#leading cause of insomnia is actually writing

[concentfortea]

[revelinmagic]

Sleepless Nights - the Bad Batch (Crosshair x Reader)

Pairings: Crosshair x FormerJedi!reader (romantic), Hunter x FormerJedi!reader (platonic) [gender-neutral reader]

Warnings: no smut, mentions of insomnia, fluff, first kiss, intense kissing tho (no use of y/n)

Summary: With your insomnia acting up again, you decide to take a late night walk to try and clear your head. Unknown to you, a certain clone who has trouble expressing his feelings follows you, worried for your safety. When you catch him following you, questions are asked and certain mutual feelings come to light...

Word count: 3,329

Authors note: so this is my first fic, hope y’all like it! It does have slow start but it speeds up fast. This story takes place outside of canon story. It exists in a universe where Crosshair came back to the batch after time spent with the Empire but before any of the events of season 2. (this is also cross posted on ao3 , but I did just start writing on there too so there is nothing other than this fic...yet)

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If the Marauder had to break down anywhere, you were glad it was this planet. The days were staying below too hot, but the night also did not get too cold. And you would know, seeing as your insomnia had gotten bad again over the past couple of weeks.

Sleep was constantly on your mind, and you could tell the Batch knew about it. Tech had “coincidently” started informing you on tips and tricks to sleep better, and had tried to pass it off as information he saw as beneficial for the entire team. Hunter was much better at being subtle, softly asking if you needed extra caf; he would also happen to forget to put you on the watch rotation recently. Echo and Wrecker were much more straightforward about their concern, with Echo offering his own extra pillows and blankets he kept to support his metal joints and keep him warmer while asleep, and Wrecker pushing Lula into your hands and announcing “She always helps me sleep!” Your squad truly cared about you. 

Omega, too, had picked up on your habits after catching you awake far too late whilst she tried to sneak into the cockpit and scare Hunter (which, of course, never actually worked, though Hunter would sometimes pretend it did for Omega’s sake). Following Wrecker’s lead, she offered to share the stuffed Tooka doll with you. 

The only person who had yet to comment on your nightly struggles was Crosshair.

Where the others cut you slack when you were sluggish in training, Crosshair would sneer and push you harder with his mildly cutting comments and sarcastic feedback on your abilities. You never fell behind in combat, though, the adrenaline always kicking you into focus and allowing your skills to shine through. And honestly, you know that is the only reason Hunter hasn’t sidelined you yet, or put you on permanent “Omega watch.” 

And so here you were, yet again, lying awake while the rest of your squad slept soundly, or as soundly as possible with Wrecker’s snores snaking through the darkness. 

Huffing to yourself, you twist again, trying to find a comfortable position in your bunk. A few more minutes pass with the same routine before you decide that it isn’t worth it to even try. Pulling on the sweatshirt and long pants from the foot of your bunk, you slip on boots as well, cause while the world outside was not cold, you didn’t want the air coming off the damp ground to give you a chill. Padding to the cockpit, you open the door to see the pilot’s seat swivel around, Hunter regarding you eyes containing the same worry they always seemed to have when he looked at you recently.

“Heard me coming?” You question, leaning against the door frame.

Hunter chuckles, crossing his arms before responding: “Heard you tossing and turning actually. Same as last night, and the night before.” You look down, not knowing what to say when he continues, “I suppose you are coming to let me know that you are going for a walk.”

He says it as a statement of fact, and it is. You had gotten into the habit of walking around at night under the guise of patrolling, though you were quite sure that at least Hunter knew that was bogus after you overheard a tense squabble between Crosshair and himself over the fact that you went out by yourself frequently. Crosshair had been saying how it was irresponsible of you to be wandering by yourself, and Hunter had chastised him for his comments. 

You nod at Hunter, and he just sighs to himself before turning to unlock the ship’s doors, “Just make sure to stay alert. I know our scanners would have picked up on any threats, but take your blaster with you in case.”

“Yes, Sergeant.” And with that you make your way out of the cockpit, stopping by your bunk to grab your blaster before heading out the door, not noticing that the bunk across from yours was empty as well. 

=================================================================

He was laying on the roof of the Marauder when he felt the ship’s doors open and close. Sitting up to see who it was, it came as no surprise when Crosshair saw you step out from the shadows and into the moonlight. With his enhanced eyesight, you were more than just an outline, every detail of you perfectly clear as you took a deep breath of the night air before starting off into the night. 

Crosshair was the only one besides Hunter that was fully aware of your nightly walks. The others had noticed your lack of sleep, but none of them seemed to notice the muddy shoes you hid under your bunk, none but Hunter and Crosshair himself. 

While watching you walk away from the ship, Crosshair felt that familiar warm lurch in his chest that seemed to arise whenever he looked at you in the past couple of months. 

When he had rejoined his brothers, he was surprised to see they had yet another addition besides his younger sister: you. Apparently you were a Jedi healer, trained not only in combat but also in how to use the force to close wounds and soothe minds. You had been rescued from slavers by the Batch, and since then you had stayed with them, becoming one of them and aiding on missions. Cid was also happy, as it had saved her money on supplies as well as the Batch needing less time between missions to inevitably heal back up. 

Being the only one of the Batch that held no trepidation in interacting with him once he finally returned, you had since become stuck in his head. Well, interacting as much as he would allow. Crosshair kept his distance, not knowing how to act around you, and that space he kept between you only increased as feelings started to bloom from the seeds of kindness you showed him. And it didn’t hurt that you were one of the most stunning creatures he had ever seen.

So of course he was more worried than he let on about your inability to fall asleep. It distracted him when in action, feeling the need to check on you to make sure you had not fallen due to exhaustion or to simply make sure you were still there. 

It was starting to get annoying. And so he of course worked through it the only way he knew how, with sarcasm and aggression masking his true emotions. 

He pushed you in training in hopes the exhaustion would finally hit you and grant you at least a few hours of rest. He argued with Hunter about letting you on missions, trying to allow you time to yourself on the ship. Crosshair even convinced Hunter to take you off of watch duty, making the excuse that he would rather take your place himself than leave the safety of the team in the hands of someone who could not even figure out a way to sleep. And his heart had fallen when he turned to see you had heard what he said, not knowing he was trying to help you in the only ways he knew how. And by the gods, he wanted to help you.

As you disappeared into the sparse treeline, Crosshair decided that it did not do any harm to follow you, make sure you did not get into any trouble. Climbing down the side of the ship, Crosshair slung his rifle over his shoulder and followed you into the wood. 

Moving quietly, he kept you in sight. He noticed your blaster and smiled to himself. That’s my girl.

Your movements were relaxed yet confident, he noticed, and he guessed it was not the first time you had taken this path specifically. But where were you going?

His question was answered a few moments later when a clearing suddenly appeared, boasting a small, still lake, a perfect mirror to the galaxies above it. Crosshair hid just within the trees as you moved towards the bank and sat down in the grass, pulling your knees to yourself as you gazed at the starry reflection before you. 

He spent a few minutes like that, watching you watch the water. It wasn’t often he got to observe you outright like this, or for this long. He made sure to keep his glances short and excusable should he ever be caught by his brothers. But now, he noticed things about you that caused a thrill to run up his spine as he realized he was probably the only one to ever see you in such a relaxed state.

He saw the way the breeze gently riled your hair, how you seemed to sigh with the wind every time. He saw how you gently kneaded the wet ground, feeling the living force of each grass blade around you. He watched as you gently lifted tendrils of water with your mind, creating small spirals that would then cause ripples when they fell, your shoulders moving a bit in what Crosshair assumed was a light laugh. 

Crosshair was so focused on you, on the minute details you were exhibiting, that he somehow failed to realize when you sensed a lifeforce you recognized. 

“Are you going to come out and join me, Crosshair?”

His breath pushed out of his lungs in one swoop. How long had you known he was there? Did you know he had followed you? Could you sense his heart speed up at the sound of his name from your lips?

Crosshair silently took a deep breath before emerging to join you on the bank.

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You were internally cursing yourself for not realizing he was there sooner as Crosshair came to sit beside you. You blame your sleepless state as the culprit of your failure to stay alert. You had only sensed him when you reached out a bit further with the force to check the trees for any creatures, but there was no way you were going to let Crosshair know that, knowing he would not let it go that a Jedi had failed to notice a threat so close. 

The two of you sat together, staring out across the lake you had discovered four nights ago. Glancing at your companion, he was staring at the ground, not likely to speak first, so you again broke the silence.

“So we both know what I am doing out here this late, question is why are you here?” you spoke each word particularly soft, not wanting to scare him off. In truth, your heart had skipped a beat when you recognized his energy. Excitement, nervousness, and heat had rushed through you. How long had he been watching you? Had he followed you? Did he come after you because he cared?

You hoped beyond all reason that he was here because he was worried, because he cared. Kriff, you wanted him to care. To feel something for you beyond the stiff formality of a co-worker’s relationship. 

Ever since you had met him, you felt a pull towards the Marksman. You knew that as glad as the other members of the Batch were that he was back, they were just as wary to trust him again. But to you, you who could sense the battle raging in his head, he proved himself without having to say a word. His love for his brothers and Omega was palpable to you, and it had almost knocked the breath out of you when you sensed his determination to gain their trust, to earn back their faith and love (though, you knew they had never stopped loving him). Crosshair seemed surprised when you showed no animosity at his presence, and even more so when you went out of your way to try and befriend him. 

That first meeting had been near 200 standard rotations ago, and at least for you, the want to be his friend had grown into something more. You wanted him. All of him; the dark, the light, and everything in between. And here he sat, mere inches away, where to touch him, all you would have to do is shift your weight the slightest bit in his direction. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want you. Why else would he have built so many walls between the two of you. Why else would he cut conversation short and turn away whenever you managed to start talking about anything real. Why else would he flinch when you had to touch his skin to heal him, and then leave without looking you in the eyes as he muttered a curt “thank you.”

All of this ran through your head as Crosshair didn’t answer your question. He just kept staring at the ground, playing with the grass you yourself had been grabbing at just moments ago. 

Typical.

With a sigh, you went to push yourself off of the ground. 

“I -” Crosshair started. Freezing, you don’t dare to move. Crosshair takes another breath, “I saw you leave the ship, so I made the decision to follow you. Is that a crime now?” His voice had switched from soft to standoffish, and you knew he was embarrassed to admit he had intentionally filled you out into the forest. That is when you felt it, his unease and… Crosshair was nervous? 

Relaxing back onto the ground, you move the slightest bit closer, just brushing your ankle against his, and you hear his quick intake of breath at the contact. 

Impossible… Did he actually feel the same?

It is now or never, you realize. This is the moment. You cannot keep living in a state of pining and confusion. You need to know, whatever the outcome. Either he wants you, or he will reject you, and you can start to move on. 

“And why did you follow me?” You speak softly, the same way you would speak to a beast prepared to run.

His leg keeps bouncing as he formulates an answer in his head, so you decide to be bold. 

Placing a hand on his knee, you lean into his line of sight, “Cross?” Crosshair goes still at the contact and shortened version of his name, gaze switching between your face and your hand on his leg. He makes no attempt to move. He decides on your face, eyes wide guarded but laced with…hope. He looks hopeful. You push again.

“Were you worried about me, Cross?” 

Wordlessly he nods, swallowing hard as he can feel something shifting in the air. And he too knows that this is it. This is the moment that will define your relationship for better or worse. 

Moving closer again, you raise your hand to cup his cheek, giving him every opportunity to grab it. To tell you to stop. To get up and laugh at you. But he doesn't.

Crosshair can scarcely breathe as your hand meets his face, a shudder running through him as your thumb slowly traces the bottom of his tattoo and his eyes close. The force around you shimmers with tension and warmth, and without even trying to can feel your energies reaching out to each other, begging to unite.

Just one more push, you think to yourself as you brace on the edge of something new and inevitable. And you pray to the force that you have not misread this entire situation. 

“Do you care for me as violently as I care for you?” The words are a whisper against Corsshair’s ear, you being closer than even he realized. Though they may as well have been a gunshot the way they tore through him.

Eyes shooting open, his hand grasps the wrist of the hand touching his face. Chest rapidly rising and falling Crosshair studies your face: searching, reading, hoping. You hold your breath as you stay still as possible, all of your cards on the table as you wait for him. 

After what feels like a lifetime, Crosshair’s eyes focus on yours. And whatever he was looking for across the rest of you, he must have found it in your gaze because just as your heart starts to fall, one word is muttered from his lips: “Yes.”

You don’t know who moves first, but you also don’t care. The force explodes in and around you as his mouth finds yours. His lips come crashing onto yours with a passion that can only be found in a person who has longed for what they now possess. 

Pulling on your wrist, he drags you onto his lap, your legs straddling his thighs and waist. You hear Crosshair gasp your name as a whimper escapes the stoic clone. His hands then find the back of your neck and your waist as your hands come to run through this coarse silver hair that has grown long enough to grab onto. Tugging slightly elicited a groan from the Marksman, and you take the opportunity to swipe your tongue into his mouth for just a moment before retracting it. 

Growling, Crosshair flips your positions, pinning you beneath him and taking a moment to meet your shocked face with a smirk of his own before he takes advantage of your open mouth with his own tongue, eliciting a moan from both of you. His hands travel to your hips while you dig your nails into each of his biceps, earning you another growl. 

You let out a whine as his lips leave yours, only to gasp as Crosshair begins lavishing your neck. He kisses down your throat, only to lick up the same strip of skin. Finding the sensitive spot just below your ear he sucks slightly, pulling another moan from you that causes him to chuckle, his stubble scratching slightly against your earlobe. Kissing along your jaw, he dips his head to nip at the base of your neck, soothing each small bite with his tongue. Before long, you can’t take it anymore and pull his lips back onto yours. 

After a few more seconds, you each have to pull away, gulping down air. Lifting your head to meet his eyes, a smile starts to form on your face, mirrored on Corsshair’s own. A giggle erupts from your chest as you lean your foreheads against one another. With a dry chuckle, Crosshair pulls away from you and stands, offering you his hand which you gladly take. 

Once standing, Crosshair stares at you for a moment before speaking in that spine tingling voice of his, “In case that was not enough of an answer, mesh’la, I will reiterate.” He grins cheekily and you have to look down as you blush at the Mando'an pet name. That is when he takes his finger and raises your chin to him, making sure you are looking him in the eyes for the next thing he says.

“Yes, cyar'ika, I care about you. More than I can probably admit now or ever. I followed you because I was worried and because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be there for you. Because,” his voice drops an octave as he steps so that you are pressed together once again, “I want you, and everything that comes along with you.”

