#and ive been wanting to work on her body awareness more again

[kalashtars]

venting in the tags yippeee

[sunnycanvas]

Request for Baldwin IV x fem!reader, in which the reader is very fascinated by medicine and constantly tries to find a cure for her husband’s leprosy. She has some rashes and burns on her body from testing different ointments and healing methods and sometimes even drinks and experiments with poison, to see if it could be effective in treating her husband. She has a burning curiosity for healing plants and poison, but she also wants to help Baldwin. Only Tiberias knows of her experiments. One day, he asks Baldwin to please tell his wife to stop endangering herself with her sometimes careless experiments, since she won’t listen to the older knight when he tells her to stop.

Disclaimer: Talk of depression and death

I was busy working with ointments again at late evening secretly. Occasionally checking the door worried I will be caught. "I think this will work" I thought, I could feel confidence in my vein as I worked harder determined to find cure for my husband. Suddenly I felt someone grab my left shoulder. Not bothering to check I said "Don't tell his majesty or else you will be kicked out of your position"

"So, my queen threatens people now." The voice cut through the air like a blade, slicing through the fragile peace of the moment. I stood there, frozen in my position, my mind racing as I scrambled for a way out of this precarious situation. "Will you ignore your king as well?" The first half of the statement was gentle, almost pleading, but the second half was cold and unforgiving, sending shivers down my spine. "Answer when I am talking to you."

My heart sank as I realized the source of the voice. I turned slowly, apprehension knotting in my stomach, and there he was—my husband, Baldwin, his gaze like ice, piercing through me with accusation. Behind him stood Tiberias, his expression filled with guilt, a silent witness to my downfall.

"That son of a b—"

"Tiberias, leave us alone for a while," Baldwin's command was firm, his tone betraying his inner turmoil. Tiberias cast one last apologetic glance my way before retreating, leaving me alone with Baldwin.

As soon as Tiberias was out of earshot, Baldwin seized my arms, his grip tight, his emotions raw. His eyes searched mine, filled with a mixture of concern and anguish. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his touch both comforting and suffocating.

"How could you do this to yourself?" His voice cracked with emotion as he held me close, his lips pressing gentle kisses all over my face. "What if you had hurt yourself? What if I lost you?"

His words struck a chord deep within me, stirring a whirlwind of guilt and remorse. I couldn't bear to see him in pain, couldn't bear the thought of causing him any more anguish. I smiled weakly, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Baldwin. I didn't mean to..."

But he silenced me with another kiss, his love enveloping me like a warm blanket

"Herbs are safe," I insisted, my voice trembling with the weight of my deception. "There are no downsides to using them."

Baldwin's gaze bore into mine, a silent accusation hanging in the air. "Mon amour, I admit, as a knight, I am not as skilled as you are, but I am not stupid either," he said, his tone laced with suspicion. "I am aware that poisons are sometimes used for curing leprosy."

I forced a smile, trying to mask the guilt that threatened to consume me. "Don't worry, I don't use that. I am being safe."

"Oh really?" Baldwin's voice was like ice, cutting through the facade I had built around myself. "Then what's that under your sleeve?"

My heart plummeted as I realized I had been caught. "Shit!"

Baldwin narrowed his eyes, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "I might not be a doctor, but I sure do know a liar," he said, his voice heavy with disappointment.

"Show me your arms," he demanded, his tone brooking no argument.

"Bald—"

"Show me!" The command echoed through the room, leaving no room for defiance. Reluctantly, I rolled up my sleeves, revealing the evidence of my folly.

Baldwin's eyes closed in pain as he took in the sight before him. "We should not see each other for a while," he said, his voice strained with emotion.

I felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath me, the weight of his words crushing me with their finality. "No, please don't separate me from you," I pleaded, desperation lacing my voice. "You are the reason I am doing all this."

"I know," Baldwin's voice roared, the anger and hurt pouring forth like a tempest. "How could you do this to me? To us? Did you even stop for a moment to think about what would happen to me if I lost you too?"

The accusation hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the consequences of my actions. "It's best we stop seeing each other," he said finally, his voice filled with resignation.

Tears stung my eyes as I realized the depth of my folly, the irreparable damage I had caused. "Please, Baldwin, I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible "I can't live without you" "When I was lost and had no hope in my life you came to me and taught me how to live" "You gave me strength" "I wanted to do something for you something as well" "Please Baldwin, I will die without you"

Baldwin's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and sorrow as my words hung in the air, heavy with despair. "Don't you dare say that," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "Do you even realize what you're saying?"

I flinched at the harshness of his tone, his words like daggers piercing my already wounded heart. "But Baldwin, I…" I began, my voice trembling with fear and desperation.

"No!" he interrupted, his voice booming through the room, filled with a raw intensity that made me recoil. "I won't allow you to talk like that. You have no right to speak of ending your life as if it's some kind of solution."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to find the words to defend myself, to make him understand the depths of my despair. "But Baldwin, I can't bear to go on like this," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper. "The pain, the guilt… it's consuming me from the inside out."

His eyes softened momentarily, a flicker of compassion breaking through the storm of his anger. But it was fleeting, replaced once more by a steely resolve. "I know you're hurting," he said, his voice gentler now, though no less firm. "But giving up is not the answer. You are stronger than this, my love. We will find a way through this darkness together."

I shook my head, unable to comprehend how he could still have faith in me after everything I had done. "But what if I can't find my way back?" I whispered, my voice barely audible above the tumult of my own despair.

"Then I will be there to guide you," Baldwin vowed, his words a beacon of hope in the midst of my despair. "I will never leave your side, no matter how dark the path may seem." "I am sorry I had been to harsh on you" "I made a vow to never leave your side and I shall hold the vow till the last breath of life" "Let us pray to God" "He brought us two unfortunate souls together" "Perhaps he will give us happily ever after and thus a tale shall be told between a leper and beautiful angel" I giggled at his silly comment and Baldwin abashed said "I do want our love to eternal" "Just like kingdom of heaven"

And as he pulled me into his arms, holding me close as if to shield me from the pain of the world, I clung to him desperately, holding onto his love like a lifeline in the midst of the storm. For in his embrace, I found the strength to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, there was still a glimmer of light amidst the darkness that threatened to consume me.

[kylejsugarman]

hey I lurk for your Breaking Bad content. please give me all of your Jesse in Alaska/recovery headcanons. I need it like I need air.

jesse in alaska.......where do i even begin 😔 im going to avoid lingering too much on my alaska oc's and that little world (tldr for newcomers: jesse gets to haines, starts working at a repair/custom shop called carvings owned by sheila, and befriends and falls in love with the local vet demi who is raising her niece baby) just because there are Plenty of those posts and i want to focus more on jesse himself

this is one ive talked about before, but its just so precious to me, and thats jesse getting into cooking. at first, him learning how to do it is out of pure necessity. the canned food that ed left him only lasts for a few weeks and the prepackaged stuff at the store is all queasily redolent of the "treats" (<- meager sustenance) that were dropped into his cage, so he picks up a box of dry pasta and looks at the recipe for chicken penne printed on the box. it has all the steps, the ingredients. he was always good at following a recipe. jesse dutifully buys the stuff and what begins as him robotically following the text later on in his small, dim kitchen starts to feel. Good. there's no harsh fumes or chemical burns. he doesnt have to measure the garlic down to a hundredth of a gram. he has a recipe to follow—something to guide him—but nothing awful is going to happen if he experiments a little. if he deviates. and he isn't making poison. he's making something Good. for so, so long, jesse only Destroyed and when he did create, it was poison. now he gets to do what he wants. he gets to make good. that chicken penne is the first thing he eats in weeks that actually has flavor—or maybe he's letting himself Taste again. jesse starts cooking more and more, using those supermarket recipes and eventually recipes that he prints off from the public library computers, and even once it becomes a part of his daily routine, he never loses that weird excitement for it. there's the satisfaction of successfully executing a task even with his memory issues and adhd, but also the excitement of realizing over and over that he can do what he wants.

jesse thinks he's "done" with drugs when he gets to alaska purely because he hasn't been able to use and doesnt have immediate access to anything stronger than alcohol or tobacco, but he quickly realizes that he does not have any other kind of coping mechanism ready to deploy or way to sufficiently distract himself once he's physically and mentally well enough to Be Aware. alcohol doesnt seem to "work" fast enough. he thinks over and over about hiring a sex worker or finding a bar somewhere so he can have sex with and fall asleep next to a warm, living body. he drives for hours and sometimes hits the brakes hard on the icy road when theres no one else out there, letting himself skid uncontrollably and hoping he crashes. he wants to start a fight with a stranger. he wants to hug a stranger. and he does end up using drugs again, several times. i mean he's a severely traumatized addict arriving in a new location with zero support. it's not a failure, it's not irreversible backsliding: it's just the reality of what being in this terrifying, vulnerable situation would be like for jesse. for a long time, he sees these relapses as signs of weakness and that Certain People were right about him being a pathetic junkie with no will or value, but as he starts meeting people and finding new ways to be happy and getting the right treatment for his various issues and sometimes even sitting in NA church basement meetings because he just needs to be Understood, jesse comes around to the idea that addiction is not a moral failing and sees his life as worthy enough to safely and healthily preserve.

lightning round!! jesse decides once he arrives to grow his hair and facial hair out some to look less like his old mugshot, but also because as soon as the cold winter air touches his shaved head, he basically reverts to spongebob and patrick duct-taping fur off of sandy to survive in her dome during winter. he stops to stare in awe at eagles and whales and moose even after years and years of living in alaska. his sense of smell is nearly totally destroyed from cooking without protection, but he still always buys lemon scented soap and cleaning stuff because lemon was his aunt ginny's favorite scent. he reads up on a lot of first-aid on the public library computers, sometimes out of a sense of frantic compulsion or guilt, sometimes out of legitimate curiosity. when he drives home from doctors appointments or NA meetings, he plays the music in his car so loud that his seat shakes. the people of haines know that mr driscoll can be a little cagey and will flinch at the sound of his own laugh, but they also know that he brakes for animals and carves beautiful gadrooning and buys ten of whatever the kids are selling to raise money for the band or their scout troop. and they like him quite a bit :)

[shenenenigans]

FILE A-1226 | SUBJECT 020798

THREAT LEVEL: High

STATUS: ???

020798 has been found sneaking into segyein only rooms and stealing numerous files and records. She has also caused harm to multiple workers in the infirmary by subjecting them to extremely hazardous elixirs on multiple occasions. She has done this either by injections in their sleep or by “gifting” the workers juice which they drank unaware of the poison. This has unfortunately gone under our radar until the day of her departure.

020798 also tried to kill one of her nurses, Ambys, a former interviewer who worked on Incident 8-625 in the 39th ANAKT Garden. Cameras show 020798 hitting Ambys in the back of the head with her IV stand before proceeding to stab him directly in his chest with an unknown object. She looks to have dug deep into his body, removing his heart. She collects many blood samples from him, then throws her unidentified weapon at the camera allowing her to escape with no witnesses.

From gathering evidence, it seems that she had made a makeshift laboratory for herself in an old closet where she created a serum out of the blood she collected from Ambys. We are not sure what she was hoping to make of it.

Ambys cannot die. We are sure 020798 was aware of this information, as most of the files she stole were about him.

