.)

It's not forever. Harry reminded himself as he sat in his fourth meeting today with a board of people he barely recognized. His eyes searched for Draco who was across the room, his head bowed as he spoke in hushed tones to a witch in a hideous magenta robe.

It's not forever he repeated as he listened to the arsehole leading the presentation about all of the ways that the war had helped the economy boom.

It's not forever he thought again as the board congratulated themselves on a war well won when not a single one of them was there.

He wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to replace every person he'd lost with one of these arseholes instead.

His gaze met Draco's across the room and he wondered if the other man could see how this was killing him.

"Mr. Potter," the wanker who'd been running the meeting, Sebastian if Harry remembered correctly, said, "You've been awfully quiet," he added jovially and the room chuckled with him. Harry forced a smile. "What are your thoughts?"

"Thank you for the invitation to speak," he said courteously. "Yes, I agree," he lied, "It's really something that we've had such a boom in the economy." He paused as the people around the room congratulated each other again. "There are several things that I would personally love to see some of the excess get funneled into."

"Oh-" Sebastian started but Harry continued over him.

"The number of children orphaned during the war doubled," Harry said bluntly. "Our orphanages don't have enough room to hold them and they're being put in muggle orphanages or into muggle homes. Many muggles aren't equipped to handle a wizarding child."

"Mr. Potter-"

"Excuse me," he said. "If I could just have another moment of your time." He cleared his throat, "I would like to see better processes in place for how these children are placed. An extra set of interviews, even." There were murmurs around the room but Harry plowed on.

(Read more below the cut)

"The number of people who are now affected by lyncathropy has nearly quadrupled but our funding has remained the same for that department in St. Mungo's-"

"Yes, but-"

"And," Harry continued, "The potion typically used for treatment is really expensive. With all of the prejudices against lycanthropes, it's difficult for many of them to find gainful employment, they can't-"

"Mr. Potter," Sebastian interrupted more forcibly, "I don't really think this is the appropriate time or place."

"Then where and when is?" Harry snapped. His eyes found Draco once more and watched as the other man lifted his chin and inhaled slowly, deeply. And Harry took a deep breath and shook his head, looking down at his hands, "I apologize, I don't mean to be rude," he said even though it was a complete lie. "I must be feeling a bit peckish. Congratulations on your success," he managed.

"Yes, thank you," the other man said amidst a third round of congratulatory murmurs. "I think we're all a bit hungry," he chuckled. "Let's end early," he suggested.

Everyone was quick to pack up and leave, several people stopping to congratulate him but not a single one of them saying anything about orphans, or werewolves, or any of the other things that Harry hadn't managed to say.

Draco was talking to a wizard, patting him on the back and Harry pretended to be digging around for something important in his bag until that wizard left the room, leaving only him and Draco.

Their eyes caught and held, Draco looked at him helplessly and Harry broke. "I can't," he whispered.

"Not here," Draco said, voice soft and achingly tender.

He nodded and told himself that it didn't hurt when Draco simply walked past him and out the door. After another moment, where he let the emotions swirling inside of him rage, he took a fortifying breath and tamped everything back down.

Harry made his way out of the room, down the hall, and through the atrium; he was stopped every several feet by people wanting to talk to him, to have their minute in the limelight. When he'd started working with the ministry, he'd imagined that he'd be able to do anything he wanted because of these frequent meetings but none of them wanted to actually help. It was a game to them.

When he finally made it to the apparation point he barely had the energy to lift his wand and apparate home.

"Don't sit," Draco called when Harry's feet touched the floor.

He whined, "I'm exhausted."

"I know," Draco called back, "But we both know that rest isn't what is going to help you."

Harry wanted to argue, wanted to lash out. Godric, he was itching for a fight, desperate for an outlet. It's how he and Draco had gotten together in the first place, after the war and the trials. Fighting had turned into fucking which had turned into making love and now Harry could hardly imagine not loving Draco.

"I know," Draco repeated as he came into the living room where Harry was still standing in the middle of the floor. "Here," he said, holding out a pair of muggle jeans, a plain black tshirt, flip flops, and a pair of sunglasses. "Get changed."

Harry looked at him then, the other man was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a blue polo, blue sunglasses perched in his hair.

"What are we doing?" he asked even as he stripped out of his robes and the clothes he'd been wearing underneath.

"We're having a taste of someday," Draco said.

Harry paused buttoning his jeans and grabbed Draco's shirt, pulling him in and kissing him fiercely, pouring all of his frustration and desperation into the kiss.

"I know," Draco whispered, pressing his forehead against Harry's. "I know, love."

He swallowed and took a step back so he could finish zipping up his jeans and pull his tshirt on over his head.

"Ready?" Draco asked after he'd stuffed his feet back into his sandals.

Harry nodded eagerly and accepted Draco's arm.

When they blinked back into existence, they were on a bare, sunny stretch of beach by the ocean. "Give me your glasses," Draco said, holding out a hand.

"But I need them to see," Harry protested.

Draco rolled his eyes, but the fond curve of his mouth gave him away, "These," he said, holding out the sunglasses he'd brought down with Harry's clothes, "Are prescription sunglasses."

"You're brilliant," Harry breathed, leaning in to steal a kiss. "Sorry," he said, pulling back quickly remembering that they were still in public, even if the beach seemed deserted.

"Hey," Draco whispered, cupping Harry's cheek and drawing their lips together softly, sweetly, "This is someday, remember?" he murmured, lips brushing tantalizingly over Harry's before he leaned in and closed the distance once more.

Harry grasped his shirt in his hands and kissed him back for a long moment.

When he pulled back, Draco was smiling, warm and open and real, and a bubble of light expanded in Harry's chest. "Give me your glasses," he said again, holding out a hand.

He pulled them off his face and handed them over, accepting the sunglasses and watching as Draco carefully folded them and put them in a case. "Come on," he said as he shoved the case into a bag and held out a hand to Harry.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, reveling in the feel of Draco's hand in his, fingers entwined as they set off down the beach.

Draco smiled, "Right after the war," he said, "When I was trying to get my head on straight, I wanted to understand muggle culture."

"Oh?" Harry asked, greedily gobbling up every word out of Draco's mouth. They didn't talk much about the time just after the war.

He nodded, "You weren't there seventh year but what we were taught in Muggle Studies by the Carrows," Draco shook his head, "well, it doesn't bear repeating. And I wanted to know what they'd lied about; I wanted to see it for myself."

Harry squeezed his hand encouragingly.

"The new professor at Hogwarts who's teaching Muggle Studies now gave me port keys to different places that would let me experience muggle life."

"You did that by yourself?" Harry asked.

Draco laughed, "I know, it's outrageous to think about now, isn't it?"

"Sorry-"

He squeezed his hand and waved him off, "Don't be. It was crazy but I needed to see it, you know? The poor bloke I tried to pay the first time I had muggle food," he laughed again. "Oh Salazar, his face."

Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled this much, the muscles in his face actually hurt from disuse.

"Anyway," Draco continued, "This was one of my favorite places. I'd been taught that muggles were stupid and lazy, but this," he said as they walked around the corner and a boardwalk came into view. "It was magic," he said simply.

The scent of fried food wafted down the beach toward them and the sound of children's laughter reached his ears. "I've never been to the boardwalk," he said.

"You'll love it," Draco assured, tugging his hand.

Harry tugged back, pulling Draco around so he could kiss him. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome," Draco replied softly, bumping his nose against Harry's.

--------------

The afternoon stretched into evening, the sun burning red and gold, and setting the ocean on fire. Harry leaned against the railing and watched the sun setting as he stole bits of the funnel cake that Draco had purchased. "They're never going to listen," he said.

"Sorry?" Draco asked through a mouthful of food and Harry loved him all the more.

"I love you," he said simply, distracted.

Draco grinned at him, "I love you, too," he replied. "What did you say before that, though?"

"That they're never going to listen."

The other man frowned, "We don't have to talk about this now," he said. "We're in someday," he added.

"But I want to actually, you know," he said, gesturing vaguely, "get here someday."

"Politics take time," Draco said gently, in the way he had a thousand times.

And Harry recognized it was a product of his upbringing, that Draco had been raised from a very young age to measure every word that left his mouth, to look at a room and size up the people in it to know who was the most important, to make connections and build on them, to calculate every move he made. It's why seeing him here with powdered sugar at the corner of his mouth made Harry feel like he could fly; because Draco could be free when it was just them. And Harry knew from experience that he'd slip back into the role he played without hesitation or difficulty. He'd make a great politician.

But not Harry.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm done with that."

"Harry-"

"I'm running for Minister of Magic," he said.

Draco gaped at him and Harry stored that mental image away for a rainy day. "I'm sorry. What?" Draco asked.

"It's the only way that I'm going to be able to get anything done," he said. "I'm sick of the games."

"But the games are what you'll need to get elected," Draco said.

He laughed, "Nope. I'm pretty sure I've found what all that fame will be useful for. I don't need the support of the idiots who work for the Ministry, I just need the support of regular people. And I'm pretty sure I've earned that. Then once I'm in office I can fire all of them and put in people who actually give a shit."

Draco stared at him for another moment, "Are you sure about this?"

He shrugged and looked out over the water, "As sure as I am of anything."

"Anything?" Draco asked, bumping him with his shoulder.

The corner of his mouth curved up, "You excluded, of course."

"Of course," Draco echoed. "Fuck, Harry," he breathed, "You don't do anything by halves, do you?"

He shook his head, "I think about where Teddy could have ended up if not for Adromeda and I can't sleep," he said. "I think of the way Remus was treated. And of the way the trials went after the first war, the way yours would have gone if I hadn't shown up." He rubbed his fist against the railing, "Every day I walk into the Ministry and I see that fucking fountain where wizards are stepping on other magical creatures, and I just," he shrugged, "I can't."

Draco shifted so he was behind Harry and wrapped his arms around his waist, hooking his chin over his shoulder. "I know," he said softly.

