#either that or my anxiety will get the better of me

[starlightazriel]

bee 11

desc: modern bestfriends > lovers (femreader) (tattoo artist az)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol addiction/recovery, reader overthinking/insecure/depressed, jealousy, archeron sisters have entered the chat, angst, fluff, co-dependence(and all the trauma that comes with it),

wc: 4.2k

a/n: wow i'm so sorry this took so long as some of you know i been going through some things anyyyway we've come so far since the beginning myyy goodness, as much as I love sober az I already miss the az who was doing a line before a tattoo, but alas after all the drama last time I hope this makes up for it <3 kisses xoxox

other parts on my az masterlist

eleven

Sixty days.

Sixty days of loneliness.

Sixty days of an empty house.

Sixty days of overthinking.

Sixty days of gut wrenching anxiety.

Sixty days of no contact.

Sixty days of not hearing his voice.

It had been my idea, the whole no contact, and now, it felt like it had been the worst fucking idea in the world. Facing him now seemed impossible. Would he look different? Would he be different?

Fucking idiot. Do you know how much can change in sixty days? Sober Ariel won't even want you.

It had been maybe a week in when the seed of doubt had blossomed in my gut. The regret for the dumb idea that space was the best thing for our relationships, time to figure ourselves out so we could add to each others lives— instead of depending on each other. Him, needing me, me needing to be needed.

It was such a fine line between give and take and I had offered every last piece of myself to him without a hesitation. With him gone, with him healing, getting better... What would he need me for? What was I supposed to do with myself? School was hardly distracting, and finals coming up should have helped but only made it worse.

Rhys and Cass had visited him, a few times, they had also gone on another Vegas trip, without him obviously, apartment hunting. That did nothing to soothe my gut either, that was real. It was happening in mere months they were moving to Vegas. Neither did the way they all stopped talking about him when I was around, did he tell them something? Did he tell them he was going to break it off with me for good when he got home? Or did my friends really think I was that fragile? That I couldn't even handle hearing about him?

'I would let Rhys sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this city without you.' his previous words echoed in my mind, I had been so sure he meant it when he'd said that to me, so sure that I would never be alone again.

And of course I wanted him to get clean, but somehow, everything felt different now. I wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Would he still feel the same way?

I hadn't even looked into transferring schools. He had told me to, before he left... But doing that made everything more real, and what if he changed his mind when he saw me again?

He wouldn't be in a drug clouded haze anymore. He wouldn't need me anymore, not the way that I needed him.

And I wouldn't even get any alone time with him, not immediately. Rhys was throwing a little get together for him, he was so proud, they were all so proud of him.

I hated that I wasnt as proud as everyone else when I should be the most proud, I hated that I was afraid of the new Azriel. There would be nothing for me to fix anymore.

With every waking moment that passed my anxiety and insecurity grew. Getting ready for his 'sober party' seemed surreal to me, it only created more doubts in my mind. I mean, had Azriel, my Az, really agreed to that? Even as a sober version of himself— it seemed doubtful.

-

Sixty days.

Sixty days of detoxing his mind, body, and soul.

Sixty days of boring meals.

Sixty days of therapy multiple times a week.

Sixty days of sharing his darkest side with complete strangers.

Sixty days of uncomfortable beds and scratchy sheets.

Sixty days of living in sweat pants because it was all he had packed.

Sixty days of heart stopping guilt and revelations about himself and his behavior.

Sixty days of torturous inescapable demons that seemed to be at war in his mind.

Sixty days of not hearing her voice.

The moment she had told him she didn't want to talk to him while he was in rehab, he had wanted to stay. Give up the idea entirely and quit on his own accord. He didn't though, he went. And it wasn't only for her. No, it was for him too. And he thought maybe it was valid, maybe they did need space, time away to clear their minds and have a true fresh start. He could do things right this time.

And now, with his head clear, he was happy he had gone. He felt stronger, in his mind and body. It had been a lot, a lot of facing things that had happened in his childhood that he had never dared to face before. Things he didnt have to face when drugs and alcohol had been his safety net for so many years. He realized he didnt need substances to deal with those things, his traumas didnt make him weak or vulnerable, they made him stronger.

He did recognize his problem, and he couldn't say for sure that he would never touch the bottle or snort a line ever again because that was just unrealistic. He was only human and he would do his absolute best to be a good man, for himself.

For Bee too. If she still wanted anything to do with him, the silence between them was the loudest one he'd ever felt, even miles away.

Bee.

His lover. His everything.

