#RISING FROM THE ASHES OF SLEEP DEPRIVATION

[taradactyls]

Trying to Tread Water: Chapter Thirty

The Elizabeth/Darcy Marriage of Convenience fic no one asked for

Chapter Thirty: Elizabeth's first ball in town - and the first official dance she is attending as Mrs Darcy - has arrived. As have the Darcy family's collection of jewellery, which Mr Darcy sent for. Of course, despite that their marriage was made to secure her safety, his love for Elizabeth means he wants none but her to wear them. They stay close to each other during the ball, and he cannot keep his eyes off her. Especially when they dance.

Read on Ao3 here

First reviews of Chapter Thirty: "Honestly when I get the email this story has updated I get very excited and it’s a proper treat! I made a coffee and sat down to read it as soon as possible." "Loved this update! Oh man the vibes during that dance were just perfect." "I'm literally so unreasonably happy that they had a nice night out😭😭 grinning in public like a lunatic rn..." "I really loved the ball in its entirety, honestly. The descriptions of the room and atmosphere, and especially the last dance, all speaks to your writing prowess. 12/10, would recommend." "This story is my absolute favorite notification and I seriously enjoy reading it so much! The characters, the world building, just so incredibly well done!"

Story updates on Ao3 fortnightly, with Chapter Thirty-One coming out on the 17th May.

Story tags: Elizabeth/Darcy, Marriage of Convenience, Unrequited Love, Not Really Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Pining, Pining Despite Being Married, Mr Darcy thinks his worst enemy is Wickham but maybe it's himself.

[cumsockwoundpack]

LAST SEMESTER: CH.3

T4T BOYDYKE GIRLYAOI SO SELF-INDULGENT IT'LL BLIND YOU

ch1 ch2

Lo, "a beer and a dart" turns into two beers per hour, chainsmoking between acrid cigarette makeout sessions, deciding to take tomorrow off work, smoking a bowl or two, and a couple rounds taking turns giving lazy head, the last of which is capped off by both of you drifting to sleep together.

Upon waking with your face nuzzled to his chest (rising, falling, his heart thrumming, all steadfastly soothing as a gently swaying redwood, rising, falling) you take a deep breath. With the windows closed and your nose pressed halfway into the pocket of his shoulder, the humid, cloying blend of blood, sweat, stale sex, and cigarette-ash hedonism coats your sinuses like treacle. You remember that you both still have yet to shower.

You peel your cheek away from his collarbone and take a breath of the closest thing to "fresh air" you've had in the last 8 hours. The rest of the room is still saturated with the postbacchanal miasma, and unfortunately, the unbidden flow of air does nothing but increase the acuity of your sense of smell.

You're unsure how much of the head rush you're currently experiencing is due to oxygen deprivation as opposed to the condensed sensory summary of last night's deviancy getting you so fucking hot and bothered that you revert to an earlier stage of human evolution.

Shaky-legged, you get up to let the cold air in. Getting the window up proves to be an endeavor, with the Landlord Special offwhite paint welding the pane to the sill, and every actin-myosin filament in your right shoulder softly wincing with the memory of their teeth every time you exert yourself. Despite this, you succeed and make it once again possible to walk, rather than swim, the rest of the way to the shower. Even when intentionally and tactically lukewarm, the water running down your back lightly sears your nerves as it contacts fresh scratches, gouges, hand-carved canyons. For the first couple seconds, the water is tinged pink.

He, nude, visibly only half-awake, opens the bathroom door abruptly without knocking, and looks at you. You are covered in blood, scared, and look like a dog that got left in the rain. He seems to finally remember he possesses a right hand, which he brings up to his eyes, sees your blood caked under his fingernails. They stand stock-straight, the full memory of last night (you can read his mind through his eye, he's recalling your face when he found himself grinding on your leg and whining) slamming into his cerebellum like an atom bomb.

"Do you usually get that hard from looking at me?"

You look down.

Fuck.

Eyes back up.

Now he's in the shower with you.

"Turn around."

Tense as hell but without missing a beat, you shuffle a quick little 180. You stare intently at the tiling, black and white checkerboarded. Stylish. Your fists are clenched hard enough to make diamonds.

"Relax! Relax," he says, opening a bottle of conditioner and lathering it between his hands. Conditioner? His buzzcut's like a centimeter long, why do they even own - your train of thought derails (killing hundreds) as the gruff dyke tenderly brushes his hands through your hair.

You let out a sigh that emanates from somewhere deep in your core as rictus tension abates into a sort of pleasantly giddy anxiety.

"I take it you don't regret last night?," you say as he massages the conditioner into your hopelessly fried and split ends.

"God, no. I'm starting to realize I've wanted you this whole time," he says, nibbling your ear and sending something unholy up your spine.

"I've been thinking something similar. Although...,"

"Hm?,"

"I worry - oo, little bit gentler please—" "Mhm."

"—about this somehow being a bridge too far. I'm petrified that this passion, this tension, this novelty is gonna fade after a month or two and that a four year friendship that could have gone on for fifty years falls victim to the three month rule."

"It won't. If it does, I think we can still work things out. I trust you," he says.

"I trust you so much it scares me. Ooh, that's nice, can you actually scratch my scalp a little, right where your hand is, ohhhh yeaahhhh... hell yeah. Hell yeah," you say, pushing your head against his hands.

"You'd make a cute dog," he says. You're unsure if he knows the kinds of buttons that just pushed.

Who the fuck are you kidding, he knows. Of course he knows!

You shiver.

When he finishes working the conditioner into your hair, you reach for the soap. He playfully smacks your hand away from it and grabs it himself, lathers it, and wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling your back against his chest. He's ever so slightly taller than you and he knows it, pecking little kisses into your shoulders and neck as he caresses and cleanses you. His guitar-calloused fingertips strike sparks off your skin as they trace along your ribs. One hand settles on your chest and idly gropes your tits, using your nipples as buttons on a soundboard (pathetic little gasps and hitched breaths, you can feel your dick twitch every time. you're sure he can see as well, which only makes your head fuzzier) while the other hand wanders down to your waist, around your hips, right to the crease between hip and thigh, clutching you firmly to him.

He's so warm. Chiselled where it counts, but still tender in all the right places. He flows like water around you, his breathing getting huskier every time he feels your chest rise and fall. You whine, involuntary, arching your back and grinding into him as his hands get closer and closer to your crotch.

"Oh, you're gorgeous," he coos into your ear, "And so needy."

"Please touch me."

"No. Gotta clean you properly first."

He roughly licks the bruise on your shoulder, tongue buttressed by lower jaw to add deep-tissue pressure as he pinches your nipple with his nails and twists. It's unrelenting, soul shaking, all-consuming, like tattoo needle on bone, issuing a free flow of precum out of you.

"Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckpleasestop, please, please stop, PLEASE," you whine, frantic, your hands flailing behind you to try and find some purchase on his (smooth and soap-slick, urggh,) skin.

He pauses.

"Was that a 'Red' I heard?"

A moment of recognition. Your hands go limp.

"...Green."

"Good girl," he says, finally taking hold of you, peeling back the foreskin, lazily running the pad of their thumb along the flared head, and gently wrapping his free hand around your throat.

"hhHhaahhnnnn~," ...Oh, dear, that's embarrassing, mutters some far-off fragment of your psyche, clamping your hands over your mouth for you, though (through interlaced fingers) you still let out sounds like distressed livestock, writhing in his grasp as he starts stroking you properly.

"Aww, c'monnn, doll," the hand around your neck pries your fingers from your mouth (they go back to holding onto him for dear life) and a thumb works its way between your teeth, their voice in your ear a steady flow of spiced honey, "Sing for me, love."

"mmmmffffffffffuck, fuck, oh, fuck, Ted, fuck, fuck!"