020798 left a camera on nearby her laboratory, where she smiled into the lens and waved. We can also see Ambys steadily regaining control of his body, which is due to his species being able to regenerate any part of the body after a short amount of time. 020798 must have removed his heart in hopes of slowing him down.

Ambys and 020798 had a fight in her laboratory where Ambys tried to restrain her. She was quite violent and acted very out of character. She is seen injecting herself with the serum she made and becoming more aggressive after being injected. Black veins circled around the site of injection. Her nails also became stained black.

Ambys slammed her against the wall, breaking her collar, and holding her by the head.

020798 thrashed about before her head was violently torn off. Another student had walked in after the incident occurred, and he was dealt with accordingly.

We are sure that 020798 is dead. However, when her body was transferred to a holding room, after 24 hours, it was missing. We do not know what happened during that time.

Ambys visited 020798’s body within those 24 hours, but refuses to talk about the situation.

In short: 020798 is dangerous and most likely deceased. We will not label her as missing and instead hide this event from the other students by reporting her death as a surgical accident.

If 020798 is still, in fact, alive: please do not be alarmed. She will not survive more than one week.

020798 deceived us all. We thought she was a sweet, kind girl at heart. This is her true nature. Do not be fooled in the future. There will be incidents like this again if we do not keep close watch.

Other notes:

Ambys will not be punished for causing the death of a student. It was in self-defense.

If there are any future sightings of subject 020798, please report it to ANAKT Garden staff. We will only then proceed to search for her. We are still confident that she will not survive.

From now on, all infirmary staff will lock all doors before closing down for the night. We will now have night time surveillance.

020798 had also stolen files on herself. It is possible she found things she shouldn’t have.

We will now relocate the records into a secluded area.

tags! @bluemoonscape @4listr @starry-skiez @rockwgooglyeyes @aakaneeee @paradisedisconcert and also @apriciticreveries @pwippy and @nottoonedin ! for the last three im not sure if you wanted to be tagged since you only liked the post but i did it just in case… please let me know if i missed anyone! if i did, i apologize! you can also tell me if you want to be added here as well <3

[captainstressed]

so ive been trying to cover the jemily drama from episode 3 for w e e k s and ive got something but not a lot. its more of a drabble than anything but its angsty and hurt/comfort and i may add to it in the future but for now here we go.

trigger warnings for baugate themes and also a panic attack.

Injure. Jean. Fear.

To see yourself plastered across a pornographic website on the deep web; there weren’t words to describe it. Having your own face staring back at you through the screen, partaking in acts that would turn the stomach of even the most hardened agents. JJ’s first desire was to slam her laptop shut, scrub raw the inside of her mind to rid herself of what she was seeing. But she couldn’t. For some reason she felt frozen in place, forced to stare ahead and witness what the person on the screen was doing. The person who had stolen her face, taken the very thing that was hers and hers alone. Her identity.

JJ felt physically sick. Her entire body trembled as she finally managed to shut the laptop and push it away from her. She couldn’t blink without the images flashing behind her eyes like some sick slideshow. Luke had been right; it was convincing. It was almost like an out of body experience. JJ knew it wasn’t her, knew she hadn’t committed these acts. But seeing her own face, attached to a body that looked disgustingly similar to hers.

Her stomach lurched; she covered her mouth and searched the room for a trash bin, barely catching herself as she stumbled across the room and landed hard on her knees before losing the meagre contents of her stomach.

She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling raw and empty.

How far had this content spread? How many people that had seen these images and videos believed they were actually her?

What if?

She retched in spite of her empty stomach, the thought of her boys either finding it themselves or having it shown to them had her insides twisted into knots.

JJ couldn’t even begin to fathom how she would explain it, she felt as though her own mind was betraying her. Her vision blurred; she hadn’t even realised she was crying. Flashes of what she had seen replayed on a loop inside her head, her breaths passing shaky as panic set in.

-

Thats how Emily found her.

Worry took over and she didn’t bother to announce herself before rushing to JJ’s side. Emily wasn’t initially aware of the state her friend was in or how she had gotten in such a state in the first place. It was clear that JJ hadn’t registered Emily’s presence but that didn’t stop her from reaching out.

Almost instantly JJ recoiled; not unlike a dear spooked by headlights. She held herself tighter with one arm and held the other out towards Emily, a clear sign not to come any closer.

“Don’t touch me.”

Emily held up her hands, not wanting to agitate JJ further. She had no idea what had sent her friend into such a state and it scared the absolute shit out of her.

JJ’s lips were moving but with her voice barely above a whisper, broken by gasps of breath she was struggling to take, Emily had no idea what she was trying to say. She was trapped in her mind and working herself up further.

“JJ, honey, you need to breathe.”

Emily’s hands hovered over JJ’s arms but didn’t make contact. The latter shook her head and it gave Emily only the slightest bit of relief that she could hear her.

“You’re having a panic attack.”

Her voice was low and calm despite feeling the exact opposite. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull JJ into her arms but decades of training had her knowing it was the last thing that would help right now.

JJ tried to latch onto Emily’s voice; the disgust sat heavily in the pit of her stomach but the fear hit her in waves and had her feeling like she was drowning.

“Concentrate on your breathing JJ, try and match my breaths.”

Emily took a chance and grasped JJ’s free hand, grateful when she didn’t fight her again. She held it to her chest and breathed deeply before releasing, encouraging JJ to do the same.

“Thats it JJ, you’re doing great.”

JJ tried to focus all of her energy on Emily; her voice, her breathing. She curled her fingers around one of the lapels on her coat, it was soft and she let her mind wonder to how warm and safe it would feel to be wrapped in it. 

It was enough of a distraction for her breaths to resume a semi normal pace; not enough to rid her mind of the reason she had gotten into this state in the first place however.

“Em,”

Her voice cracked when she spoke; she managed to meet Emily’s eye for the fraction of a moment before a sob forced its way up her throat. This time Emily didn’t hold back, letting go of JJ’s hand to pull her in for a hug. With them both sort of sat on the floor it was a slightly awkward angle but that didn’t stop JJ from melting into her arms and holding on for dear life.

[msperfect777]

I just wanted to give you thanks for your master series (?) on non-dualism. (sort of a long send)

Since august 2022 I have struggled with my path of LOA, first I discovered LOA via twitter and was lead down the path of A+P.

Struggling with my ego trying to affirm the “negative thoughts” away. I felt hopeless, I came onto tumblr for some release and spiraled even more. Overconsuming, months of working my body into exhaustion because I truly didn’t know who I was. I didn’t fully understand I did not have to do anything nor “get anything” it just already was, and I just wasn’t aware of it so to speak.

I discovered non-dualism as of a month and 2 weeks ago, and I have been at ease ever since after coming to terms with my real and true being.

I’ve been spending time alone, not even identifying with my own “name” I was given I’ve just been at peace.

I’ve actual been able to enjoy the present moment, not worrying about my haunting “past” and the worrying “future” because those are just mere things that only exist if I’m aware of them.

Realizing problems only exist because I am aware of them, all problems suddenly faded away with ease as i turned my focus away from them.

Shifting my awareness into things that I would like to see and experience.

My “human self” was dealing with an highly abusive and narcissistic household, but since then she has been able to get emancipated, found a job that she really loves and pays really well, indulges in hobbies, and has made new loving & supporting friends.

All things her ego wouldn’t have thought was possible a month ago. Life has been much more fun after discovering non-dualism. Everything becomes easier when you essentially realize nothing is conspiring against you and that everything is present. TYSM again❤️

this is exactly why the loa community can be so toxic and confusing. ive been thro the same thing like affirming and then the states stuff and it was just too much to worry about and i never got anywhere💀 im sorry that u have struggled so much before. yesss non dualism brings peace and freedom and im so happy u found that😍. “realizing problems only exist because i am aware of them, all problems suddenly faded away” exactly period😛. omggg im so happy you finally got out of ur abusive household this is making me smile fr. YOUR WELCOME AND TY FOR SHARING💋

[jawritter]

Carry On

Chapter 6

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 3163

Warnings: Pain, Angst, Botched medical terms and fear of medical procedures, (cath removal). 

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67 Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

My Mastlist        Series Masterlist

If Y/N never heard the words ‘slow and steady wins the race’ again, it would be too soon. It wasn’t that she was really in a hurry to get Dean out of the hospital; though she was sure as soon as he got to where he wasn’t in almost constant pain, he’d be ready to get the fuck out of there, and it wasn’t even that she wanted to be free of Dean, and the fact that he needed so much help and had taken to leaning on her so much for even basic things like eating. It was the fact that she was absolutely sick and tired of seeing him in pain. 

It had been a little over a week since the night he’d felt her touch his leg for the first time. The pair were overjoyed and relieved, he was regaining some of his feeling back, it was a pin prick of a light at the end of a very long and very dark tunnel! Then that night, the pain REALLY set it. The more he could feel and became aware of the rest of his body, the more he became aware of his rib injuries, as well as the large hole in his back. The nerve pain increased, and he started to complain of shooting pains that would shoot from the hole in his back, down through his left leg to his knee, which currently was where his feeling stopped; right below the knee. 

Every other day they would do another scan to see how much more the swelling was going down; the doctor said it was still decreasing, just extremely slowly. That’s when he told Dean, ‘slow and steady wins the race’. Well, Y/N didn’t much feel like it was a race. It was more of a marathon. It wasn’t about how FAST he finished, more of a test of pain tolerance and endurance. 

She’d only seen Dean cry a handful of times in the time she’d known the Winchesters, and none of those times were due to pain. Normally, he could take it, and if he couldn’t, he’d drink until he could.  But last night, it had gotten to the point that he couldn’t take it anymore, and all he could do about it was cry. 

It broke her. That’s when she’d had enough, and wanted more than anything for him to get to where he could at least roll over on his side, Because it hurt watching a grown man cry in frustration and pain because for one, he was sick of being in pain even with the pain medication they were giving him, and two, because he was so tired of laying flat on his back that he was about to lose his mind. 

She felt helpless, the majority of the time. Mostly because there was nothing at all she could do to ease his pain and discomfort. No matter how bad she wanted too. 

So, to say that she was tired was an understatement. But she wasn’t tired for herself. She was tired for Dean. She really didn’t know mentally how much more the man could take. 

“Mr. Clearwater,” a soft knock on the door sounded and Y/N jumped in her seat slightly as she watched the charge nurse of the day walk in and close the door quietly behind her. 

“He’s asleep,” Y/N informed her in a soft voice, determined not to wake him up after having watched him struggle all night long. Rest wasn’t exactly coming easy. She was going to let him get as much of it as he could. 

“Oh,” the nurse said as she approached the bed and checked the monitors that kept tabs on his blood pressure as well as his heart rate before she checked his IV bags. “I was hoping he was awake, Diane said when I talked to her that he’d had a bad night.”

“He did,” she admitted, getting up to stand on the opposite side of the bed. Even when he was asleep, he looked uncomfortable. His chest rose and fell in a heavy hard pace, and his face scrunched up slightly. “He’s been asleep for about two hours now, and I think it was because he finally just exhausted himself and gave in.”