There was nothing that could get in the way anymore, he hadn't realized until now how much his addictions had been separating him from her. And of course he had gotten off it before but never without alcohol to help him along. He had never been so fucking deep into his addictions, had never gone that crazy. What he had done was completely unacceptable and now he could only hope for the best when he saw her. A party thrown by Rhys and his girlfriend hadn't been his ideal meeting place... But it had been completely sprung on him. Him being in rehab wasnt a secret, but that didn't mean he wanted to advertise it. Rhys had promised it was a very small get together, just something to show their support. 'No pictures.' Azriel had been sure to clear that up with him. The party was supposed to be a surprise, luckily for Az, Rhys knew him better than that.

-

Rhys and his new girlfriend had out done themselves along with the help of Mor who had told me this morning when she arrived in town that she wouldn't have missed this for the world. 'I mean, Azriel sober? I have to see it for myself and support,' she had said over coffees earlier, I had gotten quiet, I knew I could have talked to her about how I was feeling. But it felt wrong, it was embarrassing to say the least. I didnt think she would understand, either.

Rhys' place was decked out, balloons everywhere, charcuterie and little desserts lined both of the large tables, there was a mocktail station and a coffee station where she had also decorated Rhys' coffee pot, another table had a 'fill your own cone' bud bar that included a big jar full of Azriels favorite cigarettes as well. Her theme was 'Sober & Slaying' and there were banners and balloons to match. My heart had swelled the moment I had entered the apartment and part of me felt a little guilty for not getting here earlier. I hadn't been doing much of anything though, I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping right, my thoughts and fears and insecurities had been practically eating me alive. They hadn't even asked me to help with set up, simply to show up on time, I at least had arrived twenty minutes early.

"Oh good! You're here, will you help me with this last mocktail?" Feyre beams after she had pulled me into a quick hug. She was very sweet although a bit reserved at first she had warmed up to me quickly. She was setting up some last minute decorations, I was early, of course, my anxious gut hadn't allowed me to sit at home a moment longer.

Part of me was hoping this new relationship would entice Rhys to stay a little bit longer, but they were already talking about going long distance until Feyre was ready to take the leap and move to Vegas. Seemed awfully soon to even be talking about it to me, but I wasn't one to judge, they did seem madly in love nearly instantly, and Rhys was, different. Nicer even.

"Yeah of course," I flashed her a grin and tasted the mocktail she was working on before I added some more of the homemade blueberry simple syrup she had made. "So good," I hummed in approval once I had tasted it again.

"So like, will this be the first time you and Az speak?" Mor tries to make it sound as casual as possible, my eyes focus intently as I transferred the mocktail to the aesthetically pleasing drink dispensers Feyre had put out.

"Um yeah, I haven't seen him or spoke to him since the night before he left," I shrugged, my eyes not lifting once. It had been quite the emotional night, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I visited him once, he looks really good," she responded and I couldn't stop the jealous pang that hit my gut. Space. We had decided space was the right thing for us, a reset to our relationship after everything we had been through. My dumb idea, but he had agreed. I only smiled in response, and was glad when Cassian arrived with a cake in hand, his loud greeting drew all the attention away from me. Bless him. I found a corner to sit in, a quiet corner with my phone and one of the mocktails Feyre had made. A few more arrived, Feyres sisters, which I had only met a handful of times. Why were they here? Az didn't know them, did he? The only way that was possible would be if Rhys had brought them for one of his visits— the mocktail felt sour in my stomach and I felt more than relieved when Kat finally arrived and joined me in my corner.

"Hi love, how you holding up?" Kat had been very supportive through this entire rehab thing, and was making my loneliness nearly bearable.

"I'm fine, really, just coping with all of— all of the emotions of all the sudden change I guess," I shrug easily, Kat was the only one I had really felt comfortable to tell my true feelings to. She was the only one I knew that wouldn't judge. She nodded in understanding, making herself comfortable in her seat.

"That's valid, it's a lot to take in girl," She begins and I'm relieved when she can't continue because Cassian is all but shouting a second later.

"He's coming up he texted me a few minutes ago," Cassians voice drowns out the chatter around the room and I feel my insides go to liquid, my throat feeling tight and constricted.

My heart stopped when I finally laid my eyes on him. Impossibly sexier. His face was more full, color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eye I hadn't seen since we were kids, he stood straighter, making him look impossibly taller, shoulders spread, oozing with a confidence I hadn't seen in a long time. My gut twisted, my heart picking up, a steady hammer against my chest. I held my breath when our eyes met, his face fell as he scanned me from across the room and I wanted nothing more than to drop into the hole in the floor. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. I knew I looked awful— but shit, we hadn't seen each other in two months.

"Azriel, it's nice to see you again," Elain is the first person in front of him she's loud enough to hear across the room, her sing song voice carrying, and I try to ignore it but my eyes are glued to his, and he has to tear his away from mine.

