#but it does not aid me in concision

[speirslore]

when you get hurt hcs [officers + roe]

a/n: requested <3 usually in my writing the reader is implied to be a part of easy company in a vague way bc i know ppl have different preferences but some of these include getting shot (not graphic or anything) so ig that implies they're on the front lines

lmk if you would like to be on my taglist! @ronsparky @bcon24 @blueberry-ovaries @1waveshortofashipwreck

[dick winters]

you hit your head prettyyyy hard, and you're out of it, probably definitely concussed

it happens right in front of dick and he tries really hard to keep calm

he wants to be strong and level-headed for you

shows more obvious affection then any of the men have ever seen from him; pets your hair, holds your hand, is always by your side

he immediately gets you a medic and transported to an aid station and doesn’t want to leave you

but when dick's back with easy, he gets uncharacteristically easily angry and frustrated...

he gets quiet and withdrawn and a little snappy with zelensky and nix... and they both immediately know why

whenever he can go see you, he's there.. he even gets behind on all his paperwork (but nix offers to help)

which dick is hesitant to accept for many reasons, he feels guilty, like he's not focusing on his duties but lew is always good at keeping the reports concise lol

very fragile with you, he isn't underestimating you but he just absolutely does not want to push you or hurt you

is a stickler for the rules, follows absolutely everything the doctor says

he has to wake you up every few hours and you keep insisting it’s unnecessary and dick is absolutely not having it

you try to get up and move around and all dick has to hear is the sheets moving and he just gives you that stare, a little bit like a disappointed mom, and you're right back laying down

he’s way more clingy than usual, wants to be by your side, subtly holding your hand

in that moment it definitely hits him how much he loves and cares about you... he hasn't really had time or space to process those feelings until now <3

[lewis nixon]

it does not look good at first

it's really scary for everyone there, you loose a lot of blood and lose consciousness

lew is not there when you're first shot in the leg and everyone is very glad that he didn't have to see it

but when he finds out... oh he is not keeping cool, is not pretending even a little bit to be okay

starts lashing out and snaps at the driver who's taking him to the hospital to drive faster, mad that they didn't tell him sooner, mad that you were injured, mad at the war, furious at absolutely everything

lew has to be monitored by dick not to go full self destruction mode and get incredibly drunk

he hates just sitting with the constant uncomfortable feeling and reminder that you're hurting

he will not leave your side at first when you’re sleeping a lot, on a lot of medicine, and out of it

one nurse does approach him when he's the only vistor in the hospital left, "sir, the visiting hours-"

he just looks up, obviously devastated, voice cracking, "i'm can't leave. you can drag me out but i'm not going, thanks."

they back off after that

does go through a phase where he hates going once you're more conscious because he kills him to see you like that and face this feels irrational guilt he feels for not being there

because he definitely has the tendency to avoid his problems and things that hurt him

but it hurts you too and you don't fully understand

you look up at dick and harry, slightly delirious from the morphine, tearing up, "does he not want to see me anymore?"

after that they do drag lew to see you and you just straight up tell him feeling guilty is pointless and not fair to himself (or you)

and then it's right back to not leaving your side and always trying to make you laugh or smile

[ron speirs]

okay so i love the angel of the company x speirs trope

by now he's the co of easy and your relationship is a widely known secret...

he assigns you and the group of other men to a patrol... it wasn't an overly risky or bad order, a standard order from sink

but you guys make contact and you're shot in the arm

it just absolutely wrecks him

the guys feel like he's just going to go across enemy lines and find the soldier that shot you himself

the rest of the guys are furious too because everyone just absolutely loves you

for a short time, he's mad at the other soldiers on the patrol and you have to reminder him they didn't do anything wrong

but ron is really just irrationally mad at himself for not being there, for not being psychic, he's just angry he somehow didn't stop this

ron is not controlling and not possessive and he knows you can hold your own but he feels responsible for taking care of you and making sure you're safe

even if he can't quite articulate all of those feelings yet

he doesn't understand all the emotions he feels and doesn't even have time to try to understand them

he listens so attentively to the doctors, he can recite everything they've said word for word

like with chuck, he demands the absolute best from the doctors

this incident shows his more compassionate side and the guys start to see how much he really cares about you... bc they're protective of you too!

you have to comfort him and his voice breaks

and he feels weak and he feels bad that you're comforting him and not the other way around

"i'm messing everything up, doing everything wrong," he says more to himself but you frown, eyebrows furrowed and everything

"you're so hard on yourself, ron. when it's not your fault, it was routine, you didn't shoot me. then i'd be really pissed." you smile and he smiles weakly... but he's on edge for a longgg time after this

[carwood lipton]

unfortunately you and lip just cannot catch a break

your leg gets injured while he has pneumonia

it's not a major injury but a bullet ricocheted off of a wall and slightly grazed you and you need a few days of staying off of it

lip really tries to be comforting

and wants to be there for you and he is!

but it's very hard for him, he just wants you to be okay so badly, even when he himself isn't okay

trying to lecture you about staying off of your leg and asking others for help but breaking out into a coughing fit and then you're trying to help him sit up and to go get some hot water for him

and then he's back to telling you to stop and starts hoarsely calling for luz

it's a MESS

but carwood is a natural caretaker and has been one for most of his life

it makes him hover sooo badly especially because since he's sick too he doesn't have a lot of work to keep him busy

but you're not complaining honestly, it's nice to have more private time and something of a break, even if you're both miserable

you get the special privilege of an actual private back bed room with a mattress and blankets

kind of a bonding experience

you just laugh because what the fuck

it's kind of romantic, first time in a longgg time in an actual bed together

you just go back and forth talking about your future and the life you want after the war

"i don't like this wallpaper," you murmur into his chest

he laughs and that turns into coughing again and you're just rubbing his back trying not to bend your leg... domestic bliss <3

[buck compton]

buck... does not take it well

he takes it extremely hard

like his reaction to joe and bill...

you have pneumonia and the peniciln you need isn't available in bastogne

and it's even worse that he finds out you're sick only a few hours after that and that you've been sick and struggling for the past few days

maybe his reaction would've been different earlier on in the war

but now, it just feels like a destructive domino effect that's sparing no one

it's obvious after all of his friends injuries and your pneumonia that he couldn't stay on the front line... his red bleary eyes and slightly trembling hands said enough

when he gets taken off the line, you're both in an aid station together for a few hours before you're both transferred to different hospital

so his presence is silent reassurance

you want so badly to comfort him but you're so sick and he doesn't want you to, he feels so guilty leaving you

but you hoarsely tell him he needs a break and to process what happened

you're feeling slightly better this day so that makes it a little better... but not that much

both of you have been through hell

but there is a light in the tunnel... or at least you feel that way

buck isn't on the front lines anymore and you both have a chance at a life together post-war

he does not want to leave you, it has to take a lot of malarkey's coaxing him and promising to update buck

[eugene roe]

gene can't decide if having medical knowledge makes it better or worse

and if being the medic and being the one to have their hands covered in the your blood, was better than leaving it in the hands of someone else

he decides it's awful... definitely worse

the very few hours he slept, it was just dreaming of your terrified face

and he wakes with a jolt and is completely miserable

and life just goes on...

a lot of pacing and murmuring

gene closes in on himself when he's upset and stressed, so he becomes even quieter than normal

and the other guys are worried like ??? do we need to intervene and lip just stops them, "leave him alone, he'll be okay."

prays for you a lot, gripping his rosary so tightly and the photo that he has of the two of you when you were still in england

when you both felt some semblance of normalcy

he can't abandon the company to stay with you full time at the aid station to his incredible frustration and disappointment

it's just hard for him to go on like everything's fine, it shatters whatever illusion he has of fairness and hope and safety

whenever someone else gets injured or they need supplies, he'll take any excuse to ride back to the aid station to see you

and if anyone else goes, they always see you and give gene an update

winters definitely notices and tries to give him opportunities to see you

likes watching you rest and sleep (because you definitely needed it, even before you got injured) in the sweetest, non-creepy way

gene loves to just sit with you, see you with his own eyes, and know for certain that you're okay

[generalsdiary]

the spice will warm me from the inside

Jiaoqiu x Moze

warnings: description of injuries, mentions of the 2.5 events, Jiaoqiu’s history, Moze’s history, nightmares, anxiety, breakdowns, knives/weapons mentioned, one swear word, assassination attempt (dw)

word count: 5.5k

description: a hurt/comfort fic, angst & fluff, life after the events of 2.5, kinda found family trope as well. Jiaoqiu's life with his newfound trauma and disability, Jiaoqiu and Moze living life and communicating in healthy ways. As much as it goes over their "angsty" pasts and traumas it is very healing and focused on moving forward and learning to find a way to go on even when all has gone dark (pun not intended). Feixiao shows up a few times, Sushang comes to visit. As much as it is hurt/comfort, dw as soon as it hurts you, you will be comforted. One has to process through their past traumas and everything they have been through in order to start moving on. A realistic approach.

Jiaoqiu's fingers pressed against the smooth surface of the window. Cold, smooth, glossy. Traveling between the ships of the Luofu wasn't something new to him, but the experience felt different. The darkness, the shadow didn't move no matter how wide he opened his eyes, hoping for light to seep in, for a picture to form. It was hopeless, the poison took its toll.

“Moze.” his voice was gentle as ever, trying his best to hide the tremble in it. The fear as every space feels unfamiliar. The small tremor in his hands that hasn't left since he was... rescued.

“Yes?” a deep-toned voice beside him makes his ears perk up, trying to pinpoint the location, to naturally turn to the man as he usually would. With the way he could before. He turns, hopefully towards Moze. A small crinkle in his eyes as he recalls how March corrected him twice because he wasn't facing her nor the others. Jiaoqiu expected his hearing to be better, to be a better aid, especially as a foxian.

“Describe the room for me. Please.” there's a small pause. A silence. The shadow guard was incredibly quiet, not even a rustle of his clothes.

“It is the same as the last time. Small room, red velvet seats, three across three, sliding glass door, warm light from the headlight, grey floors. The regular transportation.”

Jiaoqiu nods, bringing his fan out, hiding half his face and gently moving it creating a small whiff of air. He remembers some of it... such a mundane thing, he never paid it too much attention. It hurts. Leaning his head back against the soft seat he closes his eyes. They are straining him. an unfamiliar feeling this early in the day.

“Mhm, thank you, Moze... and. General Feixiao, where is she?”

“Arranging a private port for us three to exit at. to avoid crowds.” Moze keeps his answer concise.

The trio is still greeted by guards and some of the general’s usual caretakers. They have received the news, and a man eagerly approaches the trio. His hand is quickly gripping Jiaoqiu’s forearm, making him lose his balance, making him stumble. He desperately uses his tail to balance and tug his arm back. The irritation barely hidden in his voice, “You do not take my arm- one does not simply drag a blind man with them.”

Commotion. Calming words of the general. And a voice that cuts through the multiple voices talking. A low tone, beside him. “I’m on your right, half a step in front of you.” being taller than Jiaoqiu, Moze’s soothing voice is heard easily, mouth so near the foxian’s fluffy ears.

Jiaoqiu takes a calming breath. Another one. This is fine. No. It is not fine. He just has to get home. Home. Yes. Everything will be fine when he gets home.

His hand reaches out into the unknown, the rough fabric meets his fingertips, he gently rests his arm tucked into Moze’s and then grips his forearm. “Thank you. Please. ..Slowly. I can’t.-“ Jiaoqiu’s voice breaks, why did it- no he is fine. He is not breaking down in public. It has been years since has was able to cry. Not after he served in the military. Those tears have long dried up.

You don’t need to cry to break down. To feel the pain engulfing you. The war took most of his ability to taste away. The once lover of subtle, bland flavors, now chased the spiciest, hottest meals- no matter how much it burned his tongue or hurt his throat. It made him feel alive. The spice burned inside him, warming him up when all he could feel was an icy cold throughout his bones.

The familiar crack of the wooden floor beneath his feet lets him know he is finally home. Jiaoqiu immediately took his shoes off and let go of Moze. Stretching out his arms, feeling the smooth texture of the walls in his home. Navigating to his bedroom. Through many dark nights, he could move around his house effortlessly- but this wasn’t a dark night. No moonlight. No lamp. No candle. No soft lights coming off the electronics. He bumps into the couch, and a cabinet, until he finally sits down on the soft bed. Opening his eyes. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. Nothing? Jiaoqiu wants to rage, to throw furniture around. Hasn’t he done enough? Given enough? Deep breaths. He will not succumb to the anger that wants to drown him. Mindlessly caressing the cotton sheets beneath him.

“G-give me a scarf.”

Silence. Jiaoqiu cannot hear him. Moze was always someone he could see, even in his shadow form, he could always SEE him. he could not even smell him. the clean man. Not a single scent.

A fabric touches his hands, soft, strange patterns swirling on it. He drags his fingers across it. Deep breaths. Calm down. He folds it neatly and brings it over his eyes. Tying it up around his head.

“Why?” Moze asked quietly. The sound seems to be coming from below. He is… kneeling beside the bed?

“Every time I open my eyes I hope they will heal. That… that something maybe changed. And every single fucking time that hope is crushed. And I-“ his voice wavers, “I cannot deal with that. I cannot bear another time of my heart getting broken by my inability to see. … with this, I won’t be able to open them. Just. Just… until I get used to… things.”

“I can order a cane for you.”

“No,” Jiaoqiu says a bit too harshly. “I will not. I can’t. I… just. Please, I.” he stumbles over his words like he is falling down the stairs. Shaking his head. Hands trembling. Moze’s habit of not speaking is upsetting at this moment. The bed squeaks under the weight of the other man, strong arms encircle him. Firm chest pressed against the foxian’s back. Calm breathing on his shoulder and a strong steady heart beating against his own works wonders. Making him ground his own breathing in the pace he feels the other’s ribs expand and contract. Heartbeat soon enough coming into sync with Moze’s. A comfortable silence. Although to Jiaoqiu it isn’t a silence. The inhale, exhale, a reassuring sound in this abyss.

Jiaoqiu’s fingers gripped the peeled onion a bit too roughly. He worried it might roll away. Just have to tuck in his fingers, and it is okay. Chop, chop, chop.

Cooking is a big part of him. and his situation will not take it away from him. The last thing that makes him feel like himself. His hand hovers above the deep pan, warmth seeping in. It is hot enough. He chops more veggies and meat and puts it all on a low simmer. Doors open and close, and as per usual he turns towards the sound. It has to be Moze or Feixiao. A burglar wouldn’t enter that casually, right? These thoughts don’t ease his life. The constant worrying and anxiety-

“It’s me.” he doubts he is able to recognize everyone’s voice. Humanoid hearing is simply not suited for it. Expect that it is Moze. Jiaoqiu can recognize his voice. “I have brought you something” With a quick step he is beside him, warm hands holding his and handing him something… smooth. “You said no cane. This is a walking stick. Older people use it- I know, you maybe don’t want it, and it may cause more trouble. Simply put, at least it’s here to help you not fall. okay?”

That’s a lot of words for the shadow guard who prefers to stay silent. Jiaoqiu feels out the walking stick, tapping the ground with it a bit. “I appreciate the thought, I will. I will keep it near.” With that, he sets it against the kitchen counter and stirs the food. Sour and spicy notes hit his nose. Home. Breathing it in like smoke. Wishing it could take him back.

“Why are there green peppers in the trash? They appear fine.” Moze questions. Jiaoqiu exhales, his throat tightens. Opening his mouth to explain but the strain stops him from voicing anything. Why are they in the trash can? A perfectly good ingredient, still fresh, he is never wasteful. The everpresent tremble is his new companion, his imagination makes him feel the finger that pressed against his back causing immense pain so he may give away secrets about Feixiao. The claws that ripped his clothes apart and left rough textured scars- still wounds, they have yet to heal to become scars. The makeup that ran down his face. The tugged hair. Flashes of scent induced fear. The last thing he ever saw was that monster. Hoolay. Green peppers. No. It isn’t something he can see- … it isn’t something he can smell, eat, or feel again.

Moze quietly observes the way Jiaoqiu grips the counter, the way his breathing becomes shallow, the silence piercing his ears, worry coloring Moze’s face now that he doesn’t have to conceal his expressions anymore. “I will take the trash out.”

“Please, thank you.” Jiaoqiu answers in a shaky, broken voice. The voice one sounds like right before they will break down. With swift movements, Moze ties the bag and takes the trash out.