The rope of your psyche ties in knots. You are utterly scrambled. Through the sea of sensation and – "God, oh damn, fuck! It's so much!" – dopamine flow, a sickly, keening, ravenous tension starts building inside you. Your knees grow weak, your babble gets rapidfire and less and less intelligible, "fuck" becomes "fuhhgghh" becomes high-pitched grunts until your eyes go wide and...

"Oh, fuck, I'm close, I'm close, I'm gonna-"

He stops. You writhe. You keen like a steel chair scraping linoleum. You teeter on the edge, feeling like your soul's throat's getting garotted with piano wire, like the grape-skin membrane around your psyche is about to yield and snap under teeth, his thumb keeping your jaw wrenched open.

"Don't do it. Don't fucking cum."

You just barely hold on, the precisely-built tension somewhere behind the base of your dick slowly uncoiling as you moan and roll your hips, shaking a little ass as you grind back into him.

He's in your ear again, any pretense of restraint on your part melting away every time his teeth use your cartilage to elicit a pathetic, animal grunt of pain from somewhere in your throat.

"Did you cum?," he purrs.

"No, sir."

He keeps his hand pressed where thigh meets hip, your earlobe pinched between his canines, and his thumb practically down your throat as his voice curtly and gruffly slips two words through your eardrum and directly into the hypothalamus like a well-placed morphine needle, causing you to squeeze your legs together and arch your back like you're getting electrocuted. You almost don't actually register the semiotic content of the phrase itself through the vision-blurring white-hot static hit of pleasure that washes over you with their utterance.

After the flashbang's gone off, you consciously register that he called you, quote, "Good Boy," and your eyes unfocus again as your brain almost leaks out of your dick.

You decide to put off processing exactly how significantly that might affect your gender presentation in favor of focusing on the hand on your right cumgutter tracing a path around your outer thigh and palming a nice fistful of ass - ("God, who gave you all this?") - before getting to your tailbone and drawing a line directly downward. Feeling his soap-slick fingers parting your ass and teasing your hole, your knees grow ever weaker and your wordless, mindless pleas grow ever louder. A thought crystallizes in your addled mind and fights its way out of your throat before you can think to stop it.

"Please, Sir, fuck me. For the love of God."

"Good boy. Get out."

"Huh?," you say, your head fuzzy.

"Get out of the shower and–"

"PLEASE!", you snap, louder than intended, your desperation having reached a head as you interpret this as a sign of further denial, then, more softly,

"Please. You've toyed with me so fucking much," looking into his soft brown irises with doe eyes that you know could topple nations.

"Adorable. I'm not railing you in this studio apartment bathroom's clawfoot tub though, dipshit. One of us doesn't have healthcare."

"Oh. Mmh. Right." you say.

He turns off the water, motions for you to step out of the shower, and you do so readily. If you weren't still slightly afflicted by the combination of obligatory butch chivalry, Catholic guilt, and the urge toward canine displays of submission causing you to avert your gaze and stare intently at the bathroom door, you would have taken the time to really drink up the view of his lithe form, the way the lingering dampness makes his leg hair cling to calf, the droplet-flow of water from shoulders to waist to cumgutters to bush to the reflection of the divine between his surprisingly plush thighs as he steps out onto the bathmat.

But, alas, this courtesy was your downfall, as you had no way to react to him swiftly grabbing both your arms, passing your right wrist into his left hand to pin both arms behind your back over the course of about half a second. He leverages this grip, his right hand in your hair, and his knee pressing uncomfortably (nigh-bruisingly) into the backs of your thighs to wrench you into a wretched, back-arched posture and march you to the bed. Once there, he kicks your feet out from under you and you both catch a moment of lurching airtime as you realize he is fucking bodyslamming you (!!!!!!!!!!!) into the bed, facedown, pushing your face into the pillow to followthrough. He's straddling you now, and he releases your hands, which you wouldn't fucking DARE move. He brings his left hand to your mouth.

"Spit."

You oblige. The saliva draws a momentary string between your lips and the butch's hand, only separating when they rub their fingers together to distribute the spit.

"Again."

You whine, then oblige once more before he can chastise you.

"Good boy," he grunts.

"rrrRruff," you bark.

You bark?

"Did you just bark?" he says.

Yes, you did.

You decide to shut up.

You can almost hear him cock an eyebrow behind you in the silence before he re-asserts his grip on your hair and his calloused-but-spit-slicked thumb starts rubbing lazy circles into the clenched ring, opening the valve on a long, low, breathy yowl that had been building pressure on your throat since you were embarrassed into silence.

"So cute. So fucking adorable," he mumbles. You feel his thumb press a little harder, you clench unthinkingly, your desperation audible and breathy. Seeing you unravelled before him like this has softened something in Ted's soul, his words taking on a soft, molten, sickly-sweet timbre that places you utterly at his mercy.

"So tight. So cute. Fuck. Breathe, baby. Relax. Good boy, good boy. You worry so much, just breathe. Goooood...." - he redoubles his efforts, the tip of his thumb finally breaching the surface, "...boy! Good boy."

It's awe-inspiring. He's inside you, prying you apart with his thumb, centimeter by centimeter, knuckle by knuckle, you swear you can almost feel each individual ridge on the pad of his thumb as he grinds it inexorably deeper, running the fingers of his free hand through your hair and caressing your jaw.

You can feel him fucking dripping between the firm padding of his asscheeks pinning you to the bed by the lumbar spine.

"Ssssso.... fucking.... tight..," he coos breathily, finally reaching the point where even he is audibly struggling to keep composure as his thumb bottoms out inside you. This is not a problem for him for long, however, because when you feel him zero in on your prostate, your dick starts leaking like a sieve and you burst into tears, whimpering and bucking into the sheets.

You feel him grinding on your back, his free hand now clamped around your lower jaw, his thumb wrenching your mouth open. You can't keep your voice down. You sound like you're trying not to drown as he uses two fingers (the middle two out of the four not yet inside you, precisely) to press down on your taint externally, crushing your prostate from both sides.

It feels like you're getting fucking tazed. You'd know. You start shuddering and gasping for air, twitching, muscles (that you didn't know you had!) tensing to what feels like the point of snapping. Your salivary glands are working overtime and choking you on your own drool occasionally. Everything goes a little bit grey and fuzzy. There's pressure building. Oh god.

You peel his hand from your face and out of your mouth.

"Can I please cum?"

"Good manners. Cum."

He wraps the hand back around your throat and squeezes. Three perfunctory, businesslike jabs at your bitch button and dopamine hits your brain like a sledgehammer as your whole body goes limp under him.

"So pathetic!," he says, voice tinged with joy, his choking hand loosening, and his thumb... still going full strength, oh god, oh god, oh, God, you hear your wails reverberating off the unfurnished walls, filling the room, overflowing and leaking out through the door, fuck, are you still cumming? Oh, oh god,

"Fuck, it's too much! I can't fucking take it!"

"Aw, don't you wanna be a good boy? For me?"

"Please, please stop, please, i think i'm still cumming, fuck, stop, nonononono-"

He leans right down next to your ear.

"I love you," he growls.

"Oh god! I, I- Oh, I fffhgg-"

"Good boy. Cum. Again. "

You remember him biting down on your ear and grinding his thumb into your hole one more time right before you black out.

[ceruleanthiing]

The lineup 💪 (about half my Ninjago ocs, as of dragons rising) from left to right, Two-Worlds (she/her), Chloe (she/her), Alcyo (he/him), and Elapis (he/they).

a lil more abt them vv

Two-Worlds is a hent (speculative etymological ninjagan term for amphicyonids, aka bear-dogs… google em, they’re pretty cool and not extinct in the Ninjago universe in my mind palace/hc zone) hailing from my friend’s fan-realm called Creatura. She’s not actually supposed to be in a humanoid form, it was artificially induced via magic. Her true form is much larger and much more quadrupedal like other creaturans (who just look like oversized, strangely colored but otherwise normal animals). She prefers this form though because she was raised in Ninjago around exclusively humans and got some body dysmorphia out of it… and as for why she’s a cowboy, it’s because she felt like it. She’s been wandering the merged lands searching for her scattered friends and family.