"Will you help me?" Harry asked.

Draco started nodding before he'd even finished the question. "Always, love."

-----------------------

part 1 | part 3

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Part 3

This part is a little more plot heavy, but I added in some nice Whumpy bits too! I hope you guys enjoy, and thanks everyone for their suggestions!

Also, the next part of this may be a bit late, as I’m planning for my next piece to be the continuation of Villainsicle!

CW//Mentions of law enforcement, mentions of therapy/treatments, restraints, medical abuse, begging, screaming, forced sedation, needles, blood

Open the door.

It would be so simple. The entrance was constructed of little more than wood and a flimsy lock. Even someone without the benefit of powers could break it. And, based on what Hero had seen so far of this place, it may not have even been locked.

Just open it.

Open the door, and they could sleep again.

Open the stupid door.

But...

Hero’s hands clenched into fists, their gaze moving upwards, fixing upon the metal plaque upon the door.

‘43′

Beyond the simple plank of wood, their nemesis was laying. Suffering. Trapped in their own mind.

They could open the door, just twist the knob, and save them. In any other time, any other instance, it was what they would have done. They knew the way the others spoke of them, joked about them. Saying they’d jump off a bridge, even if their friends hadn’t done it first. They couldn’t control their impulses. That was what Leader always wrote, in the reports. Impulsive. Reckless.

That’s what they were. Reckless.

But that was back when it didn’t matter. That was back when the only one in danger was them. Hero. Now that Villain was part of the equation?

They had to think. They had to be smart.

Hero bit their tongue with enough force that the taste of bloody iron washed over their taste buds.

They didn’t open the door.

Around the corner, a doctor in blue scrubs furrowed their brow, and dipped away to make a phone call.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“If I’m being completely honest, Hero, I wasn’t expecting you to contact me again.”

Hacker spoke with their head down, sheepish, as though a child apologizing for breaking a toy.

Again, the two sat in the same diner: It was busy, but crowded enough that they could simply blend into the lunch rush without fuss. To avoid questions, the both of them had ordered an appetizer, though neither of them had much of an appetite to speak of.

“You weren’t? Why’s that?”

“I mean...” They leaned back in their seat, pressing their spine against the padded booth seat back. “I didn’t think you’d care? That sounds kind of rude now that I’m saying it out loud but... The stuff I was showing you, I assumed you were already aware of it.”

“You thought I knew the way Villain was being treated?”

“Kind of? That’s the kind of stuff they tell you, right?”

“Eh...” Hero dropped their gaze. “Not really. That’s not our business. We catch the crook, what happens to them after isn’t really our focus.”

Hacker frowned.

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“So you didn’t know?”

“Not at all. I knew they were at that facility but... I thought it was fine. I thought Villain was fine.”

“Maybe I should have told you sooner, then.”

“You knew?”

“Well.” There came the embarrassment once more, their cheeks flushing. “For the scale of your organization, your cybersecurity is a little... lacking. Everything from that rehab facility, it’s stored on an off-site backup. Their on-site security is decent, but once it goes through that external data channel, it’s caught right in my net.”

“Is that right?”

“Don’t tell anyone, please?”

“Trust me, I wasn’t planning on it. I have much bigger problems than low level hackers.”

“Hey!”

“That’s not to say you’re a low-level hacker.”

“That’s better. Then, if you’re not here to like, arrest me-”

“That’s what you thought I was doing?”

“Kinda. If that’s not what you want, what do you want?”

“I want to know more.”

Hero had made the decision upon planning this meeting that they were not to tell Hacker about their visit to the facility. Despite the aid they had already offered, it was hard to trust someone who admitted to criminality with such nonchalance. And, besides, Hero was almost certain that their superiors wouldn’t be happy to know about their distraction.

“More?”

“You’ve been watching them for a while, right? I want to know more. Everything about Villain, everything about the whole place. How much do you know?”

“A lot. I have a considerable amount of files, though I have no way of knowing how many more there are that I don’t have. How many they keep on-site.”

“But you have information?”

“I have a lot of junk. Taxes, insurance, quarterly reports, formalities. Prescriptions for mundane crap like, I don’t know, allergies. But, I think I have a few diamonds in the rough. You’re going to have to be more specific than that, though. I do need something to work off of.”

Hero nodded, biting their lip. They hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead.

They were getting Villain out of that so-called rehab facility. They knew that much. But they needed to be smart about it. They needed information. They needed to know how they could get their friend- foe out of that place quickly, safely, and with as little noise as possible.

“The facility.” They began. “How does it work? It’s a relatively small facility housing a relatively large number of dangerous criminals. How do they... help them? They’re not all treated like Villain, right?”

“I don’t think there’s enough drugs on the continent to keep them all like Villain. Their methods of treatment are... unclear. The patient reports indicate what therapies each one is undergoing, but they don’t have names. Just numbers. Codes. Whatever they do in there, they keep it in house. My doctor friends have never heard of any of it, before.”

“Then how do they do it? Drugs?”

“If they have some kind of secret therapy, I don’t know about it. But they do have something else. They call it AMRS.”

“AMRS?”

“The Automatic Magnetic Restraint System. A fancy name for a crude practice. They’re vague about it, of course, but from what I can tell, each resident wears these four ring things. Bracelets, it calls them. One on each wrist, one on each ankle. A single push of a button, and they all link together. Any escape stopped in a second.”

“That seems...”

“Cruel? Yeah. But I guess it could be worse. As far as how the facility operates, though, that’s all I have. It’s not drugs, as far as I can tell. I have those dosage reports for everyone, and those that take medicine seem to do so for genuine medical conditions. Insulin, epilepsy medication, that kind of thing.”

“None of the others are sedated?”

“Not officially.”

“But Villain...”

“I think if they were any more heavily sedated, they’d go right from a temporary sleep to a permanent one.”

“You mean-”

“They’d die, yes. It’s called a euphemism, dumbass.”

“I know that. So, what about Villain, do you have anything else on them?”

“They’ve been kept heavily sedated since they arrived. Regular patient records, they just... don’t have them. No behavior reports, no treatment reports, nothing.”

“I guess they’re not really treating them.”

“Yeah.”

“They’ve really been kept like this, ever since I- Ever since they arrived?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.”

“Then it wasn’t reactionary.”

“What do you mean?”

“They didn’t try to like, blow up the facility, or kill up all the staff, or anything?! They were just knocked out. Locked up. They weren’t even given a chance to be good?”

Hacker lowered their gaze, nodding.

“Why?”

“Are you sure you want-”

“You know why?”

“I’m not certain, but-”

“Show me.”

Hacker startled a bit, but nodded once more, starting up their beast of a laptop and typing for a considerable amount of time. Hero could not help but hold their breath, and when the computer was at last turned to face them, they felt about to pass out.

“Wait.” Hacker spun the computer back. “You need to promise me something, first.”

“What?” Hero hated how desperate they sounded.

“Whatever you do, after you see this... please, just think it through.”

“Okay.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

The screen was returned to Hero.

They halfway expected another video feed. A video of Villain, destroying and killing and doing something, anything to deserve their current treatment.

Instead, they were faced with an email. Or, at least, a screenshot of one. Passed through enough computers that the jpeg artifacts had begun to show.

An email from Director to Head Doctor.

The text was simple. Curt. A simple request to destroy a life.

“I am certain that you are aware of the new patient you will be intaking tomorrow. I request that you do not classify them among the other patients. Normal intake procedures will be unnecessary. You need only keep them contained. Alive if you can, dead if you must.

Villain must never see the light of day again. I trust that you will be able to accomplish this.

Thank you-- Do not forget that we will be meeting for lunch next Wednesday.”

Not even a hundred words. That was all it took, to turn a spirited fighter to a vegetable.

“Thank you, Hacker. I think... I think I need to go home.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hero’s parting from the restaurant was sudden enough to make several other patrons look up. Hacker could not help but feel embarrassment well up in their chest. They hated being out in public like this.

They figured, even with the cold food sitting before them, they should be going. Finger on their mouse, they closed the email on the screen, revealing-

Not their desktop.

They had forgotten. They had meant to show Hero and they had forgotten.

Now, the video sat there, waiting. A chipper white arrow informing them that it was ready to play at any time.

They shouldn’t have. Hell, they could have at least waited to go home. But...

Hacker plugged in a set of earbuds, setting the buds themselves in their ears.

They clicked play.

Even on the rather low-quality security camera footage, the crash was loud enough to make Hacker jump. Three lab-coated figures, a mess of limbs and white coats, leapt atop the hospital gown wearing person like a predator after prey.

Villain was not facing the camera, but it made no difference. Their voice made them more than distinctive enough.

“Get the fuck off of me! Get off get off get off!“ The scream was loud enough to break the microphone’s volume filter, turning into a single, mournful screech.

If the labcoats heard, they did not listen. They positioned themselves along their captive’s body-- one holding their legs, one the arms, and one forcing their face to the tile.

“Please!”

The fourth figure wore a different outfit, a pair of blue scrubs, though the camera quality made them appear almost grey. Represented by only a few pixels, the syringe in their hand was none the less distinctive.

“Hold them still, please.” The doctor muttered, kneeling down beside Villain, their hysterical screaming not missing a beat.

“No! No! Please, please don’t do this! I don’t want to go! Please!”

There were no comforting words. Only the satisfied nodding of the head doctor as their needle slipped deftly to a vein and administered its contents.

“What is that, what is that, no no no please!”

A nurse handed down another syringe, and another, and another. The timestamp in the video’s corner dragged on in agonizing slowness as new pinpricks of blood welled up over Villain’s skin.

It took only a few minutes for their screaming to stop. Then their thrashing. Then, they closed their eyes.

It would be a long, long time until they opened them again.

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Of course, home was not a place of rest. Not as much as Hero would have liked it to be. They were not a civilian-- they were not that lucky. They did not have the chance to return home to a soft bed and a loving family.

No. When they went home, they went to work.