He presses a kiss to your lips, not as fiery and wanting as before, but instead filled with love, devotion, and promise. Pulling away to see that you fully understand what he is saying he watches as you nod, tears threatening to spill from your tired eyes. 

Without another word, he reaches down and takes your hand, leading you back to the Marauder just as the first light of day begins to spread its fingers into the sky. 

And if the others notice you snuggled up and sleeping soundly for the first time in weeks against Crosshair’s chest, or if they notice the sniper’s normally expressionless face set in a grin while asleep, no one says anything. Or at least not yet. 

For now, they let you rest. 

[purplestars222]

Miguel x Reader - Insomnia

Miguel x depressed human reader

part one part 2

(mig has a bit of a thing for you, even tho he won't admit it. so he gets worried when you don't show up for work for a week)

i am SO sorry if i get any of the Spanish wrong, this is my first time writing for a character that speaks Spanish, and i personally don't know any Spanish, so please correct me if i get anything wrong.

cw: reader has bad depression after hobie broke up with them, not leaving bed all day, staying up all night and hallucinations, fluff, mig gets dirty thoughts but doesn't act on them

words; 715 (i know its short, sorry)

this is my first fic, please be nice

You wake up, it's 8 pm, and you decided to have a nap after waking up at 2 pm. You roll over and check your phone, 17 missed calls from your boss, Miguel. You swipe the notification away and start scrolling through Instagram, too exhausted to leave the bed. About 2 hours go by and you decide to get up to go to the toilet, when you walk into your loungeroom, a tall, dark figure is sitting on the couch, head in its hands, mumbling something. You ignore it, assuming its another hallucination, and start walking away

"Cariño?"

You froze, it sounded like miguel, but why would he be here? In your house?

"Miguel?"

"Ay, dios mío, you had everyone worried! You haven't shown up to work in a week. What's going on?" he wasn't happy, which scared you. It was also actually him, maybe, you weren't sure, but it seemed too real to be a hallucination

"been busy." you walk to the bathroom and shut the door

"Busy with what?"

"Just leave, please..." your voice breaks

He opens the door and sits next to you on the floor, he puts a hand on your back in an attempt to comfort you, You lean into him, getting his suit soaked with your tears. after what seems like an eternity of crying on the floor, miguel helps you up and wipes your face clean

"You need to shower, where are your towels? I'll get one for you."

"cupboard, my room."

Miguel turns the shower on, to a nice hot temperature and leaves to grab you a towel.

You haven't showered in a week. He could probably smell it on you, and now he probably thinks you're disgusting. You strip off and hop in the shower, the feeling of the hot water on your back was amazing. You slide down the wall to sit on the floor, curling up into a ball to start crying again

after about 15 minutes, there's a soft tap at the door "Amor? can I come in?"

"y-yeah...."

Miguel walks in and sits the towel on the basin, the sight of you naked, even though most of you was covered, was enough to give him a boner, but he couldn't. Not while you were this upset

"That's not showering, y'know" he lets out a small chuckle, "Can I help?"

you nod, and he hops in, still wearing his suit, he sits behind you and starts washing your hair and back, his hands were so gentle, and the way his claws massaged your scalp made you feel amazing.

"mig, i-"

"Shh, just enjoy this, okay cariño?" his voice came out as a whisper, his breath brushing against the back of your neck

That nickname. That fucking nickname. It made you feel things you didn't wanna feel towards your boss, even if he is the hottest man you've ever met, he's your boss. He's only helping you like this so he can get you back to work.

Miguel starts massaging your back, causing you to let out a soft groan, Laying in bed all day was not great for your back, And miguel could tell it was sore. He continues to work the knots out of your back, once he's finished, he stands up, grabbing you by the hands to help you up, he walks you out of the shower cubicle and wraps a towel around your body, then starts drying your hair. He grabs your hand and leads you to your room. He cleaned up your room a bit and made the bed, also laid some clean pj's out.

"do you want me to leave while you get dressed? or do you need help with that too?" you could tell he was being sarcastic, but if it were up to you, you'd just lay in the towel for the rest of the night.

Mig sighs and grabs the pyjama shirt and slips it over your head, then he slips your shorts on

"Want me to stay the night, mi cielo?"

"please."

he scoops you up effortlessly, laying you on your pillow, he lays next to you and pulls the blankets up. he wraps an arm around you and places a soft kiss on your forehead

"Try to sleep, Cariño, we're going out tomorrow."

[writethrough]

Can you write a hurt/comfort Morpheus x F!Reader where the reader is good friends with Morpheus and continuously helps around The Dreaming until the reader’s diminishing presence in the realm due to worsening sleep becomes a point of concern, leading to the discovery that the reader’s insistence to help others is a way for her to put aside her own problems and not have to deal with them, and Morpheus finally convinces her to get the rest she so desperately needs?

Sorry if this is too long or too specific, but if it needs to be cut down, then just a one-shot about a F!Reader who puts everyone else’s needs before her own and Morpheus confronts her about it?

Hiding In Plain Sight

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Warnings: Burnout, problem avoidance, a bout of insomnia, Reader's father in an accident, language, anxiety, innuendo

Word Count: 2216

A/N: Thank you for the request! This one took me a bit to start because I didn't know where to begin. I tried really hard to do your original idea and not the shortened version so I hope you like it. I did make Morpheus and the reader in an established relationship kinda on accident. I was 80% of the way through when I reread your request and was like shit "good friends." So, I hope that isn't a deal breaker. I also added a tiny little sprinkle of innuendo at the end because the story had a mind of its own at that point.

You had never seen Lucienne so…frazzled. You didn’t think she could be anything other than calm and composed. However, it seemed the Dreaming was going through a "repair," as she put it.

One moment landscapes would disappear or change from green to fuchsia. Books would launch off the shelves. Trees would sprout legs, and those with legs would plant themselves into the ground.

All in all, the Dreaming was experiencing a sort of glitch.

Morpheus and Lucienne were quick to assure you it was nothing to worry about, but it did cause them all a headache. Thankfully, if closely monitored, they could prevent any alterations.

You couldn’t help but giggle the more you thought about it. The Dreaming was in its rebellious teen years.

Lucienne had been spread so thin between the glitching and the library. You offered to take over the latter while you were there. And although she was hesitant, she trusted you, and a few days later, she felt comfortable leaving you alone.

The repetition of cataloging and shelving books helped you more than you’d ever tell her. It made you feel in control, needed, useful.

If she or Morpheus ever asked, you’d say everything was fine. You didn’t want to bother anyone.

Things were weighing on you in the Waking World.

Your rent was increasing. Your boss had tasked you with a large project for the first time. Your coworker had left for maternity leave, and you were picking up her clients and projects.

Additionally, your father had a nasty fall last week. You were constantly driving him to doctor’s appointments and running for anything he needed until he was on his feet again.

It was overwhelming. The mere thought of it all nearly sent you into a panic. You’d do anything to avoid it. So, you found ways to help Morpheus and the other residents of the Dreaming.

You loved it here. Not only for its magic and beauty but for Morpheus, too. He was ever present, even if you couldn’t see him. Being in his realm felt like nothing could touch you. It was like you could breathe a little easier.

He always made it a point to visit you. He’d spend hours with you, and when you questioned him about why he wasn’t dealing with the glitching, he’d give you this tilt of his lips and say, “No need to worry.”

The library wasn’t the only place you found solace from your troubles. Sometimes Merv would let you take on smaller jobs, or you’d hand him tools and keep him company. On other days, you’d watch Goldie while Cain and Abel were away doing something for Morpheus. You had actually taught the gargoyle fetch by accident.

While the creature held a special place in your heart, your favorite thing to do was watch Morpheus create dreams. He was always so invested in making them perfect. It sent a shiver up your spine when he asked for your opinion. And more often than not, he’d utilize it.

You sat in a plush chair he had conjured for you, observing him. He always stood so proud, like nothing could unbalance him. It was reassuring.

“What do you think?” he asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

He had crafted a burgundy creature who stood no taller than three feet. Its fur blew in the subtle breeze as its hooves tentatively tested the shifting sand. Its face was almost frog-like, but its eyes held intelligence that suggested it was wise beyond its years.

You gave Morpheus a small smile. “Perfect.”

The tilt of his lips was the only indication he had heard you. Then, he sent the creature off.

Morpheus was about to say something, but the sky flashing green, then yellow, stopped him.

He stayed trained on it. “They are coming quicker now.”

“How long do you think this will last?” you asked. It had already been two weeks.

“I can’t be certain. But I believe we’re coming to the end.” He offered you his hand to help you up.

“You should give Lucienne a vacation after all this.” You made your way back to the palace, fingers interlocked.

“Perhaps you could fill in for her.” His shoulder brushed yours. “I quite like having you here.”

Your shy grin was answer enough. “I like being here.”

If only you could express how much.

—

You waved goodbye to your neighbor and his daughter as they left. His babysitter had canceled last minute, and you just happened to be within hearing distance from him when it happened. You offered right away. Taking your mind off this project had to help you in the long run. It’d give you fresh eyes. Besides, she was a sweet kid and always wanted to talk about Morpheus, which you wholly welcomed.

She had seen him entering your apartment and asked him so many questions her father had to pull her back inside.

You'd take any chance you got to gush about Morpheus, especially with someone who dreamily compared you two to a prince and princess. A bit self-indulgent? Absolutely. But did it set your heart on fire and make you smile like an idiot? You bet.

If only you could tell her that she wasn’t too far off.

Getting into bed was wonderful. Every day seemed like it got longer and longer. When it finally came time to close your eyes and go to the Dreaming, you would’ve sworn you haven’t been there in months.

You tossed and turned, your mind trailing to the project details, the upcoming appointments for your father, then all of the little things you had to do for yourself. At least when you picked up your dad’s groceries, you could pick up yours. But your heat was acting up, your car had to be inspected, and your coworker’s clients were borderline assholes to you. God forbid you asked a simple question to clarify. They'd jump down your throat like you were supposed to know the answer because obviously, your coworker had all the time to share every detail of their file. Honestly, you couldn’t blame her if she forced the baby out early to get away from them.

Before you knew it, midnight ticked over to five in the morning, and you hadn’t fallen asleep. You hadn’t gotten to see Morpheus. You didn’t get to help the Dreaming.

There was a pit in your stomach throughout the day. It wasn’t like you to not sleep.

All you could do was take a deep breath and power through. At least you didn’t have meetings today. You could focus on your work and chug a shit-ton of coffee and hope you’d make a dent in the workload.

That was wishful thinking.

If anything, you’d been handed more to do. So much so that you had to take some home to finish.

When you finally yawned for the hundredth time, you crawled into bed. You were exhausted. You wanted to be held by Morpheus. To watch as he crafted dreams and kept the Dreaming from going too haywire. 

But again, you couldn't find rest. All you could do was think about what would come tomorrow.

—

“Lucienne, have you seen (Y/N)?” Morpheus asked, searching the areas of the library he could see.

Her brow furrowed. “No, my lord. I thought she was with you today.”

“No.” His voice was faint as if trailing off in thought. “Was she with you yesterday?”

Lucienne set her pen down. “No. I haven’t seen her in quite a few days. Have you spoken to Abel or Mervyn?”

“Yes.” An uneasiness formed in his stomach. “They’ve all said the same.”

“It’s not like her to have trouble sleeping.”

Lucienne was concerned about you recently. The last time she saw you, you seemed distracted. She could tell something was wrong, but when she questioned you, you reassured her, saying everything was fine.

You did the same with Morpheus.

He had sensed an unsteadiness in you. As if you were walking the thinnest of lines between dreaming and consciousness. It was so unlike you. You were always so present when with him that your tension stood out.

He had to make sure you were alright.

“I’m going to check on her,” he said.

Lucienne nodded. “Take as much time as she needs.”

He planned on doing just that.

—

It had been days since you saw Morpheus. Days since you’d been in the Dreaming.

All you wanted to do was inhale the scent of chamomile and sandalwood on his skin and have him tell you everything would be okay.

But your mind wouldn’t shut off. You couldn’t relax enough to go into that deep sleep. And even if you could, Morpheus was still dealing with the glitching. He was busy keeping everything running, and you couldn’t even help because you couldn’t fall asleep!

You carried your dinner plate into the kitchen. Your stomach had been in knots since this morning when your boss emailed you about moving up the due date for the project. It now needed to be submitted tomorrow. Between the appointment you had to take your dad to and meetings you scheduled with your coworker’s clients, you weren’t sure if you’d make it. You’d worked on the project all day, and everything about it screamed: rushed. You’d be working well into the morning to get it anywhere near where you wanted.

You’d barely touched your food and were about to throw it in a container when your foot caught the leg of a barstool. You caught the counter edge but couldn't stop the plate from bouncing off and smashing on the hardwood floor.

That was all it took. The shattering of the dish and the red sauce seeping into the cracks buckled your knees. And you cried.

You couldn’t even stop a damned plate from breaking. How were you going to finish this project? How were you going to care for your dad? How were you going to—

“(Y/N)?”

You gasped, trying to stop the tears and rid yourself of any wetness as you whipped around.

There stood Morpheus, his eyes full of concern.

You bowed your head and wrapped your arms around yourself. Why did he have to see you like this?

Silently, he took you into his arms. His hands slid to your shoulders, bringing you as close to him as possible.

He didn’t speak for the longest time, only let you cry, let you rid yourself of the frustration and panic and worry. Your weight slowly sank into him as you wore yourself out.

When you were reduced to sniffling, he finally spoke.

“Do you want to tell me?”

You wanted to say no, to pretend everything was fine, and hold him. But it had felt like forever since you’d been with him, and you forgot just how powerful he was. Not because he was an Endless, but how he looked at you—like you were a crucial part of him. Like he needed to know everything about you. Like he loved you.

So, you told him. Everything you’ve dealt with these past few months and all your insecurities. You cried again, and he held you again. And all throughout, that look never changed. He never thought less of you.

“My heart,” he whispered once you’d finished. “You must take care of yourself.” His thumb brushed along your cheekbone. “Before taking care of others.”

“But I don’t—it doesn’t—”

“Let me help you.” His eyes were so soft, so gentle, so pleading. 

You stared at him through tears. He had always been there for you. He was as solid and stable as a statue with the warmth of the sun. He wanted to take care of you and love you and he saw you. He saw you as no one else did.

You slowly nodded, letting out a choked sob as you threw your arms around his neck.

“I am here, my love,” he breathed into your temple. “I am here.”

Your cries quieted for the last time; his hand's rhythmic motion on your back made it easy. You didn’t want to pull away.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, eyes still closed and head in the crook of his shoulder.