“I’ve seen this before,” said the nurse as she adjusted the flow of the IV bag. “Yes, he’s in pain, and an impressive bit of it, but some of it is brought on by a whole lot of depression, and albeit some shock too. I’ve seen a lot of amputee patients and some patients that had to deal with life altering injuries when I worked at the VA go through the same thing. It’s not only an adjustment physically, but mentally as well.”

Y/N knew she was right, she’d been spending her time reading up as much as she could online about injury induced PTSD, depression, as well as Anxiety, and other issues that Dean might face in the long run. While the physical might hurt and be extravagantly irritating right now, this is not the hardest part of his recovery, that’s gonna come later on, when he’s up walking around again and at home, and she knew that. 

She was just about to ask the nurse if she had any advice on dealing with the PTSD that she was sure that Dean was going to have, when Dean coughed slightly and opened his eyes, staring between the two women in a confused state for a moment before he was able to regain his composure. 

“Hey there,” she greeted, “how are we feeling Mr. Clearwater.” 

“Fine,” Dean said, his forest green gaze never leaving her hands as he watched her check his IV port in his hand. It was almost impossible to get Dean to agree to go to the doctor before this accident happened, she had a feeling that now, when he finally got past this, because she had to have faith that he would, she was pretty sure it was gonna be damn near impossible to get him to agree to go to a doctor. There was bound to be some residual trauma there; there had to be. 

“Are you in any pain? I hear you’ve had a bad night?” she questioned. 

Dean grimaced, “It’s bearable, at least right now. I’m just really fucking tired of laying on my back.”

The nurse nodded as she made her way around the foot of his bed, and lifted the covers over his feet to his knees. 

“I imagine you are,” she admitted. “The last scan that I saw showed a great decrease in the swelling. So hopefully we can get you on your feet soon. Which is why I’m going to test where you’re at. The sooner we can get you on your feet again, the better because as long as you’re on your back like that you run a higher risk of getting pneumonia.”

Dean only nodded, keeping his gaze glued to the ceiling. He hated these checks, and had told Y/N more than once that he was always afraid that when they checked him again, the feeling would be gone and he’d be right back to square one. Y/N had assured him over and over again that wasn’t going to happen, but she understood the fear, honestly, she’d be afraid too if she were in his position. 

Y/N reached out and took his hand in hers, and his gaze drifted to her face and she squeezed his hand to give him some sort of reassurance. 

“Ouch!” Dean voiced suddenly, before looking down at his left foot, and the nurse looked up and grinned at him before moving the small needle across his other foot, and Dean’s leg jumped with a reflexive motion at the sensation. “I felt that,” he revealed breathlessly as he looked between Y/N and the nurse. “I felt it, it wasn’t just dull pressure, but I really felt that.”

If there wasn’t a room full of people, Y/N probably would have started bawling at the amount of relief that slammed her in the chest. He’d regained his feeling throughout his body. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life a paraplegic. Sure, things would never be exactly the same, but it isn’t going to be as bad as it could have been, and that was a win at this point she’d take. 

The nurse squealed excitedly as Dean let out a huff, and his head turned to the side, trying to control his own emotions. 

“I figured as much when they told me you had such a bad night, you’re more aware that you’re laying in this bed, and that you’ve been here a while,” the nurse stated matter of factly as she covered his feet again, and made her way towards the computer in the corner to email his primary doctor with the news. 

“What happens now?” Dean asked eagerly for another step. His voice was already stronger than it had been as of late. Dean needed this win as much as she did for him. 

“Well, the doctor will probably order another scan to see the state of the spine now that the swelling is completely gone, then he will discuss the treatment plan with you from there,” she said, and Dean looked down again. 

Y/N knew Dean well enough to know that even though Dean’s body might not be ready to get out of this bed, and out of this hospital, Dean had had about all he could take. 

“Have they tried to move him at all?” she questioned Y/N, and Y/N shook her head no. 

“They came in last night with some wipes and gave him a ‘bath’, but they haven’t sat him up other than when the doctor comes in the check the state of his injury, or if they are moving him for a test,” she admitted and the nurse shook her head before patting Dean on the leg. 

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

Before she could move away from the bed, Dean’s hand reached out and grabbed her arm, and the nurse froze at the sudden movement, Y/N didn’t know whether she was impressed, or slightly shocked. Y/N personally was impressed he’d reached that far that fast herself. That was the fastest she’d seen him move anything since he’d woken up. 

“Wait, please, I have one question before you get them to do whatever it is you’re going to have them do to me,” he said, and she turned to give him her full attention. 

“What’s that?”

“Can they take this catheter out, please.”

The nurse stood and thought for a moment, and Y/N could almost see the wheels in her head turning as she did so. 

“Do you feel like you know when you need to go? Like you’ve regained feeling in that region?”

Dean nodded swiftly, “Please, it really is annoying, they’ve kept it in for weeks now, and I’m pretty sure I can just use a urinal. Can I at least try?”

The nurse patted him on his hand, and Dean released his grip on her jacket sleeve. 

“Let me go talk to the on-call real quick, and if they will let me take it out, I will take it out, okay? If for some reason you still can’t go, we will have to put it back in though, so be prepared for that.”

Dean breathed an almost visible sigh of relief, as he agreed and the nurse hurried towards the nurse’s station to make the call for them. 

“Talk to me handsome, how are you doing?” Y/N questioned as he laced his free hand with hers, and ran a trembling hand down his face. 

“Scared,” he admitted, “I really don’t want them to have to put it back in if they take it out, and as much of a pussy as this is gonna make me sound like, I’m terrified this is gonna hurt.”

“It doesn’t make you a pussy Dean,” she tried, “it makes you human. You’ve been through so much, not wanting to deal with any more pain is a normal, human, experience. It’s okay to be scared in this situation, I think you’re fully entitled.”

Dean sniffed and nodded, but kept his arm bent over his face to hide most of his features. 

“Hey, you’ve got feeling back, now things can start to move forward,” she attempted to encourage him. “It’s the first step of many, but it’s a big one. That’s something to be excited about Dean.”

Before Dean could respond, the nurse walked back into the room with the two other nurses. 

“Good news Mr. Clearwater!” the charge nurse exclaimed as she clapped her hands together, “They’re letting us take it out for you! And once that’s done, you’re gonna get a proper sponge bath, which means you get to sit up for a while.”

Dean’s eyes drifted to Y/N, and he took a deep breath before he nodded to his nurse, “Great, let’s do this.”

The nurse made her way around to Dean’s bed, and Y/N got up as far towards the head of his bed as she could, sitting down next to him and running her fingers through his hair. She could see the anxiety of it all starting to set in, she could see his chest rising and falling rapidly as he pulled the covers away from his body, and the charge nurse placed a hand on his ankle to get his attention before he threw himself into a full-fledged panic attack. 

“Hey,” she said, waiting for Dean to look at her before she continued. “This isn’t gonna hurt honey, just some pressure, deep breath from you, okay? You got this. Compared to what you’ve been through, this is gonna be a breeze, and it will be over before you know it, okay?”

Dean swallowed audibly and nodded, before turning his face towards Y/N, keeping eye contact with her, the face of determinations she usually saw in hunts when they were about to try and take down a big bad, or when he thought, he was going to have to do something that he really wasn’t going to enjoy doing. 

“Okay, here comes the pressure, and —-”

Dean’s eyes closed tightly and he grunted as the nurse pulled the catheter free from him. 

“It’s gone!” 

Dean’s eyes popped slightly as he looked down in disbelief, before relief flooded his features. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then much to their surprise, he bent his leg slightly at the knee and moved it. The nurse smiled widely at Y/N before another woman in the room brought a pan and a towel with warm water in it. 

“Okay Dean, are you ready to sit up for us?” she questioned, and Dean nodded eagerly as one of the nurses in the room lifted the bed slowly into a sitting position. 

“Good, now Mrs. Clearwater, come sit on the bed next to him here, and let him slowly lean into you so that you can support his weight. We’re not going to pull on him very much at all, but we’re going to let him sit up slowly at his own pace, and once he’s gotten himself leaned against you, we’re gonna lower the  bed.”

“I don’t, I mean, I don’t know if I can pull myself up or—”

“You don’t have to pull yourself up,” the nurse cut in. “Just wrap your arms around your wife and hold on.”

Dean gave Y/N a stern, determined look before reaching for her, and Y/N leaned as close to him as possible for him to grab hold of her shoulders with both arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he did so. She tried her damndest not to shiver at the way his deep breaths fanned over her skin, but it was really damn hard, because this was the closest physically, she’d ever been to Dean. 

“Good,” the nurse praised him, “Now you just hang onto her and I’m going to start cleaning up this back of yours after we get the bed lowered, you ready?”

Dean nodded, and the nurse began to lower the bed, while Dean held his breath as if afraid, he was going to fall backward, but as the bed lowered flatly, he let out a shaky breath and braved a glance around him to see that he was indeed sitting upright in the bed for the first time in two weeks. 

“How does that feel?” Y/N asked him, gripping his hip reassuringly. “Are you in pain?”

“It feels… strange,” Dean admitted, slowly loosening his death grip on her shoulders to a more relaxed hold as he started to slowly support himself more than he was leaning into her, “I feel really weak, but it only hurts if I take a deep breath.”

“You realize you're sitting up on your own,” the nurse beamed at him. “You’re barely holding onto her at all, in fact, I bet you could even let go completely if you want too.”

Dean shivered as the cool air from the room met the warm water on the bathing sponge that she was running over his back. “But I’m weak,” he argued. “What if I fall backward? Surely that would cause more damage than it would help?”

“I’m right behind you,” she assured him. “And your wife is right in front of you. There’s Tracy to your left here as well. I promise you that out of the three of us none of us are going to let you fall and hurt yourself.”

Dean took a deep breath and held it as he ever so slowly started to let go of Y/N’s shoulders and support his weight in the center of the bed. It felt like everyone in the room was holding their breath, and as dramatic as it sounds, she wouldn't have been surprised if time itself stood still as Dean finally let go, swaying slightly at first, but soon after writing himself to sit upright on his own in the center of the bed. 

“Look at that!” the nurse exclaimed. “I told you that you could do it!”

Dean looked down at himself as they started to slowly wash his chest and waist before looking up to Y/N running his own hand down his exposed ribs and stomach. This was the thinnest she’d ever seen him. Surely he’d never seen himself that thin. 

“Hey,” Y/N said, reaching for his hand to catch his attention, “You’re gonna be okay.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment before nodding and opening his eyes with a new determination in them. 

“One step at a time,” he affirmed, and she nodded and agreed with him, giving his hand a firm squeeze. “One step at a time.”