"So what, Rhys took Feyre and her random sisters to see Az in rehab?" I drop my voice, forcing myself to look away, to tune out their conversation to the best of my abilities. Kat bit her lip, a notable guilty blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I um.. I was there too," she admits, twirling her hair around her finger, I squint slightly. She could have at least told me that. "It was a last minute thing," she explained quickly, my expression probably throwing her off. I was jealous, I couldn't deny that— I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd never been so set on having space away from eachother... My blood heated, she was gorgeous, just the type that Azriel would go for to. "They just happened to be there and we made a group trip of it— and yeah, I didn't think you'd want to know, considering..." she trailed off and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, I don't mind at all," I would have rather jumped off of the balcony than have this conversation, I shouldn't have asked. The FOMO was certainly real and I wondered if that's why they were constantly all whispers when talking about Azriel, to spare me of that feeling.

"Youre not imagining her googly eyes though," she scoffs as she glances back over at them and then to me mocking a gag, I smirked a little bit glancing back at them once more and then to Kat again. She was for sure laying it on thick with the sweet tone and all of the unnecessary blinks. I didnt remember that about the first few times I met her.

"I mean I can't even blame her— he looks..." I trailed off searching for the right word, he looked amazing, delicious, sexier than he'd ever had before. He was practically glowing with whatever newfound confidence he'd gained from facing his many demons.

"I know that's your man but he looks hot," she finishes for me and we giggle together, I ignored the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasnt my man anymore.

"That he does," I sigh, twirling my straw around in my cup, suddenly I regretted not sneaking a few nips into my purse. I wouldn't get drunk at a sober party, I wouldn't, but something to take the edge off would be nice, and a joint didn't seem like the right option.

I effectively avoided Azriel for at least an hour, I hadn't been keeping track of time but it felt like it had been at least that long. I wasnt ready for a conversation, not when one look at him made my heart stop.

My stomach was growling, and I needed a snack. I was carefully piling charcuterie onto my plate when I jumped and nearly dropped the whole thing.

"Youre avoiding me, and youre doing a good job for how small the space is," his voice is the same one I remember, low and gravelly and sexy.

"Im not," I insist, just hoping he hadn't noticed the way I visibly jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I think I know when my girlfriend is avoiding me," he left a heavy emphasis on the word, looking at me expectantly as if he was daring me to challenge his claim on our relationship status. Relief washed over me, a tension that I hadn't been able to ease since the last time I saw him.

"Its just— Its been a lot I don't know, and having this conversation here... Seems like a lot too," I took a step back from the table but turned around to face him, I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching us, it only made me more uncomfortable.

"Are you eating?" its a direct question, soft but firm, his eyes scanning over every inch of me. My stomach flips, my cheeks reddening.

"Yes," I lift the small plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit as if that proved anything.

"Hm," he doesn't seem satisfied with my answer, his eyes not leaving me for a second.

"You look good Az, you look different," I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping my anxiousness didnt bleed into my words.

"Im still me baby im just better," that same confident smirk spreads across his lips, I knew it well but somehow- there was a different spark behind it. Something all those drugs had dimmed. A light I hadn't seen in a while. "For example, Im not gonna nod off on the couch anymore because Ive had a handle to myself for two days straight and Im hours off a two week coke bender," he said it so casually and leave it to Azriel to make a joke out of it. "From now on," his voice drops as if he knew they were all listening, I felt Elain's curious eyes on us and I knew she was trying to catch every word. Sorry, hes mine. "I won't fall asleep without making sure you are fed, fucked, and tucked into bed."

I blush, looking away from his stare, something in my gut eases but the anxiety is still settled there.

"And Im sorry, for each and every time I failed you. Im clear headed now and—" he cuts himself off, and maybe it was the look on my face that stopped him. "Would you feel better if we went outside?" he nods to the balcony, I quickly nod, desperate to be alone with him and not on display like some soap that they were all watching.

"Please, its. little stuffy in here," my words are a little rushed, and they were true, I felt like I could barely breathe anymore. And I was making a complete idiot out of myself when Azriel hadn't seen me in two months. I feel his hand on my back and he guides me out onto Rhys balcony, I don't look back again, I lean up against the balcony, resting my elbow on the railing and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air before popping one of the pieces of cheese into my mouth.

Azriel joins me after he had shut the door behind us, leaning up against the balcony next to me and he lit up a joint he had gotten off of the bud bar.

"Did you tell your psychiatrist you were going to smoke?" I ask casually, trying to change the subject into something else. Anything else but our relationship, I shouldn't be worried, he had already said I was still his girlfriend.

"Yes," he shrugged, taking another drag from it, I could feel his eyes on me as I set my plate down on the nearby table. I had barely touched it.