It was only past noon when they returned home to the HQ. A time at which the towering building stood largely abandoned, its occupants leaving in droves to flood the nearby restaurants like a locust swarm.

Riding the elevator to the floor containing their quarters, Hero hoped beyond hope that their team, too, had gone out.

But, of course, they had no such luck.

They didn’t even make it to their quarters. No, as soon as the elevator doors opened, their heart sunk.

“I saw you walk in.” Leader’s arms were crossed over their chest, a single eyebrow raised. “Let’s go to my office.”

“I was just about to go back to my dorm-”

“Actually, you were just about to follow my orders and go to my office.”

Hero slumped their shoulders. They didn’t have the energy to fight this, especially since they knew it was a fight they couldn’t win.

Leader’s office was a place they had all visited, though never under good circumstances. It was far too immaculately kept for what it was used for, a solid oak desk standing in a room well decorated with house plants and bookshelves. Leader took their seat, and Hero reluctantly did the same, across from them.

“So,” Leader began--they were not one for formalities. “When exactly when you planning on telling me?”

“If you’re going to yell at me about something, you at least have to tell me what.”

“Teammate told me, yesterday. They found out why you’re getting so distracted.”

Hero dropped their gaze. They weren’t exactly surprised about this. They only hoped Teammate had kept their mouth shut about their plans.

“It’s really nothing.” Hero tried. “I’ll get over it.”

“This anniversary you’re getting so upset over was ten days ago. By the time you get over it, another year will have already passed. So, no. You’re not getting out of it that easily. I need to know what’s gotten you so worked up.”

Hero gripped the arm of their chair.

“I’m worried. That’s all. Worried about Villain. It’s been too long. They’ve been so silent for so long.”

Leader frowned.

“I can personally assure you that Villain is being well taken care of. The rehabbers have more experience than you could imagine.”

“That’s just it! Villain spent so long terrorizing the city, and they’re still here. But they’re so quiet.”

Leader sighed, sitting up straight in their chair.

“This isn’t just a minor distraction. You need to know that. It’s reflecting on your performance, and heavily. Enough that Director has noticed.”

“Director?”

“Yes. They asked me about the situation, and I informed them of your current problem. They stated that, if it really is such a concern to you, they can have Villain moved to another facility. Somewhere farther.”

“No!”

“What? They think it would help, really. Out of sight. Out of mind.”

“No. They need to be here.”

“And why would that be?”

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Leader can help. Tell the truth - Should Hero tell Leader about Director’s role in Villain’s condition?

B.) Leader can also ruin the whole operation. Lie - What should Hero do next?

[ragingpancake]

I Will Try (To Fix You) - Part 2

It’s ten days before Carson deems Rodney “well enough” to return to his quarters. To date, this has been the longest infirmary stay that Rodney’s ever had and truthfully, he should probably stay a bit longer. His kidneys still aren’t functioning as well as they should, which means Carson’s been closely monitoring his water intake and urine output and a whole host of other things that John knows Rodney is embarrassed about. He’s also not entirely steady on his feet, courtesy of the muscle spams that wrack his calves and his thighs, bad enough sometimes to nearly bring him to tears. It’s ten days before John, Carson and Elizabeth have a very real, very difficult conversation about what a prolonged stay in the infirmary will likely do Rodney mentally, left with nothing really to occupy his time except, well, time to think about just how close he’d come to death. Carson is reluctant to release him; they haven’t yet gotten him back to solid foods and of course his kidney function is still a concern, but John knows Rodney, knows that he needs to be anywhere but here and he argues his case: Rodney can come stay in his quarters. His team is grounded for the foreseeable future, courtesy of John who is unwilling to go off-world without his entire team and while he’s offered to temporarily reassign Teyla and Ronon to Lorne, they share his line of thinking. Rodney can come stay with John, but he has his whole team who’ll be watching out for him, who will bring him for twice daily check ins, if needed, who will monitor any time spent in the lab, who just want Rodney to have some semblance of normalcy during his recovery. It must be an impassioned speech, because by the time he’s done, Elizabeth nods her consent and John finds for the first time in ten days, it’s a little easier to breath.

--- Rodney, predictably, complains about the arrangement. He’s not keen on having a babysitter and that hurts John’s stunted feelings more than he’d ever admit out loud. But when Carson makes it clear that the only option is an extended stay in the infirmary, he relents pretty easily and all that’s left is to prepare John’s quarters. Easy peasy. Right? Wrong. It turns out that the room John’s claimed for himself isn’t quite meant for two people. It’s small and while it’s fine for just him, he knows that it’s going to be too cramped, too claustrophobic and so he spends the eleventh day scouting out some of the larger quarters near the East Pier with Teyla, pretending to understand when she makes suggestions based on where the light from the rising sun falls and which room has the best view of the ocean, which she believes will aid in Rodney’s recovery. He’s never been much into new age bullshit that seems to be pretty common across two galaxies, but he’s willing to shove a couple of crystals up his own ass if it means getting Rodney better.

He enlists Ronon, Lorne and a couple of marines to help move their things. John leaves his own quarters to Wallace, Gregory and Barnes despite how uncomfortable the thought of them seeing his own personal effects makes him, and he takes Rodney’s room with Ronon and Lorne. Rodney, for his part, has a lot of stuff. It takes the better part of the afternoon to get everything moved over, including Rodney’s deceptively heavy prescription mattress, his four laptops and the whiteboard that he’d swiped from the labs within the first week of their arrival. John’s stuff, save for his own bed, mostly fits in a couple bags. By the time they’re finished, he’s tired, shoulders and back aching, reminding him just how fucking old he’s getting, but still, he trudges down to the infirmary, plastering a smile on his face for Rodney as he steps in through the paneled doors. “Hey buddy,” he greets. “Got us all set up in some new digs. Wait until you see the tub in this one,” he says, nodding as Carson comes over, Rodney’s chart in hand. “He all good to go, Doc?” “I suppose he’ll have to be, now won’t he?” He asks and there’s a scowl there that John cheerfully ignores. “I expect him back here at 10 and 2, Colonel. A minute late for either appointment and he’s back here, d’you understand?” “10 and 2, just like a steering wheel. Got it, doc. How about the food situation?” “Yeah, what he said,” Rodney frowns and John knows from previous experience just how miserable a clear liquid diet can be. “I’m alright with him startin’ on solids, but take it easy,” Carson warns. “Nothin’ too heavy,” and Rodney waves him off, but despite his lackadaisical nature, John really is taking this seriously, committing everything to memory. “Got it. We good?” Carson pauses for a moment before he sighs. “Aye. But not a moment late, Colonel!” He warns as Marie and Simpson come, pushing a wheelchair that Rodney tries to vehemently refuse. John settles a hand on his shoulder gently. “Hey, hey. C’mon. Easy. It’s a pretty long walk to the pier, alright? Let’s not push it too much on your first day.” “Traitor,” Rodney mutters under his breath and John actually does smile because it feels a little like it used to before those God damned Carneans. John steadies the wheelchair while Marie and Simpson maneuver Rodney into it and after what feels like forever, they’re finally on their way. “You did get my laptops, right?” “Yes, Rodney.” “And what about the Athosian soaps from the bathroom? Those were made specially for me by Gita and, and, and the medicinal properties-- “We got ‘em.” “My mattress?” “Of course.” Rodney harrumphs like maybe he’s expecting John to have forgotten something, as if John would ever. “What about—” “Your favorite red pen that you use to mark up all those damn physics journals? Yep. Got that too. We grabbed everything, buddy. And if there’s somethin’ you need that we don’t have, just say the word and we’ll make it happen.” Rodney falls strangely quiet at that. --- It’s easy to live with Rodney. Lorne had very nearly pissed himself from laughter when John said so after the first few days and honestly, John took a little offense to that on Rodney’s behalf. Sure, he’s messy and he’s loud and the longer he’s out, the more of his biting sarcasm is returning, but John’s all for it, especially when he considers the alternative. (And he does consider it, frequently, usually in the dead of night when he wakes up from nightmares of vomit and grey skin, of an antidote recovered too late). But honestly, save for the fact that John now has to deal with Rodney’s dirty clothes strewn across the room and the stupid whiteboard that takes up the space that John’s surf board should be occupying, not much has changed at all, a testament to just how much time the two of them had spent together even before this. John follows Carson’s instructions to a T, and okay, maybe that’s a little different too because John’s always been the one to avoid the infirmary at all costs when it comes to his own health and