“You need not apologize for anything. I should have been more aware.”

“You had a whole kingdom to worry about,” you said into his neck.

“You are my priority.” He pulled back to cup your cheeks, ensuring you couldn’t look away. “I will always choose you.”

Words couldn’t express what that meant—they couldn’t properly reciprocate. So, you did the one thing that could potentially match it.

You pulled him by his jacket into a searing kiss. You poured everything you were into it as his hands gripped your hips.

Yours slid into his hair, the silky strands tangling in your fingers. You couldn’t bring him close enough.

You had to separate, but he didn’t let you go far, making you pant into his mouth.

“Come,” he urged. “I have neglected you. I must remedy my mistake.”

His seriousness made you giggle, and a smile slipped onto his face.

“My favorite sound,” he said, grazing your bottom lip. Then, a glint ignited his eyes, and the corner of his lips lifted. “I intend to get my other favorite out of you.”

[synchronizedaxolotl]

I have my headcanon/fanon of Pico cause fun n whatnot when it comes to writing or drawing.

Here are my headcanon/fanon writing of Pico

It will mention/include: The events of Pico's school, OCxCanon shipping, Mentions of Weekend 1 event,

Keep in mind!! Don't take all of this seriously- It is just headcanon at the end of the day. I can acknowledge confirmed facts about the ginger lad by the devs.

You can click to read more what are my Pico headcanons if your curious! Or don't considering it's kinda cringe...-

Plus Bonus doodle!

(There might be more I just couldn't remember some...)

He lives with his girlfriend, Hailey in an apartment.

An actual goofster but can be serious and a badass if the situation gets dangerous.

Can be an ass though only is if you treat him like one. It's fair if you ain't treating him nice then he'll just be an ass towards you.

Pico is bisexual.

Still has conflicting feelings about his ex, Boyfriend but not that he hated him.

(Read above) He is worried that this confliction is gonna affect his current relationship with Hailey.

He has scars from the fight he had with the Goth punks.

Used to not wear anything beneath the sweater but started wearing a sleeveless shirt cause "Hailey has some bad wardrobe malfunction timing..." which lead to some incidents of him lending his sweater to her. (He'd honestly be fine being shirtless but got to respect the common decency.)

After the events of Weekend 1, He isn't sure if his and Nene's friendship are strained cause of his failure to follow through killing Boyfriend (Or not getting paid in huge sums anymore).

Alternate 1: The shoes were from Hailey has a gift, he wears it but not a lot as he wants to keep it in good condition. (Especially that it has the newgrounds frown design)

Sometimes goes in a really late night trip cause of his insomnia, Does bring his girlfriend cause he enjoys company.

As much he works out, He doesn't drink protein shakes. He has drank like 3 times but stopped cause he can't stand the texture to taste as in his words "It's like drinking crushed up chalk with shitass flavoring."

He isn't bad nor good at cooking, He at least tries.

Isn't close to his biological father and has cut ties with him ever since he turned 18 and been on his own.

If you were to ask him about Cassandra's crush on him as mention by Cyclop's in Pico's school event, He'd respond that he never sees her in that light before and after the whole ordeal. (It confuses him when thinking about it on what does Cassandra sees in him during that time.)

Scratches to the point he kinda scars himself though it isn't a frequent habit.

Spends WAY too much on styling his hair.

Ain't much of a saint, dude can be vulgar.

Kiseths

[shifting---patterns]

Between Existence and Self-Destruction: In Search of Meaning and Action - An Essay

An individual state leading to a deep loss of meaning and a sense of the world's meaninglessness can be caused either by a series of fateful events leading to a strong sense of melancholy or by sudden insights into the insignificance of one's own existence while facing the universe's indifference.

In his 2000 essay "Melancholy and the Act", Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek explores the complex connections between melancholy and action in human psychology and the social context. He challenges the conventional idea of melancholy as a purely passive or paralyzing state, arguing instead for a more profound analysis of this emotional condition. Žižek claims that melancholy is a special form of pain and sadness, often considered a state of stagnation and powerlessness. Contrary to this common perception, he argues that melancholy contains an unrecognized potential for action.

According to Žižek, melancholy can be an internal catalyst that stimulates individuals to look beyond existing limits and norms, developing new perspectives. The crux of his argument lies in the idea that, paradoxically, melancholy involves a kind of activity. It can be a source of creativity, leading people to engage more deeply with their suffering and derive new insights and energy. This process can result in transformative actions, whether on a personal level through self-reflection and self-overcoming or on a societal level through the pursuit of change and innovation.

This realization can lead to a profound alienation from one's own existence, potentially extending to thoughts of suicide. It often arises from the incompatibility between expected outcomes or the meaning of life and the actual chaotic nature of existence. This discrepancy can cause deep uncertainty and frustrate the search for a concrete life purpose.

Romanian philosopher Emil Cioran often grappled with the question of whether life is worth living in his writings. The depressions and insomnia he suffered from an early age strongly influenced his first book, "On the Heights of Despair," published in 1934. Cioran was obsessed with the idea of suicide, critically engaging with it in his aphorisms and essays. He argued that contemplating suicide is necessary for leading a better life. By confronting suicide, we confront the profound suffering associated with existence. This humility enables us to change the deepest aspects of ourselves.

Simultaneously, it reminds us that our peculiar human ability to contemplate suicide elevates us above everything else in nature or heaven. Cioran believed that failure governs the world, similar to the capricious God of the Old Testament. Despite his pessimism, actual skepticism, and nihilism, Cioran remained joyous in a peculiar way. It is not a pessimism that can be traced back to simple origins, as individual origins themselves are questionable.Most people go about their daily routines without being aware of the profound absurdity and randomness of their lives. They live in a system of cause and effect that provides a certain predictability and security. These people rarely experience their lives as a tragedy.

French writer and philosopher Albert Camus notes that most human actions are based on a logical error that ultimately leads to a loss of meaning. This loss of meaning can lead to self-doubt and a deep sense of meaninglessness that weakens motivation for personal endeavors.

The idea of suicide as a response to the absurdity of life, however, is considered by Camus, in contrast to Cioran, as a surrender to the incomprehensibility of the world. He argues that a stronger and more authentic stance is to be aware of the absurdity of life and still choose to live. Suicide is seen as an admission of the inability to understand or endure life. Camus uses the metaphor of Sisyphus to illustrate how one can confront the absurdity of life. Sisyphus is condemned to roll a rock up the hill, only to see it roll down again repeatedly. Despite the apparent futility of this task and the absurdity of his existence, Sisyphus finds happiness and joy in this act. He rebels against the absurdity by despising it but simultaneously accepts it.

In the intricate web of existential musings we find a rich tapestry of perspectives on the human experience—ranging from the transformative potential within melancholy to the contemplation of suicide as a confrontation with life's inherent suffering, and finally, the defiant acceptance of the absurd. As we navigate this intellectual terrain, one overarching theme emerges: the profound beauty inherent in the struggle for meaning and the authentic experience of human existence.

Žižek urges us to reconsider melancholy not as a paralyzing force, but as a catalyst for innovation and societal change. Cioran's dark fascination with suicide invites us to confront the depths of our suffering, recognizing that in such confrontation lies the potential for profound transformation. In contrast, Camus advocates for a resilient defiance against the absurdity of life, finding joy in the very act of rebellion. Ultimately, these philosophical perspectives converge on a shared insight: that life's inherent absurdity need not lead to despair or resignation. Instead, the human spirit possesses the remarkable capacity to extract meaning from the seemingly chaotic and random nature of existence. In the daily struggle, in the pursuit of understanding and compassion, lies the essence of our shared humanity.

As we grapple with the existential questions posed by these philosophers, let us not merely dwell on the challenges and uncertainties but embrace the beauty of our collective journey. In the face of life's absurdities, we discover the resilience to persevere, the courage to confront our deepest fears, and the capacity to find solace in the shared human experience. The pursuit of meaning, in all its complexity, becomes a testament to the indomitable spirit that propels us forward, even in the shadow of existential uncertainty. In this view, it is crucial for people to continue living despite the absurdity of life and become aware of human conditions to develop compassion for the suffering of others.

Despite the apparent absurdity of life, beauty lies in the daily struggle and in the moments of genuine experience that human existence has to offer.

Davis Jahn

[thesunshineriptide]

BABY!!!!!

Yuu being a soulless entity??

See my Overblot idea for Yuu was either the Blot accumulation not merging with Yuu’s body and becoming a layer on top.

Another idea

Yuu being a vessel for player, and when Player gets sucked in game, the vessel gets unstable and overblots that way

I actually did write an overblot Yuu oneshot/headcanons once and it's somewhere on this blog. I like the idea a lot. In my version, the blot wasn't like a layer on top but an illness/infection attacking its host. I don't think I fully explained it all so for any curious: here's overblot Yuu headcanons attatched to the overblot prefect thing.

Note: writing this part after the head-canons, realized that this kind of sounds like one of the infection aus going on over on TikTok. It wasn't intended to be that way but if anyone wants to use any of this concept for one of those, go ahead.

- The overblot injuries leave black blot stains that slowly deep deeper under the skin. Due to its nature being inky, the body attacks it to fight it off, cells trying to swallow the ink and then dying in the process, but unlike a tattoo, blot infested cells don't decay and instead continue to spread into the bloodstream

- and individual infected with blot becomes more volatile and can experience symptoms of hallucinations, memory issues, fatigue, improper circulation, insomnia, night terrors, dissociation, changes in personality, issues with verbal skills, headaches, nausea, and cystic growths.

- the infected May start mimicking behaviors of the person who overblotted prior to them. For instance, if the overblotted has certain triggers, they may find themself reacting to those, if the individual is abrasive, the infected may mimic that behavior, they may have cravings matching that of the individual, etc.

- the infected May find they can use slight amounts of magic, but that it can cause the staining to spread, lead to physical traits of the prior overblotter to appear, etc. It is highly unstable

- there is no publicly known cure for blot infection, but there are rumours that there is one. Certain government officials may be in contact with the agency who specialized in blot treatment and research to pick up an infected

- if the infected overblots, they can cause the infection to spread. The mundane are, in particular, weak to blot infection, though mages are not exempt either.

- Magestones can help slow the infection, as the crystal will remove as much blot as possible. It is not a cure.

- If cured of the infection, the victim does not remember what happened. Whether this is due to the illness or due to other circumstances, it is unknown and unquestioned.

- reminding the victim of their time while ill can cause the infection to return.

...now as for the vessel concept... 😈

I Can imagine that waking up one day to find that you can't control your own body would be terrifying for Yuu. Beyond the stress of the bullshit going on to wake up here as Yuu, as well as the bullshit going on with the entity currently occupying their body as well, I'd imagine that anyone would overblot. Imagine you're Yuu for a second - you wake up in a magic world with magic people and a magic cat and a bird guy shoving you into a house that's in slightly better condition than a literal crack den, then you wake up one day and find that you can't control your body anymore, there's someone else pretending to be you to all these people, you keep getting in fights despite not wanting you, you want to go home and you can't, you're starving because bird man doesn't want to do his job, and you're possessed by what you think is basically a demon.

Now, granted, canonically possession causes memory gaps for the possessed in twisted wonderland, but granted those are people with souls that get pushed down and quieted, and the ones possessing them are ghosts. It's a little different when you don't have a soul and someone else does.

Yuu would fucking snap at one point. "Oh? I Can finally Fucking go home?! Wait, which home? Mine or this goddamn demon's?! Why are we going there. WHY ARE WE HERE. MALLEUS. MALLEUS WHAT THE FU-"

[marengogo]

Well Well Well … - 4 : JK: “Hello Dear My Brides …”

Listening to the whole album DIM by the GazettE

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

My day was amazing. I witnessed the happening of the “Hope-Cole World”. I successfully texted, unbothered, friends, family and my lovely S/O. I worked peacefully, for once this week, quick and pleasant meetings, with no bitching emails and no gen Z causing problems 😬😜😘🫰🏾. The day finally ended in a night of debauchery with my bff and now that I finally got home, it is stupid o’clock, and instead of sleeping, perhaps just like JK, I’m allowing my deep thoughts/inner self or whatever you wanna call them to take over and do as they please; because why not? 

Thing is, to people like myself, “Stupid o’clock” is a very attractive place to be in. It usually is a period of time belonging to the beginning hours of the following day, but because most people are usually sleeping, it doesn’t actually feel like the following day has begun, meaning that for a couple of hours, you feel like you are kind of in a limbo, where time has stopped ant this, to people like myself, who feel like we have no control whatsoever over our time, people who feel like we are constantly running out of time, this temporary limbo, feels extremely comforting. 

This limbo feels like we can finally have some sort of control over our own time. Yet, as one of those people, I have finally come to realise and accept that my perceived sense of constantly “running out of time”, is the main cause of my insomnia and today’s life has made me wonder if perhaps JK also feels the same? … Who knows right? But actually, this is just me rambling and heavily projecting.

So let’s leave my insomnia and losing-time-paranoia aside for a second. As you might have read from the beginning of this blog, where I always tell you what I am listening to, I am currently listening to the GazettE’s album DIM. I started listening to the GazettE a good 15 years ago, at least. Back then, they became all I listened to for a good couple of years. Presently, I do still love them, also got to see them live in 2019, however, I only listen to them occasionally, cause the GazettE are not your everyday happy-go-lucky band. No. They are a band you listen to when you have angst, so much angst you could “sell it for a living”. 

So, yes, I am angsty. And, yes, JK’s live made me angsty. JK’s respectful regards towards those who are causing him harm made me angsty and made me think of the GazettE’s song DISTRESS AND COMA in particular. Hence, until I let this angst out, I will not be able to sleep, though I will most likely end up falling asleep from exhaustion, and most likely wake up feeling like I hadn’t slept at all which what's the point? So allow me to address how I perceived JK’s not-absurd request, through this particular song, which I feel describes the scenario quite perfectly, at least it’s beginning.

DISTRESS AND COMA (which is in the album I am listening) begins like this:

🎶Until your distress sleeps

Fill me up with your grief

Until your distress sleeps

Until your distress sleeps

Fill me up with your grief

Until your distress sleeps🎵

This part I associated with JK being awake at Stupid o’ Clock for his own reasons. What ALL these reasons are exactly we will never know unless he tells us directly. However, feeling like you “you don’t want to sleep” when you are clearly sleepy, in my personal experience, is sort of like trying to battle with yourself in order to stay awake, which you might think of as being directly opposite to insomnia, however if you keep at it for long enough, you’ll end up distorting your regular sleeping pattern, which eventually will lead to insomnia (as you will feel like sleeping during times when you are supposed to be awake, and can’t sleep because of work, while consequently end up being awake during times in which you are supposed to be sleeping).