"And what did they say?" I ask, quirking a brow as I take it from him, it was annoying that I was more at ease now, normal territory, I didnt like the way sober Az could see right through me, I had thought he was able to before, and now?

He shrugged again, watching me. "Why are you trying to avoid talking about us?" he reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can't hide from him, my breath catches. He took the joint back, taking one more long drag before putting it out. I shook my head, I couldn't find the right words. He grabs my wrist gently and turns me around so my back is against the railing, his body so close, the scent of his cologne slamming into my senses. "Why?" he repeats, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light, his voice is soft and careful.

"I— I don't know Az," I breathe out, my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. "It's just I—" I look away, unable to meet his gaze when I feel the word vomit coming. "Im afraid, Azriel. I am. And I know it's fucked up because I shouldn't be. I feel sick, sick with myself that I have been more worried about whether or not you would still want me when you got back than I have about you and your actual recovery. Ive been worried about you being different and not needing me and I know Im so fucked up for that there's something wrong with me and Im sorry—"

"Hey, hey, stop, breathe for a second," he interrupts me, a small sigh leaving his lips as he places both of his hands on my cheeks, lifting my face to look at him and he gently wipes away my shameful tears with his rough thumbs, the feeling makes my spine tingle. "Don't feel bad for anything that you feel or have felt in these past weeks," he assures me, one of his thumbs still gently rubbing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. "I— I created that for you, that whole thinking you need to be needed by me. I created this... Trauma bond, I know that now, I know that I made our relationship toxic. It's not your fault, I hadn't dealt with any of my shit and I basically put it on to you. Im sorry, Im sorry you felt like that at all and I wish..." he sighed softly, one of his hands fell to my waist. "I wish I had the courage to call you, because I wanted to so many times, but I didnt think you'd want to talk to me. You needed space and I had to respect that but seeing you now, seeing you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should have. I should have been there for you," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I know where I fucked up, I know what kind of damage Ive done, this only proves it," he brushed his finger over the dark circle underneath my eye. "I love you, I love you so much, maybe too much sometimes," he sighs again, I fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Az I love you too," I breathe out because Im stunned into silence. Everything hes said, his accountability, his words, they felt like they were crashing into me.

"Im not going to leave you like that ever again," he promised, and took a step closer, pressing his body into mine. He felt stronger, more solid. It was almost like he had left a boy and returned a man. "You are going to be my wife some day, you are the fucking definition of ride or die Bee, I swear, for the last two months the more clear my head got I just realized one thing over and fucking over," he wasnt afraid, he had absolutely no hesitations, every single word felt like a promise, and I felt like my heart was palpitating. "I hit the fucking jack pot with you, and I fear the smartest thing that Ive ever done in my life was share my favorite candy with the girl across the street."

My cheeks are burning, tears streaming, but they aren't sad, just emotional. I don't know what else to do, my words are caught in my throat so I kissed him. I pulled him down, my fingers tugging in the hairs at the nap of his neck, our tongues tangling perfectly like they always had. He was mine, still my Az, better, better like he had said. He was right. A soft groan escaped his lips, my stomach flipped at the sound, the thought of how he would have his way with me later after so many days apart. My body melted into his at the thought, our hungry kiss only escalating. Our desperate need for each other matching perfectly, our emotions pouring into the heated kiss. I tilted my head his lips traveling down my jaw and across my neck, settling behind my ear and gently sucking. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, I moaned his name softly, my body feeling like a hot puddle.

"Hmm?" he hummed against my skin, his hand had slipped under my dress where he was rubbing soft circles on the least sensitive part of my thigh, somehow it was still driving me mad.

"We, we should go in now... They are going to be wondering whats taking us so long," I breathed out, I couldn't even see past Azriel into the house, I was sure they could see us though, or at least see Azriel pinning me against the railing.

"They should have known better than to throw me a party when I haven't seen my baby in sixty whole days, and they definitely should have known better than to let you wear this dress," he tugs lightly at the fabric. "They should have known Id need alone time with you," his eyes glimmered with mischief. "I have a lot of making up to do," he added, tracing his scarred finger over my jawline.

"I hated this idea more than you Im sure," I admitted guiltily, biting down on my lip. "But they worked really hard Az," I tried to peek around him to see inside again, he only shifted to block my view.

"Fine, but five more minutes," he smirked, tilting my chin up again.

"Five more minutes," I whispered breathlessly before he crashed his lips onto mine again, and I felt all of my anxiety melt away, as if he was pulling it from me.

And I felt safe.

Home.

Safe.