With a slow step and one hand on the walking stick, he carries the food to the table. Plate by plate. Chopsticks, spoons. Beverages. If it were any other normal day he’d carry the pan to the table. But it isn’t any other normal day. This is the new normal. And carrying a heavy, soup-filled pan is risky. Finally satisfied, he sits down and smiles gently. Like he used to. Small wins, little joys.

Moze returns and wishes to say how he could’ve helped. Those words die down in his throat. Would it be more condescending than helpful? Would he even care for his words? Moze lost his voice, his will to speak, from his “second family”. Where no one cared for what he said. He convinces himself that this time he isn’t speaking because it might be rude.

“Would you text the trailblazer for me?” Jiaoqiu inquires during the meal, once Moze returns from washing his hands.

“Now?”

“No, no. after we eat. And could you switch the settings to voice commands and audio-specific notifications?”

“Consider it done.”

Technology is another thing Moze has a great understanding of. Updating the phone and other digital items in their home poses no issue. “When I call you in the future, or anyone whose number you have saved this is how it will sound” Moze calls Jiaoqiu’s phone, and instead of making a pleasant melody, a robotic voice starts talking ‘Moze Moze Moze Moze…’ Jiaoqiu nods with a small smile. “That is helpful, I appreciate it.” “And you can text the trailblazer by giving voice commands to the phone. You don’t need my assistance.” Moze sounds proud, showing Jiaoqiu that he is perfectly capable of doing it alone, just a bit differently than what he is used to.

“I’m going to meet Suyi. You can take the time to clean, Moze” Jiaoqiu takes his cane and exits their home. Hopefully, by giving him obligations and keeping clear of the area, it will make Moze not follow him.

It has been a few weeks. He took an orientation and mobility class. Learning how to use an actual cane. It felt easier to exist. Jiaoqiu was once again mobile, he could go to the market, buy fresh produce, and go out to meet old friends. Tap tap taping his way to the café. Jiaoqiu had a preference for a nonfoldable cane. The subtle vibrations carried through much better. And concrete felt like hell so he tried to stick to the pavement the best he could. The Yaoqing, sadly, had no pathways adjusted to those with impaired vision. Tap tap tap. Jiaoqiu made do with what he had. Walking in public with his cane made him feel free again, akin to feeling in control again. There is a lingering hope in it. Reminiscent of a small candle’s light, not too strong, yet it may illuminate a whole room.

Another assassination attempt failed. Moze groans. The general suggested asking for advice from others, and the trailblazer, the first person he asked, had nothing useful to say in that regard. The silver shine of the knife glistened in the artificial sun. Like sharpening it will make the attempts successful. Feixiao killed his entire family. His family. His close ones, they healed him, gave him a roof over his head, they fed him… poisons under the claim he will live forever with it, his words ever only falling on deaf ears, mantras shoved down his throat like rose spikes. Intoxicating his insides even after he knew of the evil those same words caused. Not to mention the first family that abandoned him, the village that left him to die.

Is this what you call a family? Moze asks himself as the sharp blade lingers above Feixiao’s throat. There he stands. About to succeed. To win his freedom. Is he not already free tho? No, no, she killed his family. This was the agreement and the rightful vengeance. Moze outdid her. Snuck into her home, he won. Yet his hand is frozen. It stands still in the dead of the night. Unmoving. Static. Immobile. Eyes observing the resting face of the woman who saved him. Educated him, showed him kindness, and actual warmth. And in his adult years, she is the one who introduced him to his current partner. Be that as it may, what becomes of him if he let go of it all now? What is his worth? This was his goal, all this time. The driving force of his medically adjusted body. Is this what you call a family? Is this who has been his family all along? The general and the healer? The borisin and the foxian. The air is deathly still. His hand is calm, free from tremors. His brow furrows deeper, thinking through all of it. Until he comes to a decision.

“Feixiao.” Moze says in a normal tone. The knife was still against her neck. The general stirs awake, eyes widening at the surprise, however she makes no move to shove him away. Feixiao knows if he wanted to do something, it would have been done.

“I have won. … I shall remain your guard, General. Death will have to walk through me to get you.” in the blink of an eye he is gone. Feixiao exhales and returns to her sleep with a smile on his face. Moze finally, slowly, started to move on. Decades later, he managed to take small steps toward acceptance.

A few minutes later he is holding his partner in his arms. “Jiaoqiu” Moze whispers into the soft ear. The foxian stirs, “hm?” “I have succeeded in my revenge.” Small shuffle and a sharp inhale, Jiaoqiu turns towards him, “Hm?” sleep-driven hum. “I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. She is my family. I cannot. I would never bring harm upon the ones I care about. Never.” Moze speaks his vow aloud and nuzzles his head into Jiaoqiu’s neck. Nothing more had to be said, in his opinion, time to sleep. A gentle hand caresses his hair, “Good.” Jiaoqiu leaves a feathery kiss on the grey hair after which he continues sleeping.

Misty rain soaked his clothes and the small boat rocked along the smooth surface of the Rainsoar lake. Jiaoqiu used to come here often. Alone he’d collect herbs and fruit in the herbal basket on his back.

“You didn’t have to come with me, one of the locals could’ve taken me.”

“It is not a problem for me, Jiaoqiu. I’m glad to be in your company, we see each other less… and it brings me joy to be beside you.” Feixiao answers, slowly rowing the boat through the lake covered with heart-shaped foliage, blossoms, water chestnuts, and the occasional fish jumping out. A beautiful sight, a tranquil atmosphere surrounding the two.

Jiaoqiu reaches out beyond the small boat, dipping his fingers into the icy cold water to collect the lotus flowers and floating heart plants. An old tradition for him, one he did even before he joined the army as a doctor. The cold fingers pluck a wild rice stem and open it up. Bringing the fresh rice to his mouth.

Years before it had a wonderful sweet and refreshing taste. His taste changed after he came back from war. Jiaoqiu’s taste buds were the price he paid in the war. A renowned chef, and healer, lost his delicate sense of taste. The gaze of an Aeon who looked down upon the thousand-year war, and their choice to end it, burned everyone involved. Jiaoqiu’s tongue was the price he paid for running into the white light to save the young kid. Feixiao. The cold region was something he got accustomed to. Nonetheless, when the almighty power sliced down the battlefield, Jiaoqiu felt a cold unlike any other. Freezing him from the inside. With the leftover survivors, he decided to cook a stew. A warm flame. Some spice. More spice. Chili peppers. Not enough. All the spice he had in his pouch. Until he finally felt a taste on his tongue. A burning sensation. The last flavor he can actually taste. For it made him feel alive despite everything that happened, everything around him, the cold air, the cold insides, the tasteless tongue. And the heat… it sent a jitter down his body. So alive. … the sensation bordered on pain. As spice tolerance grows, surely his grew as well. And he might today very well be dancing with pain every bite. After he returned from the war the rice stems tasted too bland. No flavor to them. He reaped the consequences of his actions. Of choosing to save the girl. His scars from the war.

Years later, at the same lake, with the woman he saved during the war, the boat rocks with her movements. The second time he saved her he paid with his sight. Jiaoqiu never blamed her, why would he? It was his choice the whole way and his goal. The jump to save her from the Aeon. To drink… Tumbledust. To give everyone a fighting chance and to heal Feixiao’s moon rage. Jiaoqiu is an adult and he made his decisions to the best of his judgment in the circumstances that were given to him.

The wild rice lands on his tongue. For a sacred moment, he feels a tinge of sweetness, however, it is only for one moment. And gone with the wind. Even so, for one moment it was there. Is it because he lost his vision that his other senses have enhanced the tiniest bit giving him a single second, less than a second of something that used to bring him joy? The foxian could cry at that moment if his eyes had not dried from any tears while he was still in the army. A moment is still a moment. It is enough. Enough to give him more hope. To keep him moving forward. To have faith in the future. To even dare to look into the future.

For a man to willingly drink poison, deadly poison, he had to give up all hope. Any faith toward the future, any life he thought he had left. Jiaoqiu had to make peace with the fact that no one was coming to recuse him- that he would not be saved. So what was the last thing he could do? After Hoolay drained him of any secrets about the general, humiliated him, treated him less than the ground they walk on, and broke his ego and pride by allowing him to walk around knowing he will “always return to his master”. The only thing he could do was give the others a fighting chance, somehow use the knowledge he acquired; to save Feixiao and sacrifice himself.

The sweet flavor of rice on his tongue. A small flame of a candle, a hope. Hope for the future, he gets to live in. as he slowly finds his self-worth again, his self-respect, and his hopefulness for the oncoming days.

“We may return. I got what I came for.”

“Hm- I’m still-“ Feixiao speaks with her mouth full and Jiaoqiu angles his head a bit analyzing the sound, and a chuckle is ready to part his lips. “You are eating?”

“-mh, hey the water chestnuts are really good!” Feixiao probably has her mouth full of food. The general likely got bored and hungry. Jiaoqiu’s warm laugh cuts the silence of the lake. He hasn’t laughed in a long time. It makes his tummy hurt and he has to stop to not make the boat flip over. Feixiao laughs with him… after she chews down the food in her mouth.

How does one make noise when one walks? A question Moze never thought he’d ask himself. Hence, doing his best, it sounds like a child purposefully stomping the heel of their feet onto the floor. Heavy steps. It is ridiculous. Moze finds himself hilarious, ironic even. His stoic front breaks down when he hears his partner laughing from the couch. The sole reason why he is doing this. To fill the void Jiaoqiu sees. Moze will not move like a shadow in their home. He shall make noise. Even if it sounds like an overgrown toddler throwing a tantrum.

“I’m trying!” Moze voices between bursts of laughter.

“Ooh, I can hear that indeed~” Jiaoqiu nods and giggles.

A knock on the door interrupts their conversation. Jiaoqiu stands up, slowly making his way to the door, while Moze opens it.

A girl with a cloud knight uniform on and long dark brown hair with a big bright smile stands in the doorway. “Hello!” she says cheerfully, “It has been so long, I thought I’d come to visit, how are you, Uncle J?”

Jiaoqiu angles his head a bit, the voice not ringing any bells. “I’m sorry, you-“ Moze quickly buts in, “It is Sushang.” “Yeah, and I brought a gift!” Sushang happily stretches out her hands, handing Jiaoqiu a small box. There’s a few seconds of silence. Moze once again says, “She is handing you a small box, approximately the size of a human head, and by the looks of it not too heavy.”

“Ah, thank you, Sushang. Your presence is unexpected but I’m glad you came over, are you hungry?” Jiaoqiu carefully takes the gift in his hands and smiles. “I mean, I could never say no to your cooking Uncle J! Also... I’m sorry, you are..?” Moze sighs. This is the third time he has seen her and she fails to remember him. The shadow guard, proficient in remaining hidden, wonders why she never remembers him. Jiaoqiu speaks in his stead as he slowly walks to the kitchen, “This is Moze, my partner.” “oh! Hi there, Uncle Moze!” Sushang flashes him a bright smile and moves past him to sit at the kitchen island, ready to yap a whole storm about her life and catch her uncle up with it all. Starting with her best friend, Guinaifen. Once she finishes her stories, Sushang is more than happy to sit in a slump position, stuff her face full of dumplings while Jiaoqiu shares some new stories of his life (the happy ones). In her eyes, he tells them better than the storyteller at Sleepless Earl.

“You know I care about your thoughts, opinions, even random comments with not a single thought behind them, right?” Jiaoqiu’s hand effortlessly treaded through Moze’s silver hair, facing him on the couch. “I will try. I have learned differently and… despite it being a bad habit, those are even harder to let go of.” Moze’s eyes are closed, melting under his lover’s touch. Jiaoqiu’s voice is smooth like butter, continuing, “I know, Moze. When it gets hard, just remember that I care about you and what you have to say. I always have. I love you.” Moze leans forward, pressing his forehead against Jiaoqiu’s, “I love you too. I will do my best.” Moze softly kisses the bridge of his nose, where the cotton scarf lays across his eyes.

Jiaoqiu reached behind his head, untangling the scarf. Weeks, months have passed since he started wearing it. Taking it off only when he bathes or sleeps. He opens his eyes. “I missed seeing them. Such beautiful golden glow, Jiaoqiu.” Moze muses, enjoying the view of bright orange eyes. “Thank you. I feel finally… strong enough mentally to exist and move without it. I have gathered… hope and mental strength.” Jiaoqiu nods, the darkness beyond his eyes unchanged. “They still look beautiful to you, Tumbledust didn’t affect them?” “Even if it did, the fact would not change. To answer your question your eyes are unchanged. They cannot meet mine, but I was never big on eye contact.” The simplicity and honesty in his answer made Jiaoqiu feel secure and loved. The foxian smiles, and their home feels warm. So warm with them together, kind, loving, patient. Healing through their traumas and pain. One thoughtful word at a time.

In the peaceful moment, Jiaoqiu caresses Moze’s cheek and leans in to kiss him. One of the moments where darkness is welcomed… because of the way Moze makes him feel during the kiss, it makes Jiaoqiu feel like he can taste colors.

 “The divine traces of Abundance shall heal your body... quick. Drink this...” Moze’s body was covered with sweat, his breathing was shallow. Hooded figures surrounded him.

“I don’t… don’t make drink… no…no” he mumbles helplessly, the thick liquid forced down his throat again. Goosebumps rose on his skin, “Drink child. You will… immortal… save… others…” Moze’s throat closed up, drowning on dry land and his mind disconnected from his body in an all too familiar way. Dying and fighting in the same breath. Half a second away from a silent scream or spitting the medicine back out. “Please… please… I…” his voice trembled, powerless against any of them. Once more his voice is ignored. His yelps and pleading for help, his begging for mercy shushed, ignored… put aside. Nothing more than a good test subject, convinced this is what family does. This is how it must be. Others live like this too, right? This is completely normal, right? He is cared for and nourished here, right? He will survive this, right? I will survive this…right?

A hushed voice hummed in the distance. The worn down building, cold and exposed cement his everyday environment, and the sound he didn’t recognize. “shh, shh, shh.” Rhythmical, paced… soothing? No one ever soothed him. Then he feels it. A delicate tender touch. Fingers brushing his hair. Moze’s breathing sped up as his surroundings changed, he inhaled sharply, his vision going black, all sound stopping into a painful echo of silence, a deafening sound, his lungs moving up and down with irregular breathing until there was none of him left. Abyss. Darkness. Black dots of midnight oil. A window. A window? Moonlight vaguely illuminated the space. A bed. And… “shh, shh, shh. There you go… back with me.”

Moze’s face felt wet, his vision blurry and his eyelashes stuck together, a salty taste on his lips. The sight of his partner holding him so carefully, gingerly, and taking care of him… Moze had no words. The nightmare swallowed him up again. He hated the feeling. Immediately he turns to press himself fully into his partner, to hide his face away from the shadows in the room, “Jiaoqiu” he whispers. “Yes, my precious. I’m here. You’re here. In our home. In our bed. Safe. With me.” For the next few minutes, Jiaoqiu keeps murmuring comforting words and hushed hums until Moze grounds himself in the present moment.

“I hate them. I hate my nightmares.”

“May I offer my healing abilities? A nine-squared grid hotpot will surely have a pleasurable effect on this, and help out.”

“I… that sounds good. If you say it will help, then I’ll take it.”

Jiaoqiu starts sitting up, “Very well.”

“Wait,” Moze utters, squinting his eyes to look at the clock, “it is 3 am, you don’t have to cook now.”

“Then when am I supposed to cook, Moze?” Jiaoqiu replies with a smile, “It isn’t hard. It doesn’t bother me.” He stands up and faces somewhat in the direction of the bed. “I’m happy to take care of you, Moze.” Jiaoqiu sits back on the bed and finds his partner’s face, cupping it in his hands. The texture of Moze’s unshaven face against his fingers feels rough but familiar, and in that familiarity, he feels safe. His home. He presses his lips against the younger man’s forehead and stands back up, already on his way to the kitchen.

Approximately half an hour later, a freshly bathed Moze sits across Jiaoqiu for a late night or an early morning meal. The warm liquid filled with various vegetables and spices feels good as it goes down his throat. It isn’t poison. It doesn’t hurt. It isn’t a threat.

“Thank you, Jiaoqiu. It tastes amazing.”

“Always a pleasure.” He answers with an all-knowing smile. “I could add a little more chili oil next time…”

“eh- I… it is spicy enough, darling.” Moze voices his thoughts hesitantly, which makes Jiaoqiu softly laugh and add a few drops of chili pepper flakes to his own bowl.