Forever:

@demongirl1996​​​​​​​​​​​  

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe​​​​​​​​​​​

@jensenslady79​​​​​​​​​​​

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@vicmc624​​​​​​​​​​​

@busy-bee-angel-misska​​​​​​​​​​​

@justanotherwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​

@brilovesdeanwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​

@idksupernatural​​​​​​​​​​​

@lyarr24​​​​​​​​​​​

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Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma​​​​​​​​​​​  

@impalaslytherin​​​​​​​​​​​

@perpetualabsurdity​​​​​​​​​​​

@msmarvelouswinchester​​​​​​​​​​​

@akshi8278​​​​​​​​​​​

@love-jackles​​​​​​​​​​​

@irmcpar​​​​​​​​​​​

@pink-sparkly-witch​​​​​​​​​​​

@siospins2​​​​​​​​​​​

@herstarburststories​​​​​​​​​​​

@mimaria420​​​​​​​​​​​

@deanwinchesterswitch​​​​​​​​​​​​

@charred-angelwings​​​​​​​​​​

@pascal-rascal424​​​​​​​​​​​​

@myloversgone​​​​​​​​​​​​

@fortheloveof-jackles​​​​​​

@eevvvaa​​​​​​​​​​​​

@bts-spnlvr12​​​​​​​​​​​​

@jxackles​​​​​​​​​​​​

@lassie-bird​​​​​​​​​​​​

@samsgirl93​​​​​​​​​​​​

@shawnie74​​​​​  

@kaz11283​​​​​​​​​​​​

@mlovesstories​​

@ladysparks78

[sumbreon]

more book thoughts

the shops back up you can now buy these books

ive not read anymore yet, using it to bribe myself into doing laundry but ive been stewing on things. this will be even less coherent cause im just gonna throw my thoughts out here as they come to me unlike before where we had a mild focus

what is machas plan here? turning up as félix to fuck with islin about cypress like what was the intent there because i doubt it had the intended effect with islin going 'it should be me courting you félix!' which also islin my man... ya coulda!!! oh no i just remembered hesper signed the fuckin courting card or whatever with a little paw print really good! the whole thing with cypress is really good too honestly. the pacing for after félix gives bowman (françois) the ultimatum was so good it felt like so long not being in félixs pov and seeing it from bowmans i was absolutely losing it like let me into that little bastards head again what the fuck is going on??? to then finally get his pov again and just... i dont think that could have been done any better it fuckin killed me. anyway macha clearly still wanting to fuck with félixs boys but tamer than in the first book but what for? im also both dreading and looking forward to whenever they and félix meet like its your bosses new little guy vs its the fucker who tried to kill your friends (maybe? dont know for sure that macha intended for anyone to die but they definitely could have/almost did!) so fucking with islin by being félix and fucking with bowman by attacking rangers as a viper tbh even less clear on how that ones meant to a work out whats gained from turning the rangers against the viper? whats esks relationship with the rangers? cain made a comment to bowman after the whole graveyard incident and what did you mean by that man? whats your damn deal macha?

also every bowman chapter is accompanied by the mild apprehension of 'there was a warning for intentional misgendering its probably gonna be against bowman' who the fucks gonna do that to my boy? and i love that esks general response to bowman having to avoid saying hes the supposedly dead mercier girl is why is this even an issue. esk continues to not be helpful! but i am delighted by bowman and esk throughout this book so far me everytime its bowman time:

to be clear im having a good time, bowman less so. still makes me laugh that esk referred to félix as 'the pony'. and i loved that little scene on the train with félix and esk about félixs body and i think esk was maybe already aware? when the supposed viper attacked the rangers esk says a powerful black horse could maybe do that and says félix couldnt do that being so young a black horse? wonder just how much of esk not being helpful is being a bit of an ass and if any of its lingering effects from being stuck in that trophy room? god that was a horrifying scene and from what we see of tua it affected the weapons badly, esk wasnt there as long but it was still there

senca... girl whats your angle here? what sort of game is this to you? what are you getting out of it? i believe her when she tells esk that shes on the boys's side but im still not 100% trusting her

just how many times has léa threatened to cut bowmans dick off? enough that félix didnt let her finish the suggestion. and i keep thinking about léa telling félix about bowman not counting it as cheating with félix specifically like could you boys make this any more complicated? how the hell is félix meant to deal with that info? also made me think of that post where a girl had been having gay sex with her friend for like a decade and was like sex with her doesnt count and it ended with her saying to her boyfriend if it was cheating shes cheating on her friend with him then and not the other way around (i might try and find that post again. ill probably fail)

okay laundry done i might come back and add more or i might not

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

AMY ROSE (SONIC THE HEDGEHOG)

1.) Amy's characterisation has experienced several generations of misogyny, right from her genesis: She was designed as a girlfriend, but it eas then decided they didn't want Sonic to have a girlfriend. First instance she's a damsel in distress that he resents for being there and crushing on him, and this is echoed in the comics. She is then presented as pathetic, chasing and stalkerish, as well as sidelined in the games in favour of other characters despite being very strong. Her stories are often those with the most emotional weight, but the reading is coloured by other characters underestimating her importance there. She then enters a pushy and blind era where she becomes a mockery of her past self. A universe reset rebranded her as a feminist, but that often comes off as a bit pickme, and they frequently failed to hold her femininity and also combat capabilities in hand at once. She is finally getting a bit more stable characterisation and treated a bit better, but I still don't trust the writers with her. Ultimately, it often felt like the creators didn't like her, and only had her there because they were made to; and that sucked as a little girl sonic fan.

2.) She started out as the token Girl One in a 90's property, and her first appearance was as a damsel in distress, which isn't great to begin with, and she wasn't playable for a long-ass time outside of spinoffs. The Sonic Adventure games redesigned her, made her playable, let her fight back against her would-be kidnappers, and gave her a major role in saving the world by letting Shadow talk to someone not game with destroying it. Then from Sonic Heroes to Sonic and the Black Knight, and the anime Sonic X, her character was reduced to 'hehe funny obsessed fangirl is obsessed' a lot of the time, losing her compassion and a good deal of her social awareness. In Sonic 06, she literally said that she'd sacrifice the rest of the world for Sonic, which, my girl would NEVER in SA2. The Archie comics weren't kind to her either, as their explanation for the redesign was that Amy wished to become older, so they aged up her body, BUT NOT HER MIND EW EW EW. I'm sure there are other crimes the Archie comics did to her, but that's not my knowledge base. THEN the writers tried to backpedal in the early 2010's, but by attempting to undo all the 'crazy', they took out Amy's drive and convictions (Sonic Lost World just letting Amy sit and watch Sonic do all the work my beloathed). The Sonic Boom spinoff series tried to pivot and make their version of her a girlboss, but Rise of Lyric was SO BAD. Sonic Boom: Fire and Ice made an alternate version of her a damsel in distress, again, which while technically true to Amy's roots, does not fit her Boom characterization AT ALL. The Sonic Boom cartoon was a screwball comedy, and they at least lampshaded a lot of Amy's previous writing problems, but they didn't give her much to do either, mainly making her 'the sensible one' whenever Sonic wasn't available for deadpan responses. They've been doing a bit better lately, with Amy usually involved in world-saving matters, and she was prominently featured in Sonic Frontiers, even if she was trapped in Cyberspace. The IDW comics are also treating her wonderfully, from what I've seen.

3.) when she was created as a character, she was made solely to be sonic’s love interest. in sonic adventure, they tried to rewrite her and flesh out her character more by making her realize she’s more than her crush on sonic and she finally realizes she’s strong enough to do things without him. sonic team IMMEDIATELY undid that in sonic heroes which came out soon after. they made her entire character in that game obsessed with sonic and based her entire story around him. she was obsessed with him unhealthily in that game because god forbid team sonic let’s a strong female character exist. many of the sonic games took away her quality of being strong without sonic by writing her to only be obsessed with him and not do anything without him. in many modern games, she’s improved more, but misogyny has really screwed her over as a character.

ALYS BRANGWIN (PHANTASY STAR IV)

1.) For the short time she's in the game she's the butt of creepy jokes. At one point in order to progress you have to say yes to an old man asking if you want her "measurements" after which she's expected to forgive him because he apparently doesn't have "bad intentions". In the end she's a textbook example of getting fridged, she's the older sister figure to the teenage boy protagonist but shortly before the game even gets to its main gimmick (traveling to other planets) she sacrifices herself to save the cardboard cutout of a protagonist (at the hands of a throwaway villain no less) and her death is purely for shock value (this was a pre-ffvii JRPG killing party members was rare) and to give the protagonist something to be sad about as he goes into space before promptly forgetting about her for 95 percent of the story

[elliepassmore]

The Last Bloodcarver review

5/5 stars Recommended if you like: Vietnamese mythology, science fantasy, magical medicine

The author describes this book as 'science fantasy,' which I think is an apt descriptor. Nhika's powers are within the realm of fantasy, but the way she thinks about her powers is more science, as are the automatons that help run the city. There are also doctors and medical advancements, like surgery, IVs, and organ transplants. I really liked this aspect of the book and thought the combination of magic + medicine was super cool. It was interesting to see how different characters viewed medicine and heartsoothing, particularly the differences between Nhika and Kochin, and how they reconciled those views. I also really liked seeing the duality of healing. It's not really something you see a lot with healer characters, but if you have power over a person's body systems, healing, and immunity, then you can just as easily use those systems for damage as well as for good, and I liked seeing Le use that in this story.

The worldbuilding is neat and gives us hints of a more complex system going on in the world. We spend the entire book in Theumas, which is divided into sectors based on the zodiac. I'm definitely intrigued by the way the city is setup, though I'm not sure we'll get an in-depth explanation for that since politics aren't really at the forefront of the novel. We do get a look at the class system of Theumas and how the boroughs correspond to that system. I liked seeing how things differed and how certain behaviors trickled down from the wealthier boroughs to the poorer ones.

While politics isn't at the forefront of this book, immigrants and culture are. Nhika is Yarongese, born in Theumas. Her parents and grandmother were born in Yarong but had to flee to Theumas due to war and colonialization, and then died when Nhika was young. So while Nhika learned her culture from her family, she also feels a disconnect due to living in Theumas and having to hide her heartsoothing. Nhika greatly yearns to belong and wants desperately to feel that connection to her culture, so those two things drive her actions through a lot of the book.

I liked Nhika as a character. She's been living on her own since she was 12 and, in order to survive and make money, has turned to homeopathy remedies to heal people and stay under the radar as a heartsoother. Try as she might to be tough, she has a soft inside and cares deeply about other people, even if she's just met them. This allows her to bond with the Congmi siblings, and later Kochin, despite slights and differences. Nhika is willing to stand up for herself and follow through on things, even when it's dangerous or difficult, and that perseverance both helps and hurts her at different points.

Kochin was a character I liked, then didn't, then did again. He has a very specific goal in mind throughout the novel, but he's somewhat clumsy in how he goes about it. In the end he pulls through and I liked that he was able to be there for Nhika and share some things with her closer to the end of the book. I do feel bad for him since he definitely got in way over his head and is doing the best he can to try and mitigate the damage to everyone else.

Despite Nhika staying with the Congmis for most of the book, I feel like I don't totally know them as characters, so I hope to see them more in book 2. Mimi is definitely a lovable character who is friendly and wants to believe the best of others. She's heartbroken by the recent loss of her father, and she seems to enjoy having Nhika around as a friend. That being said, she's somewhat naive about how the world works and just how much her family's money and social standing advantage her. Andao seems to be more aware of it, but he's got the weight of his father's legacy on his shoulders and rivals and friends coming at him from all directions to try and influence his moves.

Trin is a friend of the family and at first is kind of mean to Nhika, but he's a bit like Chubs from The Darkest Minds. What he really wants is for the Congmis to be safe and well cared for, and he's not afraid of giving someone the smackdown if they seem like they might threaten that, but is much friendlier once you're past that initial stage. I ended up liking Trin's character a lot and think he and Nhika have the beginnings of a good friendship.