The song then continues:

🎶Hello dear my bride,

何を見ているの (what are you watching?)..🎵

After this, Ruki (the GazettE’s vocalist) begins to talk about his relationship with his “bride”, which isn’t a bride in the sense of a female partner he married, but a particularly tragic symbolic figure. In the same way, when JK so candidly and honestly spoke to us about his “boxing stalking incident”, he was talking to someone with whom he had a deep connection, someone with whom he promised he’d walk together for better, for worse … kinda like a bride. So it felt to me that, like in this song, JK was talking to us and nonchalantly started the live, as always, by saying “Hello dear my brides, what are you doing? … 

From here on, Ruki goes on talking about the toxic-relationship he has built with his “bride”. How he doesn’t mind getting hurt and hopes that the resulting scar will not disappear; as long as they are both able to finally fall asleep, he’ll gladly take on his “bride’s” DISTRESS AND COMA instead. But here is where JK is trying to change the song. He still wants to be a vessel for his “bride” to be able to sleep and not be distressed, HOWEVER, in a healthy way, as they both are at a point in their relationship where neither needs to get hurt, neither needs to lose sleep, neither needs to be scarred.

Having to actually hear JK address this made me feel like shit. NGL.

Not even going to address the perpetrators cause nothing I can say can ever express just how much I despise you. NOTHING.

His tone wasn’t angry, it wasn’t condescending, nor demanding. And although he wasn’t crying or pleading, the gentle and calm demeanor with which he asked for his privacy to please not be invaded, hurt so much more than it would have had he resorted to any of the aforementioned manners. It hurt, it hurt, as an empath, it hurt so fucking much.  

It hurts because he shouldn’t have to say this. And we all know that. It hurts because the person that stalked him can't call themself ARMY. And we all know that. It hurts because he is trying to be understanding, and find a solution, amicably, because he always feels a connection to ARMY and perhaps he feels like it is his duty to try and reach out. And we all know that. Reason why it hurts knowing that there are people out there who never gave, don’t give and will never give a fuck about any of these. And we all know that, as I am sure he knows as well. 

But I guess that sometimes, even if you know it may be futile, you still want to give it a try? And in JK’s case I’m sure he was aware that maybe it was going to work and most likely not, but at least he would have tried, so at the very least, he’d have no regrets, right? And if his effort did end up failing, if, for example in this case, the once-a-sasaeng-still-a-sasaeng keeps being a problem, then maybe he’d have to resort to the more drastic measures, which he was trying to avoid. 

Something tells me, that even though in my opinion they’d deserve all of it, he’d still feel sorry about it, but ultimately he’d make peace with it, because he’d know that, like everyone else, he is also human and he has the right to basic things such as being able to enjoy a bit of privacy. But then again, he’d cross that bridge if he got there, I guess. For now, the important thing to JK is perhaps that he thought it was worth for him to try and express himself, to vulnerably open himself up to us for better or for worse, and perhaps this had nothing to do with his insomnia, or perhaps it did, as always, we’ll never know, REGARDLESS OF ALL MY RAMBLING, I’m actually glad that he lost the stay awake battle! though that beautiful candle ended up becoming a bit triggering 😬 …

So I apologies for confusingly waxing poetic over this, imma now try and go to sleep myself.

Always respectfully yours 🙏🏾💜,

Marengo. 

[maleyanderecafe]

Crows Like Things that Sparkle (Webcomic)

Created by: Mr.C/ Mijoo

Genre: Fantasy/Smut

I feel like I really want to like this webcomic. There's a knight female lead, character development for the yandere and there are some actually cool moments in it. The problem itself is the relationship between the two leads, which is a shame because that's what the entire webcomic hinges in. The good news is that there is a male yandere in it, the bad news is, just like me, you too will wish that you could punch this guy in the face as well. As of writing this, there are almost about 80 chapters.

The story starts with with a war between a kingdom and the enemy barbarians, the Norcans, finally brought down viciously by Captain Sahara Ellawood. Upon winning this war, she and her troops are able to come back to be honored by the king. The prince Chestia y Sollante meanwhile is playboying around with another girl, and ends up seeing Sahara kill four muggers that attacked this girl. The prince takes interest in her and Sahara feels awkward about being so rude to the prince before he ends up tagging along. She is invited to be praised by the king at a ball and over the course of a couple of days, the prince seduces her and has sex with her. After leaving and the prince getting injured and tended by Sahara, he uses his power as the prince to force her to strip, yet for some reason she still becomes enamored with him (because "she likes shiny things", I guess). There's a bit of a side thing about tracking down a thief in the village, as well as making a new dress for Sahara. As for the prince, no matter how many other women he brings to his bed, he can't help but think of Sahara, however, upon going to the party, he instead sees the Duke take interest in her and dance. The Duke treats her kindly throughout, while the Prince watches in jealousy, though Sahara's mind is still fixated on the Prince. The Prince encounters the Duke, telling him to stay away from her, but the Duke boldly states that he likes and cares for her, driving him to become more jealous as he watches Sahara supposedly run away from him, and even being afraid of him touching her. Sahara on the other hand continues to put space between her and the Prince after what happened. The Duke and Sahara get closer to each other, to the point where the Duke asks her if he will marry him so that he doesn't have to be approached by the Prince, even promising to divorce whenever she feels. The Prince gets more restless, having strong insomnia because of Sahara, and finds out that some royals have adopted her, and thus she will be living in the castle with him. Out of anger, the Prince nearly kills one of Sahara's subordinates, but not before Sahara sees and is able to bring him away after passing out. When Sahara greets the Prince in the morning he is desperate for her, begging her to not leave, hugging her causing her to tremble. The Prince admits his obsession towards her, stating that without her he can no longer sleep, and that he's willing to give up everything he has just so she will stay. Sahara agrees but under a couple conditions: to not harm her or her subordinates and to not touch her. As Sahara investigates who assaulted one of her knights, the Prince tries to find ways to woo Sahara with gifts with advice from her adopted dad. The Prince is able to keep his promise about not touching Sahara, but with some difficulties considering that she's all he thinks about. Sahara, as she's loyal to the king, decides to be by the Princes side and starts to suspect the duke, as the crown guard are rather disloyal to the king. We learn quickly about the Prince's heritage, how he's very likely a bastard child and not of the royalty linage, something that people ended up spreading rumors about which affected how he perceived himself. The Prince gets really jealous, believing that Sahara ended up marrying the Duke, however, it was the complete opposite, having her attempt to bring the Duke in, making the Prince very happy. During another ball, there is an assassination attempt, something that Sahara takes care of fairly easily, with a battle to prevent the city from being bombed. As a result thereafter, Sahara and her troops go on a quest to kill a bunch of disloyal religious figures, murdering them with little regards from them, in the attempts to fix the bombing that so happens and for going against the king.

I... feel like I should like Sahara. I mean she's a pretty cool and ruthless when she's allowed to be a warrior. I mean her first scene of decapitating someone and her latest scenes of her walking around with blood slicing apart any religious figure that goes against the crown shows that she can be one if the writers want her be. She has at least a semi unique backstory as well, saved by the kingdom and living in essentially the wilderness, which in theory makes for an interesting and powerful female lead.... Except for the giant problem of when it comes to the Prince, she immediately turns into, and I quote "a wet pile of cardboard", which is completely and exactly accurate. I'm not saying that you can't have cool female leads who are shy when it comes to sex and romance, but it still needs to make sense for the character, and it just... doesn't for Sahara. For someone who is suppose to be warrior who is terrifying in how she executes her enemies, having her suddenly becomes so submissive doesn't really make any sense, especially since it's not indicated before that she would end up acting this way. The relationship between her and the Prince also doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Initially, she's enraptured by him because he is "shiny" (or basically alluring), which is why she has sex with him in the first place, however, after he forces her to strip, she becomes somewhat traumatized, so much that she starts shaking when he touches her. However, suddenly after she learns about his backstory... she's suddenly okay with him touching her. Granted, he does at least respect her wishes in terms of not touching or hurting the people around her, but the problem is that the two of them don't really develop any meaningful relationship outside of then talking about what happens in the kingdom and about his past, so the romance between them feels superficial at worst and shallow at best. The reason for her being so loyal to the crown princes also doesn't make a ton of sense, as not only did the king forget about the war until he was able to kill their general, the two princes also ended up humiliating her, which I feel like is probably enough reason to stop being so loyal. The best solution to this is to just not put the romance in this story because it's way more interesting when she's just off doing more knight based duties then having to deal with the nonsense of the romance plot.

As for the Prince, where do I start with this guy. He starts out as a playboy who sleeps with a different girl every night, and ends up seducing Sahara and sleeping with her as well (I think it's also implied that this is Sahara's first time sleeping with someone). After she explains very clearly that she's not comfortable being with him, the Prince uses his power to make her strip for him, which leads to her being afraid of him touching her. Soon after that, he becomes obsessed with her to the point of not being able to sleep with others, gains insomnia because of it and even kills one of the ladies he tries to sleep with (which apparently is just brushed over like its nothing). He does have a begging scene with Sahara which would be something I would be livid for if his face doesn't constantly look punchable in every frame. The Prince does at least have a proper character arc as compared to Sahara, since he goes from a doochy playboy to a less doochy clingy guy, but it's also his fault that Sahara wants to stay away from him and if it not for the forces of the writers trying to smash these two dolls faces together, honestly, should have married the Duke or at least made it harder for the Prince to try to get with her again. Sahara forgives him way, WAY too easily to be believable and in the end, the Prince still gets away with killing that one girl and being with Sahara because plot. Again, these two have very little meaningful time together (other than maybe playing the sympathy card for the Prince since he's a bastard child and not really of the throne), so when Sahara declares while fighting that it's for the sake of love, it feels really shallow.

As a yandere though, while it takes a while, he does get obsessed with Sahara, only wanting her and not being satisfied with any other girl (which... kind of just sounds like your dick talking but that's fine), to the point of not being able to sleep. He tries to off one of Sahara's subordinates, threatens to kill the Duke when he thought that he was going to marry Sahara and is even willing to throw away his title as Prince just to be with her. He is for sure a yandere, just kind of a badly written one and more of a softer one. Which would be fine, if he actually had chemistry with Sahara, which he doesn't and- I'm just going to stop there.

I don't really like or remember the other characters that well too. I think the only one I genuinely liked was a side character who made the dress for Sahara. His backstory was that as a child he loved making dresses (despite being looked down upon because he is a male and guys can't make dresses, I guess) and had to fight and learn to make them until he got where he was today. I would far rather read a story that is based around that character and he was in the story for less than five chapters.

Overall, would I recommend this webcomic? Probably not. Even for a smut, the sex portions are lack luster (and again, this is coming from someone who mostly just tolerates Josei smut), the story is only really good at the beginning and near the current new chapters, and the two main characters just don't have any meaningful chemistry to make sense. There are portions that I did like about it, but it's probably not worth to read through those parts even with a male yandere. If you are interested, give it a try, and maybe you'll like it better than I did.

[fenmere]

Sunspot Coffee and Tea

Against our promise to avoid writing for a bit while recovering from a minor burnout, I wrote something here tonight. It might have been therapeutic to do so, honestly.

It's a coffee shop AU self insert crossover fanfic of Wildow's Otherverse and the Sunspot Chronicles, titled "Sunspot Coffee and Tea". It takes place on this Earth, though. Descriptions of Others, Practicioners, Aware, and the Seal are from the work of Wildbow, A.K.A. John C. McCrae, and belong to him. We reference them here with love, and no intentions to make any profit from them, even if we stretch their intended canonical possibilities a bit. References to everything else not of this Earth, including Ktletaccete, beshakete, and `etekeyerrinwuf, are of the Sunspot Chronicles and belong to us, the Inmara. All the characters are headmates and therefore real people.

The Black Drop was a real coffee shop that was really like that, and we miss it. A lot.

We'll probably put this up on AO3 later. No warnings are necessary for this fic. It's 6093 words, light, hopefully cute, and totally self indulgent:

In Tanasbourne, Hillsboro, Oregon, in one of the strip malls there, there used to be an Insomnia Cafe next to a brewpub.

It’s still a cafe. Of a sorts. It was bought out a couple years ago, however, and has a new name. It’s called Sunspot Coffee and Tea.

There are some interesting things about this cafe, not the least of which is that they don’t accept money. How they manage to stay functioning without actually doing business is a total mystery to all of their neighbors and patrons, but if you want any sort of drink or pastry there, all you have to do is walk up to the counter and ask for it. Of course, the pastries have to be available, and it’s first come first serve for them. But they produce them quickly enough that if they’re out of something, you just have to wait thirty minutes or so. At most.

Before it became the Sunspot, it was like most cafes of its sort, especially in that neighborhood, attracting working class people who had at least some decent income. And that part of Tanasbourne wasn’t really known for being accessible to the less fortunate.

However, after it became known what their new mode of “business” was, people in need would take the MAX and the bus from all around to get a free meal, and they were quite welcome.

The clientele changed quite quickly, and this created something of a controversy in the neighborhood. Theories sprang up and circulated when efforts to bring the law down on them failed utterly. Stories about the mafia, or even more unbelievable things. One of the stories is true.

Eventually, things settled down, and everyone got used to the new culture and routines that the Sunspot brought to Tanasbourne.

I happen to know exactly how that all played out and why, but I’m not telling. I’ve taken oaths. I’ll give you hints in this story, though, because I think I can get away with it, and it’s kinda fun.

In any case, it was under these circumstances in that cafe that I got to watch a connection made that I had never expected to see. One that may well lead to the kind of quiet, sweet partnership that causes the world to glow just a little brighter at the ambient level, without most people quite knowing the source.

Of course, it started during a day when Eh, our boss and Senior Captain, was working the counter.

I was sitting at a table with Gesedege and Gnargrim, enjoying a round of Brekken’s tea while slowly discussing the intersections of public relations and security for the shop. Which is to say that we mostly sat, quiet, watching steam rise from our drinks, looking around at the guests and just soaking up the joy of seeing people rest who might not otherwise get to. And then, occasionally, one of us would take a sip or say a word or two, and the other two would nod or take sips as well.

And a new person walked in. Someone we’d never seen before. And I could tell by the way they entered the shop, they hadn’t yet heard about who and what we were. They hadn’t got the story yet. They probably thought this was a typical coffee shop.

They put on a double layer of masks before entering, which was good. Largely unnecessary in the Sunspot, but with covid still running rampant in the rest of the world, despite all the propaganda suggesting otherwise, their N95 disposable under a metallic hot pink mermaid print etsy number was a really wise idea. And it certainly put most of our guests at ease, even though they weren’t wearing masks anymore themselves.