—

Chloe is a Fangpyre serpentine, and she looks pretty lizard-y because for some reason Fangpyre are more monitor lizard-ish than snake-ish in my head. She’s got special interests in pop culture and history, particularly human pop culture and ways in which human and serpentine history interact. Girlie is like a walking archive. Since the merge she’s been wanting to digitize and transcribe what remains of non-digitized archives and libraries, as the merge has made her all the more aware of how often natural disasters can destroy physical/recorded history. She’s pretty thrilled that Lloyd’s letting her digitize/transcribe scrolls in the monastery.

—

Alcyo is a master of an element i Made The Fuck Up for fun: mist. It’s a running gag that ppl (including him way back when) hear there’s elements of smoke and mist and go “…what’s the difference?” lmao. He’s no fighter, but still wanted help/training to use his element, and that’s how he knew Ash. He’s a geosciences guy like me and has been freaking out over . Well. Everything (lol he inspired that post) since the merge. He’s been getting together with ppl like him from across the merged realms (that is, geosci, eco, etc ppl who are as alarmed as he is) in order to document all the shit going on with the planet now as well as try to plan remediation efforts. I imagine governments have been a bit hesitant to work with a rogue group of jittery sleep deprived scientists but they (Alcyo’s ppl) try. I imagine they are the ones making the new maps and shit like that as well. He just wants to go back to his old day jobs and see Ash again. Sorry buddy, you can only have one of those back lmao

—

Elapis is a hypnobrai who’s been friends with Chloe since childhood. They’re significantly more jaded and pessimistic than she is but they’ve always appreciated her encouragement to pursue music. He probably knows how to play quite a few instruments but he’s usually That Asshole With A Guitar in my brain lmao. He likes learning about other peoples as much as Chloe does though (albeit through music scenes rather than reading) which is why the two became friends. He doesn’t know where she’s gone since the merge and hopes he can see her again one day. He’s found her siblings but not her, and it’s been pretty frustrating. Other than that, they’ve passed the time by jamming with all sorts of people at the Crossroads. Arin and Sora might have seen them around, performing.

[taylortruther]

Fire imagery is my eternal hyperfixation...and on this note I'll like to point out that Taylor burning down the Lover house and the line "I'm getting tired even for a phoenix, always rising from the ashes" both being in reference to the Joe breakup situation have insane connotations.

I know she probably didn't intentionally frame it like that, but the idea of her burning down her own house that she built so painstakingly for 6 years (very powerful btw) and then being a phoenix being reborn from the ashes of the place....ahhh. It's giving "she lost him but she found herself" and I am HERE for it.

My brain is immensely fried from all the sleep deprivation rn so BEAR with me even if it makes no sense, but I really believe that Taylor has changed a great deal ever since April 9th...like she's really winning the idgaf war and has probably felt like a new person herself too since a major chapter of her life had ended.

Burning down any reminders of the past and starting off with a clean slate is a very common theme in literature and I'm gonna draw parallels between everything the blonde woman does bcz I want to.

i just rbed something you'll like! but I'm sooo curious to see if this house/fire symbolism reoccurs because, to be honest, the lover house burning on tour always kinda confused me. i believed it had to do with reclaiming her masters and ownership of her work, freeing herself from her past... but the way that could parallel the lh mv, burning down the past with joe... oof

[thegentlesurvive]

I’m so sleep deprived, so this is truly a junk drawer post, but I’m not done talking about Taylor Swift and literary alchemy!!

Like can we just talk about the fact that the proper name for the alchemical process is magnum opus and how that term is commonly used to refer to an artist’s masterpiece that is most representative of them and their journey or the most important to them?

Is it possible that we’ll find that the title “The Alchemy” could be substituted by “The Great Work” or “The Magnum Opus”? That provides so much fuel for predictions about the song.

“Daylight” has been discussed as being connected to “The Alchemist” because of the mention of gold and to “Red” because of mention of red, but can we talk about how it specifically references ALL the colors of the three stages of alchemy in order (I once believed love would be black and white […] I once believed love would be burning red, but it’s golden”)?

And can we talk about the album colors and how they tie in to alchemy? If Reputation was the black stage, next comes white, right? But Lover isn’t white, even though that seems like the vibe it was going for—perhaps white was the stage Taylor wanted or believed it to be in her life and/or music career, but as the Apple Music “I Love You, It’s Ruining My Life” playlist tell us, Lover was mostly denial—nor is Midnights, which harkens back to the darkness. TTPD is the white stage—the purification and refinement (i.e., removing what doesn’t belong…just sayin).

What comes next, then? Either one (red, most likely) or two (yellow and red) final stages. Philosophically, the yellowing, cintrinitas represents an awakening, and the reddening/rubedo “stage entails the attempt of the alchemist to integrate the psychospiritual outcomes of the process into a coherent sense of self before its re-entry to the world” (Wikipedia). If it’s two, well, bring on the two ✌️ theories!

I think there probably are multiple correct answers here for how what’s to come next relates to alchemy, because it’s like that, and very layered (I mean, literary alchemy started as satire of alchemy before it became serious themes and tropes and story structures and the names of mentors in Harry Potter).

What speaks to me the most in regards to twos and alchemy is that she has two re-recorded albums to release to complete the Taylor’s Version project. Is Taylor’s Version her magnum opus, her hero’s journey?

If there’s just the one final alchemical stage to follow TTPD, will that yellow/red phase be the next new album and our mystery orange door? Whether or not the Karma theories have a factual basis, we know Taylor takes inspiration from fan theories, as most recently evidenced by the grief playlists. Could the concept of Karma—the orange (yellow+red) album that was waylaid by the blackening (Reputation) and burned down in the subsequent attempted whitening (Lover) which left us back at the dark stage (Midnights [leaving folkmore out because they’re not overall autobiographical and weren’t planned, so there wasn’t an intention to move/transform into the next stage, if that makes sense?])—be used by Taylor to represent that the end of this alchemical process is getting back on track for what she had planned before the Taylor Swift Is Over Party and/or Joe? Or, if that potential album indeed burned down completely with the rest of the Lover house, will whatever her next album after TTPD be rising in some way from those ashes?

Okay I’m officially deliriously tired now to where I can’t read what I’m writing as I write it, so I’m going to pause here tonight before my theories totally lose the plot, but please continue and add your thoughts/ideas!!

[the-whumpening]

The Freed Tiger | (Ash's Recovery Arc, Part 1)

Masterpost | Next

Ash has finally been rescued by his friends and is returning home. But how free is he really, with Ozmund's conditioning still permeating his every thought?

CW: aftermath of whump/conditioning, panic attack

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

It takes until returning home before everyone is able to truly take note of Ash’s condition. Though his stoic exterior briefly broke when he realized he was indeed being rescued, he has barely made a sound since. In fact, he’s barely moved at all since being loaded in the cart and wrapped in a warm blanket. But as the sun rises overhead during the journey, the damage is obvious.

Scars and bruises paint Ash’s skin. Once hidden behind shadows and dim light, the burns encircling his neck, wrists, and ankles are visible now in the bright daylight. Ash squints away from the light, shielding his eyes with a calloused, shaky hand as they finally arrive back home. Evius guides him down out of the cart and hurries him inside; Ash stumbles along beside him, sleep-deprived and confused from all the sudden changes.

“Come on, Ash.” Evius gently presses his back to urge him along. “How about a nice warm bath, hm? I can get you some of your own clothes, too.”

Ash doesn’t nod. He doesn’t react at all, really. The words enter his ears, but he doesn’t process them. His feet drag him along the path Evius sets; his consciousness has yet to catch up.