The mystery was very interesting, and the seeds of it are laid from the beginning. It's somewhat predictable but it's still a very enjoyable story because there are twists to the mystery that aren't apparent at first. The last 1/3 was definitely tense since everything is coming together, and I really liked seeing how it all played out.

My one complaint about this book is that there's some instalove going on in it. It's very minor so I can kind of ignore it, but it seems like it might be a bigger thing in book 2 (maybe? Maybe it's just the consequences of that, we'll see.).

Overall I loved this book and can't wait to see what book 2 has in store! The combination of magic and medicine was super interesting, and I liked seeing how both were dealt with. I also thought the characters were well rounded and liked reading their interactions.

[selchwife]

ive talked about this before and it may be kind of negative but ill do it again i don’t care. i like talking about my feelings. under a cut bc it’s unconscionably long but stuff about emetwol in fandom and idk. Internalized homophobia I guess?

beyond not caring for some of the m/f emetwol writing i’ve encountered (depending of course on the individual author and WoL) and finding it regressive or sexist, it does feel kind of like. i don’t know, hurtful isn’t the right word, but it’s unpleasant to me that that sort of writing is much more popular than m/m emetwol because it kind of gets at a weird place for me vis a vis like growing up with homophobia that i think is kind of hard to articulate. (this is specifically about stuff that feels super reliant on very highly codified gender roles to me and the way i feel that that sort of work is exceedingly popular, it’s not about every m/f emetwol ship.)

it’s kind of childish language but there’s a part of me that consistently sees these characters as like, “fairytale princesses,” like their performance of womanhood is unassailable and their claim to beauty is unquestioned, and so Naturally they end up with a desirable man, and like. idk. there is an extra TRANS gay dimension in this for me, I guess. i was very invested in fairytales as a kid myself, but i always felt kind of torn about identifying with these female protagonists who inhabited roles I felt like I couldn’t, and very early on i was consistently frustrated by what looking back i recognize as feeling, like, emasculated by the whole idea. my Stereotypical As Fuck Childhood Fantasy at this point was wearing full body armor and saving a princess and having her assume i was male.

anyway, so obviously i have some friction with the whole Ideal Woman Role, given I’m a trans guy. duh. i think it was tough bc like, on an emotional level even as a child i was aware I was a boy, even if i couldn’t figure out how to express this or that it was possible to say so. and i liked other boys, and because i knew vaguely that being gay was “bad,” i felt discomfort and guilt about it, and like i was doing something wrong by liking other boys. compounded by the issue that THEY did not see ME as Other Boys and made me angry by treating me as a girl. so like, it was hard to know on some level that i wasn’t actually female, and like other guys, and then consistently have other guys only like me or interact with me on the level of like, this sort of socially acceptable female face I had to wear growing up. i could only get close to guys i liked on ANY level, whether as potential romantic partners or as friends, through the Girl Pantomime. but because i was stuck in the whole Girl Act there was this wall between me and other guys, and i could never really entertain getting close to even guys I might’ve otherwise been interested in because i knew like, the only reason they had any interest in me was because they were straight. like particularly with my friend from high school who I went to prom with, who i might’ve liked back if like, it were in a context where he was interested in me as another guy - but he only liked me because he saw me as a girl who shared his interests and a girl who was his friend, so he did not like ME.

i guess what i’m trying to say is that seeing these very very gendered like, “ideal subservient woman x guy you like” depictions be met with TONS of positive feedback and engagement and praise feels like a repetition of that rejection? especially because my own writing for emetwol is not met with nearly the same kind of engagement on The AO3. it feels like another sort of “you can only secure the attention of other men whose companionship or love you want by being a woman, rendering the whole thing entirely pointless because the only way that camaraderie and love will fulfill you is if you’re seen as a man — and this is because men and women interacting under the aegis of these extremely exaggerated gender roles is the ideal, it’s what everyone wants and views as positive, and what would be affirming and healing to you is what everyone else finds distasteful and perverse.” and i know it’s not necessarily that deep, but like, it feels that way! it really does feel that way when you’re repeatedly presented with this like stark Men Are This, Women Are This, Men And Women Interact Like This kind of narrative, and you see that narrative praised over and over again, and when you try to tell your own story nobody listens.

and I get that that’s discounting somewhat the fact that my dear friends DO listen, and you guys listen. i appreciate it a lot. it’s just like, idk, it’s a different feeling to have your friends say “cool fic!” when you show them versus publishing your work on ao3 and having other, new people respond and tell you they liked it and so on. and i also understand that popularity means very little, and that there’s no sin in other people writing things that aren’t to my taste and my taste apparently not being so mainstream.

i think it’s just like, I don’t resent other people for being something that I’m not and enjoying things I don’t. but it’s sometimes very isolating and painful to remember that like, idk, I’ve found connection with other lgbt people online and found a good community and structured my little social world around that and it’s great and wonderful, but that doesn’t change that in the wider world I do not fit in. i’m not what people want me to be and not capable of being that, and the things that are important to me are viewed by others with at best a sort of indifference or “how quaint!” and at worst disgust. and straight people’s relationships, and subsequently writing about straight characters’ relationships, are automatically conferred a greater sense of weight and value. and with emetwol sometimes I feel like an m/f story like this is automatically viewed as a sweeping epic and the love as inherently very deep and real, but with m/m it’s sort of relegated to like, oh how cute that men like him too, or whatever. idk how to articulate it precisely, but the feeling like men’s relationships just aren’t seen as like, as romantic or as Real in comparison. silly slash fans playing with dolls. you know. IDEK how much of that is even true, but it’s how it makes me feel, like “you don’t really belong here, no one wants to hear about your silly little Thing, but we suppose you can sit at the kiddy table with the other gays.”

i think one of the things that makes me maddest in this vein is the fic i read where emet having an attraction to men is included as a throwaway line SOLELY in order to establish that he’s become incurably morally corrupt and debauched. like. Cool

and idk, i don’t want to come across like it’s just “i’m crying homophobia bc nobody reads or talks up my stuff on the fanfictions website :’(“ bc i’m aware Not Getting AO3 Hits is kind of a petty complaint and no one is obligated to read my fic in particular. It just feels like the Environment surrounding the ship unless i specifically track down other m/m shippers or nb/m shippers, so it’s hard to pin to one thing. especially bc the perception by the wider ffxiv fandom is TOTALLY that emetwol is like almost exclusively a straight woman’s pursuit

no real good snappy conclusion to this. i just wish i felt better about it i suppose, and also like i didn’t feel i have to apologize so much for feeling unheard compared to other people. it’s not like i want to demand attention as though I’m entitled to it or something, I guess it’s just demoralizing sometimes to put a lot of my heart into writing for pfeil and emet and feel like no one will want to read it or take it as seriously because they’re gay men

[fragileoracle]

Chapter IV - Human Again

"Shit," Mercy swore on a quick exhale of smoke, waving her hands around the window as she tried to coax the scent of tobacco out of the air. Steam rippled into the air from the open window as she pushed the cigarette into a brick, the ember dying on a whiff of smoke. She could already hear Loretta chastising her about smoking cigarettes in front of guests.

Three more knocks.

"Y'alright in there?" A low, throaty drawl called from behind the door followed by the metallic sound of spurs spinning against the floor.

"Yes sir," Mercy called, grunting around the word 'sir' as she tugged on the open window. "Just a moment."

With both hands on the rickety wooden frame, Mercy used her weight to try and bring the pane down. It wasn't budging. Cursing under her breath, she gave the sill a hefty shove, her heels lifting off the floor. Yet against her exertion the window only shook in protest, coming down less than half an inch for all Mercy's efforts. Entirely focused on getting the window shut, she was only vaguely aware of the door behind her clicking ajar.

"Need some help there, lady?" the voice intoned, only now it filled the space sounding warmer than before without a door to muffle it. Her stubbornness persisted.

"No… I got it." Mercy insisted through another grunt as she continued to pull at the open window.

Just as she was about to adjust her grip; two dirty, gloved hands covered her own. The man had approached from behind leaving a spare few inches between them. The smell of dust, smoke, and tobacco overwhelmed her as if she were still smoking a cigarette.

Her nerves immediately lit like a struck match, her body tensing on its own accord. Mercy was very aware of his proximity, in fact, it was the only thing she could focus on aside from his hands over hers. With very little effort, the stranger slid the window down, finally closing it. The pane slammed shut, once again cocooning the room in silence visited only by the crackling of the fire.

"I'm sure you loosened it UHHP--" The air caught in the stranger's throat as he grunted, his words evaporating as she reacted, throwing her elbow directly into his stomach. He stumbled a step or two back, his arm covering his midsection with a confused, mildly impressed, expression.

Mercy turned to face him with her arms crossed, staring him down with an annoyed expression. Men. Forever thinking they could do whatever they wanted without consequence.

"I said I had it." Mercy repeated, this time shifting her hand to her hip.

"Oh sure," the man drawled, angrily this time as he straightened his jacket, looping his thumb over his belt. "If I hadn't closed that damn window, I'd'a been waitin' outside that door all night. You're welcome."

Narrowing her eyes she lashed her tongue between her teeth. Sharper words were already in the chamber, resting on her parted lips when Elijah's voice came wandering back. Not to mention the warning crack of Loretta's hand against Fanny's face. Things were already tense enough around the Bastille without her causing undue trouble. The man had already started toward the door, muttering under his breath.

"All smiles and looking pretty." Mercy repeated in her mind like a mantra.

Taking a deep breath she prepared to swallow her pride. A sheepish smile slid across her features as she crossed the room, sidling in between his path and the door. Cutting him off from leaving. Leaning against the door, Mercy placed her hand over the knob and bit her lip looking slightly more apologetic than before.

"Hold on, don't leave," Mercy said, holding up a hand as if she were trying to stop a horse from barreling through her. Judging by the expression on the man's face beneath the brim of his hat, she wasn't far off from getting properly trampled.

"Get out of my way," He grumbled at her. "I'll leave you to your work since you got it." Mercy winced as he spat her words back at her.

"Hold on, cowboy." Mercy mirrored him as he once again reached for the door, intercepting his reach. "We got off on the wrong foot, Stay and let me make it up to you."

She was bargaining with that honeyed tone of hers, searching for his eyes as he firmly grabbed her by the shoulders. Smudges of dirt left behind on her bare shoulders.

"I ain't interested." He replied, his tone deadpan as he removed her from his path. Without thinking Mercy reached for his gun belt, her fingers hooking into the strap of leather as he began to exit.

A jaunty piano song drifted into the bathing room for a second before the world spun on its axis and the sudden immovable presence of the wall knocked the breath out of her. This time the man's arm had her pinned against the wall beside the door, clear blue eyes boring into hers.

"Oh, now you've done it. Must have lost your god damn mind." Mercy thought, gritting her teeth as she froze.

For the first time, Mercy was able to get a good look at the man. He was nearly a head taller than her, cutting an intimidating figure though not nearly as big as Remedy. Overgrown, dirty pieces of sandy blonde hair stuck to his forehead beneath his hat while his furrowed brow was covered in a fine layer of dust. If Mercy had to guess from the slightly crooked bridge of his nose and the faded bruise just under his lip, that face of his was no stranger to a right hook or two. His facial hair had grown out along with his hair and left him looking nothing short of a tramp. Yet those blue eyes of his seemed to be just as effective at pinning her to the wall. There was a fire behind his eyes that both frightened and excited her.