But there were some smirks as this person reached into the pocket of their navy blue sleeveless cloak to pull out their card purse as they navigated through the tables and easy chairs to the counter. The long, black feather in their wide brimmed black wool hat bobbed as they went, boots squeaking on the wood floor.

Eh smiled as they looked up from a drink they were preparing for someone else.

And it was at that eye contact that the person realized they’d walked into something different.

They probably hadn’t noticed the lack of a cash register or POS yet. They’d obviously missed the appearance of me and my compatriots, since they’d been absorbed in arranging their garments and fishing out their method of payment, and had glanced at the other guests. They’d just happened to look the other way as they passed our corner, which was right near the door.

If they’d seen us, they might have had the same reaction they were having at the sight of Eh.

Eh is tall. They tend to keep their height low enough that they don’t have to crouch while in the building, but their antlers will just miss scratching the ceiling when they straighten up from a task like decorating a mocha. Their tail has a tendency to fill the walkway from the kitchen to the front counter, and their wings will block the view of the front from the rest of the staff who are in the back. And through clever programming, they’ve managed to turn the outer skin of their body into a satiny dark purple that seems to be full of stars and nebulae and is somehow constantly rim lit, regardless of the actual lighting of their surroundings.

Most human beings, upon seeing that vision, will later describe it as having been like walking right into VRChat. Only, I’ve logged into VRChat, and nobody has yet been able to create an avatar of that detail and refinement.

“How may I help you?” Eh asked.

The newcomer looked around, clearly startled and worried, and caught the vision of Gnargrim, Gesedege, and myself holding our tea cups up in greeting.

If you look at my tumblr icon, you’ll know what I look like. I’m slightly smaller than Eh, and like to sit in my easy chair backward, resting arms and chin on the back. 

Gnargrim, built like a cross between Eh and myself, also uses chairs in a similar way. 

Gesedege, however, has taken to dressing like a human, and will stow their tail away in order to sit in a chair. But their muzzle, parabolic ears, and pair of horns tend to give away their origins as easily as Eh’s countenance.

Most new people at this point tend to freeze and gape, and it takes a certain amount of talking and coaching from the other guests to get them to relax and start to feel at home.

This person, however, scowled, brows knitting together above their mask, eyes squinting. They reached into their cloak to where a metal handled antique cane was hooked into an inside pocket and pulled it out with their right hand, clapping its point to the floor.

Gnargrim raised an eyebrow my direction.

We hadn’t seen this reaction before at all.

They whirled to speak to Eh, and asked, “Are we in the presence of Aware?” They lightly gestured at the other guests.

Eh opened their mouth for a moment, tongue and teeth glowing, pausing to think, before speaking, “Everyone here is aware of who we are, yes.”

The newcomer relaxed and bowed their head, then looked up and spoke more softly, “I’m sorry. My name is Anne. She/her. I’ve just moved down here from Washington, and didn’t realize a place like this was here. The Lord of Portland made no mention of the Sunspot, of course, but nobody else did either. I would have thought it would be recommended or warned about. Am I welcome here?”

Eh tilted their head, “Lord of Portland?”

Anne took a step back, and said, “Asterix. Right?”

Eh shook their head lightly, “I have never heard of them.”

“Him. How?” Anne corrected, then asked, tense. Then she shook herself out and stammered, “Sorry! Sorry. Please pardon my rudeness and short language. This feels like a very unusual situation and I’m finding it hard to mask.”

“You are wearing one,” Eh pointed out.

Anne looked around, then back at Eh and said, “I’m the only one here wearing one. Do you have a ward of protection up against pathogens?”

“You… could put it that way,” Eh said. “The air is heavily filtered and everyone here is personally protected with our technology. It should be safe for you to remove your mask here. If you wish to have your own personal protection, you’ll have to give us your consent to give it to you. It comes with side effects, however. You are also very welcome here. I am assured that this is considered a safe place to be, even though I have never heard of Asterix or a Lord of Portland.”

Anne hesitated midway through taking her hat off to remove her masks, then decided to proceed. Her long brown hair had a freshly trimmed sidecut, and her face was covered with a fine layer of stubble. Like many people in the Pacific Northwest, she didn’t wear any makeup, but she had earrings and an eyebrow piercing. Her glasses had little dragons sculpted into the sides of the rims. 

She smiled hopefully as she put her masks into her pockets, cane hooked into the crook of her arm as she worked.

“Can I order a coffee?” Anne asked.

“You may have one,” Eh said. “I’d be more than happy to make it for you.”

Anne paused again, blinking, then asked, “How much is it?”

Eh smiled, “It is free to anyone who asks.”

“Even a twelve ounce decaf mocha?” Anne asked, gesturing at the drink that Eh had just finished up.

Eh nodded and said, “Yes. Even that.” Then they looked across the cafe and called the name, “Maxwell?”

A man in an orange knit skull cap and a blue puffy jacket got up from his seat and wandered over to get his drink, thanking Eh and nodding to Anne before sitting down again. Anne’s eye followed the checkered handkerchief that hung from Maxwell’s left back pocket. She didn’t seem to have any strong emotional reaction. It seemed like a reflexive look followed but a decision to be satisfied with it.

Then she looked at the line of big pride flags along the wall, and smiled back at Maxwell, nodding.

“OK. Please let me know if anything is expected from me. I’d like to be a good guest,” Anne said. “I would very much like to have a decaff twelve ounce mocha, with no whip cream. And, do you have pastries?”

Eh nodded, then gestured to the case to Anne’s left, which held all the available pastries.

Anne bent to look, leaning on her cane.

“Are those cheese danishes?” she asked.

“They are!” Eh replied.

“I’d like one of those.”

“Certainly!” As Eh began to work on Anne’s mocha, they reached over with a foot and slid the back door of the case open. And then they did one of our little tricks, turning their extended hind limb into a tendril with a hand on the end of it and used it to select one of the danishes and pull it out of the case to put on a plate.

Anne watched this with an intense curiosity, completely unalarmed.

It was obvious that the other guests who were still watching were impressed with her reactions, but they also largely started to turn their attention away. To them, she might as well have been a regular at that point.

Not to us, though. She was behaving somewhat strangely. She was speaking of things that were established to her, such as the Lord of Portland, that we knew nothing about. I could see in Eh’s eyes that they were avidly intent on learning more. And I made a note to ask Morde to look into it if Eh did not.

It looked like Anne was about to ask another question when Eh beat her to the punch, “So, what brings you to Tannasbourne?”

“Ah, my girlfriend,” Anne said. “I’ve moved in with her.”

“Oh! Wonderful!” Eh said.

“Of course, what with Practice and the Seal, now I’ve got business here, too,” Anne said, a little less brightly, in a humorously onerous tone as if Eh should know what that meant.

Eh nodded absently but didn’t say anything, letting Anne think what she might think for the moment.

“How long have you been here?” Anne asked. There wasn’t anyone behind her, so she felt like she could stand and chat.

Which suited Eh just fine. Eh replied, “We arrived about eight years ago, and set up shop two years ago, after the pandemic hit the cafe that was here particularly hard.”

“And, if you don’t mind me asking again, you don’t know the Lord of Portland?” Anne asked. “How is that?”

“Well,” Eh said amiably. “We didn’t know that there was one, to begin with, if you’re really not talking about the Mayor.”

“I’m really not,” Anne said. “That’s kind of amazing.”

“Is he kind of like Emperor Norton?” Eh asked, referring to Joshua Abraham Norton of San Francisco, who had declared himself Emperor of the United States in 1859. We knew about him from one of our regulars.

Anne turned her head sideways slowly and drawled out, “nooooo? Not really. Though, I think Emperor Norton might have been a Practitioner.” She said that with an emphasis that gave me visions of both italics and a capital letter. “Asterix is an Animus,” she explained. “A surprisingly strong one, too, for his origins.”

“An Animus?” Eh asked, clearly dawdling on Anne’s drink to maintain the excuse to do something while talking.

Anne didn’t seem to mind, but she did sway side to side on her feet a bit, still leaning on her cane. I had to admit, even though her back was turned to me I was still watching her expressions via our surveillance channel. Really Gnargrim’s job, but I was very curious about her. As were we all. She looked like she was trying to concentrate. Not frustrated, but maybe confused.

I’ve been studying human expression pretty avidly, so I’m fairly confident about that. But I could have been wrong.

“An Animus,” Anne confirmed. “You know. An Other that is a manifestation of an idea or common emotion?”

“Oh!” Eh exclaimed, stirring chocolate into the shot before pouring the foamed milk into the cup. “We do know one of those, but it didn’t follow us here. It was afraid there might be others like it, and it didn’t want to encroach.”

“OK, so you do know what a Lord is?”

“No,” Eh said. “We really don’t.”

“But, you’re Other and you know what an Animus is, and you’re here.”

Eh held up a claw with one hand, and the milk pitcher in the other, “I am friends with a thing that can be described by your definition of Animus, yes. But that’s not our word for it, though. And I’m not sure what you mean by ‘Other’. That sounded like it had a weight to it and a context that I don’t know about.”

“But you’re not human,” Anne said.

Eh shook their head, then began to pour the milk into Anne’s cup.

“So you must be Other,” she concluded.

“So,” Eh carefully waved the pitcher to create a rosette on the top of mocha. “Other, in this context, means not human? Such as an alien, yes? I’m assuming you wouldn’t call a cat or a bird an Other.” Eh was managing to verbally put that capital letter on that word, just like Anne had been doing.

“No?” Anne said cautiously, putting a question to it in uncertainty. Then she asked more firmly, “What do you mean by ‘alien’?”

Eh glanced at Maxwell with a bit of a smirk, and said, “You know, like in 3rd Rock from the Sun.” We’d all watched that show on recommendation from our eldest regular.

Anne straightened up and did the backward step again, blinking.

Eh offered her her drink.

She squinted at them long and hard, then turned to my trio and did the same to us. I noticed that her pupils glowed a bright pink. Which is not something I’ve seen outside of our own Network before.

“You’re not Other,” she muttered.

“We’re not?” Eh asked.

“You don’t look like Others through my sight,” she replied.

“Interesting.”

“So, you’re aliens? Is that what you meant by ‘arrive’?” she asked.

“Ktletaccete,” Eh said. “Our word for aliens is ‘beshakete’, or Outsiders. And to you, we are Outsiders, yes. But we call ourselves Ktletaccete. It’s fascinating that you don’t detect us as Other, though. What does that mean, exactly?”

“You all have strong Selves like humans typically do. The spirits react to you as if you do, and you might be able to Practice, if you’re not doing it already,” Anne said. “You absolutely don’t resemble any of the Others I know about. My sight is particularly attuned to that kind of thing.”

Several of the guests were paying attention again.

“I think I need to sit down,” Anne said. “But, can we keep talking?”

Eh nodded, saying “Certainly.” And then commanded a chair to form from one of the bins, graphene colored clay crawling out of what people often took for a trash receptacle and slithering across the floor to shape itself into a seat particularly suited to Anne’s height and shape. Eh gestured at it.

Anne watched this and then pointed at the chair, stating, “That’s not Practice.”

“Ninite clay,” Eh said. “It’s part of how we got here.”

Anne experimentally sat down in the chair, and then looked surprised at how comfortable it was. It molded itself to her body and adjusted itself to her needs as best it could without the neural link.

Watching, Eh said, “The nanites are also how we provide protection against pathogens for those who consent.”

“Can they replicate?” she asked, with a tone of nervousness in her voice, moving as if considering standing up again.

“Yes,” Eh said. “But not without explicit command.”

“I thought that wasn’t possible!” Anne exclaimed. “I remember reading on Wikipedia…”

“The prevailing theory is that our Animus helped us make them,” Eh said. “If it is an Animus.”

“Oh.”

“Can you tell me what you mean by ‘Practice’?”

Anne took a sip of her mocha and raised her eyebrows in appreciation, “Magic. Through vows to keep true to one's word and uphold the old pacts, humanity can command the spirits to do work. Move energies. Alter reality a bit. Summon Others. Travel places. That sort of thing. Magic.” Then she looked startled with herself, and looked back fearfully at the other guests.

Maxwell grinned and waved back at her.

“Wait,” she hissed, turning back to Eh. “If you’re aliens and you don’t know about Others and the Practice and all that, then, what about everyone else here? Are they all aliens too? In disguise? Please tell me they are.”

“No, sorry. We cater to humans,” Eh said.

“Oh, shit,” Anne said, looking up at the corners of the room.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I just said a whole lot of too much,” she shrank into her seat with dread.

Eh settled onto their haunches and leaned on the counter with their elbows, lowering their head with deference and concern, “That sounds bad. What are the consequences? Can we help somehow?”

Anne glanced at the other guests again, most of whom were now watching with various looks of surprise, concern, and enlightenment. Some of them were clearly putting two and two together for the first time regarding things we still had no clue about. Others seemed to be familiar with what Anne was saying, and maybe displaying concern for her. And the rest might have been hearing about this all for the first time.

Anne slumped and looked down at the floor, “I’m gonna take a big hit. I don’t know that there is anything you can do. I’m responsible for what everyone knows now.”

“Don’t sweat it, Anne,” Maxwell called from his seat. “We all know they’re aliens, right?” He looked around at the rest of the room, and was met with nods. “I don’t think anything you’ve said has really changed any lives here. Except maybe theirs, you know?” He gestured at Eh and the rest of us. “But, I bet you the Kletachitay don’t fall under the protection of the Seal, right?” He pronounced our people’s name with a distinctly West Coast accent. Most people around here did.

She rose slightly out of her seat to turn and look at him.

He nodded solemnly, with an inclination of encouragement, gesturing with his drink. Then, when he was sure she took that sentiment, he turned to relax back down into his own chair.

“It’s probably true,” someone else said.

Anne visibly relaxed and grinned nervously at Eh.

“Tell you what,” Eh said. “If you want to keep having this conversation in private, we can arrange that. If it would be better for you. We have our own secrets. We understand. But I would also like to learn more about this Lord of Portland, and maybe I should meet him at some point?”

Anne nodded.

Eh smiled, “There are a couple of ways we could do this. We do have a back office, which we could use, if you like. Or – well – we don’t really have hours, but it’s usually super quiet around 4 am. Sometimes we don’t have guests here at that time. But that’s not guaranteed. Or, you could consent to a neural terminal, and we could meet over the Network, if that’s not likely to mess with your, uh… You do Practice, right? Would your spirits reject the nanites?”