In the bathroom, Evius fills the tub and waves his hand through the water. Indigo sparkles envelop his fingers and trail behind them, heating the water in one quick swirl. A pinching, peppermint-like smell pierces Ash’s nose, jolting his brain awake. Magic. Not exactly like His magic, but similar enough to send a wave of adrenaline through Ash’s system. He shivers, a cold sweat erupting from his pores and his stomach lurching in a nauseating twist.

“Okay, all warmed up,” Evius says, his back still turned to Ash. “Do you want me to stay, or—” He turns, finding Ash pale and sweaty, clawing at the neck of his shirt. Immediately, he leaps to his feet and tries to reach for Ash, who steps back in response. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything is okay. Sit down; you look like you’re going to be sick.” As if on command, Ash’s knees buckle and he slumps to the ground. Evius fans Ash’s face; the breeze helps to calm his thudding pulse.

Ash had been certain his rescue was real. But once that familiar smell hit his senses, doubt rocketed back to infect his mind. His thoughts race incoherently, lapping over one another like acidic waves, burning as they push and pull.

What’s in that water?

He must be coming soon.

Don’t think. Don’t think. Stay still, say nothing, DON’T THINK.

This isn’t real, is it? Where am I?

KILL ME ALREADY.

“Ash.”

You’re not real, either.

“Ash!”

Not real, not real, not real . . .

A gurgling sound slips through the gaps in his screaming thoughts. A drain? He cracks his eyes open just a hair, enough to see Evius emptying the bathtub. Why–?

“We can try again later when you’re feeling a little better, okay?” Evius says. He offers a hand to Ash, lifting him off the floor and supporting him under his arm.

What is he doing? What is this? As Ash tries to catch his breath, he realizes the piercing smell is gone. Did I imagine it? Or did he hide it? Neither thought is comforting, but he at least can feel his body once more and quiet the avalanche of thoughts.

Evius leads him out of the room, continuing, “Are you hungry? Or would you rather sleep?”

Choices. He hasn’t had that privilege in so long, it feels almost foreign to him. Eat when he wants? Sleep when he wants? How would he even know when he needs to? Hunger and sleep deprivation had haunted him so frequently in the last year; what does it even mean to be full or rested? How can he tell the difference between the hunger of a long day and the hunger of a week fed nothing but broth?

His mouth pops open and closed a few times, trying and failing to make a decision. No matter what he says, will Ozmund use it against him when the illusion ends? Is this a test of what he values more—what he can do without the longest?

“How about food first, then?” Evius gives him a gentle squeeze. “I know you love Krumgus’ cooking.”

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

A/N: I've got a few good parts of this recovery arc done, but I've still got plenty to do and no immediate end goal. Feel free to send asks/prompts if you have thoughts or suggestions!

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Immortals Fenyx Rising Headcanons (The Lost Gods edition)

Like Fenyx on the Golden Isles, Ash got absolutely scarred while on the Pyrite Isles.

Due to Fenyx’s divinity, I feel like her pain tolerance is Way Higher, whereas Ash’s most definitely is not.

Ash was constantly having to just push through the pain, since it’s not like pain remedies are actively available.

She got most pain relief from different plants that Athena told her were safe to consume or use to clean her wounds.

Fenyx wasn’t able to stay with Ash 24/7, since it would be strange for her to just be standing near the scrying pool for however long it takes for Ash to complete her journey (realistically, i feel like it takes a few weeks). So, sometimes Fenyx can’t talk to Ash for several hours at a time.

And as I stated in my other headcanon post, Ash has MAJOR separation anxiety.

She HATES being alone.

So, usually, Athena will be around in her owl form. Not always talking to her, but she’ll be in eyeshot, watching over Ash and letting her know that she isn’t alone.

But when Athena and Fenyx aren’t there? Those are the worst times.

It’s so quiet. Uncomfortably so.

No playful banter, no idle chitchat, no random conversations.

It’s just her, the sound of her footsteps, and the distant din of monsters prowling the Isle.

Ash hates it.

But she knows that she can’t be clingy. Athena and Fenyx have other things to do than babysit her, especially Athena.

Still. The silence is so loud, and after awhile her hands begin to shake, and she worries that they’ll never come back. What if they leave her all alone on this island? What if she dies here? She gets in her head so easily.

Anyway! Enough of that!

Ash didn’t know how to hunt, so Athena would have to catch her small animals so she wouldn’t starve.

Sleeping is hard sometimes. Mainly because there isn’t any available beds.

One of the worst parts of being an adventurer: no beds.

Ash has had to sleep on the hard stone ground of a cave, the dirt of a secluded grove, the branches of a tree (which she ended up falling out of).

Her favorite places to sleep are in those destroyed houses you can find around the Isle. Sometimes they have beds. And even if they don’t, they’re better than the ground.

Nights are scary for her. It’s so dark. And the sound of monsters keep her awake, worrying that they’ll find her and kill her while she’s sleeping.

Because of her paranoia, Ash didn’t sleep for the first few nights she was on the Isles. This obviously caused issues—can’t have the Champion being so sleep deprived that she can’t swing her sword without nearly stabbing herself—so Athena usually roosts near where Ash sleeps to keep her safe and comfortable.

If Ash is having a nightmare, Athena will sometimes swoop down and nuzzle her a bit until she calms down. She’ll deny this ever happening, though.

Whenever Ash bathes (because god knows she has to, what with her sweating all the time. and bleeding), Athena keeps watch around the perimeter to make sure she doesn’t get jumped by any monsters.

She sweated fucking BUCKETS in the Hearthland.

She’d be talking to Hades down near the first Vault of Tartarus, and she’s just fucking DRIPPING.

Because HELLO, they’re surrounded by LAVA.

Her absolute LEAST FAVORITE place is the Frostwind Highlands.

Because her connection was cut with Fenyx due to the wind, and Athena couldn’t fly in the harsh wind, she was left all alone. And she had Several panic attacks because of this.

It got a little better after she got Phosphor.

Ash had to cauterize a lot of her wounds. It wasn’t the best thing to do, but a lot of those monsters cut deep, and she starts bleeding too much, and she has no choice.

She got used to the white-hot agony after awhile.

(Not really.)

The grief of losing her parents still weighs heavily on her heart. It’s constantly looming over her shoulders. She just tries really hard to ignore it.

Getting on Dusty the first time was not as easy as it’s shown in the game. Mounting horses is HARD, even with a saddle and stuff, and Ash struggled quite a bit. Fenyx and Athena just watched in silence.

Ash pushes herself way too hard, and she once blacked out from exhaustion, her body having reached its limit after so much combat. She awoke in the shelter of an old temple, having been carried there by Athena in her true form while she was still unconscious.

[crunchywhitepaper]

cw: self-hatred, self-blame, nausea, skipping meals (brief thought), inability to start tasks, insomnia, suicidal ideation, breakdown, sleep deprivation, anxiety (tell me if i forgot to tag something)

summary: jack morrison struggling from sep to overwatch to the fall of overwatch and its rise

hear me out

jack morrison had troubles with tasks when he entered the military. any paperwork that needed to be passed? laughed off until a day before he needs to submit it as he stays up on the verge of a breakdown typing the thing with lights out.

gabriel being his buddy at the time and always trying to get jack to do his deadlines early on but jack just cant do it. he tries for like an hour but never does anything substantial.

gabriel ends up offering to work with jack on their shit and jack slowly ends up having a semi decent work ethic.

until overwatch happened and the shitstorm that happened there

jack wakes up to a lot of tasks and gabriel isn't there. he goes back to staying up all night. the anxiety running through his veins, tears pouring down his face as he types whatever bullshit he can.

it's the only way he can do it.

he's thankful for the serum that it allows him to do this for weeks on end. he doesn't sleep he just passes out in his bed when he gets the chance to lie down from the exhaustion. he invests in eyedrops and ice packs just so the sleep deprivation isn't noticeable. makeup as well to hide his pallor face.

he does this just so the others don't worry.

when ana dies, when gabriel isn't looking for him anymore except for work, he stops doing that as well. no one will look anyway, why bother?