Mercy couldn't help but meet his glare with one of her own, even if she knew he could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Indignation and fear coalesced as adrenaline turned her veins to ice for the second time that day.

"I am going to sleep well tonight." Mercy thought bitterly, remembering the night had just begun.

"I've had a day you wouldn't believe, woman." His breath washed over her, all tobacco and whisky. An edge of something dangerous glinted in those steely blues. "I said I ain't interested, and I meant it. Don't make me repeat myself."

"So you manhandle me and expect me to just take it?" Mercy asked, her tone just as sharp. "Just trying to make a living and you come in here all impatience and aggression. Now you've got it in your head to get me deposed after all but assaulting me?"

"Ah, shit." His expression faltered under Mercy's glare, as did the amount of pressure he used to pin her against the wall. He took a few steps back, scratching the back of his neck as he cleared his throat. Though she couldn't be quite sure, he almost looked embarrassed.

"Now hold on, I wasn't assaultin' you. You got in my way and grabbed my damn belt and--" the man trailed off, clearing his throat before he grew quiet.

"And how. Tell me more about how a woman bested you." Mercy replied, her tone venomous. "Now let's try again."

The two stared at each other, but Mercy could see the heady mix of a couple fingers of whisky and the warmth of the room was wearing him down. There was a tiredness to the way he carried himself, slightly swaying as if he could be blown over by a stiff enough breeze.

For a moment she almost felt bad for him.

"Fine… fine." He muttered, relenting. "But only because I paid good money for a goddamn bath. Can't believe I am getting worked over by a woman."

"Can't waste a perfectly good bath." A smile, more genuine than before lit up Mercy's face as she crossed over to him. With one fluid motion, Mercy slid her hands over his shoulders as she helped him out of his coat. The man tensed under her touch and something unreadable crossed his expression before she stepped back again, giving him space.

He was a jumpy fella.

Folding his jacket over her arm she carefully pushed back the silk partition before stepping behind it to give him some privacy.

"Go ahead and get in the tub, mister." She called to him, while she watched his shadow shift uneasily, hovering by the tub. "Don't think I need to explain how a bath works to you, do I?"

"Alright alright, hold your horses." He grumbled, she listened to the sound of him fiddling with his various buckles. "You should know this is probably the most stressful bath I've ever had."

"Don't know how you figure. Can't imagine you've had many of em, not much to compare to." She quipped.

"Very funny." He replied dryly. The sound of water sloshing against the sides of the tub as it overflowed, splashing onto the floor. Folding back the partition, she watched as he sank deeper into the tub with an expression of euphoria. She knew that every tense knot in his body was unwinding into the scalding heat of the water. Mercy took a moment while his eyes were closed to fully appraise him.

He was younger than she had originally thought. His body was long and broad, with shoulders sculpted by years of work and strenuous activity. Even without having been pinned under his arm, she could tell his body had been hardened by a life of labor from his well-defined chest to the ropes of muscle that rippled under the flesh of his arms. He was still in his twenties that much was clear, and the longer she appraised him the more attractive he got. Far more attractive than the usual stock she saw come through Bastille.

"See somethin' you like?" His voice and the weight of his gaze startled her as she blinked at him. A slight flush crept into her cheeks.

"Oh please. Seen one body, you've seen 'em all." She lied tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear, he only chuckled in response. 

"Fair enough, miss." He sank lower into the water, his eyes on her while she paced around the tub taking a seat on the stool positioned beside him. "You're very professional." The sarcasm in his words was barely masked as he smirked at her.

"You know a man once drowned in this very tub," Mercy said sweetly, dipping her hand in the water as she poured it down the stranger's shoulders, her fingers lightly brushed across the back of his neck. He shivered in response but relaxed further as he closed his eyes again.

"Oh I believe it, lady," He murmured. "I bet I know the wicked siren that did it too."

"Is that so?" She asked innocently, taking a handful of soap as she worked it into his dirty mop of hair. Her fingers gently and expertly worked up a lather as she massaged his scalp. Streams of russet ran from the sides of his head down his shoulders as she freed the dirt from his hair.

"What's she like?" Mercy asked idly, on the verge of tuning him out entirely.

"She's got a head of hair that looks like the rocks at the bottom of a mountain stream." He replied, his tone attempting to be honeyed but instead sounding vaguely judgmental.

"I'm sorry," Mercy giggled, "She's got hair like rocks? Isn't that flattering."

"I ain't no good with words." He muttered, his gaze now averted as that hand of his went back to his neck.

"I noticed, mister." She smiled, leaning against the tub as she took a sponge and carefully scrubbed the grime from his other arm revealing the sun-washed skin underneath. She placed the sponge down as she massaged his arm with her fingers.

He finally seemed to relax at her touch instead of recoil. As she worked with his arm she noticed what could only be the scar from a bullet wound. It was still fleshy and pink, with the faintest bit of light blue bruising around it. Fresh.

"How'd this happen?" She asked, curiosity getting the better of her as her finger traced the old wound.

"Oh, that?" He opened a single blue eye to get a look at what she was talking about.

"Got that when my…" he trailed off searching for the right words, "when my brother was first learning how to shoot a rifle. Tried to help fix his aim, he ended up pulling the trigger too early, nearly shot my damn arm off."

"You sure he pulled the trigger too early?" Mercy asked, biting her cheek to keep from calling him out on his lie. She couldn't be sure he was lying, after all. He very well could have been trying to teach his brother how to use a rifle less than a couple months ago. Yet his scar just didn't seem like the result of a misfire.

"You sure don't pull your punches, do you," he replied, his eyes still closed but his mouth upturned in a smile. "Though now that you mention it, I think you might be right, miss."

Water sloshed in the tub as his hand broke the surface, gesturing to her own recent wound. The bandages were soaked in soapy water. "What's that from?" He asked.

"Oh that's nothing, what brings you to Saint-Denis?" Mercy tried to ask casually as she changed the subject. But that same prying tone of curiosity reflected in her words. "We get a lot of hunters around here looking for gators in the summer."

She could feel those eyes on her again as she continued to bathe him.

"You sure ask a lot of questions." He drawled, the muscles under his shoulders visibly tensing as he watched her warily.

"I'm just making conversation, mister." She replied evenly, giving her best impression of being unshaken even if the events of the last several minutes had significantly wound her up. "I don't get outside of the city much, and I was just curious is all." For the first time, her tone was void of sarcasm as she responded genuinely.

The man still watched her, his eyes appraising her with less scrutiny and more curiosity. If Mercy didn't know any better she'd say he seemed almost… intrigued by her.

"You ain't from Saint-Denis, are you." He said more than asked as she leaned over the tub to scrub his other leg, the smell of eucalyptus replacing the overwhelming scent of dirt and horse dung that clung to the naked stranger.

"Well, no sir," Mercy said carefully, settling back into her seat, and giving the man a break from her scrubbing. "I'm from West Elizabeth."

"Long way from home, why Saint-Denis?" He pressed.

"Now who's asking a lot of questions" She intoned, her expression hardening. "My family is here in Lemoyne, what's left of it anyways." 

"I'm sorry." He replied sympathetically, and Mercy hated him for it.

"Why should you be sorry?" She remarked bitterly. "Didn't have anything to do with you."

"Whoa now," He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender, soapy water dripping down the toned length of his arm. God that was distracting. "I ain't mean no offense."

"Yes well, sorry is such a rightly pathetic thing to say. Doesn't make anything better, you're better off just being quiet." Mercy studied her cuticles, her ankle swaying as she looked everywhere but at the man.

Or his wet, musclebound arms.

"Well that suits me just fine," he replied with a pleased sigh. Mercy looked back at him with an intensely unamused expression on her face.

His fingers laced behind his head as he leaned back, resting the back of his heels on the lip of the tub. "Pour me something to drink will ya? Since you're supposed to be treatin' me and all."

With a roll of her eyes she stood dutifully. Yet as she began to reach for the bottle of champagne on the man's left side, an evil impulse wormed its way into her mind.

A devil returned to her shoulder.

As he relaxed, she sat back down leaning over the right side of the tub instead. Going out of her way to be as close to him as possible. Her chest inches from his face as she placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. Slowly she wrapped her fingers around the sweating glass bottle of champagne before she returned to her seat, the bottle resting in her lap.

His eyes were wide open and with ears red as hot coals while his hands gripped the sides of the tub. His knuckles turned white and she was pretty sure he was holding his breath. Mercy chuckled quietly as she unwound the key sealing the wine's cork. With a jarring pop the cork flew across the room, bouncing until it disappeared under the vanity. The carbonation foamed and spilled down the neck of the bottle as Mercy held it away from her. Wine poured over her fingers as she looked back to the man who was wound tighter than the strings of a guitar.

"Champagne?" Mercy asked with a smile, pouring him a glass before holding it out to him. The stranger stared at the glass, wordlessly taking it from her. In one gulp, he polished off the glass as if it were nothing more than a shot of whisky.

"I think… I think I need something stronger." he croaked as he put the glass back on the side table next to him. "You ain't got any whisky up here?"

"This ain't the bar, mister," Mercy said, wiping some of the leftover wine from the corner of his mouth, an eyebrow raised. His eyes flicked to her, and his own fingers twitched as if he wanted to stop her again.

But he didn't.

"However given our uneasy agreement, I think I can make an exception." Mercy teased.

Reaching a hand under the tub, Mercy pulled out a thin ivory flask Lara had hidden there. With a job like theirs, sanity was the small hidden treasures in the walls and crevices of the Bastille.

Holding it up she leaned forward on her lap as she offered it to the man. "To hostile hospitality?"

"To hostile hospitality." He chuckled, taking the flask from her. He took a deep drink from the contraband before passing it to Mercy. She noted how careful he was to not touch her hand as they exchanged the flask. She took a sip from the flask, savoring the sweetness of the aged rum.

"That's better. Much better." the man sighed contently, "It's not every night I get a roof over my head let alone a good wash." Mercy took another swig of the rum before pouring a bit into his empty champagne flute. He took the glass rumbling a thank-you.

"You must sleep under the stars pretty often," Mercy replied, a tinge of longing coloring her words as she traced her fingers in the soapy bath water. Her chin rested on her palm as she leaned on the tub's lip. "Being on the road all that time, I mean."

The man looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes unreadable as he watched her take another swig of the flask. A warm flush began to color Mercy's cheeks as the liquor started working its way into her extremities. Loosening her lips just a bit.

"I've always imagined what it's like sleeping rough, relying on nature to provide. Not that you make it look real appealing." She said deadpan, glancing at him to which he only tilted his glass in agreement.

"Smart lady." He said while lifting the flute to his lips. He took another swig of rum, finishing off the glass. "Sleeping it rough ain't all it's cracked up to be, but them morning sunrises are somethin' else. You know, I was just in West Elizabeth." He was seeking her eyes again, she could feel them on her face but she turned her head, hiding behind her hair.

"Oh?" Mercy tried to sound uninterested, but her voice betrayed her.

He had piqued her interest.

"Yup." He confirmed, "Camped not too far from this river called Little Creek. Prettiest field of lilac and fireweed I think I've ever seen."

Little Creek? Her Little Creek?

"In Big Valley?" She couldn’t help from asking.