Anne’s eyes went wide as she took in a breath and held it, looking up at a corner of the room in thought. She looked fearfully back at Eh and said, “I don’t know. I’m kind of afraid to try. Um. Yes, I Practice. Yes. Um.” She glanced around the room again. “Through a bit of a loophole I can tell you about later.”

“A loophole?”

“Later.”

“OK.”

While they were having this part of the discussion, I witnessed yet another thing that was unprecedented to us.

Maxwell gave several of his fellow guests meaningful looks and exchanged nods. Then, some of them got up and spoke very quietly to other guests. And as Anne and Eh negotiated how they might talk in private, the presumably human guests of the Sunspot cafe began to gather their things and file out of the shop. Some of them waved to Eh or to me, Gnargrim, and Gesedege.

Eh looked just as surprised and bewildered as I did, and Anne noticed, so she looked back at the rest of the cafe to see what was happening.

“Don’t worry, Anne,” Maxwell said. “We’ve got your back. We’ll keep as much Innocence as we have left for you. Might come in handy, right?”

Anne looked utterly flabberghasted.

“After all,” he explained. “You’re family.” Then he gestured at the trans pride flag with his paper cup, and smirked.

He tugged the fold of his hat as he passed me, uttering my honorific, “m’Drah.” 

Maxwell’s one of my favorites, but he surprised the hell out of me that day.

Anne stared at the flag for a few seconds then looked at the door closing behind Maxwell’s back, eyes brimming with tears.

“I never thought I’d find a replacement for the Black Drop,” Anne said in the now emptied shop. “I thought that was an era that was gone forever.” She heaved out a couple of silent laughs, shaking her head. “But this place. How do you – ?” She trailed off, apparently unable to complete the question.

Eh brought themself back from their own bewilderment and replied, “We have some secrets we’re not going to divulge to even you. At least, not until our Council can agree to it. It looks like we could convene one right now, though.”

“Let’s go a bit more slowly than that,” Anne said, shakily.

“Sure.”

“Um,” Anne said. “I’m not exactly human, myself. I mean, I’m human enough now that I can Practice. Gaining a human enough Self was… a neat trick. I’m not sure I can explain it without giving you a whole education on the different kinds of Others and how Practice under the Seal works, though. Let’s just say that I’m old enough and experienced enough that I’m absolutely mortified that I was that careless. Bewildered, in fact.”

“Was the Black Drop -” Eh started to ask.

“A coffee shop where I came from,” Anne replied. “They weren’t like this. I knew only a few Others and Practitioners from there, but you couldn’t talk about that stuff in their lobby. You could talk about everything else, though. You could talk openly and loudly about your weirdest special interests, about being plural, or what it meant to you to be queer, and no one would bat an eye. And they called me family the first day I walked in the door, too. We had to chase the occasional bigot out a few times, but it was home in a way that no home ever was, you know?”

“I’ve heard Maxwell say something like that about the Sunspot,” Eh said. “But I don’t really know? I can’t. I can approximate from my own experiences, but I’m not human or Other, as you describe it. I didn’t grow up in this world.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Anne said, finally trying her danish. She gestured with it, “This is phenomenal!”

“Thank you.”

“You really should meet with the Lord of Portland, though,” Anne said. “I think I can arrange that. I’m really surprised he hasn’t reached out to you. Maybe he doesn’t know you’re here for some reason? But he should. By virtue of his station, a place like this should be known to him. Your presence should be felt.”

“Could it be possible that someone we’ve done business with covered that without telling us how it all works?” Eh asked. “Kind of like how we operate here legally?”

“Maybe,” Anne said. “Also, you’re not Others and you’re not Practitioners, so you technically don’t fall under his rule. It’s just that you don’t really belong here, either. How did you get here?”

“Oh, that’s a long story,” Eh said. “But I think I can summarize it intelligibly.”

“I’ll try to understand it,“ Anne said. 

They were both so much more relaxed now, and my Crew mates and I fell still to let them continue talking as if we weren’t even there. Eh never gave any indication we should leave, though, so we did stay and watch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Eh so at ease with anyone before, honestly. I’ve known them through… so many lifetimes. I wondered what was different about Anne. Something was obviously clicking between them now. The speed with which they responded to each other picked up.

“One of our people, with help from `efeje`e, our Animus or whatever it is, figured out how to warp space/time and transport a vessel over hundreds of thousands of lightyears without aging significantly inside it,” Eh said, as if this was nothing more than discovering and developing a new Art. “We let her leave the original Sunspot on her own journey, with a Tunnel aboard so we could keep communication. And she’s been jumping around from star to star, exploring the galaxy since. And she’s been collecting a bit of a crew for herself in the process. But, um… That’s several novels worth of story. Anyway, she’s gotten pretty good at sneaking onto and off of inhabited planets without being noticed.”

Anne dropped her jaw and squinted, shaking her head, and said, “This sounds just like any science fiction story.”

“It feels like one, yeah,” Eh agreed. “The idea that we can bend space/time like that is phenomenal. After hundreds of millennia of evolution and development, you’d have thought we’d have discovered it sooner, if it was that possible. But, it did take help from `efeje`e, you know. And our agreement with it was also unprecedented.”

“So, maybe your warp drive was a kind of Practice?” Anne asked.

Eh shrugged, “Maybe.”

“But, wait,” Anne tore her danish in half and gestured with part of it. The chair had a cup holder when she needed it. “How did you get here, if you didn’t go with your explorer?”

“The Tunnel,” Eh said. “We can send consciousnesses through it. Everyone here is what we call Crew. We ascended long ago, our original bodies dying, and now live in the Network created by our nanites. When Molly told us about this planet, a few of us decided to transfer over and stay here. She dropped off a bin of nanites and we started making a new home here, as quietly as we could. But it became apparent humanity could use a little help, and our local Council decided to start being a bit more overt.” Eh gestured at the cafe in demonstration.

“And you’re doing this,” Anne gestured at the cafe herself, “without the help of Practice? I don’t even see Glamour at work.”

“As far as I know, yes,” Eh said. “Though, it seems Maxwell is aware of Practice, at least.”

“You’ve definitely cultivated a clientele full of Aware,” Anne remarked. “Which I supposed shouldn’t be at all surprising. You’re a bunch of extraterrestrials giving away food for free. Of course you’re going to attract the Aware. They need people like you. And they have a tendency to take weirdness like this in a certain kind of stride, because weirdness is part of what made them Aware. And if you haven’t even been visited by witch hunters, then someone’s gotta be covering for you.”

“Kinda figures, I guess,” Eh said.

Anne looked at Eh for a while, danish in one hand, drink in the other, then asked, “You look a lot like someone’s idea of a dragon.”

“I’ve been told that, yes,” Eh said. “We think this is what Ktletaccete looked like before we took to the stars and started tinkering with our genetics and life itself. Our oldest language hints at a shape like this, and it’s what felt right to me when I decided to stop being how I was born.”

“That sounds a little like something I’m familiar with,” Anne said, before taking a bite of the last of her danish.

Eh inclined their head, twitching it in the direction of that particular flag, “we’re family?”

Anne swallowed and looked at the flag, “You have trans people in your culture, too? Assigned gender?”

“Ah,” I couldn’t help myself from vocalizing, and Anne glanced at me. I grinned back, and nodded at Eh.

“Not the Sunspot. Or, the `etekeyerrinwuf,” Eh said. “We made sure our new world, our own Exodus Ship, didn’t have assigned gender. But Fenmere, Gesedege, Gnargrim, and I were all born on a ship that did. Or something close enough to it that it’s basically the same thing. We didn’t have the word ‘trans’, obviously. But, again, close enough. We weren’t able to end dysphoria by ending gender, though. Even with technological interventions before birth, eugenics even, as abhorrent as it is, we can’t stop some people from being born with the need for physical change. Sometimes it develops later in life, too. It’s better to accommodate it when it becomes known. Anyway, I digress. We have an understanding with your transgender people. We get it. It’s ultimately why we’re here.”

Anne, apparently, was stuck on the first few words of Eh’s explanation, “Can - can I ask? How old are you?”

Eh smirked, but I wondered if Anne would read it as a smirk. Anne was too focused on the subject of her question to be bewildered by Ktletaccete expressions like a lot of other Earthly people often are, though.

“Do you want to know my age by my own personal years experienced? Or from your perspective, taking into account relativity?” Eh asked back.

Anne grimaced, “Let’s go with years you’ve experienced.”

Eh titled their head and looked at the ceiling as if to calculate. I knew this was a hard thing to answer for a Ktletaccete of our age. I don’t like thinking about my own age, myself. It kind of defies memory. Causes a kind of dysphoria itself. I could see Eh’s face twitch as they settled on an answer.

 “I’m going to give you an estimate,” Eh said. “Calculated in your years, but for my experience. And really rounded off. At a certain point, the thousands digit means as much as the ones digit.”

Anne looked what I’ve come to discern as incredulous.

“Two hundred and some millennia,” Eh said. “Maybe thirty? Maybe fifty? It gets squidgy.”

Anne blinked and deflected internalizing that with an observation, “You use English vernacular like you were born here.”

“We’ve been here eight years, and we live in trillions of tiny machines that can house the consciousnesses of millions of us,” Eh said. “Our ability to translate and learn your language is… enhanced.”

“Two hundred thousand years?” Anne asked, back on the topic.

“Yes,” Eh said. “More or less. Mostly more.”

“Well,” she said. “At least you’re not embarrassingly older than me. Just a smidge, though. A bit of a smidge. Like a civilization or two. Well, technically, it’s off the other end, and there weren’t civilizations back then, so…”

Eh drew their head back and raised their lure in surprise, asking, “How does that work? If you’ll excuse me for asking. How does a human live that long? I thought your civilizations were less than a few thousand years old at this point. You only had your industrial revolution two hundred years ago or so. Your computer technology is less than a century old.”

Anne grinned, licked the icing off her fingers one at a time, and then rubbed her hand dry on her cloak as she stood up. She held out her hand as if to offer a handshake to Eh, and said, “Former Primordial Goddess of Hospitality and present trans girl, Anne Other Problem, at your service. Welcome to Earth, I guess!”

Eh straightened up and sloughed off a considerable amount of nanite clay, reconfiguring their body to be about the same size of a human, but otherwise the same shape as before. The excess clay oozed toward the large bin in the back, reverting to its graphene color almost immediately. Then they stepped around the counter to stand before Anne and took her hand to shake it.

“My name is Eh.Though, that’s really a title. My name is Yenfiri. My pronouns are they/them. Former Senior Captain and Founding Crew of the `etekeyerrinwuf, revolutionary, trans enby as you’d say, and co-Artisan of Sunspot Tea and Coffee,” Eh said. “And it is a real pleasure to meet you. Thank you.”

“I don’t have anywhere near the power I used to have,” Anne said. “But I’ll do my best to step back into my old role for you. Your customers… Or, I guess they’re your guests? Their actions speak very well for you and what you’ve done for them. We need places like this. But let’s try not to make too many waves. I think you’re in a more fragile position than you realize.”

“You’re our hostess,” Eh said, glancing at me. 

I nodded. The Council would accept this. We had a habit of still treating Eh like Captain, anyway. 

Eh concluded, “We’ll follow your lead.”

“Asterix might want you to pretend to be human from now on,” Anne said. “It might be for the best if you did, honestly. But that might also depend on what kind of protections you don’t know you have.”

Eh grimaced, “If it comes to that, we can comply. But it will hurt. Some of us will have to front more than others. Whatever it takes to do what’s safe, though.”

Anne nodded, “Let’s go see the Lord and find out what he has to say.”

“Sounds good.”

And nodding and waving to us, they walked out the door, just like that. Though, before they took their third step beyond the threshold, Eh had changed shape to their human disguise, which looked remarkably like Yenfiri had before their body had died. Just a different species, obviously.

[pleckthaniel]

On Mission To Zyxx

I think I heard the first ad for this show on some other Maximum Fun podcast (probably MBMBAM?) in mid-winter, 2021. I had just finished catching up with Dungeons and Daddies. Since I was then jobless, mostly friendless, living with my parents, trying desperately to suppress my gender confusion, and very severely depressed, I was burning through podcasts like crazy and desperately needed something else to listen to. (I was both using them as a remedy for my insomnia and something to do during the often 8+ hours per day I would literally just lay in bed or on the couch.) I had a very vague inkling of wanting to get back into sci-fi, which I’d always loved as a kid, and I was getting slightly burned out on Warriors fic, having recently posted two extraordinarily long one-shots and being very deep in the brambles with Brighter Fires.

Around March, I put on the first episode of Zyxx. I remember not liking it a ton, actually, but deciding to give it a second chance. When the next episode made me burst out laughing at 3 in the morning - genuinely smiling for the first time in what felt like ages - I knew I was going to keep listening.

It took me like.. a couple weeks to listen to the whole show, and then I immediately started relistening, and then again. It felt a little bit magical to be so happily obsessed with something when I felt so stuck, so alone, and so utterly directionless. As I recall, I was literally just finishing up my 3rd or 4th relisten when I noticed something new in the feed - the first episode of season 5. As soon as I finished it, I opened up my laptop - this was like, 5 in the morning - and started writing what would eventually become the first draft for both and if it’s not tonight and Tomorrow might be good for something.

At some point I also pretty much imprinted on Pleck like a baby duckling, for which Ray teased me endlessly, calling me a kinnie - they were more right than they knew, I think. This show does some really interesting things with gender, including multiple nonbinary lead characters, and even Pleck, ostensibly the cishet everyman, has his moments. I was also taking a gender-focused sociology class at the time and it set me off thinking a lot about masculinity and my own relationship to it. The thing is that Pleck is constantly de-masculinized on the show, but never or rarely in a way where he’s accused of girlishness or femininity. I was kinda jealous? It certainly set off more complicated feelings. Some part of that felt more attainable to me than traditional manhood and masculinity. Some part of it felt more difficult.

So yeah, if you wanted to be glib, I may have projected onto a fictional podcast character so hard that I accidentally transed my gender.

There’s a lot else I could talk about - how listening to the show did, in fact, rekindle my love of science fiction and caused me to read some of my favorite books, how the show’s approach to Pleck’s mental illness legitimately helped me deal with my own Brain Problems more than once, how I’ve met fantastic people and experienced some genuinely just straight-up extremely fun times thanks to this tiny little fandom. But beyond providing me with so much joy, beyond providing me with a lot of the help I needed to pull me back to shore in a tough time, this show has had an undeniably positive long-term impact on my identity and the course of my life, and for that I will never be able to put all my gratitude into words.

[randomstreetlamp]

This post is related to a different post I made. Go read that one first if you want to have the full context. Or as much context dreams can have.