-

taglist <3:

@smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria @abadfantasybook @judeduartewannbe @lindsayscottagebythesea @velarisdusk @serxndipity-ipity-blog @julesvanslutta @honk4emoboyz @bookishbishhh @dakotali @blessthepizzaman @scooobies @durgenyx @lorosette @kayjaywrites

[decolonize-the-everything]

Found a new doctor and they were able to cram me in today.

Showed her my list of symptoms from my phone, she looked at my history, we talked for a bit, and then right off the bat she's starts throwing out possibilities lile POTS, fibro, & long COVID which was soooo reassuring because all my other doctors I've seen wrote off my symptoms as anxiety after labs came back normal.

She said she couldnt do a tilt test and said cardiologists probably wouldn't either without some weird test results BUT she could (and did) do a make shift tilt test right on the spot and what do you know! I got hella dizzy and my heart rate spiked way up.

She said I definitely have Something going on with my heart that's affected by posture but my blood pressure didn't change much so it's not likely POTS. She's getting me a referral for a cardiologist since I have no auto immune markers and is hesitant to prescribe me meds when we don't know what's up with my heart and said the cardiologist should call within two weeks.

She agrees I definitely have Something but with such a wide range of symptoms it'll be hard to test for and hard to find. She did some other labs while I was there and I got results for those before my gf and I even finished driving home 😭💗

She's already done so much more than any other doctor. Validated I'm not crazy and didn't tell me it was all in my head, and she didn't write off long COVID either!! She ordered more blood labs too, so she can get a bigger picture of my baseline since I last got labs (I gotta get those done tomorrow after the caffeine from this morning is out of my system tho).

I can't stop crying.

I feel like shit and I have a headache from the almost-tilt-test and I don't have a diagnosis yet either but I've literally never felt better about a doctor. I've never had any confidence that the person treating me was competent enough or up to date enough on COVID effects but she is!!

[jewish-vents]

I have so much anxiety about the upcoming election. If Trump wins, he's already said he'll bomb all of Palestine into being a parking lot. Hamasniks will murder us in the streets if that happens. They will go fully feral and fully unhinged and hunt us down. If he doesn't win, his deeply antisemitic base are going to hunt us down with just as much hatred as they've always had, in addition to continuing to commit hate crimes against anyone they think is Arab (because they think Arab = Muslim, so my Mizrahi family is still in danger). Either way, we're in for a new round of "(((the Jews))) rigged it" from both and continued seething hatred. One possibility is better in that less people die overall, but there is no possibility that will result in us being safe. There is no option where we're all okay.

I just want my family to be safe. My parents were very old when they had me - my mom's birth control failed and my dad's vasectomy reversed itself - and I know they're easy targets. I know they're not capable of fighting back. It feels like November is this approaching threat, looming over my head. I know things are going to get worse. I know who that's likely to impact. And I don't know how to protect them.

I'm trying, but it's so hard to envision a future in which my family is all alive. My siblings are off living in big cities wearing their Magen Davids openly and shaming me for 'hiding' my heritage, for not being more observant, for not being good enough. I just want to shout at them, "How on Earth do you even have a thought to spare for that right now?!" I'm here on the ranch keeping things running and supporting our parents. I chop wood, I feed animals, I balance the books, I sell things, etc. and eat I can't keep my mind busy enough not to worry.

Will our parents be the ones killed first, when Kamala wins? Will my siblings be the ones killed first, when Trump wins? Are any of us safe, regardless of the outcome?

The walls are closing in and November is coming in only a month and some change.

I don't remember what it's like not to be worried anymore.

.

[i-mybrunettelady]

hail, mighty hero

zaeim and nyra share a moment in kourna. set during long live the lich (lws4). mind the spoilers. 2k words. mature.

Allied Encampment is bustling with life. But it’s not the kind of life that would indicate happiness; in Zaeim’s head, that kind of life is almost a fragment of his imagination. It certainly is for the poor souls of Istan, or even Vabbi. Here in Kourna and the real world, it’s a life of anxiety, a life of uncertainty, of vague hope. People are carrying their restlessness with them and looking up at the leaders of this makeshift resistance group to make sense of it. 

Zaeim feels that burden intensely. He guides his Sunspears, makes plans, tries his hardest to not break nor bend under pressure. Every time he sees a wounded or dying Elonian, he sends a prayer to Kormir and it weighs his heart down even further. Every time there’s an accident, or a failed scouting mission, Zaeim wonders if they’re all going to die and Joko will remain the tyrant of Elona forever. 

So when he feels this way, he turns to Nyra. She stands tall, proud, indomitable and entirely mad. Her eyes shine with something wild and barely restrained, like fate itself had carved a chasm in her soul so now she’s trying to rebuild it back with parts of the real world. She attracts attention wherever she goes and people flock to her like moths to flame. From a distance, she looks radiant. Up close, Zaeim wonders when she’s going to burn out entirely. 