"The very same," he responded, "You know it?"

Images of the valley he had spoken of came flooding back. Smiles on faces that were fading with every passing year, their teeth stained by time. The ashes and bones in the dirt didn't fade too readily though, yet still Mercy missed the valley. The fireweed. The lilac. The black bears. The dew-soaked foggy mornings.

Its all gone.

"I do," Mercy said finally, "Well, I did. The sun always rises behind the mountain, leaving the valley in the shadow. Especially in the Summer."

"That's right." He agreed, his eyes on her, watching when he thought she wouldn't notice.

The two of them sat in silence for a while. Mercy was grateful for the quiet as she fought back waves of grief. It was odd how even after four years, it surprised Mercy that Little Creek Valley was still there. Little Creek was nothing more than a funeral pyre she'd let burn away with her past. Hadn't it turned to ash? Mercy felt betrayed.

Had she not been lost to her thoughts she would have commented on his silence. It wasn't every day a man could be taught a new trick, but unfortunately, she'd lost her edge. Lifting a finger to her lips she anxiously chewed on the nail, looking far away.

Meanwhile, the stranger cleared his throat, "Pretty sunrises aside, it feels good to be human again."

Mercy's hand went back to her lap. She looked at the stranger as if he were intruding, having almost forgotten he was there. Yet his words struck a chord with her.

To be human again.

It was true the man was no good with words, but those words meant something. Mercy found herself agreeing with him for the first time, and the surprised smile on her face spoke volumes.

"Oh come on," He grumbled, "Don't look so surprised."

"I guess what they say is true, nothing like a good wash to make you feel like a new man." Mercy leaned her cheek on her fist, smiling at him. Once again admiring him while he glared at the ceiling. "Speak like a new one too, clearly."

"If only that were true, miss." He sighed, his eyes betraying how tired he really was. "I got sins not even a baptism can wash away."

Before Mercy could ask what the man meant by that, the sound of shattering glass filled the Bastille, loud even through the closed door.

A burst of gunfire like rolling thunder with an accompaniment of blood-curdling screams. An unfamiliar group of voices yelled and hollered demands of the Bastille's guests raising the hairs on the back of Mercy's neck. A rush of painful memories came trickling back like dripping water from a leaky roof.

It wasn't long before the silence returned, far more violent than before as disquiet filled the Bastille.

"Arthur Morgan! Why don't you come on out and join us?" a man called out, "Hell, I'll even pour you a whisky for yer troubles, son."

[crewofthegoldrush]

I'm feeling bad that I don't have any new art to share and probably won't for a few weeks, so to make up for it and to give myself a kick in the pants to get working on this, I want to share the full "prologue" for fool's gold 2

I don't usually like to reveal a lot of my works in progress because I really do like the surprise, but I'm okay posting this because everything is going to get a new coat of paint, it features a conversation Ive already drawn, and I'm no where near finished editing. The final print will be longer, new/fixed dialogue (I don't always remember to write Monty with her cowboy accent lmao) and more exposition but for now, I hope you enjoy a draft!

ONE

You tap the floor twice with your tail, your signal that you were finished for today, and let her help you pick yourself off the floor. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were tryin' to beat me."

Aubrey's lip turns up at the side. "Of course I'm trying to beat you."

You watch her settle against the ship's railing, familiar even on this ship that wasn't yours. You take your place next to her, hyper aware of your petulant body language. You take a swig from your flask, offering it to her after cleaning the spout with a gold glow.

She raises a brow at the metal container, eyeing it wearily, and you manage a grin. "It's just water."

Looking more at ease, she shakes her head anyway, and you let it hang limply in your hand as you fold your arms on the banister.

"Something is bothering you."

You glance at her; Aubrey has mimicked your casual position but her eyes are as intense as they always are as she simply watches you. "It's been months since we started this, Aubrey. Shouldn't I have more than the basics by now? It shouldn't be this hard, should it?"

You were certainly better than where you were when you started. But compared to her, who had picked up firearm training so well that you had very nearly finished her gun by now, you feel indignant at your slow progress.

Aubrey hums. "You don't need to be so hard on yourself. As you've said many times, your heart is not fully in it yet, right? Your magic is improving and there are plenty of regular distractions."

She was right about that - it was hard to truly focus on leisure time when the two of you were still expected to handle your regular duties, now, you suspect, under the watchful eyes of the Tains. Nevermind the fact that, with your ship still seized, you and your team were attending to various matters, both personal and necessary. You yourself had taken up bounty hunting again to keep your coin stock healthy enough, and there were days you didn't see Harper at all.

"Besides," she continues, gesturing for you to hand her your flask, and you do. "Muscle memory is one of the first things you need to train. You are not there yet, but I'm confident that you will."

She tucks your flask away. "You are too stubborn for the case to be anything else."

You grin at her backhanded compliment and the way she just stole what she probably assumed was indeed alcohol from you, something Harper would do for Demetrius. "I can always count on you to humble me, darlin'."

"Just do your homework. Which you haven't been, I've noticed," she adds with a humorous look. 

"Like you said, I've been keepin' busy."

Her gun and silencer were almost finished (as was the one Tequila begged you to make for her), but it wasn't just that - you had taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on almost everyone's business. 

Including hers.

"Speakin' of homework - have you been doin' any of those readin's?"

A few months had passed since Lohn Ender, the professor who studied all things dreams in Koranburg, had written you back to let you know he was not able to accommodate a visit, and that if you wanted more information you would need to come see him in person. A firm 'no,' considering he and the other professors were assuredly not pleased that their object of interest had been seized by another country.

But you had a back up. Arthur Weekes, Breezy's father, was an expert in his field about the planes of your world and beyond. You had reached out to him to ask for any and all reading recommendations on the subject of Dal Quor. He had responded eagerly and sent more than just recommendations but a whole crate of books as well.

Breezy had only been a little weirded out that you were now pen pals with her parents, but otherwise seemed to find the situation delightful.

You had loaded these books up in the library, telling Harper that you had faith in Mr. Weekes to be objective, and that if she wanted to pull on this thread, you would help her.

It was a hard topic to broach for the both of you. You had learned from Harper that the creatures known as the Inspired - the ones that your whole crew had seen in their dreams thanks to the proximity to that crystal - were supposed to be angelic, protecting the country of Riedra, and you firmly believe she genuinely thinks this. But she had also learned that you and your team had witnessed Dal Quor first hand and that there was nothing angelic about it. You have no doubt she believes you, and them - they did not know she was from Riedra, and have no reason to be lying about this.

It was not your place to question her handlers - far be it from you to 'splain to an assassin spy a damn thing about her own country. But the conflicting accounts was intriguing to both of you.

Aubrey leans against the railing, looking out over the docks. "Some. It's certainly strange to read about dreams. But it's familiar. I never used to have them before frequenting Khovaire, so I had to be taught how to correspond in ornoric language."

You turn your head at her sharply, shocked and immediately invested. "You've never had your own dreams?"

You watch her think that over, as if unsure what or how much to tell you. It wasn't unusual for her to speak about her past as Aubrey, but it was certainly rare and she was selectively forthcoming, compared to Harper who seemed to have less issue giving you pieces of her past so long as she was vague about it. "Mostly, no."

Her eyes dart around the deck where you two are quite alone, a motion you probably would not have noticed had you not been so blatantly staring.

Again she hesitates, but then admits, "In my country, we dream what the Inspired wishes, as you saw. They protect us from evil spirits that can take over a dream; to do otherwise is dangerous, unnatural. But I soon learned that…I've realized that this is how everyone's nights are, and that it is normal.

"When I am like this," she continues, gesturing to herself, "I can resist dreaming, should I choose to. It was a bit difficult after I lost that journal, but I still can. But as Harper, when I am with you all - I do dream more and now that I know it is normal…it is harder to resist."

You tilt your head, thinking about how seeing her dream in Dal Quor was how you knew she was alive after the mutiny. "Was it a comfort then? The crystal?"

Aubrey glances at you with a look you can't completely read, but it is pleasant. "I suppose. I find many things a comfort as Harper these days."

You grin. "It must have been buckwild for you when you first had a nightmare."

She gives a bark of a laugh, rolling her eyes. "Don't remind me. Apparently even toddlers dream and I certainly handled it like one, I imagine."

"Tell me about it?"

She rests her chin in her palm. "Like hell."

You burst out laughing. "Fair enough. So tell me this then. If you can choose to resist dreaming as Aubrey, but Harper can't - or doesn't, or however…who do you sleep as?"

It is very rare that you can take her by surprise but you see the question jolt her, her eyebrows raising, body straightening, hands dropping from her chin. Her eyes stare ahead at nothing before falling to her hands against the banister, brow furrowed in thought. You get the feeling she wants to shift. 

"I - "

The question sounded innocent on the surface but you realize the full implications of what you have just asked her to admit. Does she duck her head, pretend her doubts are fantasy, rely on what she knows as Aubrey and resists? Or does she embrace the possibility of what Harper has taught her and allows herself to dream?

Is that something you could ask her to say out loud?

Aubrey does eventually open her mouth to say something but you interrupt her.

"- I also gotta know," you say, leaning over dramatically, practically pressed against her shoulder, "d'you still sleep naked? I think that's a better question, actually."

Again you see the surprise clear on her face before her cheeks turn a touch pink and she snaps an indignant, "For Khyber’s sake, Montgomery."

But her lips turn up just enough, especially as you grin wickedly at her. She pushes your face away. "I'm never living that down am I? You will give me no peace, will you?"

Her fingers pressed against your cheek, you smirk at her. "Maybe if you'd admit it was funny as hell, I'd be inclined to forget it eventually."

Aubrey gives you - not a smile, but she certainly isn't frowning or scolding you. "In your dreams, as they say."

She straightens, pulling her hand away. "Now, if you are finished humbling me, I think I'll get some sleep. And you should as well, yes? You have a Gala to prepare for soon, do you not?"

You beam - how could you forget? "I get the hint. G'night, darlin'. Don't be late for firearms trainin' tomorrow."

"When am I ever?" She leaves you with, before nodding her good night to you and turning away.

Her hair is turning brown when you call out to her. "Hey -?"

She pivots, looking back at you and you see her face is still Aubrey's - she looks pretty damn good with dark hair.

"So - 'man of my dreams' - phrases like that don't mean much where you're from, huh?"

"No," she says simply. "But I can be taught, I'm finding."

With a shift in her stance, your flask sails towards your head with a speed and precision that takes you by surprise; by some miracle, you catch the damn thing an inch before your face.

"As can you. Good night, Sheriff."

You watch her shift to Harper, who gives you a final smile. You give her an admittedly dopey one in return, and as she walks away you think perhaps that was your answer.

You picture her with blonde hair; pretty damn good too.

--

hey look if you don't include obvious foreshadowing is it really a prologue?

Thank you for reading this preview for pure gold! I'm really excited about this one. And I'm just going to apologize now for how very mushy this fic will be, but if you've been following me all this time I have a feeling that will not be a surprise

I'm most excited for the chapter leading up to their date, which features a sort of cat and mouse game between them in a casino that was just as fun to draft as it was to play (watching the other players get actively invested in helping me was a delight I can't express) with a payoff that I still cherish & feel thankful for to this day - and it wasn't even the kiss! I really hope I do it justice

[100-yardstare]

I got my Metroid insert’s timeline figured out, and it goes goes something like this... My brain is pouring out ideas like you wouldn’t believe, so long read, and more under the read more cut below.