Recurring dreams

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

I've found some old journals of mine from when I was a kid. Mentions my dream quite a few times. Small pieces I would remember and write down before I had the chance to forget. Also noted the different ways I could leave the dream. There were three ways. The first required me to get to the end of the forest or at least what I thought was the end of the forest. Looking back at my writing there was just a point where the forest got extremely foggy and dense. Walking into the fog would wake me up immediately and acted as a barrier to keep me out. This fog is no longer there or is much deeper into the forest than before. The second way was via The Everything. A realm of doors that could lead anywhere and one door lead to me waking up. My journal mentions that there was a room but it hurt my head to try and remember it. Both these ways were a seamless way of waking up in the morning. A couple minutes before my alarm went off and I had to start my day. The third way was more like waking up from a nightmare. It apparently happened often in the beginning. I was incredibly injured or killed by the monsters in the forest and would wake up in the middle of the night. Honestly I think that's what started my insomnia. Anyway the third way was the weirdest. Simply because I could vividly remember how it happened for at least a few weeks. I would always forget at some point but I think that's just my actual memory being bad. Also I have scars that match the different ways I was hurt in the dreams. Such as, a scar on my ankle that looks like a small stab wound. Everyone in my family would tell you that it just showed up one day. No one can tell you a day I injured my ankle enough to scar. Or when I wrote about a time I was cut across my right eyebrow by a monster. I have a scar on that eyebrow. But I've never injured it. One day a scar appeared and I have a small almost unnoticeable slit in that eyebrow. I remember the last time I got injured in a dream was the last dream I had before I stopped getting them. I had been looking at a picture or mural or something. I heard a ton of whispering that started to hurt my head and caused my nose to bleed heavily. I woke up that night choking on my blood.(I was like 12 so this has actually scarred me) My nose was bleeding so heavily that I had to go to the hospital. There was no cause that they could find-no underlying conditions,no injuries, nothing. The only explanation they had was that maybe it was dry and caused my nose to bleed. Ever since then I've been extremely susceptible to nose bleeds and my bed frame is still stained from the actual pool of blood from that night. So all in all? I hate my dreams but I also want to know what the hell is happening.

[aboutmarlaahlgrimm-blog]

Marla Ahlgrimm: The Hormone And Caffeine Connection

Coffee is one of the most popular drinks in the world, and Marla Ahlgrimm says that women are usually the first to reach for a warm cup of motivation in the morning. If this sounds like you, you should know that coffee can actually affect your hormones. But is that always a bad thing?

According to Marla Ahlgrimm, caffeine is the main stimulant in coffee, and it can have a number of effects on the body. The drink causes increased alertness, enhanced mood, and improved cognitive functions. But caffeine can also affect hormone levels, particularly estrogen. Some studies have found that women who drink more than three or four cups of coffee per day have lower levels of estrogen than those who drink fewer. This is due to caffeine blocking the production of aromatase, an enzyme responsible for turning testosterone to estrogen.

Marla Ahlgrimm also notes that caffeine can increase cortisol levels. As you know, cortisol is the body’s main stress hormone. Caffeine stimulates the adrenal gland, which produces cortisol, which can lead to higher blood pressure, lowered metabolism, and impaired immune function. According to Marla Ahlgrimm, caffeine can also affect progesterone production, but she notes that more research is needed to identify why and exactly how.

Overall, coffee can affect hormones, but the effects vary from woman to woman. Some may experience no changes to the hormones, while others see decreased estrogen or increased cortisol. Marla Ahlgrimm says that weight, age, stress, genetics, and medical conditions can all affect how coffee impairs or enhances a woman’s hormones.

Moderation Is Key

Marla Ahlgrimm says that women don’t necessarily have to put down their thermoses and notes that coffee can be a perfectly healthy (and delicious) addition to a woman’s diet when consumed in moderation. A few tips to keep your coffee consumption within safe levels include:

Keep track of your intake. Look for an app that helps you keep track of how many cups of coffee or caffeinated sodas you drink each day. This can help ensure that you’re not consuming too much caffeine or sugar. Marla Ahlgrimm says you can also simply write this in a notebook.

Choose reduced caffeine beverages. Marla Ahlgrimm says that decaffeinated coffee is a great option if you enjoy the taste of coffee but tend to consume more than 4 cups each day. You can also find lower-caffeine espresso.

Skip the sugar and flavored creamers. In addition to the caffeine content, Marla Ahlgrimm says that coffees sweetened with sugar and flavored creamers may contain excess sugar, which can also have a negative effect on your diet and overall health.

Don’t drink coffee before bed. While a quick cup of coffee can help you wake up first thing in the morning, it’s not going to help you sleep. Caffeine can interfere with your ability to settle in for the evening, so drink your last drink well before the sun goes down.

Listen to your body. Your body will tell you whether you’re drinking too much coffee or not, says Marla Ahlgrimm. Look for signs of anxiety, insomnia, irregular periods, or other issues that might be directly related to your caffeine consumption.

Find hidden caffeine sources. Coffee is not the only source of caffeine that you’re likely consuming, says Marla Ahlgrimm. Energy drinks, sodas, and certain teas (green and black in particular), also contain high levels of caffeine that add to your daily intake. Certain foods, such as chocolate, some pain relievers, and certain cold medicines, also contain low levels of caffeine.

At the end of the day, the goal is health, says Marla Ahlgrimm. Fortunately, that can include coffee and other caffeine sources in moderation.

[sigillaria-svt]

SEVENTEEN Fantasy AU (Headcanons)

In a kingdom where guilds run in fierce competition with one another, there is one guild that stands out despite their small size: SEVENTEEN led by the infamous Choi Seungcheol. With their wide range of abilities and flexible combinations, they have accomplished many quests, pulling them up the ranks in a quiet but steady pace.

Disclaimer: Photos are not mine, but all other edits were made by me. I may or may not write this into a full written fic. Update: Here’s the masterlist for the SEVENTEEN x Reader series that I’m currently working on

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL Leader | Paladin | Defense-Attack

- Leads and protects the team from the frontlines - Guild leader who also works at maintaining the guild when they’re not on quests (he likes to complain about this a lot to Jeonghan) - Has weak buff abilities like magic shields and boosters - Best for attacking dark elements - Hot-headed and may shout at you in the middle of the battlefield - “Are you stupid? Why the hell did you step out when you knew that they were going to cast paralyzing spells?!” - He’ll apologize later on though because he loves his members too much - Has nearly died at least once for jumping in to save his members (this gives Joshua a headache tbh) - People from other guilds are scared of him because of his reputation in clearing mobs, but is actually a nice and goofy guy once you get to know him - First to bring out the drinks in the guild hall after every quest - Even those who don’t like to drink end up drinking because of how fussy he gets (and no he will not stop until you take at least one shot) -  On rare occasions, you'll find him training in the field at the back. Otherwise, he's in his office dealing with paperwork he doesn't want to deal with

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

YOON JEONGHAN Strategist | Necromancer | Support

- Lazy but pretty strong once he gets into it - Dark horse of the team - Leads strategy from the shadows - Sometimes you're not sure if he's on your side or not - Takes a 16-hour power nap once they get back to the guild hall. Do NOT wake him up during this time or you'll be the object of his pranks for days - Is friends with many spirits and ghosts. It sometimes freaks out his members when they see him talking to thin air in the middle of the night (he doesn’t find anything weird about this though) - No one can hide anything from him because his spirit friends are tattletales - "So I heard you've been looking over at Jun a lot lately. Mind telling me about it? Did you really think that I wouldn’t know?" - Is the last to go to sleep to make sure that everyone sleeps well. He helps out with Seungcheol’s insomnia from time to time whenever they run into each other in the middle of the night - Messes with Junhui's magical beasts from time to time just to cause a stir

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HONG JISOO (JOSHUA) Everyone’s Brother | Priest | Support

- Heals you but not before he laughs at you (unless the mission is pretty serious or you’re pretty hurt) - Support system of the entire team - Go-to person after every mission because of his healing powers. Hoshi may or may not have called him a walking first-aid kit at least once. - A pretty nice person 99% of the time until he gets caught up in Jeonghan's schemes. If so, you better get out of the room as soon as possible. - Makes sure that everyone is well-stocked in supplies before going out on missions - One of the people who volunteers to stay up when they need to camp out - "Oh, you're still awake? Do you need anything?" - Tends to stay quiet most of the time and is pretty good at hiding and sneaking around. Once he gets comfortable with you, he can maintain conversation for hours - Don’t let his title fool you; he looks pretty harmless but is actually kind of good at hand-to-hand combat - Actually, no, he can throw a grown man with enough effort if he wanted to - Please do not test the patience of this man

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WEN JUNHUI Heart of the Group | Summoner | Attack

- Friends with literally every living thing - Can talk with wild beasts to help get everyone through the forests unharmed - Serious and dependable when on missions, but is a giant manchild when they get back to the guildhall. If Junhui wants to play, you will not see the end of it until he runs out of energy - Likes to use knuckles as his secondary weapon although he doesn’t like fighting with his hands that much - Will pull random pranks and manages to tag along his beasts with him (unsurprisingly, this causes a bit of a mess in the guildhall) - Sometimes gets into fights with Jeonghan's spirits (and always loses) - Has a little cottage in the forest with a piano. He often stays there when he's upset or just wants to take a break. - It’s honestly so peaceful there; Minghao sometimes has his tea time in the cottage while Jun plays soft tunes on the piano. - "Hey, hey, are you awake? Do you want to visit the cottage with me?" - Will make random meals in the middle of the night. If you manage to catch up awake, he’ll cook something for you too. Just make sure not to excite him too much or else he’ll wake everyone up.

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KWON SOONYOUNG (HOSHI) Source of Energy | Dual Swordsman | Attack

- Main leader of attack, is always found at the frontlines and taking on the strongest enemy - Knows how to utilize the strength of his members to maximize attack output - Earned the nickname of "The Tiger of the Field" due to his strong aura and presence in the battlefield. Ever since he heard about it, he never stopped talking about how he was an actual tiger, thus starting his obsession with tigers. - His stare intimidates the opponents, and sometimes his own members - However, when they're back at the guildhall, he's the softest hamster little boy - Will sneak out in the middle of the night with Jun to eat snacks - Brings out the energy during celebrations, but is also the first one to get drunk and fall asleep. He always stars the party but never ends it. - Actually thinks about his members a lot even when he doesn’t openly admit it or show it - “You look worried, did anything happen? Oh come on, you know I can keep a secret! I promise I won’t tell anyone... or, try to tell anyone.” - Gets happy and giddy whenever they play games (and sometimes get outs of control) - Asks Jun to summon a tiger at least once a week. June eventually gives in after a few times of Hoshi asking him with a pout

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JEON WONWOO Crowd-controller | Wizard | Support-Attack

- Controls hoards of enemies using different runes and spells that can either paralyze or blind them - Is very quick on his feet in missions, and is usually the scout along with Chan - Blind without his glasses--and can barely see even with glasses on--but can sense what’s going on in the field with the help of magic and his sense of hearing - Once the mission is over, he heads straight to him room and doesn’t come out unless he has to eat or buy something - Really just a homebody, and everyone understands - Reads a lot of books, and has his own library in the guild house - He’s also good at making potions, so Seungcheol build him his own potion room in one of the towers (yes, this man is spoiled by their leader) - Likes to spend his time alone to build up energy for the next missions - Gets excited whenever you ask him a question on something he’s interested in, but tries not to let it show - “Oh, you’re looking for a book on local herbs? Well, I have a few of them on poisonous plants, medicinal plants, and even an illustrated book on what they all look like... well, I mean, if you want to check those out too.” - Is a bit picky on food, but Junhui cooks him whatever he wants in exchange for having a rune around his room to prevent Jeonghan’s ghosts and spirits from getting in

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LEE JIHOON Backbone of Success | Bard | Support

- Plays music both for a living and to keep everyone alive - His weapon/instruments of choice varies depending on the kind of mission they’re on, but he mostly uses his guitar because it’s easier to bring along - During missions, he is found at the center of the party to make sure that his powers can cover everyone’s needs - Is slightly intimidating for those outside the guild, but everyone inside adores them with everything they have - Will play any song for anyone if they ask nicely (except for Hoshi who often asks for random songs without a second thought) - Likes to stay silently at the side whenever the drinking parties start - Got drunk once, and only once, where he started telling everyone how much he loves them and how much of a home SEVENTEEN is for him (he likes to deny that this happened at all, but everyone else knows otherwise) - Lowkey takes care of everyone’s needs by handing them what they need without saying anything - You can sometimes find him playing instruments at the forest behind the guild hall, in a small clearing that Mingyu made for him - “Are you heading into the forest too? Do you want to come with me?” - Handles the paperwork whenever Seungcheol gets too tired to deal with it after a mission. The city officials have once came along to ask why the handwriting was inconsistent. - Has a collection of wooden figurines from the city market. Everyone secretly puts in a new figure once a month on his shelf. Woozi says he doesn’t notice anything different, but he does.