She can’t seem to fight off a sunburn from days in the sands and amongst the army. Her hair, short, messy and in constant disarray, has lightened to a near blonde, a contrast to the areas of her face that caught the beginnings of a tan. She has growing dark circles under her eyes and ever-present dirt beneath her nails, be it blood or tar or whatever else. Comfortable tunics she wears are more filled with creases and dust by the day, patched where they’d gotten nicked in the fights with Awakened. She hardly looks like their leader, Zaeim thinks, as worn out and bitter and restless as everyone else. 

He knows deep down, however, that it is her light this whole thing is centered around. And so, he can’t look away. Especially not when they’re discussing tactics, when she’s explaining things in that strangely accented Elonian of hers, or when she settles on a decision and cuts a clear line in the sand. I have listened to your suggestions. From this point on, you are with me or against me. 

Hardly anyone dares oppose her.

And thus Zaeim finds himself drawn to the moments where he’s with her. He likes the reassurance in her eyes. He likes the subtle nature of her smiles. “I’ve never been very expressive, in terms of.. Face,” she said one night, reclining against a wall. Zaeim raised his gaze to her face. “Do you mind that?”

“Some people are simply not,” he replied, with more eagerness than he’d intended. “I don’t doubt that you’re genuine about this and about Elona. Kormir knows you want Joko dead as much as anyone else here.” 

“There can only be one biggest dick in this desert, yeah?” she huffed and blew a curl of hair away from her nose. “For fuck’s sake, I need my hair to grow faster.” 

Zaeim smiled. “That growth spurt went elsewhere with you, it would seem.” 

Nyra laughed. It was a solid, deep sound, echoing in the small cottage they’d claimed as their base of command. “I’d say Joko stole it and I wanna get it back.” 

“Or Sayida.” 

“Sayida is wiser than Joko.” 

Zaeim shook his head. “Debatable, but I will not argue with you.” 

“That’s smart,” Nyra said, in a gravelly tone. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve suspected a threat. “You are wise too.” 

Zaeim doesn’t consider himself wise. He doesn’t think Nyra herself is wise, either. All he knows is that between them, and supposedly Sayida, and the Olmakhan and the Primeval ghosts, they can take down Joko and see a free Elona. 

Sometimes, that is enough. 

Other times, though, he wants to see Nyra the woman, Nyra the person behind the legend. Then he watches her movements, and notices, rather quickly, that her right shoulder is almost always stiff by the end of the day. She’s careful to not move her right hand much unless she has to, and the occasional stretch she does brings about a pained expression. She doesn’t bring it up, however. 

He understands. He has old wounds too. But in the grand scheme of Alysannyra Ainsaph, that one thing feels like a game changer. She goes from a symbol to a person, and from person to a symbol in a way Zaeim is familiar with, as the Spearmarshal. It makes him want to hold her close, feel the heat of her skin and the roughness of her sunburnt cheeks, in a union that so few people can actually understand. 

She comes to him in a dream, once, and there, she kisses him. And maybe Joko kills them all without Zaeim ever having tried to recreate that dream in real life. Zaeim hopes he musters up the courage to try. 

Opportunity presents itself rather unexpectedly. There is an Awakened Inquest incursion that Nyra herself chooses to annihilate, and that has her painfully rolling her shoulder to try and relieve the ache of it all day. In a break between planning, when the maps are in the safety of Canach’s hands for the moment, Zaeim takes a chance to lean in and whisper in Nyra’s ear, “Does your shoulder hurt?” 

Nyra almost hits his head as she raises hers. “What?” 

Zaeim blinks and steps away. “I noticed your shoulder is stiff and I wanted to offer relief. There is something that us Sunspears use and that I have a little bit of in my pack for old injuries.” 

“Relief, Spearmarshal?” Canach snickers, still looking at the maps. “I do think our dear Commander would love some relief! She’s had so much on her shoulders for this little war of yours–” 

“That’s what you take from this,” Nyra drawls, unimpressed. “Anyone you wanna fuck, Canach?” Zaeim blushes. 

“My hand suffices, Commander.” 

“Good. Stay out of the poor Spearmarshal’s business then. Maybe his hand doesn’t suffice.” 

Miraculously, Canach backs down. He offers Nyra a smile and returns the maps in her hands. “I will ponder on the tactics, Nyra,” he says quietly. “I will also see if Gorrik has any advice on the matter.” 

“Gorrik?” Nyra raises an eyebrow. She huffs out a breath and leans in. “Lie better next time, you asshat.” 

Canach grins. “He knows more than you think he does, Nyra.” 