well-being, but he’s not taking a chance with Rodney’s. He takes him to his appointments and at nights, when the muscle spasms seem to be the worst, John sits with him on that stupidly comfortable bed, kneading the tight muscles in his legs as he tries to distract Rodney with shitty 80s movies and random banter about anything and everything that he thinks will goad Rodney into a tirade that’ll take his mind off of the pain. He even lets Rodney have four hours a day in the labs, split into two hour segments with an hour break in between. Normalcy. That’s the goal here and Rodney’s always at his best when he’s in his element, berating scientists and defying all laws of physics. That’s where Rodney is when everything goes to hell. --- It’s been twenty days since the Carneans. Ten days of the two of them cohabitating, ten days of Rodney slowly working his way back to normal. He’s been subsisting entirely of power bars and MREs, which, while not entirely healthy has been cleared by Carson if only for the fact that they provide sustenance without being too taxing on Rodney’s still delicate system and John’s just thinking about whether or not he can try to convince Rodney to try something a little more substantial from the mess later that evening when the call comes in over the radio. “Zelenka to Colonel Sheppard, please respond.” He sounds harried and John closes the latest mission report from Lorne’s team, already on his feet and moving when he taps his comm. “Sheppard here, go ahead Doc.” “I need you in Science Lab 3 please. There is a… situation.” “What do you mean by situation, Radek?” But when Radek keys up his comm again, John can hear the panicked wheezing in the background and he picks it up to a swift jog. “I believe Rodney is having a panic attack,” he says. “I have tried to bring him around but nothing is working and I--.” “I’m on my way. Sheppard out.” He meets Ronon in the corridor and he doesn’t even have to say a word before the Satedan is altering his own course, following after John. They can hear it before they even open the door. Rodney’s on the verge of hyperventilating, the sound of his ragged breaths interspersed with pained moans and Ronon is quick to clear the lab of well meaning scientists who are gaping at the scene while Radek tries to shield Rodney from view as much as possible. “Hey, hey,” John says soothingly, trying to keep his voice calm despite the way his heart is beating against his ribcage. “I’m here, buddy. Rodney, look at me. Hey, hey,” and he reaches out, finger under Rodney’s chin as he tips his head up, wild blue eyes meeting hazel. John wants to take Rodney’s hand, but his arms are wrapped around his middle, clutching his stomach so tightly and John glances over at the toppled plate on the floor, shards of glass now mixed with what looks like not-meatloaf. “Talk to me, Doc,” John calls over his shoulder at Zelenka. “What the hell happened?” “He was out of power bars, but hungry, so Miko thought perhaps he might be enticed to eat by something from the mess, knowing that this,” he gestures, “was Rodney’s favorite. He managed a couple of bites and everything was fine until… until it was not.” “Cramps,” Rodney rasps, reaching out to grip John’s wrist painfully. “Cramps. Poison, I—I can’t--.” “Get Carson down here,” John snarls, voice softening as he turns back to Rodney. “Hey. Listen to me, buddy. Carson told us this could happen, remember? The cramps. That’s why we started light. You’re okay though. I promise, Rodney. You’re okay, I’m right here and I need you to breathe.” It takes a bit of manhandling but John manages to get Rodney up enough that he can slide behind the other, drawing Rodney back against his chest, taking a couple of deep breaths. “C’mon, buddy. Breathe with me. You’re alright. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Rodney.” That’s how Carson finds them a few moments later, Rodney trembling against the other, but thankfully no longer hyperventilating. “He’s alright,” John says, glancing up at Beckett. “Panic attack when

he tried to eat and cramped up.” “I thought—I thought--.” John pets through Rodney’s hair gently. “I know. You thought it happened again, but it didn’t, right? We’re gonna go down to the infirmary with Carson though and let him check you over so you can see for yourself.” “Easy, lad,” Carson says as Ronon comes over to help Rodney to his feet with more care than he’s shown anyone else, guiding him over to the gurney before he tugs John to his feet as well. “John—” Rodney rasps, the name catching his throat as the cramps hit again and he curls on his side, swallowing hard against the panic beginning to rise again. “I’m here,” John reminds him again, moving to take Rodney’s hand. “You’re alright, I promise.” And he is. He will be. John will be sure of that. --- The panic attacks don’t last long. He still cramps painfully when he eats, but the team is always with him at meal time to help him through it, John always, alwayseating a third of his food before switching his tray with Rodney’s for him to finish it, confident that there’s no poison. The effects of what had been done to him still linger, still present often and painfully, and sometimes, John doesn’t think what he’s doing is enough. That he should be doing more, that he should’ve done more back on that fucking planet to have saved Rodney from this entire ordeal. But Rodney’s getting better. John can see that when he goes longer and longer without a muscle spasm, or the first time he pees on his own and calls John in to see how clear it is, proof that his kidneys are finally starting to function normally. “You know,” Rodney says one night after they’ve pushed their beds close enough together that if they each scoot over to the edge, their shoulders are touching, “it probably won’t be too much longer until we can go back to our own quarters.” There’s an uncomfortable knot that twists itself up in John’s stomach at that but he swallows against the lump in his throat and says casually, “oh yeah? That’ll be cool. I guess.” “Yeah,” Rodney says and then he falls silent for a moment, as if waiting for something. Apparently, his impatience has returned full force because he doesn’t even give it a half a second before he’s speaking again. “I mean, unless we just… don’t?” Okay. That’s unexpected. “I just… this has been incredibly difficult, Colonel. Uh, John,” he corrects, “and you’ve… I know that this is probably because of some weird, misplaced guilt you’re harboring, because that’s how you are, Lieutenant Colonel Martyr, but… this has been okay… hasn’t it?” “Rodney, I--.” “I know I’m difficult. I’m messy and I’ll be going back to keeping weird hours soon enough and, and, and I know I can be annoying, but you’ve put up with that remarkably well and so I just thought--.” “I don’t want to go back to being alone,” John blurts out and he can feel the tension leaving Rodney’s body beside him. “Good. Me neither.” They fall into a comfortable silence then for a moment, the only sounds being their quiet breathing and the sound of the ocean waves through the open window. (Teyla was definitely right about picking this room.) “It’s not guilt,” John says after a moment. “I mean, not that I don’t feel guilty, because I should’ve never--.” He clears his throat and stops himself before he goes down that road. “You’re… I dunno. You’re McKay. Rodney. And I… when I found you that day, I thought you were dead,” and he can feel Rodney flinch at that, but he needs to get this out, he thinks. “I thought you’d died and I just… realized that I would’ve gone out of my fucking mind if you had, Rodney. Like, legitimately crazy because you’re… You’re you and I’m--. I’m yours. However you want me. If that means we forget this conversation ever happened and go back to how it was before all of this, I’m okay with that, but I just… I had to tell you because I came really fucking close to never getting another chance to.” Rodney is quiet, doesn’t say anything but after a moment, John can feel the other’s hand brush against his own before he

squeezes two of John’s fingers. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time in all the time we’ve known each other.” And John laugh out loud at that, an actual laugh, and as he does, he feels that knot inside of him loosen just a bit. “Which is to say,” Rodney continues, “that I… would very much like to notforget this happened. I… suppose that I’m yours too. Maybe I always have been.” John doesn’t know where they’ll go from here. He’s under no delusions that this will be easy, any of it, but when has it ever been? All that matters though is that they have time now to work through it, to figure it out together. Maybe they’ll fix each other.

[miekasa]

and i found them! the actual ac unit snippet was hiding with the last one, so i thought i’d just drop them both here 😅 your appreciation means the world to me 🌼

💉the broken ac unit snippet [not the previous choppy summary, but the actual snippet that was hiding with erwintholomew’s]

it’s summer—dry heat, humidity, and warm winds all around. oc has been working in the outdoor makeshift hospital for her month’s rotation shift. tents of covid cases have been overflowing. it’s patient after patient, and she’s in PPE—full-on hazmat suit for 8 hours (sometimes more). food and water breaks between shifts aren’t feasible because they’re saving suits, bathroom breaks are timed before or after she suits up. it was literally hell.

levi’s been noticing his roomie coming home even more exhausted than usual. sometimes, she just goes to the kitchen and drinks down two glasses of water before heading for a nap. he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. she looked like she’s lost a bit of weight. she was always a little paler and seemed to be wilted these days. he’s been trying to quietly shoulder a bit more of her chores, but he’s also pretty amazed at how she manages to keep up.

it was on a saturday afternoon when he found out. he had work and errands to run and some packages to send to his mom. he knocks on his roomie’s door to ask if she wanted him to do anything for her. he’s willing to do her groceries or make her dinner if it meant seeing her eat something other than instant ramen or a peanut butter sandwich. her muffled voice bids him to come in.

oc: oh heya

she gives him a tired wave. she’s sitting on her bed, reading something on her tablet. the first thing levi notices is that it’s way too fucking hot. her room is neat with a bit of a mess, a few notebooks strewn around her bed and a shirt hanging on the study chair, but obviously clean. the fan she has turned on was doing nothing to alleviate the heat though.

levi: you know you can turn your ac up in this heat right?

oc gives a tired chuckle at that.

oc: it’s been broken for a few weeks, but don’t worry! i already got a new one

levi is pretty speechless, considering that the heat wave has only been getting worse for the past month. she points to the unopened giant box crowding the space by her work desk.

oc: work’s just been exhausti—busy lately, but i’ll get around to it. i just need to switch them out and take the old one to recycling downstairs.

levi honestly doesn’t have anything to say to that because what the hell—

oc: did you need something?

he snaps out of it.

levi: i’m—i’m going out for errands. want me to get you anything?

oc: oh, are you passing by the pharmacy?

he wasn’t planning on it, but levi nods.

oc: yeah hang on, lemme just write the prescription for my pills. thank you!

levi shuts her door and speedwalks to his room. he knows he’s being irrational, and he knows that it isn’t his fault but fuck, she’s been living like that for weeks on top of all her work. he turns up his ac unit, rolls down his blinds, and fluffs the pillows on his bed before pulling the covers down. he knows that he could offer the suggestion of sleeping on the couch in their living room (they had an ac unit there after all), but no. she deserves better than that.

when levi walks back to her room, oc’s head peeps out of the door.

oc: here, i just need three boxes and i can cashapp you the payment.

levi grunts, taking the prescription and folding it into his pocket.

levi: come with me.

oc is pretty taken aback at his gruff tone, and she wonders what’s gotten him in a twist. she’s on the verge of passing out because work has been brutal and she has a golden weekend, so she was planning to catch up on a lot of rest. she follows quietly, wanting to quickly resolve whatever this was. her roomie’s always been a little...weird. it gets weirder when she realizes that he’s leading her to his room. cold air hits her when he opens the door and ushers her in, and she feels reborn.

levi: you can rest here for now

oc’s eyes widen at that. they’ve been roomies for over a year now, and respecting personal spaces has always been a huge factor contributing to their civil harmony as roommates.

oc: levi, it’s fine! i can’t, really! i don’t want to intrude, and besides, it’s fine, i—i’ve been alright anywa—

she’s cut off when he starts nudging (pushing) her towards the bed.

levi: seriously, i’ll be out the whole afternoon.

her but’s and what-if’s and i’m-fine’s fall on deaf ears. her roomie maneuvers her expertly and practically trips her to make her fall onto the bed. when her back hits the soft mattress, she feels a wave of fatigue hit. then he’s guiding her head towards the pillows while she mumbles about feeling like she’s overstepping, but levi’s room was cold and comfortable. the bed was a cloud, cool and soft and dragging her further into sleep. she feels the covers pulled up around her shoulders, and darkness claims her.