when overwatch falls and soldier 76 emerges in the ashes, he thought, 'that was the best sleep he'd had in years'

without the paperwork and now moving to action, a part of him thinks, he shouldn't be running on so little sleep.

a major part of him goes, you've spent years with no sleep, why stop now.

he goes without sleep. he continues the same habits, unable to fall asleep even if he wanted to anyway. unable to move without the tension running under his skin.

the days where he needed to rest for his wounds were the worst. he'd lie in whatever place he found himself in and just sleep, uncaring of the hours that pass. he wakes up hungry, remembers the nausea that followed him throughout the day and eats a ration bar

he remembers the past and he cries, wondering how much he didn't notice because he was always so tired. maybe if he did better. maybe if he would just sleep properly, maybe-

he finishes the bar and curls back to sleep, the voices screaming in his head.

when he first meets reaper, when he meets gabriel again as an enemy, he wonders just what happened. reaper blames him and 76 can only accept it, knowing its the truth.

when ana arrives, 76 is both filled with relief and dread. he doesn't join ana. he doesn't want her to know that he can't take care of himself. he makes up some bullshit reason they fight. ana wants to help him. 76 tells her he doesnt need it. it's a lie but he won't drag her to his issues.

ana sighs and offers him a way to contact her. he takes it and leaves.

he doesn't sleep that night as well.

he finds more information about overwatch. about talon. about reaper. it's faster with ana. he thinks of giving up. with every intel, he finds it harder and harder to fall asleep. his mind keeps screaming at him.

he remembers when overwatch first fell and he remembers how it felt to actually feel rested. his whole body stung with burns and cuts and his eyes were shot to shot but he could hear himself think. a decent tradeoff, honestly.

how hard would it be to do the same now? what does he need so he can finally sleep? he chases the thought in his mind, thinking it over and over and-

death was also sleep, wasn't it?

a hush settles over his thoughts and 76 closes his eyes and grips tightly on his weapon. don't think about it, he thinks. it continues to follow him.

he gets invited to overwatch. 76 only knows of suffering and pain during overwatch. he supposed it was nice early on but it didn't last. he denies the invitation.

he ends up fucked while chasing one of the leads. 76 ends up running more and more on gas. that one thought that visited him continued to haunt him.

he faces reaper and reaper gives him no mercy. under the barrel of a shotgun, 76 thinks, this is it but his consciousness fades with a sharp pain on the side of his head.

he's caught. talon wants dibs on a body that survived the soldier enhancement program.

funny enough, they put him through sleep deprivation. 76 laughs. he can do this anytime. he hasn't tested the limits of what his body can handle considering he always passed out on the two week mark at most, he wonders now.

overwatch ends up saving him on the first week. somehow, for some reason, reaper and sombra are in tow. he should care, he thinks. he doesn't. it's too tiring to care. too tiring to think.

he ends up sleeping days away as he heals. angela tells him the results of his checkup, he isnt surprised. she pinpoints his shit habits. he doesnt know himself if he can change it.

genji visits him. he holds a conversation. cole visits him. he does the same. ana visits him. he just nods as she scolds him.

he's actually doing this, the thought visits him. being a functional human being and talking! wow!

then reaper arrives and he doesnt take any of his bullshit. no, not reaper. gabriel, the mask he adorned is gone and what faces him, even as wispy as his body is, is gabriel.

"jack."

"ana already gave me the speech," he says, forcing his body to relax as he stretches.

"that's not what im here for." gabriek takes a seat and stays silent. jack leaves him be, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

oh, he didn't think about his sleep. it didn't feel like one. not deep enough, maybe. one second, he was in that room and another, he wakes in the clinic.

"don't you have anything to ask me?" gabriel starts. when jack looks over at him, gabriel is frowning. ask? maybe, he thinks. maybe he could ask why he was with talon. maybe he could ask what happened with overwatch. maybe he could ask about them, what happened to them, what made them like this? maybe he could ask, but did it matter?

the ache in his chest is familiar and jack ignores it. did it matter if he had the answers? he can't do anything anyway. he went searching for answers because he couldn't do anything about it. he didn't do a single thing. his actions were always for answers but now, now when reaper, when gabriel is in front of him, did the answers really matter?

jack opens his mouth, closes them and stares at gabriel's eyes. it's black, unlike the red light that seemingly seeped out of his mask whenever he fought him as reaper. he could also ask him that, what made him reaper but-

"no," he shrugs, "i don't have anything. you?"

"what?"

"i don't have anything," he repeats, "is that all or?"

"you were searching for answers!" gabriel hisses, "about reaper? about talon? about overwatch?"

"i don't need to know," jack tells him. it feels like he's watching his body. it moves without input. "you're back here in overwatch, so you've finished what you need to do, right? so i don't need to know what happened."

"you-!" gabriel jerks, his teeth bared into a snarl before pulling himself back. he turns to the side, the light in his eyes have turned red. jack watches him as he stands up, the chair skidding back from the force and he says, "i'll-"

he takes a deep breath. jack notices wisps of black coming from his body. gabriel continues, "i'll come back later"

jack doesn't know what happened to gabriel. just that he became whatever he is because of him. because of what happened in overwatch.

maybe he should know about it. torture himself with the information as he doesn't sleep but exhaustion is already etched in his bones. what else can it do to him that he haven't already? kill him? he scoffed at the thought. his body won't accept it even as he tries.

he closes his eyes and lets his thoughts scream at him endlessly. since whatever he was searching for was useless considering gabriel and ana are back, he wonders what to do. help overwatch? he can't do it again. they need a better leader. be a soldier for overwatch? he's fucking useless as a soldier, barrelling through every fight with just willpower.

he'll just go lie down quietly, somewhere else. maybe then he can sleep. maybe then. he spends several long days in the clinic before he is discharged.

the others offer him a place in overwatch. he declines. ana and gabriel comes. he declines.

he'd love to say he slept great but he didn't. he's itching to leave and just get lost somewhere.

he doesn't get the chance. he wants to leave. he does! but he's assigned a room in the base until he recovers and he just, stays there. he sleeps. he thinks of his plans, of packing up, of leaving, of telling everyone else but he doesn't.

he doesn't sleep. that should be enough. usually it was enough. daybreak comes, noon comes and night comes. he's hungry and he's still thinking about it.

it's not enough. the panic is familiar. he pushes his body up, he wants to pack up. he doesn't. he sits on his bed, exhausted but doesn't move. he wants to leave. he needs to leave. why can't he move? it was always fixed when he didn't sleep.

a robotic voice speaks up in his room, "commander morrison, the others have left a meal in front of your room."

he moves towards the door, the motion is easy and he takes the chance, "can you tell them that i want to leave the base?"

"i shall relay your message."

there's no one outside and a meal sits there on the floor. he takes it and closes it again.

"the others wish to talk with you before you leave."

he sits back on the bed with the tray on his thighs. he stares at it. he can't eat it. he eyes the banana on the side and puts the tray down on the floor. he eats the banana and goes back to sleep. he doesn't reply to athena.

he wakes up and just leaves the base. a moment of clarity and he doesn't bring anything. he doesn't get far as he just stumbles through the forest with no idea where he is.

gabriel finds him.

jack is sitting next to a tree with his face buried in his arms and knees. he doesn't know what to do. he left and for what? he left with nothing. what did he expect?

maybe he should stay with overwatch. be a soldier. continue following orders. god knows where the fuck his life is right now.

"jack." gabriel calls out. jack grips tighter on his clothes and curls in. gabriel stares at him then sits down besides him. he sends a message to the others that he's found him and to leave it to him.

they sit in silence.

"why are you here?" jack's voice is a whisper that gabriel can barely hear over the forest.

"everyone was worried when you suddenly left. if you wanted to leave, we could help you."

"..."

"jack, please, say something, anything."