On the other hand, Jiaoqiu’s nightmares didn’t stop. Many nights he wakes up in fear of where he is. Is he still captive? Still kidnapped? Still surrounded by borisin and under the effect of lupitoxin? Jiaoqiu wakes up with heavy breathing every time, sitting up quickly, feeling the space around him- more often than not, waking Moze in his desperate attempt to gather where he is whether he is home or there. There’s a phantom pain where Hoolay pressed his finger onto his back to drain information from him. An itch on his chest where the wounds will form into dark pink scar tissue. In the beginning, it was every night. Every night for weeks, months. Jiaoqiu started relying on afternoon naps. Time has passed but his nightmares are still often. On the rare nights when Moze isn’t in bed, he has a good sleep schedule- most likely went to drink some water, Jiaoqiu is quick to spiral and clumsily get out of bed. Moze usually finds him kneeling on the floor, hanging onto the wall, mumbling, “No, no, no, no, no, no. I am not. This is home. This is home. It is. My walls. M-moze…Moze”

The curse of a doctor, a healer, they cannot heal themselves. The trauma he has been through, the scars from it that he carries still with him, most of them not even visible, it isn’t something that passes overnight. Healing is a long and slow process. It will take time. Sometimes he has no nightmares for weeks, only for them to torment his peaceful night’s rest for days on end. Some days, Jiaoqiu will have a bit more anxiety while walking around. What if everyone and anyone he talks to once again is under a guarantee of a death filled with fangs and claws?

Hence, he takes it slowly. When the world feels like it is crushing him, he takes a deep breath and eats spicy food. He grounds himself in his environment. Reminds himself that he is safe, Hoolay is dead, the borisin are under control, he isn’t being targeted, and everything is fine. Everything is fine. He will be fine. With time. One deep breath at a time.

The tremor in his hands never left him.

A breeze rustled various branches and leaves, providing a lovely melody of an artificial autumn on the Yaoqing. The scent of cooked apples dipped in caramel and baked cinnamon rolls filled the air.

“I see no threat in my retainers. The man you cannot see is my guard, and the foxian is my personal doctor. Surely, we don’t pose a problem?” Feixiao questioned the men in front of her, attempting to enter a highly secure space, on a very important and very secret mission.

Moze appears by her side, “I shall leave all my weapons with you.” he takes his time to slowly strip himself of his hidden knives and make a full scene out of it.

Jiaoqiu stands still with a small smile and his cane in his hands. “I do not carry weapons. I am a healer, I wouldn’t hurt a fly.” If at all possible, his smile widens subtly with the honey-dripped words that coat the actual truth. “Moreover, I am retired. I’m here on the general’s command to accompany her to this… wonderful occasion.”

Rustling, murmuring, quiet chats, “…what could a blind man do…” “…the guard left all of his weapons…” “….yeah, we can let them through..” “You may come.”

Feixiao slowly walks towards the entrance with a confident stride, Jiaoqiu steadily taps his cane following her with the same smirk on his face, Moze soundlessly steps last, with at least, still 32 weapons on him.

[zephyrrhiesfyrian]

I love your tinyformers so much😭, I just know Ratchet and First Aid would help me study🫶. Your tinyformers art and rambles literally make my day 200000x better

aaaaaaa I'm so glad they help make your day better! :3

First Aid has timers set for how long you're "allowed" to study, because he insists you take breaks to prevent you from getting burnt out. Ratchet will lightly bonk him with a wrench if he gets too worked up about it, but he does approve of the framework.

Depending on what the topic is you're studying, they might also try to help you with it too! First Aid loves helping with grammar and essays, but his writing style leans more towards prose than a comprehensive article. Ratchet generally encourages you to figure things out on your own, but if he notices you're really struggling he'll step in.

Your tinies all care about you! They wanna help!

The absolute best tiny to have for proofreading your things, fact checking your research and citations in essays, and correcting your maths, is Perceptor, for obvious reasons. You don't even have to ask him; just set him on the desk with the papers and he will automatically start finishing your equations. He can't help himself.

Ultra Magnus/Minimus is also a good proofreader; he's very good if you need to reach a word count, because he likes to add in clarifications and addendums (Perceptor will make his edits as quick and concise as possible).

Rodimus may burn your homework because it's taking your attention away from what really matters, which is obviously him.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

When I’m trying to create new characters, I often find questionnaires that have questions like “what is your character’s favorite movie?” Or “What is their favorite social media app and why?” However, these questions do not work for creating fantasy characters (like I am). Do you have any ideas for questions to help writers create fantasy characters?

This is a fantastic question, especially for fantasy writers. There aren't many resources dedicated to the creation and development of fantasy characters. I highly recommend exploring Dungeons & Dragons (DND) questions; they can offer valuable insights like this one.

On that note, if you'd be interested in a customized workbook solely focused on fantasy character creation, just give me a heads-up! Meanwhile, I've crafted a concise yet distinctive short questionnaire to get you started. (With unique questions, not the basics.)

Magical Essence 🌟✨:

Source of Power: 🌀💫 What magical abilities or powers does your character possess? How did they acquire or inherit these powers?

Magical Affinity: 🌊🔥 Describe their connection to elemental forces or magical domains. Are they aligned with specific elements or forces of nature?

Otherworldly Origin 🌌🔮:

Realm of Origin: 🏰🌌 Where does your character come from? Describe their homeland or origin realm—its landscapes, cultures, and inhabitants.

Mythical Lineage: 👑🌟 Does your character hail from a line of legendary beings, gods, or creatures of ancient lore? How does this lineage influence their identity?

Legendary Quests and Adventures 🗡️🛡️:

Heroic Exploits: 🏹⚔️ What legendary quests or adventures has your character undertaken? Describe their valorous deeds and encounters with mythical creatures or foes.

Artifacts and Relics: 🏆🔮 Have they encountered or possess legendary artifacts or relics? How do these items influence or aid their journey?

Creatures and Companions 🐉🦄:

Familiar or Animal Companion: 🐾🔍 Does your character have a magical creature companion or a familiar? Describe this bond and its significance.

Encounters with Mythical Beings: 🧜‍♀️👻 Have they interacted with beings like dragons, spirits, or mythical entities? Describe these encounters and their impact.

Destiny and Prophecies 🌟🔮:

Foretold Prophecies: 🔍📜 Is there a prophecy or destiny foretold about your character? How do they perceive and react to this prophecy?

Chosen One or Fate's Hand: 👑🌌 Is your character considered a chosen one or fated to fulfill a significant role in the world's destiny? How do they handle this responsibility?

Interactions with Magic and Society 🤝🔮:

Attitude Towards Magic: 🧙‍♂️🔑 How does your character view magic in their world? Are they a skeptic, a practitioner, or a scholar of magic?

Relationship with Magical Societies: 🏰🌐 Are they part of magical societies, guilds, or orders? How do these affiliations shape their actions and beliefs?

Struggles and Sacrifices 💔🌪️:

Internal Conflict: 🤔💔 What inner struggles or conflicts does your character face? Are there conflicts between their desires, duties, or moral beliefs?

Sacrifices Made: ⚖️💔 Have they made sacrifices or endured hardships in their journey? What are these sacrifices, and how do they impact their character development?

Fate and Free Will 🎭🌌:

Control Over Destiny: 🌟🔗 Do they believe in free will, or do they feel their destiny is preordained? How does this belief affect their actions and decisions?

Choices and Consequences: 🤷‍♀️🔮 How do their choices influence the world around them? Describe instances where their decisions had profound consequences.

I hope these questions help you start thinking about your story and your character. I mentioned things like dragons and magic to give you a place to begin, but you can totally explore other ideas beyond typical fantasy themes. Use these questions to spark new thoughts for your plot and character development, leading you to create a story that's unique and goes beyond the usual fantasy clichés.

[itssideria]

they didn't say "ceasefire", but isn't telling them they can't kill or severely harm people effectively the same thing? /gen i might have misinterpreted it idk

don't worry about it anon! personally, i am far from an expert in international law, but the reason i feel that a lot of people are disappointed in the lack of a ceasefire ruling is that, well. we know that—whatever is said today—israel won't exactly abide by it.

this is a fact that has been established time and time again. they are more than happy to flout international law and basic human morals to murder gazans. this is what this whole case was about.

the word 'ceasefire' is uncomplicated. it is clear, concise, and cuts to the core of the issue—stop the bombs dropping. stop the army firing. the phrase 'ensure the military does not act in ways that violate the genocide convention'.... up to interpretation. or, well, it's not, but to israeli officials it will be. is it genocide if they only kill some people? if they only drop bombs in some places? if they let in some more humanitarian aid but block out the rest? the phrase doesn't order the bombs to stop dropping—it orders that they drop in a way that is less likely to be genocidal.

don't get me wrong, a ruling this is historic. nations all around the world will be held to abide by it. israel's international reputation is forever gone. but 'ceasefire' is still the word we all hoped for.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hello! I have been enjoying your posts immensely. I been reading your fics on AO3 and followed the link to Tumblr. If you don't mind, I would like to request more Competent Alec and Magnus with a dash of darkness. It doesn't really matter to me how you decide to write this but I really liked how you have been creating the worlds and ideas.

ah thank you! i enjoyed this verse a lot so i was happy to jump on it again and write more. i hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the compliments and trust

lumine

-

Mirai is competent, clear-headed and concise. Three things that Alec desperately needs in not only a second, but in someone other than himself. It’s with relief that he welcomes her to the Institute and in the time, it takes to settle her in, he has an appointment with the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

It’s faster than he expected but it’s also a relief, because he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to keep the mundane and knocked out underground while hooked up to IV’s. They’ve used runes to regulate the temperature, but it’s still not ideal and Kaleb has better uses than as a doorman.

—

Magnus isn’t sure how a mundane got through his wards and into the Institute, or why it had to happen now, of all times, but he accepts the offer.

And it is an offer, rather than a summons.  A generous compensation for his arrival, his consultation and his aid. Which is how requests are supposed to be made but is normally ignored.

Magnus portals to the Institute and is met by an antsy, exhausted hunter who greets him brusquely before showing him inside. 

The first thing Magnus hears is someone who is obviously in a position of authority berating another.

“Does it look like I have time for idiocy?” A tall, gorgeous shadowhunter is saying coolly to someone of clearly little significance.  His voice is low and calm, like ice running hundreds of feet deep and uncrackable. “There is no room in my Institute for insubordination, incompetence, or betrayal. If you’re fighting to stay because you don’t want to go to Idris, then apply elsewhere but you're gone come dawn. Other Institute’s may still accept you.”

Magnus smirks, because other Institutes are clearly not this man’s Institute.  A man Magnus is suddenly looking forward to meeting.

“Commander,” Magnus guide calls out, “High Warlock Bane is here to help with the mundane.”

Magnus’ shadowhunter turns, “Alec Lightwood—” he says, holding out a hand that would have fallen if Magnus didn’t catch it. Alexander’s fingers curl with his own and a smile threatens the edges of Alexander’s mouth, as if by accident.

��Hello darling, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Magnus tells him, eyeing him up and down hungrily and Alexander just nods agreeably, hand still in Magnus’ even as he’s giving his incredulous shadowhunters orders.

Several of them are slack-jawed and Magnus swears he sees one walk into a wall and two into each other. Considering how situationally aware shadowhunters are supposed to be, he can only consider that Alexander’s behavior is something of a shock.

Which makes something wake up deep inside of Magnus.

“The mundane?” He asks, because that’s the most important thing and a young woman steps up. Her brown eyes are exhausted, but she looks determined, and Alexander is watching her with wary pride and an almost curious hope.

It’s explained to him quickly and Magnus learns of Jocelyn’s fate, and he hoards away his own knowledge of the situation and pretends it’s all new.

“So, the mundane tracked her phone, but doesn’t have any true knowledge of the shadowworld?” Magnus asks, delighted by their show of competence despite being blindsided, “incredible.” He murmurs and he admires Alexander’s biceps as he says it, unable to help himself.

There’s a cough and Alexander’s second — a new addition from what Magnus has overheard — give him a tired but amused look.

“It’s only his interest in this building that we want to take away. Perhaps implant an idea that his friend is being taken care of. Or that she’s safe?”

Magnus hums thoughtfully and then nods, “that will be easy enough.”

“And the price?” Someone pipes up and then there is a shocked wheeze.  Magnus felt no danger, but he smells the scent of fresh copper pennies, and he smirks as he looks over to a blushing but otherwise stoic Alexander.

“That will be discussed after the job is finished.” Alexander says calmly and if Magnus couldn’t see how pink his cheeks are, he would think him innocent of being involved.

-

“Kaleb, you’re relieved from duty.” Alexander tells his hunter and Magnus is amused, wondering if Alexander means to let Magnus be alone as a sign of trust.  And then Alexander is stepping down into the crypt and reaching his hand up, looking sincerely up at Magnus and murmuring, “watch your step, it’s steep.”

And Magnus falls.

Metaphorically, because even if he’d tripped or swooned Alexander would have caught him.

But he falls, because Alexander is competent and sweet and he’s everything that Magnus wants, and Magnus is going to find a way to keep him.

It’s easy to take the child’s memories and even easier to change it so that he won’t focus on his friend’s disappearance so much.  Then Magnus pulls back, and he smiles at Alexander.

“Can I name my price now?” Magnus asks, truly curious and Alexander nods, head cocked to the side but gaze steady and surprisingly trusting.

“I want you, darling. Any way I can have you. What will you let me have?” Magnus knows to be bold, because this is the only chance like this he’s going to get and Alexander is too high of a rank and competent of a leader for Magnus to just take him.

Alexander makes a considering noise and then Magnus is shuddering, because Alexander is on his knees, looking up at Magnus through his lashes.

“I can think of a few things.” Alexander murmurs and presses a kiss to the seam of Magnus’ pants before he rises, the pink higher on his ears and neck but something stubborn in his gaze. “But—” and his voice darkens with disdain, “not here.” Magnus follows his gaze to the mundane and grimaces in agreement.

“Agreed.” Magnus snaps his fingers and unhooks the IV’s, healing the marks before he portals the mundane to somewhere he’ll be found at a reasonable time. “There, like he was never here.”

Alexander looks at him with such relief and awe that for a moment, Magnus is tempted to try and convince him to get back on his knees. Except then someone is calling for their commander and Magnus has to quietly seethe as his Alexander goes cooler and colder the longer he’s turned away from Magnus.

“Alexander.” He calls, because he needs to know how deep it goes both ways and Alexander’s head snaps around, his eyes finding Magnus’ immediately.

“What do you need?”

Magnus is asked and it’s like the world doesn’t exist beyond him, even though he’s aware Alexander’s still listening to the chatter around them.

“Just you, when you’re ready.” Magnus reminds him and winks, stepping back and preparing to leave. Alexander will find him when he’s ready and Magnus has no doubt that it won’t take long, not when his boy is equally eager.

[back-and-totheleft]

I saw Oliver Stone on our news in the Netherlands last year promoting his last film. He seemed very annoyed by us Dutch. The journalists said he was very rude.

This is actually an interesting incident regarding disability and communication disorders, so pardon me for the length of this reply.

I watched video clips of Oliver's press conference for Nuclear Now in the Netherlands. I also read the account on Instagram from Dutch journalist Desiree Dag-Verzitter, the moderator. She described that when she introduced herself to Oliver, he had her repeat her name several times, until her husband - on Oliver's left side - learned directly into Oliver's ear and spelled her name. Oliver then brightened and pronounced her name in French (his native language).

Desiree wrote that she had calculated that the scheduled time of the conference should have allowed each journalist two questions. However, each question had to be repeated into Oliver's ear by Rob Wilson, his longtime producer, which severely cut into that time. When Desiree said she'd promised the reporters two questions apiece, Oliver angrily noted that he hadn't, and it was a stupid thing for her to promise. This was interpreted by Desiree (and a couple of other journalists, as evidenced by a newspaper clipping she included in her post) as Oliver Stone being a difficult asshole.

Here is some important background: on the night of January 1-2, 1968, Oliver Stone was a soldier in Vietnam fighting in the New Year's Battle of 1968. At one point, while moving from one foxhole to another, he was concussed by the explosion from a beehive round. He lost consciousness for a period of time and when he awoke, noticed immediately that his hearing was impaired. At that time, the Army had no concussion protocol, as it does now. They also did not care about noise-induced hearing loss (NIHL) which is, incidentally, the #1 combat related disability. Here is a concise definition from the National Institute on Deafness and Other Communication Disorders:

NIHL can also be caused by extremely loud bursts of sound, such as gunshots or explosions, which can rupture the eardrum or damage the bones in the middle ear. This kind of NIHL can be immediate and permanent. Loud noise exposure can also cause tinnitus—a ringing, buzzing, or roaring in the ears or head. Tinnitus may subside over time, but can sometimes continue constantly or occasionally throughout a person’s life. Hearing loss and tinnitus can occur in one or both ears.