“Oh.” 

“Oh, indeed.” 

“Get lost, though,” she jerks her head towards the door. “Think about tactics elsewhere.” 

Canach salutes her and heads to the door. He makes sure to close them as loudly as he possibly can without breaking the damn thing. Zaeim watches him go and crosses his arms over his chest. His face feels hot still and he digs his nails into the exposed skin of his upper arms. Yes, Kormir curse him, he does want to sleep with Nyra, and is that a crime? Is it a bad thing if a man wants to sleep with a woman? 

“Zaeim,” Nyra says, “if you frown any harder, you’ll get a permanent wrinkle.” 

“Wrinkles are the least of my concerns,” Zaeim grumbles and looks away. He then clears his throat. “I hope you’re not offended that I–” 

“That you find me attractive?” Nyra taps a nail against the table. The wide stance she’d assumed earlier when talking to Canach now becomes a long, lean form. The wood creaks under her weight when she leans against the table. “No.” 

“But?” Zaeim looks back at her again. She’s rubbing her clothed arms. She’s the only fully clothed and covered person in this entire camp, barring Gorrik and Taimi. She has bandages up to her knuckles. “Are you hurt?”

“Zaeim, I’m more scar tissue than skin behind this patched up tunic,” she says after a while and laughs awkwardly. Zaeim stares. It somehow never crossed his mind that she too might have insecurities. His head has a hard time wrapping itself around that notion, that the Godkiller and Dragonslayer is insecure about her scars of all things. 

“That is hardly a concern to me, if it is any consolation,” he offers softly. “There are a lot of scarred Sunspears.” 

She looks him up and down. Her eyes linger on his arms and legs and on the peek of his chest, before she looks him directly in the eye. Zaeim squirms under inspection. He knows he looks older than he is; life of a Sunspear is hardly easy, and beauty is the first thing to go when you choose to defy Joko. In the grand scheme of things, it’s least relevant. But right now Zaeim wishes very hard that he’d been born a noble, a prince of Vabbi or Istan, someone she would find easy to look at. 

“For what’s worth, I think you’re attractive too,” she says and Zaeim’s head shoots up. She sounds a little sad. 

Zaeim breathes out. “I still have my ointment, if you’d like it.” 

She considers for a moment, and as if to prove a point, goes to roll her shoulder. She stops halfway. “Yes,” she says. She rises from the table that creaks thankfully, and carefully pulls some of her tunic down to reveal her right shoulder. Zaeim sees the tail ends of angry, dark pink burns, but when she catches it, she raises the sleeve so they’re covered again. 

He doesn’t ask. Instead, he points towards a little stool near him. She walks over, playing with the material of her sleeve, and turns her back to him as she sits. His breath catches in his throat. The scar there is gnarly, deep, like something had tried to tear her spine off. It sits in an uneven line at a weird angle too. 

“It would’ve been worse without surgery,” she says, distantly. 

“Is there a way to–”

“No.” The finality of her response makes him close his mouth and dig through his pack. He unscrews the little clay pot and a familiar, slightly pungent scent spreads across the room. Zaeim says nothing as he softly rubs the cream into the knotted flesh. The only sounds in the room are the scoops his fingers make and their breathing, rugged and tense. 

She has tan lines, he notices. Her skin is hot where he touches it. Every so often she turns her head to look at him, and her eyes seem so impossibly big and insistent, conflicted in a way he can’t possibly decode. The sunburn makes their purple hue stand out even more. Zaeim’s hands itch to touch and caress more of her. He imagines his lips on her exposed neck, his hands in her hair. This close, she’s less of a symbol and more of a living, breathing person, with dark circles and a haunted stare and greasy hair, and he cannot get enough of it. 

“Kiss me,” she says. Her voice is rough and rich and breathy. It echoes in Zaeim’s ears like a drum. 

“Gladly,” Zaeim mutters and closes the clay pot. He could die tomorrow; it would’ve been a damn shame if he didn’t leap at an opportunity to kiss her. The pot clinks as he returns it carelessly to his pack and washes his hands free of the ointment. Nyra watches him with a strange expression. 

“What?” Zaeim asks and his heart wants to beat out of his chest. He feels its thunder in his throat. 

“You remind me of someone,” she says softly. “It’s– it was a man as dedicated to his dream and his duties as you are.” The way she implies the man is dead makes it seem targeted, almost a reproach. She’d mentioned a lover before, back in Tyria, but that he is dead. Zaeim has no idea who this man is and senses the topic is too raw to discuss further, but he wonders.

Self reproach is the only thing worse than regret. 

Zaeim crouches before her. This close, she smells like the cream he’d put on her and sweat. “Do you want me to kiss you? Truly?” 