"do you remember back in sep?" jack starts. gabriel keeps quiet, listening. "no, nevermind."

"sep? what do you mean?"

"just leave me alone, ga-," jack's breath hitches, not gabe, gabriel, reaper, "gabriel. i'll be fine."

he will be. he thinks even as he's absolutely fucking lying. enough to function, be normal.

"jack. jack?"

jack doesn't want to be here. jack just wants to sleep. stop making them worry, you worthless piece of shit. stop being like this! STOP, JUST STOP! make them stop worrying. everything's fine. you're being a fucking big baby.

his fists tighten to a grip, the pain noticeable. there's a lump in his throat that he forces himself to swallow. his eyes are welling with tears. he takes a deep breath and stretches his lips to a smile. he repeats it again and again. smiling in the darkness. making it as genuine as he can.

he was just overwhelmed. it won't happen. show a hint of exhaustion. it's alright. i just wasn't used to this. sorry. thank you for this. it's... just been a while. let the smile fall.

he takes another deep breath and lifts his head.

"hey gabe," he remembers the nickname. he stares at his eyes. he doesn't want to, "sorry about that." casual is fine "i'm fine now." like that, perfect. "let's get back to base?"

gabriel is staring at him with a pinched expression. his mouth open and jack interrupts him with gritted teeth, "please."

they return back to the base in silence. jack's miserable as he faces the others, excuses lined with truths.

"it won't happen again."

"jack, it's alright," ana's understanding voice was the exact opposite of what he wanted. he didn't need it.

the other's voices went in one ear and to the other as jack spoke of nonsense platitudes, already knowing what he needed to work on, his own flaws and weaknesses. gabriel had only watched him from afar until jack was free to go back in his own room.

sleep did not come for him that day either.

[poetries-inside-my-wallet]

are you, are you coming to the tree?

The harrowing of bombs were heard miles away, and a mother's wail echoed after the earth-shattering sound of the explosion. How can one sleep like a baby when a baby in the land of olive trees is deprived of a mother's touch? People are running from north to south to seek refuge, but at night, as they lay their weary bodies on the ground no good as beds, they see missiles disguised as falling stars.

where they strung up a man they say murdered three?

A cry of a girl taken away from her family by force and was shoved to the wall. A man whispered "you are no good as us so open your legs" whilst pointing a gun onto her temporal. A cry of a pregnant woman who was told to strip her clothes in front of the murders, of her husband and kids, of her family. Trembled hands and frightened eyes no one went to help, no man stop as she stood there naked and watched as she molest3d by horrendous people. A child, a mere child was told to be rewarded by a candy just to go home with blood between her legs. When does this stop? How will this end? If their is no Palestinian walking on the streets?

strange things could happen no stranger would it be

A genocide is happening. A genocide is happening! A GENOCIDE IS HAPPENING!!! Kids are being killed, mothers are being taken away from their families and children, women are not safe going alone, fathers are being force to watch their wives being s3xual @ssualted. When are you going to wake up? The sunbird is trapped and couldn't spread its wings. A land once home of diverse culture, cultivates peace and harmony, where dreams rise as the sun rises become a war zone. We cannot watch Palestine become ashes, and a battle be celebrated.

if we met at midnight in the hanging tree

To you who are reading this, wake up! ALL EYES ON RAFAH!!! This is not just a war between Isra3l and Palestine, this is war against humanity. Thousands of lives—women, children are suffering because greed. take time to read, educate yourself about what's happening. Be aware, be loud about the situation in Palestine. Do not stop until the war is ceased. Do not stop until the oppressors find guilty. Do not stop until the olive trees grow and bear fruits again. Do not stop until the keffiyeh is not stained of blood. DO NOT STOP UNTIL PALESTINE IS FREE!

[ez-ra-zed]

I can't sleep even though im tired, and took the last of three Seroquel my new ketamine friend gave me. I'm fine with it, sleep deprivation is spiritual because it allows people to see patterns that the ones who are asleep always miss - like the sun rising, the animals waking up and starting their days or the nocturnal ones that come out at night - the manic ones who kept watch at night, the ones that studied and mapped the stars

Nowadays, people can induce mania through drugs - and many are only capable of like, writing - and doing things - when manic. Unfortunately I pulled the card three of curses so, my curse is my mental illness until somebody finally wakes the fuck up and decides to help me because I want to destroy myself to prove a point to the world that needing help is okay, and my early death is a lesson I want SOMEBODY to understand

Natural selection? The 85% unemployment rate will protect us from future plagues and pandemics

Calling all lovers

Save your soul

While the fire is hot (the black flame, mania)

Bathe in the glow

Bathe in the fire

Cloud your mind

Could be worse

To have never

For now,

Who knows for tomorrow

Fire to ash

Present to past

*clears throat* Just know that if it hides, it doesn't go away. The 2nd AIDS Epidemic, Mass Alzheimer's Event, WW3, & Alien Invasion is coming. Terence McKenna taught me about the mini dark age, the song reminded me

Love is the cure

Absolve your soul

Surrender

[asummersday]

22, 26 and 30

22. Share an excerpt from your favorite scene

This scene from chapter 6 of ataimw is so very near and dear to my heart <3

The kitchen is dark and the lair is quiet. Leo doesn't really want to let Donnie return to his lab just yet.

"Sit down," he says, snapping the first aid kit shut. "I'll make us hot cocoa."

Donnie doesn't protest. He cradles his burned hand to his chest and shuffles over to the kitchen table. Leo messes around the kitchen, picking out a pot and two mugs, cocoa from the tea cupboard and milk from the fridge.

It's the peaceful sort of quiet that only exists this early in the morning, when everything is pale blue and the sun hasn't risen yet. Donnie says nothing, and neither does Leo.

He barely bothers to make anything fancy, he just tries to be quick. When he's done, he makes his way to the kitchen table, mugs in tow.

“I don’t know how to make it as good as Mikey’s or Raph’s, but—” he slides the warm mug over to Donnie.

It’s a very nice mug— ceramic and plain white with dozens of flowers of varying sorts and sizes printed all over it. Leo’s mug is a dusty blue with ‘world’s best grandma’ written across it in neat print letters. Not nearly as nice as Donnie’s, but it’s taller and wider, so Leo’s not complaining.

“It’s fine,” Donnie replies, picking up the mug and taking a hesitant sip. “Thanks,” he adds as an afterthought.

Leo hums in reply, sliding into a vacant chair at the table. Neither of them bothered to turn on any other light in the kitchen, so they’re mostly sitting in the dark, drinking hot chocolate in silence.

Leo feels tired. It’s five in the morning, and he feels it weighing on him. His eyes sting a little and he misses how comfortably asleep he was back in Donnie’s lab.

Across from him, Donnie leans back in his chair, head tilted up toward the ceiling, eyes closed. He’s not sleeping, but Leo wishes he was. Donnie is never this careless with his tools, he’s never careless enough to use the more dangerous ones when he’s sleep deprived. He wonders, briefly, if Donnie would’ve gone knocking on his door after the fact had Leo not shown up in his lab, demanding his twin’s attention.

26. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Ohhh. I think I'd have to say when I decided to add Big Mama into the plot of ataimw. I know I've complained about it a bit but I just love to complain, I think its actually a pretty good direction I've taken the plot in.

YEAH cuz I was stumped for WEEKS trying to figure out the plot of this fic, because I suck at plots and I wasn't expecting this fic to require one. I have the angsty stuff going on alongside the plot (finding the cursed amulet) and I was like "well. Its kind of boring making Leo just like chase the foot clan around for 10 straight chapters especially considering that in canon theyre really not that good at what they do, plus its more fun to add something new to spice things up" and along came Big Mama. She's SUCH a fun character (but so difficult to write 😩) and having her in my story definitely makes my plot work better (bc bow Leo ACTUALLY has to work to get the amulet back instead of just chasing the foot clan around NYC. I got sick of that pretty quickly)

(Tbh a lot of people in my comments want leos brothers to find out what's going on but I HAVE A PLAN. and that plan involves no one finding out for at least a couple more chapters sorry.)