Oliver received no medical treatment at the time, being put to work on burial duty the morning after the battle. (Two weeks later, he'd be more seriously wounded in another explosion, which caused shrapnel wounds and another loss of consciousness.) He did mention asking an Army doctor some time later about his hearing issues, but was dismissed.

Since that incident at age 22, Oliver has been deaf in his right ear, and he's also described tinnitus in his remaining ear. How do I know it's his right ear? Because of the below moment from behind the scenes on Alexander. When Colin Farrell (who adorably is hugging Oliver's son Mikey) complains no one listens to him, Oliver responds, "That's, you know," while pointing to his right ear, which prompts Colin to mention Oliver's deafness:

(Not shown in the gif is Oliver's nonplussed reply: "That's true.") When you've also watched enough Oliver Stone interviews, like I have, you also notice how he favors listening on his left side. Now NIHL is not something that normally improves, in fact it gets worse with age. Oliver has worn hearing aids (as mentioned by at least one interviewer) for at least the past 15-20 years.

Back to the Netherlands press conference. I don't know the circumstances, and I can't confirm, but it seems to me from the clips that Oliver did not have his hearing aids, and that's why he needed someone to repeat everything directly into his "good ear."

Oliver Stone can certainly be brusque and abrasive at times, but it rubs me the wrong way that those reporters did not accommodate, and indeed seemed actively annoyed, at someone with a hearing disability in a noisy room full of people. It can be overwhelming and frightening to have your modes of communication cut off. Perhaps he got angry because he felt embarrassed and self-conscious at his vulnerability, which is an understandable human reaction.

[guerillas-of-history]

Hi! Love your page and everything I've learned from it. It's really opened up my eyes to alot of things that I've never even imagined! Which is why I have to ask because I can't find a correct answer or logical thought process to it.

Why does the U.S support the appartied Isreal state? I truly can't come up with a logical reason to it and really sorry if you've brought it up before but I'm truly lost on why it's been like that.

Thank you for the work you put in to this page 🌻

Dear anon, thank you so much for your kind words, I am truly glad you think so. I apologize that its been a few weeks since you sent this, I've been trying to articulate a satisfactory and succinct response. With the monumental events currently underway, now is maybe the most appropiate time to try and answer.

U.S. support for israel started in 1948, with president Harry S. Truman being the first world leader to recognize the state of israel. This was because Truman's old buisness partner Edward Jacobson spent years laying the groundwork alongside zionist leader Dr. Chaim Weizmann (who would become israel's first president) this was in the aftermath of World War 2 and European powers were exhausted and former colonies were starting to rise up and throw off the imperial yoke. Simultaneously the Cold War began to take shape, the Middle East with its oil and strategic waterways such as the Suez Canal proved to be one of the sought after areas for American hegemony, concurrent to this the Soviet Union had been supporting secular Arab Nationalism as a counterpoint to the nascent zionist state. Perhaps the two most important events explaining the unequaled support for israel by the U.S. are the Six Day War in 1967 and The October War of 1973. In the 1950s the CIA recognized israel as a "logical corollary" against the radical nationalism growing in the Middle East. In June 1967 israel defeated the combined armies of Egypt, Syria, and Jordan in just six days, israel then proved to be the United State's greatest ally in the region capable of both defending and projecting U.S. interests. In 1973 Egypt and Syria launched a massive suprise attack on Yom Kippur, the war was fought to a relative stalemate with heavy casualties on both sides. Henry Kissenger traveled between the nations and help negotiate a ceasefire utilizing what became known as "Shuttle Diplomacy" the U.S. used the aftermath of the war to subvert Soviet influence, particularly in Egypt. America laid groundwork for normalization of ties between the two foes, with it being finally cemented in 1979, even though israel is almost universally despised by the Egyptian people. Since then U.S. support for israel had only increased exponentially with israel becoming by far the largest recipient of American aid since WWII. In 2016 then president Barack Obama gave 38 billion dollars alone, through a defence agreement. U.S. support over the last half century have enabled israel to grow into the monster it is today, israeli apartheid and systematic oppression of the Palestinian people is one of the greatest crimes of the last one hundred years.

This is an incredibly complicated question, and I'm sure I've missed some key points and its hard to summerize this subject concisely. I haven't even gotten into domestic support for israel as well as other external factors. If there are any specifics you would like to know please feel free to send me an ask or message me directly, and if anyone has other valuable input I highly welcome it.

[starlight-tav]

List of Non-fiction Books on Autism

[Please note: I am only listing the books I have read on this list. This is not meant to be a comprehensive or complete list at all. I want to share the books that have been helpful to me so far. *Updated 09/17/23]

Approaching Autistic Adulthood: The Road Less Travelled by Grace Liu

| This book has a lot of advice about navigating adulthood as an autistic person. I found the advice on dealing with burnout especially helpful!

The Autism Friendly Cook Book by Lydia Wilkins

| This is one of my favorite books! If you're like me, and you really struggle with all things kitchen and cooking, this is a really helpful resource. Not only does it have a useful section that details techniques and supplies that you may need, but the recipes have an estimated energy and skill level! This book has helped me approach cooking more prepared, which helps me with coping with anxiety and preventing meltdowns.

Connecting with the Autism Spectrum: How to Talk, how to Listen, and Why you Shouldn't Call it High-Functioning by Casey "Remrov" Vormer

| This book is one of the most accessible books I've read so far. The language is both concise and easier to follow than most. It is less general than some other books on this list, so if you don't relate to it immediately or at all, that doesn't make you more or less autistic. Your experience (including location, assigned gender, gender identity, sexuality, co-occuring conditions, etc.) influence the way you exist as an autistic person.

Living with PTSD on the Autism Spectrum: Insightful Analysis with Practical Applications by Lisa Morgan, M.ED. and Mary P. Donahue, PH.D.

| If you're struggling with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and are on the Autism spectrum, this book could be really helpful! It provides research in plain language and offers helpful examples of how PTSD and ASD can interact. It also shares insight on how to recognize abuse and trauma, as well as how to advocate/seek advocacy for yourself or loved ones with ASD. I think the personal examples are really helpful, but I do want to caution that these also make it another very specific reading experience. If you read it, and do not see your experience represented, that is not your fault!

Neurotribes: The Legacy of Autism and the Future of Neurodiversity by Steve Silberman

| Written by a journalist, this book packs a lot of information! It focuses on the history of Autism as a diagnoses, and for that reasons can be overwhelming and heartbreaking at times. The author is (I think) overly sympathetic to H*ns Asp*rger's contribution to Autism research; but from what I understand, the book was written at a time before the extent of his involvement with the N*zi party was understood, so maybe a future addition will reflect what we know now much better. I'm grateful that I read it, because it put my own late diagnosis into a perspective that gives me a little bit more peace.

The Reason I Jump: The Inner Voice of a Thirteen-Year-Old Boy with Autism by Naoki Higashida

| This book is excellent to read for both autistic people and people who have an autistic loved one since it is focused on answering questions about how some autistic people think and behave (like stimming.) The author is an autistic boy who uses communication aids to express himself, and he has many insights into what it's like to have specific support needs and how it can be challenging to get those needs met.

Sensory: Life on the Spectrum organized and edited by Schnumm

| This is an anthology of comics by autistic creators who use visual story-telling to talk about their experiences. It was so nice to see my experiences in their stories, and to see other's experiences that I can't relate to as well!

Sincerely, Your Autistic Child: What People on the Autism Spectrum Wish Their Parents Knew About Growing Up, Acceptance, and Identity edited by Emily Page Ballou, Sharon daVanport, and Morénike Giwa Onaiwu

| This collection of essays/letters is wonderful, especially if you wish to learn more about the experiences of a diverse group of autistic people. It highlights that there are as many ways to be autistic as there are autistic people in the world (something that many of the books on this list say.)

Spectrums: Autistic Trans People in Their Own Words edited by Maxfield Sparrow

| "friend of mine, i am here, too. i am flapping and humming and feeling and being. i am learning who i am, i am being who i am, i am being loud and bright and joyful and true! and they are afraid, and they do not understand, but i am not for them, and friend of mine, neither are you" (from "a letter to a friend" by ren koloni).

This collection is so, so important to me as a genderqueer autist. The above quote is from my favorite contribution in the book, and I'm so grateful to the author for their words.

Unmasking Autism: Discovering the New Faces of Neurodiversity by Dr. Devon Price

| This was the first book I read when I learned that I'm autistic. It is informative and compassionate. I think it is on the lower end of accessibility on the list so far, but it still does a wonderful job of explaining some of the difficult concepts. I think Dr. Price's explanation of the difference between bottom-up and top-down thinking is the best I've read so far, which was especially difficult for me to wrap my head around as a literal thinker. Just remember that if you pick up a book and it's difficult to understand, you're allowed to ask for help, take time to away from it, or put it down for good.

-

That's the list so far! I'm constantly searching for more books to read, so if you have recommendations, please let me know!

[ventitititi]

Hello and goodevening/morning/afternoon to you! I just wanna ask if you do Dainsleif x reader but the reader is Zhongli's child? Idk this idea just popped in my head minutes ago 💀

HI NONNIE and thank you:)) its literally 3:30am for me and i was doodling but this has POTENTIAL OTL

I've never written dainsleif before so bear with me here, I'll be keeping it sfw too since i don't know if you wanted smut or not, feel free to send me another request if you do!!

•since you're zhongli's child i imagine you are pretty AS HECK like, half dragon half whatever you're mother was YOU CAN PROBABLY PURR (i love the headcanon that zhongli purrs a lot)

•ANYWAYS not the point, what I'm getting at is despite his long life, dainsleif is probably still enraptured by you're appearance (even if he does a mighty fine job of hiding it)

•listen, if you manage to stick around him enough I'm absolutely CERTAIN he'll eventually give in and start a serious relationship with you

•probably partly aided by your extended life span (he's gonna be around for a long time afterall)

•delights in teaching you ancient history (much like your father) and is vv soft about it

•probably like, grabs random flowers or something for you and explains their history briefly (in contrast to zhonglis rambling tendencies he keeps it short and concise)

•although he's also pretty broody i think so be prepared for quiet days too, maybe y'all just co-exist in a peaceful silence at these times

•takes forever to accept comfort (probably does for the first time on a really hard day)

•will literally carry around random trinkets you gave him on a whim in his pockets (how he carries them all later into your relationship is beyond everyone)

•i think he doesn't really like sweets but mans is secretly whipped and won't tell you, choking down any desserts you've made just to see you smile

•SO DOWN BAD FOR YOU BUT WILL NEVER ADMIT IT AND IS REALLY GOOD AT HIDING IT UNLESS YOU KNOW WHAT TO LOOK FOR

•soft quiet couple, thats you two

•one time he was scowling and you did your best impression of it and he had to try so hard to stifle his smile and laughter because it was just too cute funny

•dotes on you but you'd never know it because you don't often see him interact with others

•holds you close when you guys rest during your travels (he's a cuddler but if you told anyone they wouldn't believe you)

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

What do you think is going to happen in the season seven finale?

Firstly, thank you for sending this and sorry it took so long to answer! I’m struggling to find the time to interact in this fandom the way I used to unfortunately. Answer under the cut because I am incapable of being either brief or concise 😅

I think it’s hard for me to distinguish between what I want to happen and what I think will happen so this answer might end up being a bit of both 😅

I think that the ending scene is going to be very hard hitting, since we’ve seen the trend develop over the seasons from the initial ‘haha funny’ drunken Rick rant while Morty suffers, to both Rick and Morty being equally excited, to Rick starting to realise he’s shitty and to heal, and finally back full circle to having Rick drunkenly rant at an unenthusiastic Morty but this time played straight and with Morty realising the horror of Rick’s abuse but still not being able to break free.

I’ve seen people mention the idea of having an equivalent ending scene with Prime and Morty instead of C-137 and Morty which I think would be very interesting, especially if we do get more exploration of Morty’s character and his perspective on his relationship with Rick in the broader sense of Ricks in general, rather than just with C-137. I think the show does a very good job of using sci fi concepts such as clones or different dimensions to explore characters and their relationships and I think it would be very cool to have this with Morty and Prime. However, I don’t know if the Prime stuff will develop that quickly, especially if he’s intended to be the big bad of the latter half of the whole series. Equally, Prime could turn out to be only a small piece of the bigger puzzle and maybe he’ll become relatively insignificant compared to other plot elements. Only time will tell I guess.

I think the most common complaint about S6 (from this corner of the fanbase at least) was the lack of Morty, so I hope this is something that gets addressed in S7 and that his character gets a turn in the limelight. At the same time, I appreciate that the show is trying their best to build off of pre-existing canon but also to complete a big tonal shift so I have faith that Morty will get his time to shine, especially since his dynamic with Rick was explored more in the final two episodes (and at the end of Analyse Piss). I definitely want to see the complexities of Morty’s feelings towards Rick and his family as a whole and I’m excited in particular for the Morty and Summer episode that seems to be about the mindblowers - we haven’t really had an exploration of the way Morty feels about Summer getting all these privileges. After all, he’s always tried to protect Summer from Rick and be a good brother despite being the youngest but now Summer is working with Rick and becoming like him. She also has that sort of power over him when it comes to the mindblowers, which is played for laughs in the episode itself but I’m interested to see them explore the darker side of this - after all, Summer is aiding Rick with editing Morty’s memory, and she clearly has a fair bit of power and control over this, given that Rick trusts her to restore both of their memories and wander down there at her leisure. Morty’s Mindblowers definitely marks a whole new era of Rick’s manipulation of Morty, where we start to truly see just how much Rick is deliberately and intentionally controlling Morty’s perceptions and memories.  I’ve spoken before with @hazelnut-u-out about how mindblowing is very much a metaphor for gaslighting - Rick is influencing what Morty remembers and how he remembers it, not only removing memories he doesn’t want but even editing them so Morty has no hope of ever getting the true memory back even if Rick does allow him to keep any of the memories permanently. It’s not hard to draw the parallel between this and the way that trauma can permanently shape the way you view things, even if you are able to remember them or process them. However, Summer is clearly aware of this and seemingly makes no effort to stop it or tell Morty. Obviously she is also being manipulated by Rick (‘I don’t get paid enough for this shit’), but she’s still involved and I can imagine that affecting their relationship a lot. I would like to hope that this episode has Summer choosing to tell Morty and trying to heal, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he finds the room accidentally and is discovered by her instead of Rick, or maybe they’re forced to take shelter from something and Summer takes them into the mindblowers room since it’s the only safe place, leading Morty to question how she knows the room exists and has a key to it.

On a lighter note, we had better see Birdperson again (and hopefully his daughter). I would definitely love Rick having to help look after her and she absolutely hates him.

I’m very excited for S7 and I wonder how much my thoughts on this will change when the trailer drops Monday but these are my thoughts for now!

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

Hey, its the Israeli again.

I feel like I need to say one more thing.

First of all, when I said “conflict” I obviously didn’t mean the Israel- Palestine conflict. I understand that was poor choice of words. I meant, as stated, this specific war. I live here. Talking as if you understand this conflict better than I do is frankly incredibly rude.

You say you want the people of Palestine to receive humanitarian aid. You say they don’t get any and that everything goes to Hamas. That is exactly the problem. There is no way to get support to the people of the Strip without going through Hamas because they control Gaza.

You say you choose life, but that is not the choice presented to you. If only it was that simple.

Hamas is killing people. It is hurting Palestinians as well. It is hurting people from all walks of life. We have to fight it. We can’t just do nothing. they’ll kill us.

There is no simple solution that will just magically fix everything.

But tell me, if someone was trying to break into your home to kill you, would you meet them with empathy?

Would you welcome them in, or would you defend yourself?

And don’t tell me that’s not the same because that is literally what happened. They broke into homes, killed the people inside and set the houses they couldn’t get into on fire.

Im not evil. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I feel for the people suffering in Gaza. I always have.

I don’t have all the answers. No one does.

I’m just a scared 20 year old girl who wants to live.

I know, or at least I want to believe you mean well. Please try not to take my words with bad faith. They were written emotionally during the worst time of my life, worse than anything i could have possibly imagined.

What is happening here is terrible. Its tragic. But it is not one-sided. It is not genocide. Saying things like that about holocaust survivors (there are holocaust survivors among the kidnapped and killed) is clearly done in bad faith.