Her eyes blaze. “Enough consideration,” she bites out, “I’m not fragile, for fuck’s sake!” And she pulls him to her and crashes her lips to his, digs her hands in his locs. Zaeim moans under the attention, and he would’ve felt bad about it if it wasn’t swallowed by the domineering force of her lips on his, even if closed. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

After a moment, she takes her head back a little, as if snapped out of a daze. “You probably wanted something sweeter,” she says quietly. “This was anything but.” 

“I will not lie,” he replies, “my usual idea of a first kiss is something that isn’t a metaphorical devouring.” 

Nyra blinks. “We can kiss slowly, if you’d like,” she says and plays with his locs. And then adds, with a grief so big it could swallow the world, “It’s been a long while since I had one of those. Probably don’t deserve them either. But..” 

Zaeim stands up. “This chair is a little uncomfortable,” he says. Nyra follows suit, close enough so he can feel the heat of her body. “I am certain there are more comfortable places in this house for people to kiss.” 

“Walls have hardly ever failed,” she suggests. Finding a little nook that’s big enough for both of them is a challenge, but when they finally do, and when he kisses her again, with his hands on her ass, the world falls away. 

Kormir knows they both need this. Kormir knows they both need a lot of things. And thankfully, Kormir, bless Her, provides. 

[okkennymay]

Speaking of said dad, he went on a lil mini 10 day holiday across the country to Perth to sight see nature and go on a boat ride to see some Orcas (he's retired, it's his way of getting out the house and not turning into an old man potato, and comes back with hundreds of photos of landscapes, plants and flowers and points of historical interests to show my Mum and I, with cool facts and stories in a slideshow~)

Unfortunately i was still sick at the time and didn't get the chance to join my mum in dropping him off at the airport, let alone the chance to give him a big 'ol hug before he left- so I drew him this 💖

You can't escape the 'Ken hugs.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

my 1 (one) stardew opinion is shane should not have won the bachelor poll

[blackh0letempest]

To the kids currently going through abuse from their parents, keep pushing forward. You will get out. You will. It feels huge, it's a lot to think about. You will probably make mistakes. But there is not a single living independent adult that hasn't made mistakes in handling their finances, taking care of themselves, etc. The sooner you get out, the sooner you can start to learn who you are when you aren't being abused, and that self is deeply worth knowing. You are worth the effort.

[katierosefun]

not to still be talking about beyond evil in 2023, but to talk about beyond evil in 2023 and specifically mental illness representation and how i want to talk ad nauseam about idk maybe han joo won being less obsessive is actually a good thing because people with ocd are constantly struggling to have some kind of recovery and no, beyond evil didn’t just forget about how joo won has mysophobia (because even in the finale, the manyang gang address it)—it’s about how people still recover, and maybe that’s very comforting to the viewers who feel like they’re unable to live properly with their own mental illness okay okay

[reverie-starlight]

going from literally not being able to handle school and hating myself for setting myself up for failure these past two years to submitting stuff on time and actually putting in the effort this semester feels so surreal, I genuinely forgot I could do it.

[bunnihearted]

🐰🩹🧸🏨

[stillfruit]

i love not knowing if i'll ever be healthy again i love all of the time i've used to move my body become nothing i love spending my adulthood wasting away year after year for various reasons baby!

[sailor-aviator]

.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I caught myself looking like 😑 again at the grocery store today and I feel so awkward. I don’t want to come off as an asshole to anyone working there (it must suck as a job, especially during summer tourist season) but my face is just like this! I think it would be really funny if I got a custom t-shirt one day that just said “sorry, it’s (probably) not you. My face is just like this” with the 😑 emoji under it

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Being high energy while sick feels insane. Like my brain is telling me I should lay down and rest but is also telling me I should run around in circles and break things.

[nickywhoisi]

pizzasuba

Hey PT fandom come get y'alls juicey fucked up italian meow meow

When I remembered this anime (and honestly why wouldn't you??), I knew exactly what I had to post next. You know me, I'll probably ink and colour this later. I wish I had some digital art tools to really make this look like a screenshot. It'd be pretty cool if someone else wanted to take a crack at it! For now, I bumrushed the idea out of my goof brain. The face was all studied carefully from a youtube clip, no tracing no scope baybeeeeeeeeeee

i hope nobody will notice that i can't draw guns for shit wwwwwww

[bittwitchy]

see the reality is i post on my rps usually when nobodys been there a bit and nobody is probably online, but the mental illness in me keeps saying its bc everyone secretly hates me and i dont deserve love, and when i tell a gov doctor that, they basically just say ‘take your antidepressant’s and shut up’ which is also funny when said gov doctor wont refill my fucking antidepressants in the first place