levi leaves quietly after shutting down the fan in her room. his afternoon is spent running some on-the-ground tasks for projects for work and personal errands. he does take an impromptu trip to the old deli near their place to buy some cuts of beef and a cheap bottle of red wine for a stew. he wonders if he’s breaching boundaries, but he makes an impulsive decision for once. he’ll drag her to dinner if he has to, she looks like she hasn’t had a decent meal in days. when he gets home, it’s late afternoon, but the sun was still up in all its scorching heat. he disinfects the goods thoroughly before heading for a shower himself. oc is still sleeping soundly when he checks in on her [levi thoughts: good, she really fucking needs it]. he goes into her room and replaces her broken ac unit, easily installing the new one and padding up the sides tightly. he brings the old one down before sweeping up the dust in her room that has settled from his handiwork. he turns it on to test it, and her room cools in minutes. satisfied, he leaves the ac unit on and starts dinner.

oc comes to slowly, mind still clouded and heavy from sleep. everything around her is blurry and she’s engulfed in softness smelling of black tea and spearmint. the realization of where she is hits like a freight train and this wakes her right up. the time on the clock by the bed says it’s almost half-past seven, and oc panics. she’s overstepped, her roomie’s gonna be pissed, and oh god, she didn’t mean to take that long of a nap. she practically runs out of his room. levi is setting two places at their table when she dashes in. a pot of stew was simmering on the stove. he looks up and just points to her meds.

levi: it’s already been disinfected.

oc opens her mouth for what was going to be a long apology when levi interrupts her before she even begins.

levi: i also installed your new ac unit. the broken one’s already at recycling.

oc’s eyes widen and she can feel tears welling up because it’s been weeks of exhaustion and uncomfortable hot nights and she’s been trying to find enough strength to do that and—

levi goes tomato-red when his roomie launches herself at him and wraps her arms around his shoulders tightly. he can hear her voice quivering, tone hovering on about-to-blubber-and-cry, repeatedly thanking him and apologizing for overstepping and he kind of just stands there for a moment. he pats her back awkwardly, wondering how to respond to her and decides to keep quiet and let her break the hug first. she might actually cry if he pushes her away.

oc lets him go gently, a little embarrassed at her outburst but she gives him a small smile and mutters a soft “sorry.”

levi: cut the apologies, brat. i offered. it’d be inhumane to let you sleep in that heat.

oc is about to argue when he fixes her with a glare that makes her sigh. she presses her palms into her cheeks in resignation.

levi: come on, i made dinner. you really need to eat something other than synthetic garbage and peanut butter.

oc sniffles and giggles. levi sets the food down and takes a seat beside her. he freezes when she grasps his hand.

oc: really, levi, thank you

levi shrugs (absolutely melting at her smile). he doles out servings of stew and rice, and they have a quiet dinner.

💉erwin’s own private gym in his penthouse snippet [in which erwin’s not even in this snippet, but he and his gym are catalysts of sorts]

it’s a rare occurrence that oc wakes before noon on her days off. so when she bumbles into the kitchen at 7am, craving for some tea and the little tiramisu her patient from work gave her, she bumps into levi. levi—also fresh out bed and only clad in boxer shorts. plaid dark pink ones that did wonders for his ass.

oc, completely forgetting that she’s in an oversized shirt that goes past her shorts and that her hair is a mess, stops mid-stride. her jaw drops. levi is built. not to any extreme body-builder kind to any extent. but he was fit and holy fuck his back alone was oh wow. yeah, she’s awake. levi turns at the sound of footsteps and has to suppress his smirk because oc’s appraisal was very very distracting, affirming, and ego-boosting. he thinks his roomie doesn’t even realize she is gawking [levi thoughts: she looks way too fucking cute and soft for someone half dead from a toxic shift yesterday and he wants to run his hands through her hair and knead the knots out of her shoulders and feel those legs—].

he truly has to hold in his laughter when oc literally goes “what the fuck” while waving around her hands gesturing to his abs and pecs. oc squints in the midst of her appraisal.

oc: how do you maintain all that in a pandemic??

levi sets down another mug and pours out more tea while explaining that erwin, who lives in the penthouse suite of the complex, has his own home gym. levi, hange, and moblit have exclusive access to it because they’re friends, they live in the same complex, they all work from home plus they clean up and help him maintain it.

levi: it’s a lot safer than public gyms.

oc is still chewing on this information while now blatantly staring at his thighs.

levi: i’m pretty sure erwin will let you use it too if you’re looking for someplace to work out. i can ask him if you want.

he adds some milk to her tea before walking over to oc and handing her a steaming mug of chai. he does this on purpose just to get a reaction out of her because he is absolutely basking in this. she is usually very composed and almost nothing fazes her, and he thinks he’s never seen her flush this deep. oc snaps out of it as she thanks him for the tea. she just nods, her eyes a little glazed over and unfocused.

oc: oh, th—that’s nice. i’ll think about it.

she primly grabs her tiramisu and walks back to her room, leaving levi smirking in their kitchen. she has thoughts that need processing.

oc thoughts: erwin happens to be filthy rich and roomie-free and can afford a penthouse. he dedicated a room in his penthouse to a fully-equipped gym. this is some really good chai. she pretty much stared at her roomie, with his knowledge, very disrespectfully at seven in the morning. her roommate is hot. pretty. cute. sexy. his voice—how has she never noticed? arms? abs? those thighs?? all of the above??? anyway, that v down his hips, his chest—yeah, her vibrator’s batteries die that night, and she’ll have to remember to get new ones after work. this is very for her, very bad indeed.

this was the h-word snippet 🥵 LMAO i had to give oc a little something because this isn’t one-sided after all 😌

SDKJSGHLF;DS ANON YOU’RE OUT OF YOUR MIND YOU’RE A LITTLE GENIUS YOU KNOW THAT!!! INCREDIBLE!!

when levi walks back to her room, oc’s head peeps out of the door.

oc: here, i just need three boxes and i can cashapp you the payment.

levi grunts, taking the prescription and folding it into his pocket.

levi: come with me.

THIS PART!! IS SO LEVI!! I’M OBSESSED!! I’m obsessed with the whole concept of him just... affectionately forcing her to nap in his room because it’s the least he can do to help ease her pain, and show that he cares; but this right here!! The way he had no intentions of going to the pharmacy, but is going to help her out anyway!! Begrudgingly taking the perscription, and immediately changing the subject away from the topic of her paying him back!! So good!! (And why do I get the feeling that he never accepted her cashapp lmaooo). 

oc is about to argue when he fixes her with a glare that makes her sigh. she presses her palms into her cheeks in resignation.

levi: come on, i made dinner. you really need to eat something other than synthetic garbage and peanut butter.

oc sniffles and giggles. levi sets the food down and takes a seat beside her. he freezes when she grasps his hand.

oc: really, levi, thank you

levi shrugs (absolutely melting at her smile).

ALSO HERE!! I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know but the casual insulting her dinners lmaoo only to help her out; it’s the showing affection without outright saying it’s affection that’s so GOOD!! I’M OBSESSED!!

AND THE WHOLE GYM SEQUENCE!! YEAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! LOVE LEVI BEING JUST A LITTLE COCKY!! GOOD FOR HIM!! HE’S ATTRACTIVE!! HE SHOULD KNOW IT!! PLS but oc being just a little shameless and telling him how good he looks and just staring without feeling guilty LMFAOO GOOD FOR HER TOO!! GOOD FOR THEM!!

[erin-gilberts]

holtzbert of course

Gives nose/forehead kisses - Erin is more likely to give forehead kisses during soft and intimate moments with her girlfriend, or as a means to comfort and reassure her. Holtzmann, however, holds the market on nose kisses. She likes the way they never fail to catch Erin off-guard and diffuse tension. Erin can’t be mad at her if she’s flustered and sputtering from receiving a nose kiss. Ha! She wins. 

Gets jealous the most - Erin. Because of her history with bullying and being excluded, she unfortunately is always inclined to feel left out, and to assume the people she’s with are soon going to realize they have better options than her. She finds herself getting jealous and ruminating over the ways Holtzmann flirts with other women, but she comes to realize Holtz isn’t so much flirting as deflecting from feeling uncomfortable, and she definitely isn’t going anywhere, either. 

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive - I’m gonna give this one to Holtzmann just because I think Erin drinks more than Holtz, and I tend to HC one or both of them as recovering alcoholics. I’ve always read into Holtzmann’s comment about how she’d talk to Erin at an AA meeting to suggest she’s more careful around alcohol now than she used to be, and she probably doesn’t get drunk often if at all. So she’s fine to be the designated driver out of respect for herself - and also because drunk Erin is so very entertaining, why wouldn’t she want to remember that in the morning? 

Takes care of the other on sick days - Both. Erin is a romantic. Of course she takes care of Holtz on sick days, bringing her fluids and food, getting her prescriptions, and assisting with the practical tasks associated with getting better. I also think Erin is the type to be a little needy / emotional when she’s sick and Holtzmann takes care of her via cuddles, holding her hair back when she throws up, and things like that. 

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day - Holtzmann is an absolute goblin child who will drag her girlfriend into the water at any cost on beach day. If she can do it through shenanigans, or rope Abby and Patty into helping her execute her plan, she will. Erin isn’t opposed to getting in the water. Holtzmann just prefers getting her there in the most chaotic way possible. 

Gives unprompted massages - Holtzmann. She’s very tactile and she experiences the world through her hands, so if she notices Erin’s shoulders seem especially tense, or her girlfriend is complaining about being sore because she sat at a desk for too long that day, Holtz will absent-mindedly massage whatever hurts. 

Drives/rides shotgun - We all know Holtzmann drives whether anyone in the Ecto-1 wants her to or not and there’s nothing they can do about it. Erin rides shotgun while holding onto the handle above the window the entire time! 