It is the same as calling lying gaslighting. A gross, dangerous exaggeration.

Saying we should just all leave is ridiculous and cruel. Especially with the fact that antisemitism has been on the rise for years now.

There is nowhere safe for the jewish people in the world. That is why we need this country. That is why we have to fight for it.

Obviously I can’t sum up everything there is to say about this in an ask. I apologise for the length, I tried to be as concise as possible. That may be why my words were misinterpreted.

If you want to discuss this further I can do that but I can’t send an ask that isn’t anonymous because I don’t want to get doxxed.

If nothing else, I appreciate you taking the time to respond to me sincerely. Thank you for that.

Then perhaps you should have actually responded to my comments rather than accusing me of things I never said. I never said that all Israelis should just leave, I never said that Israel should do nothing in the face of attacks from Hamas, and I especially never said that the victims of Hamas attacks are the ones committing genocide.

I am aware that this is complicated. But I utterly despise people who look at something complicated and use that as an excuse for a simplistic and cruel solution. Oh it's just too complicated to try and attack Hamas without hurting innocent civilians, so the innocent civilians will just have to be collateral damage for our safety. Complex problems require complex solutions, not careless brute force. Moral complexity is not an excuse to ignore morality entirely, and it's certainly not an excuse to label evil actions like the murder of innocents as inevitable or necessary.

"It's not one-sided ergo it's not genocide". It is one-sided. The people of Gaza did nothing to deserve this and they are getting slaughtered all the same, to the tune of thousands, for being in the way. They have no defense because Hamas will not defend them. Their only hope is Israeli restraint, and there is no sign that is coming. Israel's three part plan for if it wins this war is destroying the infrastructure of Gaza, eliminating any resistance, and then establishing a "security regime". No part of that involves the well-being of Gazans or their preservation. They are in the way and will be slaughtered because it's "too complicated" to spare them. The purpose does not matter if the end result is the same.

You are scared and threatened, I know. But this war will not make you safe. You could wipe out the entire Gaza strip and Hamas would remain, in fact, they'd only be emboldened by cruelty. So why should innocents die for a cause that won't make you safer? How many people have to die before you‘d consider it too much?

[saiacross]

Bonds Unveiled

Supernatural FanFic: 10,865 Words: Series: Reader-Insert Note: I Changed the format of the story from Saia to Y/N for readers but you can still read the original on my AO3.

Chapter 7: A Fateful Reunion

This Work is part of an overarching story that can be read as a one-shot with little overlapping information from other chapters. **Major Story Plot Chapter** ________________________ Chapter 7:

The wheels have been set in motion now as Crowley comes to collect on the debt Y/N owes him. Little does anyone know that the toll is far greater than anyone could imagine. The task? A hunter that has been causing Crowley trouble and Y/N will need to take care of him. Y/N knows there is no refusing him but what no one expected was for the target to be.... As they meet once again, centuries worth of memories and pain begin to mix with new fears and nightmares. Even Crowley didn't account for this one. ________________________ Main Story: Y/N is no ordinary Huntress and when she runs into the Winchesters her life takes a turn. As time unfolds, they get to know each other, rely on one another, and demonstrate they care for one another in their own ways. Y/N's life begins to unravel into her history, present, and what lies ahead. She faces resurfacing fears she believed she'd escaped long ago, aided by the Winchester brothers. Their journey together is one of confronting old horrors and finding newfound strength.

Y/N stirs from her sleep, her eyes fluttering open as she reaches for her phone on the nightstand. The ringing pierces through the quiet of her room, indicating an incoming call. She glances at the clock and realizes it's still early in the morning. With a groggy voice, she answers the phone, "Hello?"

“Good morning Kitten, hope you slept well.” Y/N could hear the grin in Crowley’s voice from the other side of the phone.

She clears her throat her eyes widen as she hears Crowley's voice on the other end of the line. She sits up straight in bed, fully awake now "Crowley.”

Crowley's smooth and confident tone resonates through the phone. "Yes, It's time for you to hold up your end of the bargain. I trust you remember our deal?"

Y/N takes a deep breath, her mind racing as she recalls the agreement she made with the King of Hell. "Yes, Crowley, I remember. What do you need from me?"

Crowley chuckles lightly. "Oh, it's nothing too demanding, my dear. I simply require your assistance with a small matter. Meet me in the town of Blackwood, Wisconsin. There is a pesk I need dealt with, and you Kitten are just the person for the job.”

Y/N clenches her jaw, realizing that there's no escape from fulfilling her deal. She resigns herself to the fact that she must honor her agreement with the demon. "Alright, Crowley. I'll be there."

Crowley's voice oozes with satisfaction. "Excellent. I knew I could count on you. Don't keep me waiting too long."

With that, the call ends, leaving Y/N staring at her phone, a mix of determination and unease swirling within her. She knows she must fulfill her end of the deal, but she also knows that dealing with Crowley comes with its own set of risks and consequences. She takes a moment to steel herself before getting out of bed, knowing that her journey to Blackwood, Wisconsin is about to be a long one.

Y/N, her bags packed and slung over her shoulder, stands outside her room, hesitating for a moment. She knows she needs to leave, but facing the boys after the argument in the kitchen feels daunting. With a heavy sigh, she decides to leave a note for them instead.

She grabs a pen and a piece of paper and quickly scribbles down a message. The words are concise, but she hopes they convey enough information. The note reads, "Hey guys, got a call. Heading out for a job. Call if you need me. Take care. -Y/N"

Y/N pins the note to the kitchen noticeboard, making sure it's visible to both Sam and Dean. She lingers for a moment, feeling a mix of relief and guilt. She knows it's better to communicate with them directly, but the tension from the previous day's argument still weighs heavily on her mind.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N straightens her posture and adjusts the straps of her bags. She walks toward the front door, glancing back at the bunker one last time before stepping out into the world. She knows she has a task to complete for Crowley, and while it may be dangerous, it also gives her the chance to clear her head.

As she heads towards her car, she hopes that the note will be enough to convey her intentions to the Winchesters. She knows they'll be worried, but she believes it's for the best to face this challenge alone.

Y/N continues driving along the open road, the engine of her purple Stingray Corvette purring beneath her. The song "Love is a Battlefield" by Pat Benatar fills the car, its catchy chorus echoing through the speakers. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel, lost in her thoughts.

Just as the chorus reaches its peak, her phone begins to ring, interrupting the music. Y/N glances at the screen and sees Dean's name flashing. She hesitates for a moment, debating whether to answer the call or let it go to voicemail. She knows Dean could be angry, but there's also a chance that it might be something important.

Caught in the midst of her internal dilemma, Y/N takes a bit too long to answer the call, and the ringing eventually stops. She lets out a frustrated sigh, realizing that her hesitation has only added to the tension between them. She knows that not answering will only fuel the fire of their argument from the previous day.

Y/N, contemplating whether to call Dean back, reaches to turn down the music in her car. Just as she's about to make a decision, her phone rings again. This time, Sam's name appears on the screen. With a hint of relief, she accepts the call and brings the phone to her ear.

“Hey Sam, -”

As she answers, she can already hear Dean's frustrated voice on the other end. “What the hell, you ghosting me now?”

Y/N is taken aback by his angry tone and remains silent, unsure of how to respond. But before she can say anything, Sam interjects. “Damnit Dean, give me my phone back!” The sound of wrestling and the boys cursing at one another can be heard over the phone.

Suddenly there is silence on the other end until Y/N hears Sam huff before clearing his throat. “Hey, sorry about that, Y/N.”

 "It's alright, Sam. Is everything okay?" Y/N tries to play it off like it's nothing, not wanting to cause further tension.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's okay. We just saw your note about leaving and wanted to make sure you're alright."

"Right, sorry about leaving like that, but it's nothing major. Just a small case I wanted to check out on my own."

"Y/N, you know we're here for you, right? You don't have to handle everything on your own."

"I know, but this one... I just need to handle it myself, okay? It's personal."

"Alright, if that's what you want. But at least tell me where you're going?"

"I'd rather not say, Sam. It's best if you don't know. Trust me on this."

"This is ridiculous, Sam! She's being secretive again!" Dean can be heard hollering from the background. Sam shoots him a look before turning back to the phone.

"Okay, Y/N Just... be safe, alright? If you need anything, don't hesitate to call us."

"I will, Sam. Thank you."

“Stay safe out there."

The call ends, leaving Y/N with a mix of determination and uncertainty. She knows she's keeping something from the Winchesters, but she believes it's for the best. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean exchange frustrated glances as they try to understand Y/N's decision, even if they don't fully agree with it.

After ending the call Sam turns around to face Dean who is pacing the library floor.

“Dean, did you ever go and talk to her last night?

Dean stops with his hands on his hips. “I was going to. This morning. But then she just took off.” Dean waved his hand through the air in a random direction.

Sam looks at Dean, frustration and disappointment written on his face. His nostrils flare as her breaths heavily trying to calm himself.

“What you think this is my fault?” Dean asked, feeling accused as he read his brother's expressions.

“Yes, Dean!” Sam said matter of factly with all his built-up anger.

Dean did a double take looking at Sam, surprised and unsure what to say at this point.

Y/N walked into the bustling diner in Blackwood, Wisconsin, her senses immediately filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon. She found an empty booth and took a seat, ready to make the call to Crowley and let him know she had arrived. As she reached for her phone, she heard a familiar voice next to her.

"Hello, Kitten. No need to make that call. I'm right here."

Y/N looked up, surprised to see Crowley sitting across from her in the booth, wearing his signature smirk. She couldn't help but feel a mix of annoyance and amusement at his ability to always appear when least expected.

"Crowley. Always one step ahead, aren't you?" Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed, my dear. So, no Winchester brothers in tow this time? Quite the solo act you've got going on." Crowley would lean back in the booth,

"That's right. I decided to handle this one on my own." Y/N nodded.

"Ah, the intrigue. A lover's quarrel back at the bunker, perhaps? Did you and the boys have a falling out? Have you been playing favorites? Did one get jealous?" Crowley playfully poked the bear with a smirk.

"Sometimes it's necessary to take some time apart to regroup." Y/N tried to pay no mind to how close Crowley might actually be, was Dean just jealous? Nah…. Nah.

"Ah, the delicate art of balancing multiple partners. I can understand how challenging it can be to keep everyone happy."

"Let's focus on the task at hand, Crowley. I'm here to fulfill my end of the deal, not discuss my personal life." Y/N had rolled her eyes and was ready to move on.

"As you wish, Kitten. We'll put the drama aside for now and get down to business. But I must say it is good to see you back on your feet as soon after our little rescue mission.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Y/N's eyes widen as realization dawns upon her. "You...you gave that book to Dean and Sam, didn't you? You were the one who exposed my secrets!" Y/N was yelling through her teeth to keep her voice low and not bother the others in the dinner.

 "Guilty as charged. But hear me out, Y/N. I had no choice. I needed to ensure you recovered, that you kept your end of the deal we made." Crowley spoke matter of factly.

"You had no right, Crowley.” Y/N's anger intensifies, her fists clenched in frustration.

 "I understand your anger, Y/N. But I assure you, I had no other option. Your recovery is vital, and I needed to make sure you didn't falter."

Y/N falls silent, her anger mingled with a sense of helplessness. She despises being a pawn in Crowley's schemes.

“What is it you want.”

“There's a man out there who has been mercilessly hunting down and killing my men. I was you to find him and put an end to it."

“Wait, the King of Hell, a Demon, wants me, a Kitsune, to go after a hunter that's targeting demons? Are you joking?" Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Do I look like I'm joking?” Crowley raised his eyebrows while slightly tilting his head up in ‘superiority’. “This isn't just any hunter. There's something different about him. He shows no mercy and strikes down anyone or anything that crosses his path, not just demons. The body count he's racked up is significantly higher than any ordinary hunter I've encountered including the Winchesters."

"Crowley going after a hunter like this, it's dangerous. I'm just one Kitsune. What makes you think I can handle this?" Y/N’s confusion turned to a mix of apprehension and concern.

"Oh, my dear Kitten, I have complete faith in your abilities that make you the ideal candidate.” Crowley has folded his hand in front of him on the table by this time. “And besides, you don’t have much of a choice. We did make a deal.” He reminds her.

Y/N takes a moment to contemplate the situation, realizing that this task is more significant than she initially thought.

“Alright, Crowley. I'll do it But I need as much information as you can provide about this hunter. Do you have a name, a picture, any idea of his whereabouts or his next move?"

 "I thought you'd never ask, my dear. Here's what I've gathered so far." Crowley leans back to reach into his pocket.

Crowley pulls out a small folder from his pocket and slides it across the table to Y/N. Y/N opens the folder and finds several photographs of his handy work, documents, and a map detailing the recent activities of the hunter; but nothing on what he looks like.

 “This is more than I expected. It looks like you've been thorough."

"Well, when it comes to protecting my interests, I leave no stone unturned. I want this hunter dealt with, Y/N, and I trust that you're the one who can get the job done."

“I have a good start with this information. I'll keep in touch." As Y/N gathers the materials and carefully tucks them away, she feels a mix of determination and apprehension. The weight of the task ahead is apparent, but she knows that with the information Crowley has provided, she has a fighting chance to bring an end to the hunter's reign of terror.

Over the next few days, Y/N throws herself into the hunt for the relentless hunter, determined to bring him down. She traverses through dark alleyways, abandoned buildings, and the seedy underbelly of various supernatural communities, following the trail of destruction he leaves behind.

Y/N seeks out demons, werewolves, and other creatures willing to share any information they have on the hunter. She uses her wit and charm to coax out even the smallest tidbits of knowledge, piecing together a clearer picture of her target.

During her relentless pursuit, Y/N's efforts are rewarded when she manages to obtain a piece of clothing stained with the hunter's blood. With this invaluable clue, she now has his scent, which she carefully preserves for tracking purposes.

Y/N employs her keen sense of smell, honed by her Kitsune abilities, to follow the faint trace of the hunter's scent. It guides her through forests, urban landscapes, and even desolate wastelands, pushing her to the limits of her physical endurance.

The journey is fraught with danger and close calls, as Y/N encounters various obstacles and confronts dangerous adversaries who try to impede her progress. However, fueled by determination and her desire to protect both innocent lives and her own, she presses on.

Y/N's focus intensifies as she zeroes in on the hunter's whereabouts. She moves with swift agility, her senses heightened, as she closes in on her prey. Each step brings her closer to the ultimate showdown, where she will face the hunter head-on.

As the days turn into nights, and the hunt reaches its climax, Y/N remains steadfast and unwavering in her pursuit.

Y/N sits in her parked car, the engine humming softly as she speaks on the phone with Sam. The town of Chancellor, South Dakota surrounds her, the quiet streets illuminated by dim streetlights. She leans back against the seat, the glow of the phone casting a faint light on her face.

“Hey Y/N, we're hanging in there. Just wanted to check in on you since we hadn’t heard from ya in a while. How's the case going?” Sam’s voice was calm and almost soothing. She hadn’t realized it but this might be the longest she had been away from the brothers since she teamed up with them.

“I'm getting close, Sam. It's been a bit tougher than expected, but I think I'm nearing the end. Sorry, it's taking longer than I thought.” Y/N's voice is filled with a mix of weariness and determination.

 “No worries. But hey be careful out there, I've heard reports of a random hunter causing havoc in different towns. People are getting killed.” The concern in Sam's voice is palpable as he expresses his worries.

 Y/N's grip tightens on the phone, her brows furrowing slightly. She knows that the dangerous hunter Sam is referring to is the same target she's been tracking. However, she chooses to keep this information to herself, not wanting to burden Sam with the specifics of her pursuit.

“I promise I'm being careful.” Her voice carries a sense of confidence, although a hint of fatigue lingers beneath the surface.

“Alright well you know if you need backup or anything, just let us know.” Sam's concern persists, his words filled with genuine care for Y/N's well-being.

“Will do. Talk to you soon.” The call ends, and Y/N sits in her car, the weight of her secrets and the concern from her friends lingering in the air. She takes a moment to collect herself.

“Was that Y/N on the phone?” Dean asked as he walked into the room with a sandwich in hand.

“Yeah, it was. She's still working on her case.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “How much longer is she gonna be out there?

“I'm not sure. She said she's close, but…. something didn't sound right over the phone.” Sam’s worry was evident on his face.

“Well, she's a tough one. She can handle herself.” Dean would say as he took a bit.

“Yeah, I know, but still... I can't shake this feeling. It was something in her voice.”

Dean notices Sam's worry but doesn't say anything as the two exchange a look filled with concern.