30. What’s something that you want to write in 2024?

Ive got a handful of projects for 2024, but at the top, id say finishing all the ashes in my wake. I have two Rise oneshots i really want to write also, both angst and hurt/comfort of course, and that's all I'll say about it :3

Theres also a DC fic that's been sitting in my drafts since September last year that I really hope to get to, though since my hyperfixation's fully shifted into rise idk when ill get to it

Thank you for the ask!!!!

[ao3feed-narumitsu]

Passing Out and Getting a Boyfriend

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/48299041

by Air_Is_Here

Edgeworth has been overworking himself after the DL-6 case. He was haunted by nightmares and sleepless nights after the truth of who von Karma really was. Instead of trying to rest, Edgeworth decided it would be best to find normalcy in something else: his work. It turns out that not sleeping leads to people you work with worrying about you.

Written for NaruMitsu Week Day 2: Truth

Words: 1326, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth, Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Itonokogiri Keisuke | Dick Gumshoe

Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright

Additional Tags: Sleep Deprivation, Fainting, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Guilt, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Stairs, Post-DL-6 (Gyakuten Saiban), Post-Case 1-5: Rise From The Ashes, Pre-Gyakuten Saiban 2 | Justice For All, Miles Edgeworth Needs a Hug, Phoenix Wright is Trying His Best, Dick Gumshoe is a Good Friend, Overworking, Passing Out, kind of ooc?, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like gregory edgeworth, NaruMitsu Week 2023

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/vU2f1aO This is an automatic feed of all new stories posted to the Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright tag on AO3. Because of that, it is not guaranteed that Miles and Phoenix are the main characters in the story, nor the only ship. Please verify content upon clicking through to AO3.

[ao3feed-hadesgame]

Of Gods and Mortals: Woven Ties

by CestBelle13

In the second installment of the Of Gods and Mortals series we find our heroes on the next leg of their great journey, amid the pools of Asphodel. As they traverse the scalding banks of the river Phlegathon, the duo will face many challenges - the least of which being the monsters they'll have to fight. During their adventures to the underworld, the pair must withstand the impending tragedy and inevitable trauma of reanimation and the violence that spurs it. All to the underlying stillness of something tensing to pounce beneath the ground. Yes, even in Hell the winds are changing, turning to a direction that only an unconventional combination of traits - compassion, cleverness, and unyielding sarcasm - may face head on.

Zagreus and companion have triumphed over the underworld's first great obstacle: the warden of Tartarus, but can they overcome what lies in wait beneath the Phlegathon's scalding surface? When endless violence takes its toll, will our heroes rise from the ashes? Can they manage seemingly unbeatable odds to make it to the realm of heroes? And for the love of god, does anyone know what time it is? Read on to discover the many trials awaiting the pair on their arduous journey onward to the sun.

Words: 2962, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Of Gods and Mortals

Fandoms: Hades (Video Game 2018)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Multi

Characters: Hypnos (Hades Video Game), Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Megaera (Hades Video Game), Dusa (Hades Video Game), Achilles (Hades Video Game), Hades (Hades Video Game), Nyx (Hades Video Game), Reader, Original Characters, Orpheus (Hades Video Game), Eurydice (Hades Video Game)

Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Megaera/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Zagreus (Hades Video Game)/Reader, Hypnos (Hades Video Game)/Reader, Thanatos (Hades Video Game)/Reader, Reader/Everyone, Hypnos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)

Additional Tags: Language, Blood and Gore, Action/Adventure, Action & Romance, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexual Humor, Parent Achilles (Hades Video Game), Top Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Top Hypnos (Hades Video Game), Top Megaera (Hades Video Game), POV Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Hades's A+ Parenting (Hades Video Game), Good Parent Nyx (Hades Video Game), Hypnos is a Little Shit (Hades Video Game), Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, I'm so tired you guys, send help, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Please Kill Me

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/47388625

[moon1ee]

cw cult, unreality, sleep deprivation, insanity//

the phantoms are cackling.

grian is tired, so very tired, but he has never felt so alive. the moon looms over them, all cold, reflected light and jagged edges, and it no longer feels like something he can observe from the safe, cold room of his observatory, it is nothing measurable or quantifiable. it is beyond anything he knows, far beyond, and he can do nothing but worship in the face of it. he was a fool, for thinking he can figure out a way to rid the moon from the server. it is eternal, it is immortal, it is something that will exist in the world far longer than anyone else, it’s reflected light shining as they rot, slowly, ashes, ashes. they will wither into the ground, and still, the moon will rise.

the phantoms are cackling, and grian is tired, and he remembers a server he had built, a world that ended in blood and war and bloodied sands. he remembers standing on a mountain, blood staining his bruised knuckles, ghosts screaming above him, and he remembers what victory had felt like — a sickening, swooping mix of horror and elation.

the phantoms are cackling, and mumbo is stumbling next to him, unsteady, and grian looks up, up, up at the glowing thing that is coming nearer and nearer to them, and he giggles. “mumbo,” he says, voice too high and dripping with insanity, “is—” he snorts. “is the moon big?”

mumbo turns to stare at the savior looming above them, and snickers. “i—i don’t know, grian,” he laughs, and grian is joining him, and the phantoms are cackling and two half-dead men are joining them, “it—it might have grown just—just a little bit,” he snickers.

grian is gasping, tears flowing down his face, and he thinks of statues that sob when the sun rises, and laughs even harder. “i think it might be just—just a little bigger than usual,” he says, and he thinks he might not be here, not really, thinks neither of them are really here, he’s pretty sure that they are all still in a battlefield of red eyes and curses that take the shape of the monster under your bed, he thinks that maybe they are living in a world created by their twisted, broken minds. wouldn’t that be funny, he thinks. wouldn’t that be hilarious.

the phantoms are cackling, the world is falling, shattering, breaking at the edges, and grian has never, never felt so alive.

//the fucking phantoms are cackling what the hell am i supposed to do

[maries-gallery]

French Fries for two (Eren x reader)

Summary : It’s late and you’re out of a nice party, alone and hungry. You decide to stop at a diner for something to eat and you soon find company.

Genre : Fluff, Modern AU

Warnings : None

The night air bite your skin as a shudder runs up your spine. The silver Moon hangs high in the dark sky, pinpricks of stars serving as her Court ash she watches over you. 

You engulf yourself further in the comfort and warmth of your jacket, steps hurrying on the pavement as you walk to the neon lights of a welcoming diner, stomach groaning for some food. 

Paradis’ Diner

You have no idea how late it is right now, your conception of time blurred by hours among partying students and loud blaring music. But judging by the empty parking around you and the music of your feet on the ground, it must be around 2am. Or maybe later, who knows ? What matters right now is that you found a place to both flee from the cold and eat something. 

With a sigh you push the front door, the pleasing sound of a bell greeting you and warmth enveloping your freezing body like a cocoon. The smell of fries and greasy food taunts your nostrils, emitting another growl from your stomach. The neon lights shine down upon the clean and polished tiled floor, red and white. No one stands behind the counter on which are displayed muffins and baked goods you can taste from here by how delicious they look. The light music flowing through the place comes as a nice contrast to the loud bass you just left behind, a gentle and merry whistle coming from the back of the diner. 

With a relieved smile you go over to one of the many deserted booths, plopping down on the red leather couch. Your hands find the menu and you look down upon the many dishes displayed. Your attention so absorbed by the wish to fill your stomach that you failed to hear the approaching steps and the male stopping before you. 

He stares at you with a light frown, paper and pen in hand, ready to take your order. He sports a dark red apron with jeans and a shirt, brown hair tucked in a messy bun and emerald eyes glinting under the neon lights.

He’s been working for hours now, serving loud families and impolite people. He just wants to come home now, take a shower and plop down in his bed to sleep it off. Hell, he was cleaning up and you just had to come in now ? When he was ready to call it a day ? 