Brings the other lunch at work - Neither, these two are equally scattered and equally likely to get caught up in their work enough to forget to eat lunch. If Erin packs a lunch, she’ll pack one for Holtz, too - but it happens just as often that the two of them go, “Shit, lunch. I forgot. Takeout?” 

Has the better parental relationship - Erin. Unlike some in this fandom, I really don’t read Erin’s parents as abusive or awful. I don’t know that the Gilberts are necessarily super warm or close, but I headcanon they reconcile after the events of the film and Erin is able to finally move beyond not being believed by them as a kid. Whereas Holtzmann seems to be not in contact with her family of origin by choice. I read Holtz’s parents as actively non-accepting of her and she’s gone no contact with them to protect her own peace. 

Tries to start role-playing in bed - Holtzmann and it probably happens accidentally most of the time. She relies on scripts for social interactions and is kind of lost without them. When she doesn’t know what to do during sex, she defaults to trying scripts she knows, to mixed success. When it is on purpose, it’s because she’s a bit more playful in bed and a bit more adventurous than Erin. 

Embarrassingly drunk dancer - Erin dances like a mom when she’s sober. She’s worse when she’s drunk. Holtzmann loves it though and eats it up (and might have a recording or two...or ten of this occurring). 

Still cries watching Titanic - Erin. She and Patty probably amplify the hell out of each other in this regard. If it’s not the doomed romance that gets her, it’s the scene where the band keeps playing through a montage of doomed people accepting the inevitability of their fate. Holtzmann barely has the attention span to sit through a movie as long as Titanic, let alone get emotionally invested in the story. It just goes on for too long! 

Firmly believes in couples costumes - Both. Listen, these two have bad puns and dad jokes for days, and so many of the great ones are best executed with two people. Holtzmann comes up with the ideas the most but Erin is equally all in when Halloween rolls around. 

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas - Erin. Holtzmann makes most of her gifts to Erin and her teammates, so she never has to spend much money (not that she has much to spend). Erin isn’t crafty, but she does love Holtz very much, so when she sees something that would make a perfect gift for her girlfriend, she buys it without much regard for the price or the rule. The expensive gift rule is definitely just a suggestion to Erin in terms of how often she actually follows it. 

Makes the other eat breakfast - Both. Holtzmann doesn’t often eat breakfast on her own, simply because she has too much energy and too many thoughts to act on as soon as she opens her eyes in the morning, which prompts Erin to fuss over her and insist she eats. Erin on the other hand tends to only skip breakfast when she’s sad, so Holtz will not only ensure she eats, but prepare a shoulder to cry on just in case. 

Remembers anniversaries - Both. Erin is meticulously organized and dates are her jam. She has everyone’s special dates, including her own, memorized and committed to heart. Holtzmann doesn’t necessarily remember all dates but she definitely remembers the important ones connected to Erin. She remembers the date Erin stormed into her lab, the date they first acknowledged their feelings for each other, the date about a week later when they finally sorted out they could call each other girlfriends, the date they got engaged, and the date they got married. They don’t agree on which one counts as their actual anniversary. Holtz believes all of them do. 

Brings up having kids - Holtzmann. Erin could take or leave having kids; she knows she’ll be perfectly fulfilled and will have gotten what she wanted out of life either way. But Holtz has a very soft and enthusiastic side at the idea of having little beings born of her and Erin. She’s kind of existentially fascinated by the idea of little remnants of Erin being passed down into future generations. She excitedly blurts out something about having kids while doing something fun with Erin and Erin is taken aback (but touched!) when she realizes Holtz is serious. 

[falseroar]

Dog Days Part 9: Preparations

((Marvin and Jackie talk about some of the preparations they need to make now that Y/N is in the house.

A little shorter compared to Part 8, but setting up a few things for later.))

Marvin cracked open the door to his room and waited, listening carefully to be sure that the noise had finally died down before venturing out into the hallway. He paused by the bathroom to look in at the wet floor and the damp towels littered everywhere before shuddering and moving on toward the living room.

There he found Jackie struggling to get his soaked hoodie off, the red fabric sticking around his chest and head until he managed to free himself and toss it over the back of the couch with a groan.

“That bad, huh?” Marvin asked.

“Like you couldn’t hear all of that,” Jackie pointed out. “Funny how you suddenly aren’t too busy when it’s all over.”

The magician at least had the decency to look a little bit ashamed, but he was quick to defend himself. “Hey, I’ve been up to my ears in spells today. Adding another room onto the house isn’t exactly easy, even with my notes from last time. Did that prescription stuff from the doctor help any?”

It was the whole point of the bath, after all. The doctors said mixing it with the water would help soothe the werewolf’s burns, although apparently no one considered the logistics of trying to bathe a reluctant and temporarily blind werewolf before the bathroom turned into a water park.

“Maybe? Hard to tell when they can’t say anything, but they seem to be feeling well enough to either sulk or have fallen asleep,” Jackie said, and Marvin followed his gaze to the sliding door, through which they could clearly see the wolf lying on their back in the grass of the backyard, paws up in the air. “And I don’t have a clue what Chase or Jameson are doing with that rake, but at this point I’m afraid to ask.”

From the look of it, neither of the men outside were very clear on what they were doing either, and as Marvin watched Chase broke off their argument by pushing Jameson into a nearby pile of leaves, his laughter cut short when he was dragged down with him in a splash of red, yellow, and brown leaves.

Jackie rubbed his bare arms with a shiver as he watched, and Marvin thought he was about to go and get a dry hoodie from his extensive collection. It was rare to see him without one, and the white t-shirt he had been wearing underneath looked thin. Thin enough to make out the scars on his back and chest, which along with the matching ones on his arms normally went unseen, even if Marvin tried not to look at them too closely.

Instead, Jackie asked, “Were there some new wards among all those spells you were doing?”

“…Yes,” Marvin answered. “Y/N’s room is just as protected as the rest of the house.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Jackie looked back at the magician, who reluctantly met his gaze. “Tomorrow night is a full moon.”

“I checked the spell I put on them, and it’s still active. They should be able to control their self without any problems,” Marvin answered. “…But I’ve already talked to Henrik about getting Chase and Jameson out of the house, just in case.”

Jackie nodded. The two of them could handle it on their own if something went wrong, especially if they didn’t have to worry about the others getting hurt. The thought they had to be prepared in case it came to that at all was what bothered Marvin, along with the kind of wards and spells he had been researching all day. It seemed a blessing that the spell he had cast all those years ago was still holding strong, especially when Marvin wasn’t sure what the alternative would have to have been. Or might be.

The magician jumped as a laughing shriek came from the backyard, where the werewolf had suddenly sprung up to go diving into the leaves along with the others.

“Careful, Y/N, the garden’s just a few feet in front of you,” Chase warned. “JJ might have to give you another bath if you crush his petunias!”

“Don’t sign me up for that,” Jameson protested as he sat up, leaves still on his shoulder and stuck in his hair. “Remember, you told me yourself you know all about taking care of dogs, including washing them.”

Chase grimaced, remembering too well what he said before offering to get Y/N into the waiting bath, only to realize that when a wolf didn’t want to go somewhere, they tended to be a bit harder to convince than your average terrier.

“Maybe we can just hose them down in the backyard next time,” Chase suggested, only to get a huff from the wolf.

“How are you feeling, Y/N? Did the medicine help?” Jameson signed and Chase repeated aloud for the wolf’s benefit.

“I think that’s a yes,” Chase said, translating the noise from the wolf’s chest even though the fact they were currently sprawled out on their back, wiggling back and forth on the crinkling leaves like they had just landed in the middle of a soft mattress, was a pretty big hint.

Jameson looked at Chase and signed again.

“Oh. Uh, Jameson wants to know if it’s okay if he pets you?” Chase said, only for Jameson to correct him with a glare. “Sorry, hugs you.”

Y/N rolled over and sat up, their ears alert but otherwise unmoving for a second. Until they stood and moved toward Jameson, who slowly directed them toward himself before pulling them into a hug, his arms wrapped around the wolf and his face pressed up against theirs.

From outside the hug, Chase could see the brief wince from the wolf, their tense stance before they slowly leaned into it. The doctor had said it might take a while for the medicine to really have an effect, but now didn’t seem to be the time to remind Jameson of that, not when he could see the man’s eyes were shut tight and the glimmer near the corners of his eyes. Meanwhile, despite Henrik’s hopes of recovery, the wolf’s eyes were still clouded with silver, unable to read what Jameson wanted to say without help, and as much as Chase was willing to interpret, he knew there were some things that just didn’t sound the same coming from him.

Eventually, Jameson let go and the wolf leaned against his side gingerly, ears moving to follow every rustle of the leaves or caw of the crows watching from the other side of the yard like this was the most interesting thing they’d seen since Jameson tried to make that scarecrow they had promptly adopted as one of their own.

After checking that Chase was okay with translating for him, Jameson started to sign.

“You can come and go to the backyard anytime you want, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I added some ropes to both sides of the sliding door so you can pull it open yourself,” Chase added, having been eager to share that for a while now.

“And Marvin is adding another room to the house for you, if you wish to have your own space,” Jameson said, before adding to Chase, “I hope that is okay.”

“Mi case es su casa or whatever, as long as the roof doesn’t fall in, I think we’re good,” Chase said with a grin. “Honestly, having you guys living here with us has been a big help for me and Jackie. Marvin’s protections are a literal lifesaver, plus the extra paychecks aren’t too bad when Jackie eats like a horse and his…regular work doesn’t really help pay the bills.”

“Ah! I do hope to put on a show soon which might help,” Jameson signed. Thanks to Henrik, they had kind of figured out a wolf would need a lot of food to stay healthy, which they seemed to have been missing out on for a while now. Chase was quick to reassure him that it was okay and not to worry about money right now, so Jameson returned to what he had been saying. “None of the neighbors can see or hear us here, so it is private enough. Marvin has protected the backyard as much as the house with all of his spells, and although he tells me there is nothing to be done about those pesky crows, you should feel just as safe out here as inside.”