Y/N stood outside her car, dressed in her hunter attire, ready to face her target. She wore black cargo pants that were tucked into her sturdy boots, providing both mobility and protection. Her choice of clothing allowed for easy movement while still blending into the shadows. The vibrant purple halter top added a touch of her own personal style to the practical outfit.

With her weapons at the ready, Y/N meticulously checked her pistol, ensuring that it was loaded and secured in its holster on her right hip. She knew the importance of being prepared for any situation that may arise. On her left thigh, a knife holster held a sharp blade, easily accessible for close-quarters combat. Strapped to the back of her waist was her twin sai, deadly weapons that she wielded with precision and skill.

As a Kitsune, Y/N's heightened senses allowed her to be acutely aware of her surroundings. Her fox ears twitched as she listened for any signs of danger or movement, her focus honed on the task at hand. The weight of responsibility and anticipation filled the air as she took a final moment to gather herself.

Satisfied that everything was in order, Y/N closed the trunk of her car with a decisive thud. The sound echoed in the silence of the night, a symbol of her readiness and determination.

Closing the trunk of her car, Y/N's keen senses detected Castiel's presence the moment he landed nearby. She turned to find him standing there, his intense gaze fixed upon her. Y/N, unfazed by his sudden appearance, voiced the obvious question.

“Cas, what are you doing here?”

Castiel glanced around their surroundings, taking note of their location before answering. "Sam and Dean sensed something was amiss during their last conversation with you. They asked me to check on you."

Y/N, her tone firm and assertive, dismissed the idea of needing someone to watch over her. "I don't need a babysitter, Cas."

"I had no intention of revealing myself, but… something doesn't feel right here. We should leave this place immediately." Concern was routed deep in Castiel’s voice.

"I appreciate your concern, Cast, but this is where my case has led me. This is where I find my target. I can't abandon it now."

"I understand your resolve, Y/N. But please, consider the dangers. I only wish to ensure your safety."

As Y/N remained firm in her decision to stay and face the challenges ahead on her own, Castiel weighed his options. He couldn't shake the feeling of malevolence emanating from the eerie building before them. With a deep breath, he turned to Y/N, a determined look in his eyes that sent shivers down her spine.

"Y/N, I can sense something dark and malevolent within that building. I may not have all the answers, but I can't let you face this alone. Please, tell me about this case. What are you hunting?"

Y/N hesitated, her eyes locked with Castiel's intense gaze. She understood the risks of involving him, but there was an undeniable sense of concern and determination in his words.

Y/N though will stand her ground, refusing to reveal the details of her hunt to Castiel and rejecting his offer to assist her, a voice interrupted their conversation. Crowley's voice filled the air, causing both Y/N and Castiel to turn their attention towards him. Crowley's tone was filled with amusement and a hint of authority.

"Now, now, no need to get your feathers all ruffled. Y/N is just fulfilling her end of our little deal."

“You made a deal with him?” Castiel asks.

Y/N sighed, her frustration evident as she glanced between Crowley and Castiel. The situation had become more complicated than she had anticipated, knowing that Castiel would likely inform Dean and Sam about what he had discovered.

“Yes. In exchange for Crowley’s help during that Alpha Vampire situation, I made a deal with him that I would owe him a favor. I was hoping to keep Dean and Sam out of this one.” Y/N admitted.

 "Well, Kitten, that's a problem, isn't it? Seems like you've got yourself caught between an Angel and a Winchester. Quite the sticky situation."

“Enough distractions. I have a job to do.” Y/N would huff as she walked past Crowley and Castiel, her steps resolute and determined.

As Y/N ventured further into the building, her senses on high alert, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. The dimly lit corridors added to the eerie atmosphere, casting long shadows that seemed to dance in the corner of her vision. With each step, she followed her intuition and the scent that led her closer to her target

“Where are you, you son of a bitch?” She would whisper to herself. Her voice echoed through the desolate halls, the only response being the faint sound of distant dripping water. As she turned a corner, a sudden movement caught her attention, and she froze in her tracks. There, at the end of the hallway, stood a figure cloaked in darkness. The presence emanated a malevolent energy that sent shivers down Y/N's spine.

“Show yourself!” Y/N yelled as she drew her pistol and held it tightly.

The figure slowly stepped forward, revealing himself.

“Well, well, well... Look who's come to play. My little fox, all grown up.”

Y/N stood frozen in place, her entire body trembling with a mix of terror and anger. The man before her, the hunter she had been tracking, was none other than her own father. The man responsible for the unspeakable act that had forever scarred her.

“No…” Y/N whispered, her voice barely escaping her lips as she tried to comprehend the horrifying truth. Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to burst from the overwhelming emotions coursing through her.

“I must say I am impressed you've come so far to find me. Your determination matches that of your mother's.”

His voice dripped with arrogance, relishing in the power he held over her. Memories of her mother's death flashed before Y/N's eyes, fueling a surge of anger within her.

“You…. you..” Y/N’s voice quivered with a mixture of anguish and fury. She longed to speak, to confront him, but her voice remained trapped within her dry throat.

“You know, I've searched for you all these years. Ever since that night in the forest. I heard whispers, and rumors of your betrayal. Turning your back on your own kind, aligning yourself with humans. Oh, the audacity!” His voice dripped with contempt, each word laced with a vindictive satisfaction. The darkness within him emanated, engulfing the space between them.

Y/N's heart raced as she listened to her father's twisted words. She knew he was playing a game, manipulating her emotions to draw her closer like a spider ensnaring its prey. But she couldn't ignore the truth. She had stepped into his trap, willingly walking into the lion's den.

“Ah, my sweet, frightened Y/N. Don't worry, I won't hurt you... just yet. I simply wanted to remind you of your place, of the debt you owe me. Your little adventure with the humans ends here, my dear. You belong to me, and you will come to realize that soon enough.”

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as her father drew closer, his outstretched hand inching closer to her face. But as he approached, a surge of strength coursed through her body, fueling her desperate escape. With a burst of adrenaline, Y/N sprinted towards the door, her mind focused on finding a way out.

However, as her hand gripped the door handle and she pushed with all her might, the giant metal door remained stubbornly shut, refusing to yield to her frantic attempts. Panic surged through her veins, causing her breath to catch in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she desperately scanned the room for another escape route.

Through the haze of fear and desperation, Y/N could hear her father's laughter echoing around her. It sent shivers down her spine.

“Oh, my dear Y/N, how thrilling! Just like the old days, isn't it? You run, I chase. The game is never-ending.” His voice dripped with sadistic glee, each word slicing through the air.

Feeling cornered, Y/N turned to face her father, her hands trembling as she raised her pistol and emptied her entire magazine into his chest. Each shot echoed in the room, but to her horror, her father seemed unfazed by the barrage of bullets.

“How..” Y/N's breath hitched as a mixture of disbelief and dread gripped her. She had hoped that this final act of defiance would end the nightmare, but it only seemed to fuel her father's amusement. Y/N's heart sank as she realized that her actions had only served to entertain him. Her efforts to escape and fight back felt futile in the face of his unstoppable presence.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she fled from the locked door, desperate to put as much distance as possible between herself and her sadistic father. She knew that staying in the same room with him was a death sentence, and she had to find another way out. The echoes of her father's voice reverberated through the building, taunting her, and reminding her that he was always one step behind.

As she ran, Y/N's mind raced, searching for any possible escape route. She needed to find a way to the roof or a higher floor with a fire escape, anything that would lead her to safety. Her legs propelled her up the stairs, each step bringing her closer to a potential means of escape.

Her father's menacing voice followed her, his words dripping with malevolence. He claimed that she could no longer hide from him, that he would always find her. Fear surged through her veins, but she refused to let it paralyze her. Her mother's screams echoed in her head, fueling her determination to survive.

Finally, Y/N reached a higher floor, her eyes scanning for a fire escape or any means of exit. The building seemed to hold its breath as she frantically searched for a way out, her heart pounding in her ears. Every second felt like an eternity, the weight of her father's presence pressing down on her.

Y/N's heart raced as her phone shattered the tense silence, the sound cutting through the air. Her trembling fingers fumbled to retrieve the device from her pocket, and as she glanced at the screen, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Dean's name displayed boldly. Tears welled up in her eyes, blending with the raw emotions that coursed through her veins.

Desperate for the solace Dean's voice could provide, Y/N answered the call, pressing the phone to her ear. Before she could utter a single word, Dean's voice burst through, brimming with anger and demand.

“Why the hell are we hearing from Cas that you’re working for Crowley like some kind of dog?” But Y/N couldn't find it within herself to care about Dean's anger at that moment. His voice, even laced with frustration, was a balm to her battered soul, and it evoked a floodgate of tears that streamed down her face as she choked out his name.

“... Dean..”

The single word, spoken through trembling lips, held layers of vulnerability and a plea for comfort. Dean's keen ears picked up on the rawness in her voice, the tears that mingled with fear and desperation, causing a surge of concern and worry to replace his initial anger. His tone softened instantly, shifting from frustration to genuine concern.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Dean's voice was now filled with worry, his protective instincts taking hold as he sensed the depth of her distress.

Sam, standing nearby, noticed the shift in Dean's voice. Concern etched across his features, mirroring the worry that had settled in Dean's eyes.

"Dean, what's happening? Is Y/N okay?" Sam stepped closer, his voice laced with concern.

Y/N's voice, laden with sorrow and fear, quivered as she whispered into the phone, tears cascading down her face. "It was a trap, Dean. He found me."

Dean's concern mingled with confusion as he urgently questioned, "Who found you, Y/N? Who's got you?"

Through choked sobs, Y/N managed to utter the name that struck fear into their hearts. "My father... I'm trapped."

Panic etched across Dean's face, his mind racing with the gravity of the situation. With conviction in his voice, he reassured Y/N, "Hold on, Y/N. We're coming for you. Sam and I are on our way. It's going to be okay, I promise."

Desperation echoed in Y/N's voice as she uttered Dean's name once more, her words filled with an unspoken plea for rescue. But before she could say anything further, the cell phone signal abruptly vanished, leaving them with dead phones in their hands.

Turning to face Sam, Dean's expression hardened with determination. "We need to get to her, Sam. Now."

Sam nodded in agreement, the urgency reflected in his eyes. Both brothers turned to Castiel, who had silently observed the conversation unfold. Sam's voice was resolute as he addressed the angel. "Cas, we're taking us to Y/N right now. We can't waste any more time."

Castiel nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.

As Y/N's phone went dead, the ominous sound of footsteps reverberated through the dimly lit halls. Panic surged through her veins, urging her to find a means of defense. Frantically scanning her surroundings, she realized she was standing in a break room, equipped with a small kitchenette.

A nagging thought crept into her mind: What if her father was not acting alone? What if he was possessed by a demon, rendering him immune to her earlier shots? The uncertainty only heightened her fear, intensifying her need to take precautions.

Her eyes darted towards the cabinets, desperately seeking something that could aid her in this perilous situation. Relief washed over her when she spotted a container of salt tucked away in one of the cabinets. With a silent prayer, Y/N grabbed the salt, her mind racing with the possibilities.

Hastily, Y/N retreated into the darkness of the break room, concealing herself from sight. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clutched the container of salt, her knuckles turning white from the grip. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, waiting for her father's approach.

Time seemed to stretch as Y/N crouched in the shadows, her senses heightened to detect even the slightest movement. She knew that her next move could determine her survival, and she steeled herself for the impending confrontation.

Y/N's grip tightened on the canister of salt as she unsheathed her knife, her movements fueled by a mix of adrenaline and determination. Her heightened senses honed in on the approaching footsteps, growing louder and more menacing with each passing second.

As the figure's shadow loomed before her, Y/N's muscles tensed, ready to strike. In one swift motion, she burst out of the darkness, unleashing a spray of salt directly into the man's face. Blinded and disoriented, he staggered backward, desperately trying to clear his burning eyes.

Taking advantage of the man's vulnerable state, Y/N charged forward, delivering a powerful shoulder check that sent him crashing to the ground. With her heart pounding in her chest, she swiftly drove her blade through his shoulder, eliciting a pained grunt from her assailant.

Seizing the moment, Y/N's voice rang out, her words laced with the ancient incantation of a demon exorcism. The air crackled with energy as she chanted, her voice unwavering. Black smoke billowed forth from the man's mouth, twisting and contorting before flying into the air.

As the smoke dissipated, Y/N stood there, breathing heavily, her gaze fixed upon the fallen man. Her eyes widened with realization and disbelief; it wasn't her father lying before her. The weight of her actions settled upon her, a mix of relief and confusion flooding her mind.

As the realization sank in, Y/N's mind raced with a whirlwind of fear and panic. Questions flooded her thoughts, amplifying her unease. How many more demons were involved? Where was her father now? And perhaps most concerning of all, how would Dean and Sam walk into this treacherous situation unaware of the impending danger?

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she grappled with the weight of her newfound knowledge. The gravity of the situation hung heavily in the air, the silence punctuated only by the sound of her own rapid breaths. She realized that time was of the essence, and she needed to act swiftly to protect those she cared about.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel materialized just outside the imposing building where Castiel had last seen Y/N disappear. Dean's brows furrowed in confusion as he glanced around, scanning the surroundings. His voice was laced with frustration and concern, and he turned to Castiel, demanding an explanation.

"Cas, why the hell are we outside? Why didn't you just take us straight to Y/N?"

Castiel, his expression tinged with uncertainty, met Dean's gaze and sighed softly.

"I'm not entirely sure. Something is preventing me from going directly inside. There's a powerful force at work here."

Sam, his determination overriding any concerns about Castiel's current limitations, swiftly drew his pistol from its holster. He checked the weapon, ensuring it was loaded and ready for action.

"Doesn't matter, Dean. We need to find Y/N. Let's go."

Without hesitation, Sam took the lead, striding purposefully toward the entrance of the building. Dean, his concern etched on his face, followed suit, his own pistol firmly in hand. Castiel brought up the rear, his eyes scanning their surroundings.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel stepped cautiously into the eerie stillness of the building as they scanned their surroundings for any sign of movement or potential danger. The silence hung heavy in the air, amplifying the tension that filled the space.

Dean made a swift hand gesture, signaling to Sam and Castiel that he would take one direction while they would explore another. With a shared understanding, the trio each ventured into different sections of the building.

Dean's footsteps echoed as he moved stealthily through the dimly lit corridors, his eyes darting from side to side, searching for any trace of Y/N or the presence of the demonic beings they suspected were involved. He gripped his weapon tightly, ready to defend himself or his loved ones if necessary.

Meanwhile, Sam and Castiel each proceeded through separate sets of hallways, their senses attuned to any disturbances or anomalies that might indicate the presence of their adversaries. Sam's gaze swept across every corner, his focus unwavering. Castiel's celestial awareness allowed him to perceive the subtlest disturbances.

 As they ventured deeper into the building, the tension continued to build. The ominous atmosphere seemed to close in around them, and every creak and groan of the old structure amplified their apprehension.

Y/N, breathing heavily and adrenaline coursing through her veins, straddled the motionless body of the demon she had just vanquished. Her eyes scanned the room, assessing the aftermath of the intense battle that had unfolded. Blood stains marked the floor, evidence of the fierce combat that had taken place.

With a trembling hand, Y/N wiped away the fresh blood from her split lip, the result of a lucky hit from the fallen demon. The taste of iron lingered in her mouth, a bitter reminder of the dangers she faced. But there was no time to dwell on the pain as she knew there were more adversaries to confront.

As she stood up, her body aching from the exertion, a creaking floorboard echoed behind her. Y/N's instincts kicked in, and she swiftly turned, her senses on high alert. Her eyes locked onto the figure of another demon, a malevolent glint in its eyes.

Reacting with lightning speed, Y/N brought up one of her sai, the gleaming weapon poised to block the demon's attack. Metal clashed with metal as the demon swung a pipe at her, the resulting impact resonating through the air. The ringing sound reverberated in the confined space, a testament to the intensity of their confrontation.

Y/N's muscles strained as she pushed against the force of the demon, her determination and training driving her forward. She twisted her body, her movements fluid and calculated, aiming to disarm the demon that stood before her. The demon stumbled back a few steps, momentarily losing his balance before regaining his composure. A sinister grin spread across his face, his eyes flickering to a solid red that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. What were Red-Eyed Demons doing here?

Before the demon could take another step towards her, three gunshots rang out, their echoes filling the air. Each bullet found its mark, striking the demon in the chest and causing him to collapse to the floor. Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze shifting to the doorway where the shots had originated.