“Welcome to Paradis, what can I get you ?” 

You startle at the deep voice beside you, eyes shooting up and locking with the tired looking man. Gosh, you really need to be more aware of your surroundings. 

You failed to see his eyes widening at the sight of your features now revealed to him.

“Hello.” You quietly greeted back, looking at the food items on the menu and nodding, “I’ll have your cheeseburger and French fries, please.” You answer with a sweet smile. 

And in spite of his previous annoyance, the simple gesture spread a gentle warmth through Eren’s chest, the sight of your smile engraved in his memory. You looked dishevelled. Probably from a late night out. 

You always looked pretty though, soft (s/c) skin, bright (e/c) eyes he felt like drowning into and beautiful (h/c) locks he’d like to play with on a lazy morning.  And you always looked like home too.

You and him were in the same university, different majors and somehow you had caught his attention. In fact he found himself unconsciously searching your form in the corridors. Something called him to you, pulled him in. And this ever since he had laid eyes on you.

He has never talked to you. Not that he didn’t want to but more like he never had a chance to make a move. You were always busy or on the move, never settled. That was something he liked about you. You were passionate, loved your major and worked hard. You were smart, resolve strong behind those eyes.

This was an opportunity he couldn’t miss. Maybe this was fate who gave him Sasha’s shift tonight ? Just so he could finally talk to you and ask you out ?

“Hey, you’re a Psychology major, right ?” He questioned, posture relaxing, emerald eyes now curious. He knew the answer already but maybe he shouldn’t let you know he’s been asking around about you. 

He had spent weeks trying to find information about you, asking Armin, Mikasa and even Jean... All he had gathered was your name, your major and your 

A chuckle fell from your lips, like music to his ears and you flashed him another smile. “Yeah indeed, and you are ?” 

“Eren, Criminology major.” He presented himself, holding out his hand for you to shake. Electricity tingled through his veins and made his hair rise on his skin as you took it, the warmth of your palm spreading through his own. 

He shook it off, running a hand through his hair, “Cheeseburger and fries, eh ?” He repeated quietly. “I’ll be back.” 

And with that he turned around and went back to the kitchens, ready to prepare your food. 

“Here you go.” Eren said as he placed your food on the table with a boyish smile. 

Your mouth watered at the sight, your stomach screaming for a bite. 

“Thanks !” You shot him a friendly smile, seizing the burger and taking a bite, almost too much for your mouth to contain. 

The brown haired male’s eyes stared at you, a chuckle falling from his lips bubbles. You had ketchup on both sides of your lips. 

Your eyes shot up to look at him, swallowing your food slowly as you tilted your head to the side, a light frown etched between your brows. 

“You’re still standing here ?” You queried, curiously. 

“You didn’t tip me.” He answered, a mischievous glint shining behind those gorgeous irises of his and a teasing smile curving his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Money ?” You queried, ready to fetch your wallet. 

Eren took a moment to consider your offer, before shaking his head and offering you a teasing grin. “I’ll have fries instead.” 

And before you could retort anything the criminology student sat in front of you, eyes holding yours captive as he leaned back on the couch. He marvelled at the sight of another smile gracing your lips, a light blush on your cheeks. 

“Okay.” You nodded, pushing the basket of fries to the middle of the table, offering him an amused glance. “Help yourself.” 

With a victorious smile, he took some fries and with that the two of you shared a meal. Talking and joking, smiling and laughing, unravelling each other and getting familiar with the synchronised thuds of your hearts. 

You wiped your mouth with a napkin, looking up at Eren, the man who you just met and yet felt like a long time friend, like family, like home. 

“So, do you do that with every client you get, or ?” You questioned after taking another bite of your burger. 

“Stealing fries ?” He swallowed his mouthful, glancing up at you mischievously. “No, only you.” And by the intensity behind his green irises you could tell he was honest. 

Your heart swelled in your chest, words failing to form on your lips as he offered you a kind smile, deprived of any malice.

“Is this your way to flirt with me ?” You finally got your query out, gazing intently at the male in front of you. 

He laughed lightly, the sound warm and free. It brought you to late night walks with a friend, laughing  at silly jokes and stumbling along the streets under the moonlight. 

“One could say that.” He admitted, eyes never escaping from yours. “But I’d rather phrase it as me asking you out.” 

And why would you say no ? When he looked at you with promise of fated love and when his smile looked like something you had once loved so much ? When he reminded you of a lover you had never met yet had spent your whole life with once ? 

“I’d like that.” 

[kim-poce]

Alex and Neo 22 - Stealing Food

CW: pet whump, vague blood mention, past abuse, flashback/nightmare (brief), fear of punishment, implied sleep deprivation.

Alex and Neo - Masterlist

Part 1 | Previous | Next

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Neo woke up with a jump, the air refusing to enter lungs his eyes looking at chains all over the walls, he blinked several times, hands searching for something around his neck, nothing.

The chains had vanished too, and now only the light green wallpaper was on the walls, he took a deep breath, it’s okay, another deep breath, I’m not there, I’m here.

Neo looked out of the window, the sun had yet to rise but there were guards in the garden as always, none of them looked up to the windows, Neo used to think they were meant to stop Neo from escaping, but most of the time they seem to look for people trying to get in.

Neo’s thoughts were cut by the sound of his own stomach, I’m not even this hungry, he thought, his head isn’t aching and standing doesn’t make his vision go dark and still… and still he wants to eat.

Should I-, No!, he can’t just steal food from the kitchen, he ate yesterday, the sun would rise sun and he would have breakfast with Master as always, or I can just eat now, no one will care…

Neo took another deep breathing, remembering himself several times that this is not Ash’s house before getting out of his the room, it just locks from inside, Neo checked, he walked through the well-illuminated hallways, the glass window showing the always starred night sky.

He walked by the path he knows, the one leading to the kitchen without passing through the main stairs, a loud thud made him stop, the air once again refusing to enter his lungs.

“Damn”, someone said, Master said, and Neo realized how bad he was being, I should tell the truth, I should ask for punishment, I should beg for forgiveness, Will he starve me? Will he realize how ungrateful I am? I should go back to the room and pretend I never left, I-

A loud sigh cut his thoughts, a tired sigh, Master was always a bit tired, always with a dark circle under his eyes, but this time he sounded worse.

Neo becomes aware that his own back was on the wall, he could hear Master’s steps in the other hallway, just there, and the step was getting closer and closer, fast, “M-m-master…”, Neo called, it was better to say he was there than being found, the punishment would be lighter, or at least Neo hoped so, or maybe there will be no punishment at all.

The steps paused for a second and Neo’s breath with it, “Neo?”, Master asked turning in the hallway, “Are you okay?”, he voice was worried and surprised.

“I…”, was stealing food because I’m a bad pet, punish me so I can better, “was w-w-walking”, he said, his head was down but he could feel the blood smell coming from Alex, “s-s-sorry.”

“No, no need, you can do whatever you want”, Master said hurriedly, and so tired, “I was just surprised…”

Neo glanced up for a second, and somehow he still was surprised by how exhausted Master looked, “Alex is prone to stay awake for way too long, so you have to try to get him to sleep”, Ma’am Evie’s voice said as if Neo hadn’t noticed it on his own already.

“M-m-master, w-w-what are you d-doing?”, Neo asked, head back down, how dare a mutt like you to make a question, are you forgetting your place already? do you need to a good-

“I was… busy”, Master said with a small smile, a smile way too fake for Neo to believe. Nightmare again then, Neo thought with himself, he wouldn't dare to say this out loud.

“L-let’s eat?”, Neo asked and Master’s eyes widened in surprise, “I-in the the kitchen?”

Master smiled and nodded, “I was getting hungry too.”

Neo nodded, easier to sleep after eating, “T-t-thank you, Master”, I’ll make you sleep.

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