Chase suppressed a grin, knowing full well that Marvin loved the birds and was on a secret long-term campaign to befriend them that maybe involved the occasional sacrifice on the part of Jameson’s garden. “Marvin’s added spells to some of the things we carry with us to keep us safe outside of my house, like in my cap or in Jameson’s hipster bowler hat. He can probably add something to that collar if he hasn’t already so you can go out for a walk with one of us if you ever want to.”

A grumble came from the wolf at the reminder of the collar, while Jameson indignantly signed, “It is not hipster, it is vintage! I’ve had that hat since it was new!”

“Then maybe it’s time to update to something new, grandpa,” Chase countered.

The wolf swayed as Jameson lunged forward, their ears following the ensuing wrestling match with a curious and almost fond tilt of their head.

That quickly turned into a yelp of surprise when a stray pile of leaves hit them in the face, followed by the apparent determination to tackle whoever was closest and sit on them until they learned their lesson.

Inside the house, Marvin joked, “Looks like you might need to brush up on your wrestling skills for tomorrow night, just in case.”

Jackie shook his head and went in search of a dry change of clothes, leaving Marvin alone and free to chew on his bottom lip while he thought of a few more books he could check, just in case. Hopefully after tomorrow night, he could prove to Jackie that all of this extra preparation was completely unnecessary. And hopefully by the morning after, he could shake his own bad feelings about all of this and focus on finding out what happened to his friend.

Except he had learned a long time ago to trust his bad feelings. Like the one he felt every time he looked at the wolf, the quiet but hard to shake fear that they could disappear again at any second.

He still hadn’t told the others about how nearly every ward on the house activated the last night when they brought the werewolf home. Thankfully, they all held strong, but a divination spell cast while Jameson and Chase were giving Y/N a tour of the house confirmed that someone out there had been trying to find them.

Someone knew they had left the mirror, probably someone who had a hand in putting them in there in the first place. If that was the case, then Marvin wanted nothing more than to be ready with a tracking spell of his own should they be foolish enough to try again.

Marvin touched the cheek of his cat mask and forced himself to take a breath and calm down. Save the anger for later, when he could do something with it.

((End of Part 9. Thank you for reading!

Link to Part 10: Limited Supply.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox ))

[elwingflight]

Coronavirus: Information & Guidelines

What you can do now, and what to prepare for

There seems to be a lack of what-to-do suggestions on tumblr beyond handwashing, so I thought I’d put something together. I’ve never actually encouraged people to reblog something of mine before, but this might be the time. To be clear: I am not personally a public health expert of any kind. Both my parents are (epidemiology/global health degrees, worked for CDC) and I’ve run this by them. My information is coming from disease researchers on twitter and official public health guidelines online. Sources at the end of the post. This is mostly directed at people in countries where COVID-19 has been reported (I’m in the U.S.), but is not *yet* widespread in the community. Written Mar. 1st 2020, last updated 3/9 (shorter, helpful twitter thread here, helpful NPR article here)

General Info

Firstly, a lot of politicians are *still* trying to sugarcoat things, but it should be clear by now that the new coronavirus is spreading widely and will continue to do so. Because of the incubation period, and in the U.S. at least the delay in testing, the number of cases is almost certainly going to increase rapidly in the near future no matter what we do now. Official government sources are helpful, but its also good to look at what experts on viral epidemics who aren’t directly government-affiliated are saying. Their agenda is purely informing the public in the most constructive way possible, without politics getting in the way.

Two key points- COVID-19 can have a long incubation period (the time from when you catch the virus to when you start showing symptoms) and most people don’t get severe symptoms. Some are entirely asymptomatic, but most people get typical flu-like symptoms. Specifically, the early symptoms to watch out for are a fever and dry cough (meaning, a stuffy nose is probably just a regular cold). Its possible but unlikely to transmit the virus while asymptomatic, most transmission happens when you have heavier symptoms.

The most vulnerable people are the elderly (~ over 60) and those with preexisting health conditions (i.e. cardiovascular disease, respiratory condition, diabetes), or a simultaneous infection with something else (NOT kids in particular!) So far the mortality rate has been about 1-2% (compared to 0.1% for the general winter flu - yes, this really is worse). However, that might be an overestimate, both because people with mild cases aren’t getting tested (the denominator should be bigger), and because the early situation in Wuhan, where a lot of our numbers come from, was especially bad in regards to availability of healthcare.

This is an emotional, difficult situation. Don’t panic. The world didn’t end in 1918, and its not going to end now. But it is very serious, and we need to be thinking about it rationally, not pretending everything is just going to be okay, or uselessly pointing blame. Take care of your mental health, and check in with each other. Epidemics test our generosity and selflessness. Those qualities are needed right now, but don’t neglect yourself either.

What You Can Do Now

There is stuff everyone can do both to prevent yourself from getting infected, and to prepare if you do. ***The big picture to keep in mind is that the biggest risk of epidemics is that they overwhelm our system, especially our healthcare system. What I mean by this is that our society is built to deal with a certain volume of things happening at once- people buying groceries, getting sick, etc. If we suddenly all rush to do something, we overburden these systems and they won’t be there for the people who need them most. Therefore our goal is to slow down the spread of disease, buying time and lowering the overall burden on these systems. This is called “flattening the curve”. It looks like this, and I cannot stress how important this is.***

A very helpful thread on preparedness

Staying Healthy

Like similar viruses (think colds and flu), COVID-19 is mostly transmitted from person to person, usually by close contact but sometimes from an infected surface. More here.

Wash your hands. Everyone has heard this one- 20 seconds, soap all over your hands, wash the soap off. If you can’t wash your hands use an alcohol-based hand sanitizer (at least 60% alcohol). But handwashing is absolutely better. Also- cough into your elbow/shoulder, not your hand, and avoid shaking hands- try elbow bumps or maybe a polite nod instead! If you’re handwashing so much that you’re hands are threatening to crack and bleed though, consider washing more strategically or using hand sanitizer instead.

In combination with hand-washing- stop touching your face, especially while out! This takes practice, everyone does it all the time without thinking. A good practice is to avoid touching your face while out, then wash your hands thoroughly as soon as you get home.

Similarly, avoid touching surfaces as much as possible! Particularly bad are door handles, elevator buttons, that kind of thing. The virus can probably (based on studies of related viruses) last a while on these. Regular gloves can help a bit. Use a tissue then throw it away, use your elbow, etc.

Do Not buy face masks! There’s mixed evidence on whether they’re at all helpful when used by the general public to prevent catching a virus, but actual medical professionals who need them are facing shortages (that’s probably part of why so many healthcare workers got sick in Wuhan), so our buying them up is really bad. The only times you should be wearing them is if you yourself are sick (they do help then!) or if you’re looking after a sick person. Seek instruction in that case in how to use them properly. (Thread on why buying those fancy masks is not good).

If COVID-19 is in your community, try to stay 6 feet from people, which basically means going places as little as possible. See below.

Planning Ahead

Its also a good idea to prepare in case you need to self-quarantine. Self-quarantine is necessary if you’ve potentially been exposed to COVID-19, or if you’re sick but not enough to need to go to the hospital. Follow local guidelines- if there’s lots of transmission in your area, nonessential workers will probably be advised to stay home as much as possible.

If you’re able, get medication now. Don’t go crazy and buy out the drug store, just a reasonable amount. Try to get at least a month’s worth of any prescription medications. This can be hard at least in the U.S. - your doctor may well be able to prescribe more, but insurance companies and drug stores can be terrible. I’ve found trying a different drugstore can sometimes help. Try your best. They may also be reluctant to prescribe more to avoid causing shortages. Idk what the right answer is here.

Don’t go crazy and buy out the store, but start getting a little extra shelf-stable or frozen food. Even some root vegetables that will last a few weeks. You want enough for 2 weeks in case of self-quarantine, but you do NOT want to empty out stores. Panic buying is definitely a stress on the system. Just add a few extra things each time you shop. Don’t forget about pets. You can always eat the food and replenish it over time.

Make a plan with your family/community. If someone gets sick or needs to self-quarantine, is there a corner of the house they can stay in? Who can take care of them? etc. I haven’t focused on plans for schools/religious communities/workplaces etc but those are very important too! This is one place where keeping an eye on local and national news is important. In the U.S., for example, school systems are planning ways to make food available to kids if they’re not going to school.

If COVID-19 is starting to spread in your community, think about how else you can be a good community member. Cancelling nonessential doctor’s appointments, surgeries etc may be very important, for example. If schools are closed, can you help out neighbors with childcare? Do you have a cleaner who may need to be payed in advance if there’s a quarantine?

If You Might Be Sick/Need to Quarantine

See likely symptoms above. Remember, normal colds still exist, and if you go to the doctor for every one of those you will overwhelm the system.

Don’t just go to a hospital! Call ahead to your doctor/clinic/hospital and get instructions on what to do. Getting healthcare workers sick is something we really want to avoid. That said, DO get tested as soon as possible, and act as if you are contagious. The health coverage situation is the U.S. is not yet clear (and ofc its not something the current admin is eager to clarify). Hopefully testing will be covered financially by the government, but I can’t promise that at this time.

In the meantime, stay home and quarantined if you show any symptoms of illness if you possibly, possibly can. This is especially difficult in the U.S. if you don’t have sick leave/childcare, but please. Do your utmost.

Look after yourself. Skype/google hangouts/etc is great for keeping connected. Have some chocolate/chicken broth/other sick foods ready.