Standing there, his pistol still raised was Sam Winchester. His eyes briefly met Y/N's, a mixture of relief and determination reflected in his gaze. At that moment, a wave of reassurance washed over Y/N's body.

Sam's eyes met Y/N's, no words were spoken. Determined and relieved, he made his way over to her, keeping a watchful eye on the fallen demon to ensure it wouldn't rise again.

Once he was close enough, Sam lowered his gun and enveloped Y/N in a tight embrace. His grip conveyed his relief, his worry, and his deep care for her well-being. As he held her, a heavy sigh escaped his lips, the weight of the situation finally sinking in.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Y/N nodded against his chest, her silent affirmation. The warmth and comfort of Sam's embrace provided a temporary respite from the fear and chaos that surrounded them.

Sam's grip loosened slightly as he pulled away, his eyes searching Y/N's face for any signs of distress. His voice was laced with regret as he apologized for letting her face this danger alone. He couldn't help but blame himself for not being there to protect her.

Y/N remained silent, her expression reflecting a mix of emotions. She understood Sam's guilt and appreciated his concern, but she couldn't find the words to console him. The weight of the situation weighed heavily on her, and self-blame consumed her thoughts.

“Come on, we’re getting you out of here.” His determination was evident, his devotion to keeping her safe unwavering.

But Y/N shook her head, a hint of resignation in her voice.

"There's no way out," she admitted. "Every door, every window... They're sealed somehow. My father has finally got me right where he wants me. God, I feel like an idiot for walking into this trap and dragging you all here."

Sam's expression softened as he put his arm around her shoulder to pull her into his side, he rubbed his hand along her arm. “We’ll find a way out.”

Sam and Y/N swiftly exited the room, their hearts racing, as they heard gunshots and the chaos unfolding below. Y/N's worry for Dean was evident in the gasp that escaped her lips, her voice filled with concern as she called out his name.

Without hesitation, the two of them sprinted towards the stairs, their urgency pushing them forward. Their minds raced with the unknown, desperate to offer their support and assistance to their brother in need. Each step felt like an eternity as they descended, their hearts pounding in their chests.

But as they reached the ground floor, an eerie silence engulfed the once tumultuous scene. The echoes of gunshots and the commotion had dissipated, leaving only an unsettling stillness behind. Sam's grip on his pistol tightened, and Y/N's sai remained at the ready, both preparing for any potential threat that lay ahead.

Moving cautiously, Sam led the way, his senses heightened and alert. Each step was calculated, and his focus honed on detecting any signs of danger. Y/N mirrored his movements, her footsteps are light and deliberate, her eyes scanning the area for any subtle movement or indication of their enemy's presence.

Sam's instincts guided him toward the source of the gunshots, leading them through a maze of hallways and corridors. The air grew heavy with anticipation, both Sam and Y/N preparing themselves for what lay ahead.

Finally, they arrived at the source of the disturbance, their eyes widening as they took in the scene before them. The room was empty, devoid of any immediate threat or signs of a struggle. Confusion marred their expressions as they exchanged a quick glance, uncertainty clouding their thoughts.

Sam and Y/N cautiously surveyed the seemingly empty and pitch-black room, their senses on high alert. Their eyes strained to penetrate the darkness, searching for any signs of movement or threat. Suddenly, the overhead lights flickered to life, illuminating the room and revealing Y/N's father standing in the center, seemingly alone.

As the figure of her father stood before them, a mixture of emotions surged through Y/N. Fear, anger, and deep-rooted pain intermingled, causing her heart to race and her hands to tremble. Sam instinctively raised his pistol, ready to defend them against this formidable foe.

But in a chilling display, one by one, several other demons materialized beside Y/N's father, surrounding him in a sinister formation. The room was now filled with a nefarious presence, their eyes glinting with malice, and a twisted grin etched upon her father's face.

Y/N's heart sank, panic gripping her once again as began to recognize more and more of the demons who appeared, their faces unchanged since she last seen them all. Her nightmares had come to life, her greatest fears personified before her very eyes. The presence of these demons, these men only added to the overwhelming sense of dread that enveloped her. Then she watched all their eyes flicker to solid red.

Her father's voice filled the room, dripping with a sickening satisfaction.

"Thank you all for joining us," he proclaimed, his voice laced with malevolence. Y/N's blood ran cold, her mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of the threat they now faced.

Sam's grip tightened on his pistol, determination burning in his eyes. He refused to let fear to overpower them, his focus unwavering as he aimed at Y/N's father. "We won't let you hurt her," he declared, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Y/N's father, the source of their torment, chuckled mockingly, relishing in the power he held over them. He turned his gaze towards Sam, his eyes gleaming with a twisted sense of knowledge.

"Oh, Sam Winchester, I am well aware of who you and your brother are," Y/N's father taunted, his voice dripping with contempt. "Your arrival was sooner than I expected, but fear not, I always have a contingency plan."

With a snap of his fingers, another demon materialized by his side, holding a knife perilously close to Dean's throat. Sam's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the dire situation unfold before him. He called out to his brother, shock, and concern lacing his voice.

"Dean!" Sam's voice trembled with a mix of fear and anger.

"Got a little jumped, Sammy. But I'm fine, just a scratch." Dean, his face a mix of apology and determination.

As Y/N's wide, terrified eyes locked with Dean's, a rush of memories flooded her mind. The potential scene of Dean's life being snuffed out before her eyes played like a haunting replay of the past, triggering an overwhelming surge of fear and anguish within her. It was reminiscent of the night her mother had been taken from her, the same person responsible for both tragedies.Y/N's body trembled uncontrollably, she couldn't bear the thought of losing another person she held dear, especially in such a cruel and familiar manner.

Dean, perceptive as ever, caught a glimpse of the sheer terror reflected in Y/N's eyes. He knew all too well the trauma she had endured, as he and Sam had witnessed her mother's tragic death when they fought against the Soulweaver. Dean's smile, once a mask to protect her, wavered for a moment as he sensed the depth of her distress.

Y/N's vulnerability was laid bare before him, and he couldn't ignore the pain etched on her face. He understood the magnitude of her fear, knowing that the memories and emotions tied to her mother's death had resurfaced. At that moment, Dean realized that his attempt to downplay the situation wouldn't be enough to ease her anxiety.

“Hey, Y/N.” Dean tried to get her attention to focus, though when he spoke the demon holding him jerked Dean back and pressed the knife slightly harder into his throat. Dean didn’t care though. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Hearing Dean's attempt to comfort Y/N only fueled her father's amusement. His chilling chuckle echoed through the room, taunting them all. Y/N's father took a step closer, relishing in the fear he instilled within his daughter.

"You know, Y/N," he began, his voice dripping with sinister delight, "your mother once said something quite similar." The memories of her mother's words haunted Y/N, intensifying the gravity of the situation.

Y/N's father's voice grew more commanding as he made his offer. "All I want is you, Y/N. Join me willingly, and the Winchesters can walk out of here unharmed. It's that simple."

Dean, unable to contain his anger, shouted in defiance from his restraints. "Bullshit! We're not leaving without her."

Sam, his brow furrowed with determination, directed his attention to Y/N's father. "What do you want with her?" he demanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

Y/N's father's eyes glinted with a mix of malevolence and something else, something Sam couldn't quite discern. He studied Y/N with a possessive gaze before finally answering. "She's special, Samuel. Special in ways you can't even fathom. I have plans for her. Plans that involve unlocking her true potential."

Y/N's heart felt heavy as she made her decision, torn between the conflicting emotions pulling her in different directions. Her gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet Dean's eyes. This moment shattered the stare they held since Dean first appeared in the room.

"No!" Dean's voice rang out with anguish and disbelief, his heart breaking at the sight before him. He couldn't bear to see Y/N surrender to her father, to give herself up for their safety.

Y/N dropped her weapons with a heavy thud, the sound echoing through the room as her resolve wavered. She sank to her knees in submission to her father's demands, her heart aching.

Sam, his mind struggling to process the situation unfolding before him, stared in disbelief. He couldn't comprehend Y/N's decision at first, but when the realization struck, he stepped forward, determined to intervene. His hand reached out to grasp Y/N's arm, to pull her back to her feet.

But before Sam could reach her, Y/N's father waved his hand with a flick of his wrist. An unseen force sent Sam hurtling through the air, crashing into the nearest wall before landing on the ground, momentarily stunned.

“Sam!” Dean's voice shook with concern as he called out to his brother, his rage for both Sam and Y/N’s safety consuming him.

“Well done, my dear. You've made the right choice.” Y/N's father chuckled with twisted satisfaction, admiring his daughter's compliance. He flicked his hand, signaling his demonic minions to take action. Two demons materialized behind Y/N, their presence chilling and menacing. One demon gripped her shoulders tightly, while the other approached with a large shackle adorned with symbols to seal her abilities.

The demon fastened the shackle around Y/N's neck, the chain leading from it to his hand for control. As the weight of the shackles settled upon her.

“Now then. Since you’ve been such a good girl, I will let you in on a little secret. I’m not really your father.” A malevolent grin spread across his face.

Y/N's eyes remain fixed on the ground, her expression unreadable. Meanwhile, Dean and Sam exchange bewildered glances, their confusion growing.

“Alright, enough with the games! If you're not her father, then who the hell are you?” Dean angrily demanded answers.

“Ah, Dean Winchester, always so impatient. Well, you see. Long ago, Y/N's mother, in her true form, descended upon our world disguised as a beautiful woman. She sought refuge in my village, and I offered her shelter and protection. It was love at first sight between us.” The man smirked as he spoke.

“Ah yes, love. We shared a connection, a bond. But little did I know, she was already with child when she arrived. She convinced me that the child was mine, and I was ecstatic about becoming a father. However, when the child was born, it became evident that she was not human.” His voice became more and more bitter as he spoke before it turned into complete angry dripping with betrayal. “The monster deceived me, lied to me about the true nature of her existence and our child's. I couldn't bear to let that treacherous bloodline continue. Their existence had to come to an end.”

Silence hangs heavy in the room as the truth sinks in. Y/N's father stands there, his expression filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction and vindication, while Dean's fury intensifies.

“Oh, but hunting Y/N and her mother was a delight! A thrilling chase that lasted for years.  We all relish in the hunt much more than you can imagine.” He gestures towards the demons in the room.

“What did they do to deserve this?” Sam asked as he picked himself up off the ground, his non-dominant arm wrapping around himself as pain shot through his side.

 “Deserve? My dear boy, their very presence taints this world. They are abominations, creatures that shouldn't exist.” The man laughed.

“Open your eyes! You're so blinded by your hate that you can't see you're doing their bidding. You're working for the very creatures you want to kill!” Dean yelled at the man.

With a wide grin the man looked to Dean. “Oh, Dean, you always were a sharp one. But let me correct you. I don't work for them; they work for me.” His eyes then became solid yellow.

Sam's expression hardened as he processed the man's twisted revelation. His eyes narrowed, filled with a mix of anger and determination. "You made a deal with….," Sam stated, his voice laced with contempt. "You think you're some righteous judge, but you're nothing more than a pawn in their game."

The man chuckled, his yellow eyes gleaming with malevolence. "You can't comprehend the power I possess now. I am the judge, the executioner, and the savior of this world."

Dean's voice dripped with disdain as he shot back, "You're just a monster hiding behind excuses. Killing innocent people doesn't make you righteous. It makes you a coward."

The man's face contorted with rage, his voice rising. "I am no coward! I am the instrument of justice, delivering punishment to those who deserve it."

Suddenly the demon holding Dean let out a blood-curdling scream, his body convulsing as flashes of blinding light burst from his eyes and mouth. As the light faded, the demon's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, revealing Castiel standing behind him, his angel blade in hand.

With a determined look in his eyes, Dean swiftly reached for his Angel blade, its cool touch reassuring in his grip. He lunged forward, driving the blade deep into Y/N's father's chest, the sharp steel piercing through flesh and bone.

"You think you're doing some righteous cleansing?" Dean's voice resonated with a mix of anger and conviction. "You're just a monster, no different than the ones we've hunted and killed. And we're gonna put an end to your reign."

 However, Y/N's father simply grinned in response, seemingly unfazed by Dean's attack. It sent a shiver down Dean's spine, a cold realization creeping in. Something was terribly wrong. Suddenly, Dean felt an intense force grab hold of him, his shirt tightening around his chest. Helplessly, he was lifted off the ground, his body suspended in mid-air.

Dean's eyes widened with both surprise and alarm as he was swiftly hurled across the room, crashing into the wall beside Sam. The impact rattled his bones, leaving him momentarily winded and disoriented.

Sam rushed to Dean's side, concern etched on his face. "Dean, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with urgency.

Dean groaned, pushing himself up from the floor. "Yeah, just a little bruised," he replied, his voice strained but determined.

Castiel swung his blade towards the man, aiming to sever his head from his body and put an end to his vile reign. But as the blade descended, the room was filled with a chilling silence. Castiel's movements abruptly halted, frozen in place by a simple raise of the man’s hand.

A wicked grin spread across the man's face, his voice dripping with a dark amusement. "You must have forgotten who I am," he taunted, his tone filled with arrogance. "I am a child of Lilith herself!"

The room now stood divided, Sam and Dean on one side, their eyes filled with determination and concern for Y/N, who remained kneeling on the ground in chains, caught between the clashing forces. On the other side stood Y/N's father, surrounded by his demonic companions, reveling in his power.

Amidst the echoing laughter of Y/N's father, a chilling sound cuts through the air like wolves in the distance. First one, then two, the howls grow louder, their mournful cries carried by the wind piercing the darkness. The intensity of the howls grows as more join in, creating a haunting chorus that sends shivers down the spines of all present.

Dean breaks the silence, his voice laced with a mix of dread and disdain. "Sam, tell me we're not hearing what I think we're hearing."

Sam's face tenses, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. With a nod, he confirms Dean's suspicion. "Yeah, Dean. Those are Hellhounds.”

“I hate Hellhounds," Dean clenches his fists, his voice filled with memories of past encounters.

As if responding to Dean's words, the windows on either side of the room exploded inward, sending glass shards flying. Though there are no visible animals, the room fills with the menacing growls and barks of the Hellhounds.

Y/N's father, once arrogant and confident, now wears a look of displeasure as he witnesses the unexpected turn of events. The demon at his side, sensing the imminent danger, starts to retreat slowly, eyes widening in fear. The hulking forms of the Hellhounds were visible to only them, their fierce eyes locked onto their prey.

Snarls and growls fill the air, punctuated by the horrifying sounds of flesh being torn apart. The demons, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, either vanish in a desperate attempt to escape or find themselves ruthlessly brought down to the floor, their bodies reduced to shreds by the relentless Hellhounds.

Sam and Dean stand at the ready, their weapons clenched tightly in their hands, their eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger, though they know they won't see it coming. However, to their surprise, they find themselves untouched by the Hellhounds' onslaught. The supernatural beasts seem to focus their attention solely on the demons, leaving Sam and Dean unharmed, yet wary.

Y/N, still in chains but unscathed, watches the chaos unfold with a mix of relief and awe. The Hellhounds, her unexpected saviors, move with precision and ferocity, targeting the demons surrounding her. The demons, once arrogant and powerful, now cower in fear as they are torn apart by the relentless hounds.

Amidst the chaos, Y/N locks eyes with her father, who wears a twisted smile of both displeasure and wicked satisfaction. His words echo in the room, promising a future encounter and a watchful eye that never sleeps. With a final glance, Y/N's father vanishes, leaving behind an eerie silence that contrasts with the lingering echoes of the Hellhounds' snarls.

The room is now filled with a sense of both relief and unease. Y/N's immediate danger has passed, thanks to the unexpected intervention of the Hellhounds. Yet, the knowledge that her father still lurks in the shadows, vowing to return, hangs heavy in the air.

The room falls into an eerie silence as the last remnants of the demonic presence dissipate, leaving only the lingering presence of the Hellhounds. Y/N remains calm in the midst of their presence.

As one of the Hellhounds approaches Y/N, its hot breath blowing loose hairs around her face, the tension in the room heightens. But instead of fear, Y/N addresses the Hellhound with a surprising familiarity.

"Hello Juliet," she says, her voice steady and without a trace of apprehension.

Sam and Dean exchange puzzled glances, their confusion evident.

“Did you say Juliet?” Sam asked the recognition dawns upon them—the name of Crowley's favorite Hellhound. The familiarity between Y/N and the Hellhound allows them to relax slightly, realizing that they may not be in immediate danger.