Starts a few months to a year before Zero Mission: the federation has a specialized base that is responsible for military archives and also has a research program ongoing. Personnel working on the base are my insert, OC Steven Wheatfield (head scientist), and at least 500 staff and scientists.

The space pirates catch wind of the benefits of extracting this info, they are also wanting to study humans as directed by Mother Brain for memory and knowledge of federation military tactics and current programs. Ridley leads the assault and the base is stripped of archives, and a small handful of personnel are kidnapped, including my insert, and like five other people. Steven is killed during the ambush

Personnel are brought to a space pirate stronghold (possible a frigate?) for study and knowledge extraction. Over the course of a few months, literally every human dies, leaving my insert the sole survivor, who becomes the focus of the pirate’s studies. During this time my insert also becomes aware of Zebes being a new base of operation for the space pirates.

Sometime after these events, Ridley departs the pirate stronghold, and Samus enters the picture to investigate what had happened to the missing personnel, and to see if rescue is possible. She ends up saving my insert, and at that point, is able to find out about Zebes being a new base of operations from my insert.

Queue Zero Misson: Samus leaves my insert back with the federation to continue her investigation of the pirates. Federation holds my insert in medical care for recovery. There are issues with the federation that sometime after the initial scientific and military base was ambushed, they recovered Steven’s dead body and are literal mirrors to the pirates in sus research (as they canonically have always been!!!). Insert looses her mind, cause she was close friends with him and feels betrayed by the federation (more angst and politics will go into this conflict but the idea is they are using Steven’s mind as a base for an AI, sort of like what happened with Adam). Steven was the lead scientist so his leadership was still “necessary” for the federation. This AI program is still in progress.

Years go by, and before the events of Metroid Prime, insert is being transported by the federation, and during transit she is targeted again by Ridley and the pirates. Kidnapped again, she realizes they are no longer interested in just her federation knowledge, but have plans to create a new research program to mimic Samus’ arsenal and power suit. They utilize her humanity to try and reverse engineer the suit, and merge her later with pirate DNA to create a biological “bridge” to try and make it easier to create their own power suits to combat Samus. This parallels Samus with her Chozo DNA, while my insert is infused with pirate DNA. This continues to be a difficult work in progress, and they are never really able to “match” the power suit, only fragments (like the different beams, Ice Beam, Wave Beam, Plasma Beam, etc). Insert is also being made into a sleeper agent should she ever get rescued like last time.

Just before the events of Prime begin, insert is taken to Tallon IV by the pirates as they continue their research, prepping her for Phazon introduction. It’s here her body absorbs small amounts of Phazon and she becomes physically stronger and more agile, but also more mentally unstable lmao.

Samus eventually finds my insert during an attempted escape on Tallon Overworld just before the Ridley fight. Samus defeats Ridley and tells my insert to wait in her ship while she investigates the impact crater. Events of Prime end, and insert is escorted back to the federation.

Many years and in-game events go by, passing Prime 2 and 3, and after Samus destroys Phaze, the Phazon within my insert dies, but leaves her with her super strength and abilities. Federation continues to use insert for research purposes again because she now has pirate DNA embedded within her genetic code and is now stronger. Insert is eventually permanently assigned to a new federation base. 

A few months before the events of Super Metroid, Steven’s AI is revealed and is given command over said new federation research and military base. The AI is an exact replica of Steven’s personality and retains all his memories, both for the federation and personal memories, but the AI is its own individual. Unfortunately, he also still feels and remembers Steven’s emotions, and come to find out the human Steven was in love with my insert but never told her before he died, and now the AI loves her. ANGST HAPPENS HERE. My insert looses it, and in an emotional spiral ends up triggering her sleeper agent programing by the pirates, and she betrays the federation. This gives Ridley an opening to attack multiple military bases, including the fancy new one, and he ends up taking the insert away again.

During Super Metroid, my insert serves as a on and off antagonist to Samus in her exploration, and continually ambushes her to try and kill her. Insert is now equipped with her own suit of a sort, but it’s nowhere close to Samus’. She fights both close combat and at a distance with arsenal. Samus does not want to hurt her, and tries the best she can to avoid her until she can complete her mission on Zebes, but eventually the confrontation gets too dire and she has to fight her, ending up defeating my insert, and my insert retreats somewhere on the planet. Eventually Samus finds my insert again after the battle with Ridley, in the room with the destroyed Metroid babies containment. My insert comes to her senses at this point admitting her “captor is finally dead”, indicating to Samus she had been under a manipulated relationship with Ridley, and with his true death she could move on. She implies that the baby was taken to Tourian and shows Samus the way. Insert returns with Samus to the federation after the destruction of Zebes.

At this point the in-game timeline with my insert ends here, but I could continue to expand solely based on character development and the different dynamics of my insert with each of her relationships with all involved characters. Primary dynamics are obviously with Steven and his AI twin, Samus and Ridley.

[404theepilogue]

Im not sure really what to do or say but i want to just verbalise it and ask for help.

Im very scared right now. My physical health has never been worse, my mental health is dangerously unstable, and my work situation is bleak.

I told you that i missed work on monday, well it’s because i had slept in (or rather, passed out from exhaustion) because of the fact while my frequent insomnia and health stuff makes it difficult to sleep, the stress has been so high recently i cannot even fully sleep, like i will be half aware the whole time like im going to be attacked. My anxiety regarding work has mounted to unmanageable levels as every day and night is spent worrying about if im going to be well enough to work and if i will have a mishap like monday.

Work has issued me a first written warning as a code of conduct breach as i missed work on Monday. This understandably is deeply upsetting and disappointing to me, Kay was extremely apologetic but unfortunately its out of her hands as HR deals with the conduct policy, shes really one of the few people i think that actively supports me at work (excluding emma of course). However if another instance of any form of lateness occurs within the next 6 months this will escalate the disciplinary warning.

I spent quite a lot of my shift yesterday in tears because it feels like im a crushing disappointment to not be able to cope with life.

Ive been reflecting a lot recently because of how ill and stressed ive felt constantly and mentally speaking i dont want this anymore i dont want to scrape through while my health degrades further, i want to get better i want to be able to regain control of my life and recover. This is a notable change as you know i usually am a cynical person and will try and look for a way out rather than a solution.

All this to say really that im not sure where to go right now in life, it feels like i am making the choice between healing or pushing on to my detriment.

Of course the problem arises that, we live in a capitalist society and constant money is required to be able to live, im just unsure of how to reach a compromise where im not literally running my life into a situation i cannot get out of. This is not some random laziness i hate that i have to say this at all, i wish i could push on and let you retire and me make the money because you deserve a break more than me, but my body just cannot comply with what im pushing it to do and its shutting down.

I know i need to focus on healing properly, not just run myself into a burnout- take 2 months off work, push through again and rinse repeat, because the last few years have shown that just doesnt work.

Im too tired to fight or even knlw what is best for work, they have accommodated so much and the expectations from them are that i will eventually get back to doing my full role, from the office, with the phone etc. and its going to be pushed by rachel, kay has been pushing back deadlines and things that would ultimately be impossible for me but she can only do so much and who knlws what will happen.

Im so tired of feeling so bad i want to die, im so tired of being constantly in fight or flight no matter what i do. And im so tired of looking at myself in tge mirror and seeing the toll these have taken on me, my skins getting worse and i know it’s exacerbated by stress, because thats what triggered the first really really bad outbreak back when it was on my feet.

Idk, i just needed to say this and let you know about the whole work thing. Im sorry if this sounds like whining, i really dont mean to i just really needed to say what has been going through my mind the past few years

And i still was fired.

[lolatalks1]

wed, dec 6 2023

this is my first real journal entry, and i dont think dear diary is fitting to start this. i mean its just tumblr. i started this little blog because i need somewhere to vent, and so here i am. that sounds like my pinned post but its whatever. im not sure why im typing like im talking to someone, so i think i should stop explaining myself.

ive heard its good to write out how you feel, so i think im going to do just that. (im explaining myself again)- today was at first a good day, i woke up relatively early and was able to get ready for school quicker than i do normally- which is a win in my book. i was able to lay in my bed- which i need to wash the sheets of. my dog keeps laying where i sleep, which flares up my bad acne. i cant blame him though, i practically leave my side of the bed in a perfect napping position for him. anyways- i was able to lay down and read a little of this cute story about a single mother and a man in the military being her neighbor! very cute, very cute. then my dad took me and derek around eight o' five, then we got to school, and it was super cold outside. having to stand and wait for the doors to open is not enjoyable- at least i had derek -my cousin- with me. recently ive been a little harsher with him, but i thinks its because ive been a bit on edge with everything as of late. i dont mean to ignore- i think i should start working on that. he already has a lot going on.

continuing, i went to class. first period was tame, i mean nothing too much happened. really essentially a free day. aryeana ? im not sure how to spell her name now that i realize it- but she was there talking with jacob about whatever. sometimes i feel a little outcasted when with them- but i guess thats because im not that much of a conversational person when i cant think of a topic that will be enjoyable for all of us. i mean, i like anime and overwatch- and some more things. all those things they either dont like or make fun of- so theres no middle ground for us to converse on. i mean, only thing i can talk about is boys with ary. but its more so talking about aryeana's endless snaps with multiple guys and shes boasting about it- as well as boasting about her not being able to talk to guys. she is really contradictory. i dont hate or get mad at her though, shes nice to me. and cate is there- she kinda helps me relax. shes just a very nice person and since ive known her for so long i dont feel like i have to be super fake with them.

i think- well i know- my day went downhill when my mom finally replied to my messages. i had texted her about going to cam's surprise birthday dinner on sunday night- and she said yes! but then i asked her about saturday, if i can go shopping with her. i needed to go to barnes and noble to get multiple books that several people wanted for christmas, and maybe the mall to get some other things like candles from bath and body works. but anyways- she then revealed shes not going to be here this saturday- more so this entire weekend.... fun.

i just dont understand how she can just go i mean- i know where shes going- hell the whole family does. its nothing new, but the fact its such a repetitive thing and she always did it around familial times (thanksgiving and now christmas). i really dont get, seriously. and ive come to learn that she goes to some town with a new guy each time. what happened to her being with ron? her last boyfriend- i knew of at least. my nana mentioned she didnt like him because how he treated my mom, so im guessing he was abusive or really shitty. i dont care, and i guess thats a bad thing. i see it as karma now. i use to feel bad, want to console her. but ive lost it. lost that empathy.

anyways, she just makes me so- angry. to the point i can't focus on happier aspects of things because shes simply just so intoxicating with her narcissistic behavior. shes so aware that what she does angers and breaks the family, but she cant find it in herself to realize that its bad. how? im not sure. she didnt have a horrible upbringing nor a traumatic event with my dad. so i cant find a genuine reason behind what she does. its whatever, i keep trying to myself i shouldnt care so much. but i cant help it. it affects my home life, makes me i guess more so depressed? i dont want to self diagnose though. but shes the reason behind my upset outlook for today. hell even started playing class of 2013 by mitski- the lyrics hitting a bit too close to home. so yeah. thats all for now i guess, im not sure how journalling works. i guess ill start learning.