The Big Picture

Coronavirus/COVID-19 has not been declared a pandemic yet, but it probably will be before long. This is almost certainly going to get worse before it gets better. We don’t yet know if warmer weather will slow its spread, and a vaccine will probably take about 1-1.5 years to be developed and tested. As I mentioned before, the best thing we can do to keep the world working, minimize mortality, etc is to slow the spread as much as we can, and minimize the strain on the system. Hospitals are going to be overwhelmed. There aren’t infinite unoccupied beds or ventilators, or people to operate them, and supply chains could get disrupted. Thinking about these things is scary, and it will take time to adjust to what’s happening. Start that process now, and help everyone you know reach the point where they’re able to act, not panic. Another reassuring thing- if we slow the spread of COVID-19, in addition to fewer total people getting sick, you will soon have people who are recovered and almost certainly immune. These people will be invaluable as helpers in their communities.

Now that the practical stuff is out of the way, I want to say from a U.S. perspective that yes, our lack of social welfare other countries take for granted is going to hurt us. Lack of access to childcare, no guaranteed paid sick leave, and of course expensive healthcare are massive problems that will make it much harder to limit disease transmission. Help each other in any way you can, and vote for candidates that support implementing these policies! And of course, watch out for propaganda of all kinds, whether its using the virus as an excuse for racism, calls to delay elections, etc. So far my biggest concern is a lack of willingness to admit how serious this is, but we can do this. Lets put extra pressure on politicians to be honest and change policies to actually help people. But, yes, lets also stay united. We need each other now (just, you know, 6 feet apart).

A few sources

In general, the Guardian is a great, free, reliable source of news. In the U.S., NPR (website as well as radio) is another great source. The Washington Post and Seattle Times have made their coronavirus-related coverage open access, not sure about other national newspapers.

twitter thread from World Health Organization (WHO)

U.S. Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) COVID-19 homepage (not being updated in some ways it should be, like total # of tests)

A reality check from some non-Governmental experts (basically, what governments don’t want to say yet, which is that this virus is going to spread, and the goal now is to infect as few people as possible, as slowly as possible. Read this.)

Why you should act now, not when things get bad in your area (we’re always operating on outdated information)

If you want the latest technical info, The Lancet (major medical journal group) has all of their content compiled here, open access.

I can do my best to answer questions (i.e. ask my dad) but those or other reliable, readily find-able sources should have you pretty well covered. Do let me know if anything on here is wrong or needs to be updated! Stay safe, stay positive, we can do this.

[justsassysworld]

Five Demons and a Baby Part 3

Five Demons Part 3

Word Count: 1683

The Conglomerate x Fem!reader

Shuddering in nothing like fear, you allow them to show you back to your seat. Instead of letting you sit on your own, Gio waits for Scarabee to settle back in before handing you off. This time he pulls you onto his lap instead of right next to him.

Zhuk sits next to the two of you as the rest choose their spots. Once everyone's settled, Bee turns you to face the group, your back to his chest, your ass cradling his dick.

With all their attention turned to you, you figure they are waiting for you to say something but that is so not happening.

"Shy, chaton," Scarabee whispers against your ear, obviously enjoying your squirming. "But you were so vocal a minute ago."

You turn your head to glare at him, and he just laughs, with some of the others joining in. Pouting, you spin back and let out a sign. "I'm sorry for the snark, but you guys need to understand, I'm a bit of a sardonic asshole. It's not in my nature to play doormat, and it's not a role I'll ever willingly take."

Taking your hand, Zhuk draws your attention. "That is not our intention, zaika. No self respecting man wants a doormat, but we are all dominant men in our own rights, and we will not allow one of our own to come to harm."

"But-"

Gio interrupts you, "Make no mistake, topolina, you are ours, if not as a partner, as a member of the family."

A special warmth spreads through your chest. These men are trusting you, a person they don't know, a person who could be lying about the paternity, but they never doubted you. You were truly starting to believe the rumors of their evilness was drastically exaggerated.

"Thank you for saying that," you say after taking a moment to compose yourself. "What exactly do you mean by wooing? Will they just be dates? Sex? I need to know what to expect."

Chuckles surround you, Scarabee's rumbling against your backs; it would seem they weren't expecting such a blunt question.

"Oh gatita," Bajo sighs, "I for one must say how much I love your forthright nature."

Scarabee lets out a growl and you're confused until he bites out, "She is not your gatita, she is my chaton, pick something else."

"Seriously, amigo?" the Spaniard complains. "What can I call her then?"

"Not mouse.

"Not bunny." Zhuk and Gio say at the same time, making you roll your eyes.

"Fine, is paloma acceptable?" he asks, mainly to Cia.

"Don't fret, a chroi," Cia replies, sending him a wink. "I haven't yet thought of my name for our bonnie less."

Part of you wonders why they can't just call you by your name, while another loves how you feel when they use those pet names. Still, you need answers.

"Now that we have that sorted, could you please answer my question?" you cajole.

"Which one? About the dates or about sex?" Cia smirks. "If ya need a lesson in sex, I'll gladly volunteer, but considering your condition, I'm not sure how much I can teach ya." Yours are not the only eyes rolling.

Before any more jokes can be bandied around, Zhuk draws your attention, "Zaika, we are trying to woo you, you will decide what will happen, sex or no sex."

"I know what I'm voting for," Bajo murmurs, sending you a heated look.

"Now, if that's settled," Gio draws your attention by standing. "I need to get her vitamins ready, she needs to eat, and someone needs to help get her settled."

Seeming to agree, the others stand, even Scarabee, with you in his arms. You squirm to be let down, but he pays you no mind.

Gio quickly exits, but none of the others make a move, not even the man who still isn't letting you down. They start walking and speaking in some language you don't understand. Giving up on escape, you content yourself with mapping out this place, if the need for escape should arise. Of course all the damn doors are closed so you can't actually take stock of the rooms around you.

Huffing out a disappointed sigh, you pout from the cradle of the Cajuns arms, wanting to get where ever you're going so you can get some control back, or at least the option of moving on your own.

Finally you enter a new space, but it's not what you were expecting. It's far from the simple sleeping space you'd envisioned. The scene from the second Princess Diaries movie pops into your mind. Quite honestly, this suite is bigger than your apartment. Your mind is having issues comprehending how the luxury of the space is mixing with your stuff. Simple earth tones counter rich woods, while your more bright colors manage to blend without clashing too much.

Bajo and Cia make their way to the kitchenette, while Zhuk peruses your humble library, and Scarabee settles onto an over stuffed sofa, you in his lap. You watch how the others move about the space, trying to learn what you can about the mixed group without asking any questions.

The pair in the kitchen seem to dance as they work, letting you see their love; they flirt with their smiles, call each other ridiculously cute nick names, and even kiss once or twice. You catch the burly Russian casting longing glances their way, though you can't tell if it's because he wants to join them, or he just wants what they have. When he's not peering at them, he's checking out your small movie collection, obviously caught of guard by some of your selections.

"Well, cher," Scarabee suddenly whispers against your ear. "Ya learnin' anythin'?"

Biting your lip at getting caught, you turn your head slightly to see him. "Maybe, a little."

"Ah, don't leave me in suspense, tell me, mon petite chaton," he demands against your flesh.

"Well," you hedge, wanting time to fight your body's reaction, not that it'll do you any good with their sense of smell. "While you all seem very close, may haps even sexually, Cia and Bajo seem extra close. I'd even say they look like they're in love. I would say Zhuk is the quietest of you, and while some might think it would suggest a more submissive nature, I get the feeling he has more dominance in his little finger then a lot of doms have in their whole body, there's also a loneliness in his eyes. You and Gio seem to be cut from the same cloth, but he's got something hiding beneath the surface. I can't tell what's different between the two of you, but I think you are a bit extroverted to his introvert."

Looking into his eyes, you add, "Your power seems to surround you, where his comes from inside."

His gaze bores into you for a good while and you realize you don't hear anything coming from the rest of the room. Checking the others, you see they are also staring at you.

"What?" you ask, turning back to Scarabee. His palm cups your cheek as he stares at you in wonder.

"Cher, you surprise me," he whispers, drawing you in for a quick kiss.

"How?" Zhuk asks from behind you. You look behind you and see all of them, even Gio, who is standing in the doorway, watching you in shocked amazement.

Fear has you frozen. There is absolutely no way you're going to tell them the truth, that you've read so much fan fiction you've gotten really good at reading people. Nope, that's not something you'll ever admit to. "Uhh," you stall. "I read."

Before they can question you further, you ask, "What's for lunch?"

You get some glares, but Cia is smiling while he brings you a bowl of simple chicken noodle soup. Scarabee carries you to the table, setting you in one of the chairs. Gio hands you a couple of pills as Bajo sets down a glass of water. They each take a seat as the rest of the food is served.

Looking at the pills, you ask," Gio, are these prescription prenatals?"

"Yes, topolina," he replies, taking a bite of his soup.

"How?" confusion stains your voice. "There's no way you could get a prescription this fast."

He flashes you a cocky grin. "Is that so?"

You're about to snap back when strong hands trail down your arms, moving you hands to the table. "Please, a chuid, eat."

Biting your lip, you look up to see Cia staring down at you, concern and kindness swimming in the depths of his eyes. Not wanting to disappoint him, you quickly take a bite of the surprisingly delicious soup before swallowing your pills. Smiling, he moves to his own seat and starts eating.

The sounds of people eating fills the space until Zhuk says, "So, zaika, tell us all about you."

You do just that with a smile, answering every question they send your way. Favorite color, book, movie, and television show, your childhood, family and friends, and all of your dreams, you answer it all, but get very little info in return.

Finally tiring of the sound of your own voice, you ask, "Haven't you heard enough? When do I get to learn more abut you?"

Chuckles are your answer. "My dear, Zaika, we will each tell you all you wish to know, and more, in turn. I will be taking my day with you tomorrow, Gio will follow me, Bajo and Cia will share their days, and Bee will finish us up. Will this work for you?"

Mulling it over, you smile and nod. "Yes, I think I can live with that."

Various pleased looks answer, before the questions begin again. You're tempted to roll your eyes, but there is something so damn sweet about the curiosity of these mysterious men. As much as you don't understand how they can still have things to ask, you guess you'll have just as many when your turn rolls around.

@doyahearthatsound-after-dark,  @1-rosewiththorns