Dean, ever the skeptic, raises an eyebrow but keeps his guard up, remaining cautious. Castiel, observing the interaction, remains silent but maintains a watchful presence, ready to act if needed. The Hellhound, Juliet, seems to respond to Y/N's words, her demeanor softening as her menacing growls transform into a more subdued sound.

As Sam and Dean cautiously make their way toward Y/N, their attention is suddenly drawn to the sound of a creaking metal door behind them. They turn to see the massive entrance of the building swinging open, revealing Crowley, the King of Hell, standing there with his characteristic air of confidence. He casually stands in the doorway, hands nonchalantly tucked into his pockets.

“Hello, boys.” Crowley greeted. “Kitten.” He looked to Y/N with a nod.

Dean turned to Sam, motioning to him to help Y/N. Sam nodded with concern etched on his face and approached Y/N to inspect her shackles and see if he could find a way to free her. Y/N looks at Sam with a mix of gratitude and weariness.

Meanwhile, Dean strides purposefully towards Crowley, his anger palpable. He runs a hand over his face, trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. His voice is laced with frustration as he addresses Crowley. "What the hell were you thinking, Crowley?" Dean demands, his tone edged with anger. "Sending Y/N alone after that... that lunatic."

"Dean, I swear, I had no idea who that man was. I was just trying to protect my own investments and collect what Y/N owed me. It was a simple exchange of services, no foul play intended." Crowley admits in all seriousness, his face bearing a rare expression of sincerity.

Dean takes a deep breath, his anger gradually dissipating as he considers Crowley's explanation.

"Well you showed up just in time, Crowley," Dean concedes, his voice softer but still filled with underlying frustration.

As Dean and Crowley engage in conversation, Castiel quietly approaches them, a solemn expression on his face.

“That is my doing actually.” Castiel sighed.

Dean's gaze shifts to Castiel, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Cas, you? You called Crowley?" Dean asks, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Yes.” Castiel confesses, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance. Castiel meets Dean's gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of guilt and reservation. "There are certain things I would rather not discuss, but I assure you, it was to ensure Y/N's safety."

“Yeah.. Alright.” Dean nods his head.

Sam knelt down in front of Y/N, his eyes filled with concern as he gently asked,

"Are you Alright?"

 "Yes." Y/N's voice was quiet and hoarse as she replied.

 "Alright, well  I'm going to remove the shackle around your neck.” Sam’s eyes were filled with heartbreak as he took in the sight of her.

Y/N nodded in approval. Sam carefully moved her hair aside, searching for the lock that held the shackle closed. His fingers traced the intricate mechanism as he focused on picking the lock, his movements steady and deliberate.

“Sam, I’m ready to go home.” Y/N’s voice was soft and broken as she tried to hold back tears as her stress and anxiety washed away leaving her feeling tired and drained.

“Yeah, don’t worry we’ll be home soon.” Sam looked up at her, his eyes filled with empathy.

Sam was successful in removing the shackles from Y/N's neck, carefully handling them as he set them aside. He reached out his hand, offering it to Y/N, who took it gratefully. With Sam's support, she managed to rise to her feet, her legs still shaky from the ordeal.

As Y/N stood upright, her gaze shifted to Dean and Castiel who had approached them. Her heart ached with the need to apologize to Dean for…. everything. But before she could utter a word, Dean enveloped her in a tight hug, pulling her close to him. Y/N's voice caught in her throat feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence.

Dean spoke softly, his voice filled with relief and genuine concern, "Thank God you’re alright.”.

Y/N remained in his embrace for a few more moments, finding solace and reassurance in his strong arms. With one hand, she discreetly took hold of the end of Dean's jacket and touched it, a small gesture that spoke volumes between them. Dean could feel her grip on his jacket, and at that moment, no words were needed just unspoken gratitude and reassurance.

During the six-hour drive, Y/N rode with Dean in the Impala while Sam took the wheel of her Corvette, accompanied by Castiel. The atmosphere in the car was filled with a mix of exhaustion, relief, and lingering tension. The radio softly played a familiar tune, providing a subtle backdrop to the silence that enveloped them.

Dean occasionally stole glances at Y/N, his concern evident in his eyes. He wanted to ensure she was alright, but he respected the silent agreement of just being there for each other in the quiet solitude of the car.

Entering the bunker, Sam's concern for Y/N was evident; her exhaustion palpable.

"Y/N, you've been through a lot. Why don't you go take a bath or something, try to relax, and get some rest?" Sam suggests as he genitally puts his hand on her back, rubbing it slightly.

Y/N nodded in agreement and quietly made her way toward the solitude of the living quarter.

"We need to find out more about that guy.” Sam addressed Dean as Y/N disappeared down the hallway, their eyes meeting in a shared understanding.

They both knew that the events they had just experienced had left an indelible mark. The boys make their way to the familiar confines of the bunker's library. Castiel followed closely behind.

Once settled in the library, Dean took the lead, his voice steady as he began to relay the information he had acquired from Crowley.

“Crowley had no idea. He didn't even know about his connection to Y/N or that he was a demon." Dean was pacing the library as he spoke.

“But he's not just any demon, Dean. He's a yellow eye, one of the high-ranking ones. Like Azazel."

The room fell into a momentary silence, the weight of their shared history and the menace represented by yellow-eyed demons sinking in. Sam and Dean knew all too well the havoc and sorrow that had been caused in their lives. Azazel, a yellow-eyed demon had killed their own mother.

"How is it possible that Crowley didn't know about such a high-ranking demon?" Castiel had spoken up to break the silence.

"I don't know, Cas. It's strange. Crowley seemed genuinely surprised. He said he would look into it." Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"Did you talk to Crowley about Y/N's debt?" Sam turned to look at Dean with concern.

"Yeah, I did. It's a sore spot, but her deal with Crowley is complete. He doesn't have any hold on her anymore." Dean nodded.

“What do we do now?” Castiel would ask.

“Well.” Sam would let out a heavy sigh. “Y/N is a target now so we need to keep a close eye on her and stay on guard,” Sam admitted though he knew she wouldn’t like the idea of being watched.

Castiel, Sam, and Dean exchange determined looks, ready to face the challenges ahead and uncover the secrets surrounding Y/N and the new mysterious yellow-eyed demon.

Chapter End

[thessalian]

Thess vs Avoidant Behaviour

There are no words for the frustration right now. I feel so “out of sight, out of mind”. Not that I’d go back to that hellish commute for anything, and not that it’d even help if I were back at the office, but it’s still how it feels.

Look. Temp and Violet had a bargain. Violet does the long typing; Temp does the short ones. I do ... whatever, I guess. I was not consulted about this, because if I had been, the first question out of my mouth would have been, “So what happens when Violet isn’t typing?” Because she’s often not. Even if she’s actually in, she often has other things to do. But Temp keeps acting like the deal read “Temp does the short ones and only the short ones, forever and ever".

Side note: I wonder what the fuck she does when I’m on annual leave, or off sick. I may have to ask, because we’re at the point where I might end up having to take health leave because of her.

Today was a bad day, okay? Today was “stabbing pains in my back and hips, making sitting upright painful”. Today was, “I had to get up and move around or just lie down for a few minutes, just to maintain some semblance of equilibrium”. Today also quickly became “vertigo”. So obviously this was a day to at least try to take it easy, which was aided and abetted by the fact that we’re not actually doing too badly insofar as the queue goes - we’re in the low double-digits, which hasn’t happened in awhile.

But noooooo. I mean, I did what I could to minimise the workload, but ... you type for a specific group of people for awhile, you start to know what to expect. You see names and you hook them to how their dictation usually goes. You know the guy who’s in training and whose work is always checked over by a consultant, and who therefore ends up going, “Oh, can you go back to that bit in the middle and add...?” because he is still moderately clueless and a consultnat saved his ass. You know the guy whose dictation is only as short as it is because he has not got to grips with the footpedal after this long and tends to miss out important stuff - like, for instance, the description of a tumour - and thus obliges you to email him and go, “Um, we’re missing a bit”. You know the woman who talks way too fast. The three or four women who insist on not flagging up that there are fragments in the sample until the block key, when that has to be in the fucking body text as well. The woman with the vocal quirk of having her voice lilt up a half-octave at the end of every sentence, at just the right pitch to trigger a migraine in my case. The two trainee guys who ignore the templates altogether, obliging a lot of typing when we could just be filling out a form. The three or four people who always dictate placentas, which require copy-typing a handwritten form every fucking time. The ones who have no grasp of sentence structure, and who don’t know how to pluralise (through no real fault of their own; English is not their first language so I’m not shitting on them for that; it’s just frustrating).

Temp. Avoids. ALL OF THEM.

There are maybe one or two who dictate well - concise, well laid-out, short, simple, to the point. She takes all of those and maybe some of the less ideal ones if they’re short enough, and I get everything that could even remotely be even a tiny bit inconvenient for her. She hasn’t done a dictation that was longer than a minute long in two days.

So here’s me having a particularly bad pain day, having to get up every fifteen minutes so my back and hips can stop screaming at me, feeling unbelievably dizzy, and I get to struggle through all of the long, inconvenient, frustrating bullshit while she does all the nice simple stuff. And Violet’s not there to pick up the slack even a little bit - out of the office or otherwise engaged, I don’t know or care. I mean, okay, I care - I hope she’s okay. But the reasons she’s not doing the long typing have no bearing on the fact that she isn’t, and Temp is just fobbing them all off on me.

Scruffman seems to think that the situation is solved because Violet and Temp have an arrangement. However, no one considered that I am involved in this arrangement because I share the workload, and Temp is obviously deliberately misconstruing that arrangement to mean, “Do whatever you want and someone else will pick up the bits you don’t like”. I get that she doesn’t like them. I DON’T LIKE THEM EITHER. Fact is, however, that being stuck with too many of them doesn’t leave her in enough pain to be near tears at the end of the day. But I’m hesitant to bring it up to Scruffman because he basically waves it off every time. It’s “I’ll talk to her” or, “Oh, Violet and Temp have an arrangement” and it’s dismissive as fuck. He’s really bad with confrontation, you see, and I get the short end of the stick because there’s little to no chance that I can get into his face about it, because I’m not in the office. And as long as the work gets done, he seems fine.

I left one seven-minute long bit of nightmare for someone else to do, but I did everything else. Because what choice did I have? Temp wasn’t going to. Violet’s not able to for some reason. And it still needs to get done. Hell, I feel guilty about leaving the seven-minute long bit of nightmare, despite it having come up at the head of the queue pretty much towards the end of the day and wouldn’t have necessarily left me with the time to do it anyway.

So we have Temp and Scruffman avoiding shit they don’t like - any typing that’s not really quick and easy, and conflict, respectively. And it all gets lumped onto me in both cases. And I am fed up beyond the telling of it. Right now I’m just trying to let things settle a little so I can manage a trip to check the post and go to the corner shop. Days like this require chocolate.

[graysongraysoff]

we did it gamers

links to individual works under the cut:

Day 1. Adverse Effects Red Hood gets hit with Scarecrow’s fear toxin.

Day 2. Caged | Cornered | Confrontation Bruce and Dick are about to be cornered by the police. Dick insists that Bruce leave him and his broken leg behind, but Bruce hesitates.

Day 3. Gun to Temple Red Hood meets the new kid.

Day 4. Hidden Injury Bruce rushes into the Batcave with an injured Dick in tow. Only later does Alfred realize that Bruce doesn't look so good, either.

Day 5. Running Out of Air Dick struggles uselessly against the weights pulling him down below the water, hoping Bruce will get to him before it's too late.

Day 6. Ransom Video Bruce Wayne's 13-year-old ward is kidnapped. Not long after, the kidnappers post a ransom video online.

Day 7. Shaking Hands | Silent Panic Attack After Conner Kent's death, Tim Drake is coming apart at the seams.

Day 8. Back from the Dead The mindless, fear-addled thing that emerged from the Lazarus Pit in Jason Todd’s body wakes up in a room he doesn't recognize and is interrogated by a voice he cannot place.

Day 9. Protect In Bruce's final moments he's protecting his son.

Day 10. Made to Watch “And I thought, what better way to celebrate my relationship with Robin — or, I’m sorry, I know you’ve taken up my old moniker now, yet another bond the two of us share — but I thought, what better way to celebrate than with a reenactment of our fondest memory together?”

Day 11. Sloppy Bandages | Self-Done First Aid After the Joker uses Tim to stage a reenactment of Jason's death, Jason assesses the damage and helps him out as best he can.

Day 12. Stabbed It isn’t until his blade slides home that Damian senses that something is wrong. Silky laughter slinks into his ears; Poison Ivy’s laughter. His blood runs cold. He’d been fighting one of her mutant plants — her most advanced cultivation yet. It must have taken her ages to perfect it, to create a monster that could hold its own for as long as it had against a combatant like Damian Wayne. She should be furious… what does she know that he doesn’t?

Day 13. Fracture Dick Grayson tried to play Two-Face's game and lost, and now he has to pay the price for biting off more than he could chew.

Day 14. Carried to Safety Bruce rushes a gravely injured Dick Grayson back to the Batcave.

Day 15. Lies After his daughter dies as Batgirl, Commissioner Gordon promises he isn't going to let anyone else's children meet the same fate.

Day 16. Mind Control Dick regains consciousness as Jason is trying to get him back to the Batcave so his injuries can be treated, but it doesn't take Dick long to realize that something isn't right.

Day 17. Dazed and Confused Bruce wakes up in the hospital to find his mother beside him, despite the fact that she died decades ago.

Day 18. “Take my coat.” Officer Jim Gordon attempts to take Bruce Wayne's statement on the night of his parents' murder.

Day 19. Repeatedly Passing Out | Head Lolling Jason brings a battered Tim back to the Batcave for Alfred to patch up.

Day 20. Tears The Joker sets a bomb in Sheila Haywood’s agency warehouse, but this time Bruce arrives in time to save Jason  — at the cost of his own life.

Day 21. “You’re safe now.” Bruce comforts Jason after Jason wakes from a nightmare. At least, he thinks he does.

Day 22. Pick Your Poison | Toxic Dr. Crane asks Poison Ivy why they’ve never teamed up. Ivy gives him a clear, concise answer.

Day 23. Tied to a Table | “Hold them down.” The Joker has teamed up with Jervis Tetch, and together they’ve come up with a game for Bruce and his boys to play.

Day 24. Blood Covered Hands Commissioner Gordon fails to comfort Bruce Wayne after Dick Grayson dies to protect him.

Day 25. Lost Voice Bruce Wayne talks to Dick Grayson after his parents’ tragic deaths.

Day 26. “Why did you save me?” | Birthday Wild Card! Yuji eats the last of Sukuna’s fingers and Megumi carries out his execution.

Day 27. Muffled Screams Dick reflects on his growing fondness for the new Robin as he rescues him from a band of thugs.

Day 28. Anger Born of Worry Dick's life slips through Bruce's fingers.

Day 29. Sleep Deprivation Dick hasn’t been able to sleep. Bruce offers to help.

Day 30. Hair Grabbing Bruce is under Jervis Tetch’s mind control, leaving Dick on the receiving end of Batman’s uninhibited strength. Jason has to decide between killing Bruce or watching Bruce kill Dick.

Day 31. Comfort Dick wakes from a nightmare about his parents. Bruce comforts him.

[ghxstfrxquxncies]

malonox ━ ━ Oh, her again. Scratch narrows his eyes, seeing the Zane solder wander around the landscape of Night Springs. Poor ol’ Merris, does she never tire of her own loop? Well, it was certainly cutting down on the Herald’s Wake time. Yet, suppose such is his work... Can’t be helped.

         ❝Hey, are you alright there?❞ He shouts across the field, playing his best friendly stranger. So certain and sure in his role and in how this will go-- if only he’d known.

Merris paused, at first perplexed at the man yelling at her in the middle of the desert at night. It startled her, to be honest, too enveloped in how she would gather her thoughts after what she experienced. All of this was just a bit much.

If she was being honest, she was an ill representation of ‘alright’.but she knew how to lie.

A polite grimace to the other, raising her hand in response to indicate that she at least acknowledged his presence and to mitigate any potential concern. 

Eventually closing the gap, and with the aid of her flashlight, she shined it upwards to meet where his face would be. Pupils dilated as they met his gaze—momentary bewilderment.

“Alan, what are.. y’..? quit playin’ ‘round. After what I saw tonigh’..Y’told me to go back t’the motel an’ that’s what I’m doin’.” 

Confusion was palpable, a concise understanding and expectation of how he looked when they first met only moments ago and why he was standing here as if none of that even happened.