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XU MINGHAO (THE8) Forest Fairy | Lancer | Attack

- Is physically weak against attacks, but is agile enough to parry whatever comes his way - His experience with natural magic allows him to be more agile in crossing terrains and using the environment to his advantage - He likes to make his own clothes and customize his weapon. There is not a time in the battlefield where he does not look good. - Always has the cleanest clothes after a mission - Barely gets hurt in the battlefield, but always gets sick whenever they’re at the guild house (Joshua has stayed up to take care of him at least twice) - His room is farthest from Seokmin, Hoshi, and Seungkwan’s room because he needs his peace and quiet - Knows the forest like the back of his hand and sometimes hides things there that he doesn’t want anyone to find - He may or may not have met and befriended some of the fair folk - Likes to go into the forest for his tea time. Sometimes he goes to Jun’s cottage, sometimes to the nearly lake, and sometimes on a patch of moss if he feels like it. Like to experiment with tea as if they were potions. - Knows all of the tea - “I heard from someone who heard from someone that you’ve been sneaking out with a certain someone for the past few weeks. Don’t ask me why and how I know, just tell me what happens next.” - Also likes to stay at the side when the drinks come in, but starts to become one of the loudest member after two shots

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KIM MINGYU Jack-of-all-Trades | Greatswordsman | Attack-Defense

- Goes into the battlefield with a longsword nearly as tall as himself. The sword doubles as a shield during dire moments - Really the only one who can carry his sword (Seungcheol can physically carry it too, but he’s too lazy to admit that he can) - Goblins are his worst nightmare because they pop out of nowhere - Almost sliced someone’s limb off because he was clumsy during a mission - In-charge of carrying supplies along with Seokmin to the field - Also in charge of buying supplies that Joshua decided was in need of refilling - At the guild house, he does a lot of cooking and cleaning--all of which is easier for him because none of it is more difficult than carrying his sword around - Customizes Minghao’s weapons for him - Almost convinced Seungcheol to make a smithy for them, but decided that there wasn’t space to make it - His room is filled with a lot of stuff like armour, swords, spare metal, and somehow some cooking ware that couldn’t fit in the kitchen - Was given a room in the first floor because a giant sword and heavy armor falling from the stairs was not a scene Seungcheol wanted to get into - Top 1 frequent visitor to Joshua’s room because he gets into small accidents at least once a day - Even though he’s clumsy, he’s always honest and earnest so everyone loves him anyway - Likes to go into little adventures, but go with him at your own risk - “I’m going to go over to the snowy peaks today. If anyone wants to come with me, hurry up and pack whatever you can!” - Ends up taking care of whoever manages to go along with him. - Gets sent into the city with Seungcheol whenever they have to argue or bargain with city officials because they know that they have a soft spot for Mingyu (mainly because he’s handsome, and partly because he runs errands for them sometimes) - Made the guild insignia with the help of everyone’s input

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LEE SEOKMIN (DK) Secret Weapon | Archer | Attack

- Stays at the back of the group where he can safely aim at enemies without the fear of getting attacked or surprised - In his entire career, he has missed only twice. On both occasions, it was due to his injured arm that got hit by an enemy’s arrow - The enemy never sees him coming--he can fire an accurate shot so long as the enemy is in sight - At the guild house though, he is far from the intimidating persona he puts on during missions. He doesn’t get fazed by a goblin running to him at full speed, but screams at the top of his lungs when one of his members try to scare him. - Is always the first to get up to cook breakfast for everybody, including Jun’s summoned beasts if they happen to be there - His voice is loud enough to reach Jeonghan who lives at the topmost floor of the tower - Helps out with the guild paperwork from time to time, but only to deliver and receive papers. He tried to work on the papers once, but ended up messing up nearly 50 pages worth of work (Jeonghan managed to convince Seungcheol not to get too angry) - Practices like crazy to keep his skills from rusting, even during days when he’s supposed to rest. He sets up multiple practice targets in the forest with the help of Mingyu (who honestly can’t say no to his members) - Hoshi managed to pull him into shooting an arrow at Seungkwan’s food when he was eating when he wasn’t supposed to be eating - Despite his kill-streak, he wouldn’t hurt a fly when he’s at home - This guy is literal sunshine please protect him - Gets happy when you invite him to do things with you - “You want me to come with you to the lake and catch fish? Well, I’m not good at it, but why not! We can have fish for dinner later with our catch. Wait, does shooting arrows at fish count?” - Likes to visit Jun’s cottage with food that he made - Some of Jun’s beasts like him more than Jun

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BOO SEUNGKWAN Opportunist | Elementalist | Attack-Support

- Primarily gets dispatched into smaller missions with Vernon and Chan - Is in good control of both water and earth. Fire and air are less familiar to him because of how hard they are to grasp compared to the other two. - Has a staff as his weapon of choice - Is very quick to notice small changes or shifts in the atmosphere. If he tries hard enough, he can sense different things through the soil but not as well as Wonwoo - Thinks of genius solutions on the spot - Once got his entire team out of a cave mission that they got lost in - At the guild house, he likes to keep things in check (Hoshi sometimes calls him the landlady, which Seungkwan does not like) - Likes to drip water down someone’s back if they annoy him enough - His room is assigned to the farthest wing along with Seokmin and Hoshi so that noise could “stay in one place” according to Jihoon - This doesn’t stop them from making noise in the common room, though - The lake in the middle of the forest is his favorite place because he gets to practice his skills without worrying if he’ll accidentally break a wall or not - Yes, he broke a wall when he was still practicing his skills back at his hometown - Goes to the boring guild conferences that Seungcheol doesn’t bother going to, and ends up making friends with at least two people from each guild that attended - Is the best at giving advice, especially to other magicians in the guild - “Well if you want to get your magic out you’re going to have to do more studying. What do you mean it’s boring? You can shoot out as many fireballs as you like, but that’s not going to get you anywhere. Well why ask me if you’re not going to listen?!” - He can get impatient sometimes though

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 CHWE HANSOL (VERNON) Steady Fortress | Shieldbearer | Defense

- Carries a shield that is nearly as large as himself, but is able to steadily walk though the battlefield like its nothing - Takes on the front of the party along with Seungcheol to protect the team - Moves the fastest when he is in a unit with Seungkwan and Chan - Never panics in the field even if he’s bruised and wounded all over - Is good enough with hand-to-hand combat to wrestle out anyone or anything that may cling to him or his shield when fighting - Sometimes forgets the flow of the mission, but thankfully has Seungkwan and Jihoon to remind him every time - Also has his room at the first floor of the guild hall because of his collection of oversized shields and because it would be too difficult to call for him if he was upstairs - Likes to go on walks by himself. At this point, none of the members get shocked if he disappears one afternoon and comes back the next day - Chan sometimes comes with him though - Is familiar with all the shops and restaurants in the city (yes even the ones that sell weird food like mermaid meat that somehow seem borderline illegal) - Also very good friends with Jun’s beasts - His practice regime is quite harsh in order for him to develop endurance. Often has Mingyu and Seokmin as his practice buddy. These sessions sometimes end up with a trip to Joshua’s room. - “No, for real man, come and hit me. Yeah of course it’s going to hurt, but that’s the point? I’ll let you know if it stings more than I expect.” - Seungcheol practiced with him once, and got scolded by Joshua for going too far so he doesn’t do it anymore. He sometimes watches them spar to make sure that no one gets too hurt. - Has accidentally banged his head on his shields at least thrice - Also another favorite of the female city officials, so Seungcheol tags him along even though he doesn’t really pay attention to anything that they talk about

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LEE CHAN (DINO) Feisty Youngest | Rogue | Attack

- Is the first to go into the battlefield and the last one to get out - Always makes sure that no one gets left behind - The best at hand-to-hand combat and can wrestle with the older members even if they’re larger than him - Specializes in self-defense and stealth attacks, making him ideal for scouting an area before any of his members enter the field - Always manages to insert a witty (sometimes slightly insulting but nevertheless playful) remark even in the middle of battle - “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we didn’t almost die the last time you said that there were two enraged dragons at the other side of the dungeon door. But you know, whatever helps you sleep at night.” - Mostly follows the older members in rapid decision-making but sometimes chimes in with his own suggestions - At the guild house though, he ends up becoming the main target for little errands, mainly because he rarely says no - Sometimes sleeps in another member’s room with them because he can’t sleep when he’s alone in the room - Tried to befriend Jun’s beasts, but it doesn’t really work out that well for him unlike Seokmin - Almost got bitten once or twice (or thrice) - I am convinced that this man can do steady parkour and climbs the tower up to Jeonghan’s room every once in a while. May also climb trees in the forest if he feels like it. - Despite being energetic in the day, he likes to have long one-on-one conversations over a glass of alcohol during the night. - Seungkwan still won’t let him live down the time when he got drunk and bawled his eyes out because the spoon was “not in the right direction”

[postapocalyptic-cryptic-hold]

Whump Tips: Chronic Sleep Deprivation Edition

I’m back again, this time with some sleep deprivation. One thing I see a lot of is chronic sleep deprivation (two+ months) being written as similar to acute/short-term sleep deprivation (24-200 hours). It’s not! It’s actually very different! Don’t ask me how I know this, you don’t want to know. 

Now, down to business: what to keep in mind when writing a character with chronic sleep deprivation. 

Chronic sleep deprivation can be hard to detect, especially if your character thinks of themself as “not having it that bad,” “being a wimp,” or “needing to suck it up.” Five or less hours of sleep a night over two to six months can have hellish effects on your character’s physical and mental health.

Fever symptoms with no fever: your character might be baffled to discover that they’re not feverish, seeing as they’ve been cold and achy for days, suffering from hot flashes and waking up in the middle of the night confused and sore. Maybe they’re even running a low-grade fever, but most of the symptoms seem to be without cause. 

You know the thing when you’ve sat for too long and you stand up and your vision goes black? That will happen to your whumpee all the time. They’ll need to be careful, as sudden movements could cause them to pass out or feel as if they might pass out. 

This can also happen when climbing stairs, running, or otherwise exerting themself. “I’m about to pass out,” is a common thought of the chronically exhausted. 

Changes in appetite are also common, either leading to under or overeating. This can be accompanied by weight gain/loss. Your body has no clue what signals to send you. 

Headaches. This is pretty typical, but sleep deprivation makes you prone to constant headaches. Your character might also get tension headaches of the sort that originates at the back of the head and burns under the skin. 

Nausea is common, especially when your exhausted character is running on even less sleep than usual. 

Confusion or brain fog that intensifies as the exhaustion goes on. 

Insomnia. Yes, insomnia. If your character hasn’t had enough sleep in months, the sleep they do get will start to degrade, both in quality and quantity. 

Inability to stay awake/falling asleep at inappropriate times. Your character might fall asleep any time they sit down, be it in the classroom, on the job, or behind the wheel. For extra Whump Points, have other characters get mad at them for this. 

Sudden decline in mental health. Exhausted characters will likely experience acute anxiety and depression, up to and including frequent (3/week or more) panic attacks and frequent thoughts of suicide. These thoughts may be idle/intrusive thoughts, or they may be along the lines of, “I don’t want to die, but death would be better than living in this hell.”

Panic attacks upon waking up. If your character isn’t sleeping, there’s likely a reason and it’s probably that they’re too busy to sleep. Waking up is hell if you feel like you shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place.

These mental problems will isolate your character and exacerbate feelings of inadequacy. Feeling as though they are at fault, your character may push themself more, take on more tasks, and sleep less in an effort to prove themself. 

Sleep deprivation isn’t always obvious from the outside and can cause enough irritability and personality changes to drive people away. Your character is alone, exhausted, and extremely mentally ill. This cannot be rectified with a night of sleep. 

Sleep deprivation of this sort can take months to recover from and can, given the proper context and cause, be traumatizing.

Basically, your whumpee is in pain, anxious, depressed, and isolated for months at a time, and will probably begin to think they deserve it. Chronic sleep deprivation is so much better than acute. Use it. 

[thelovelygods]

As a teenager, Sylvia Plath vividly understood the extent to which her body steered her. "If I didn't have sex organs, I wouldn't waver on the brink of nervous emotion and tears all the time," she wrote in her journal in 1950. Ten days before her death, she had come to believe that "fixed stars/Govern a life." It turns out that Plath was probably right -- more right than she could have possibly known -- about her biology and her fate. But when Plath's journals were first published in 1982, what was most obvious about her was the supercharged nature of her emotions. Whatever causal agents may have been governing Plath's life, they were blown back by the force of her personality.

As unmistakable as were Plath's volatile emotions in the 1982 journals, the heavy editing of the text necessarily made it hard to discern the patterns to her moods. Even so, there did seem to be a detectable pattern, and it did not seem then, nor had it seemed to the people closest to her during the last years of her life, to be merely a function of temperament. In the weeks before her suicide, Plath's physician, John Horder, noted that Plath was not simply deeply depressed, but that her condition extended beyond the boundaries of a psychological explanation.

In a letter years later to Plath biographer Linda Wagner-Martin, Horder stated: "I believe ... she was liable to large swings of mood, but so excessive that a doctor inevitably thinks in terms of brain chemistry. This does not reduce the concurrent importance of marriage break-up or of exhaustion after a period of unusual artistic activity or from recent infectious illness or from the difficulties of being a responsible, practical mother. The full explanation has to take all these factors into account and more. But the irrational compulsion to end it makes me think that the body was governing the mind."

For at least the past 10 years it has been generally assumed that Plath fit the schema of manic-depressive illness, with alternating periods of depression and more productive and elated episodes.

The hypothesis that Plath suffered from a bipolar disorder is persuasive. But in late 1990, another, even more intriguing medical theory emerged. Using the evidence of Plath's letters, poems, biographies and the 1982 journals, a graduate student named Catherine Thompson proposed that Plath had suffered from a severe case of premenstrual syndrome. In "Dawn Poems in Blood: Sylvia Plath and PMS," which appeared in the literary magazine Triquarterly, Thompson theorized that Plath's mood volatility, depressions, many chronic ailments and ultimately her suicide were traceable to the poet's menstrual cycles and the hormonal disruptions caused by PMS.

Thompson pointed out that Plath unwittingly recorded experiencing on a cyclical basis all of the major symptoms of PMS, as well as many others, including low impulse control, extreme anger, unexplained crying and hypersensitivity. She also suffered many of the physical symptoms associated with PMS, notably extreme fatigue, insomnia and hypersomnia, extreme changes in appetite, itchiness, conjunctivitis, ringing in the ears, feelings of suffocation, headaches, heart palpitations and the exacerbation of chronic conditions such as her famous sinus infections.

Thompson compared Plath's reported mood and health changes with the journals, letters and biographies and found that her symptoms seemed to appear and disappear abruptly on a fairly regular schedule, with clusters of physical symptoms and depressive affect followed by dramatic changes in outlook and overall physical health. Those patterns can be directly linked to the dates of Plath's actual menses, particularly in 1958 and 1959, when she most habitually noted her cycles. Judging from the pattern of Plath's depression and health in late 1952 and in 1953 until her Aug. 24 suicide attempt, Thompson posited that "it seems reasonable to conclude that this suicide attempt was directly precipitated by hormonal disruption during the late luteal phase of her menstrual cycle and secondarily by her loss of self-esteem at being unable to control her depression."

Thompson showed that a well-known journal entry from Feb. 20, 1956, is clearly traceable to Plath's menses, to which she refers directly a few days later. The journal fragment takes on new meaning in light of having been written during the physically and emotionally debilitating luteal phase of Plath's cycle: "Dear Doctor: I am feeling very sick. I have a heart in my stomach which throbs and mocks. Suddenly the simple rituals of the day balk like a stubborn horse. It gets impossible to look people in the eye: corruption may break out again? Who knows. Small talk becomes desperate. Hostility grows, too. That dangerous, deadly venom which comes from a sick heart. Sick mind, too." On Feb. 24, the same day she notes in her journal that she has a sinus cold and "atop of this, through the hellish sleepless night of feverish sniffling and tossing, the macabre cramps of my period (curse, yes) and the wet, messy spurt of blood," Plath wrote a letter to her mother blaming her dark mood on her physical health: "I am so sick of having a cold every month; like this time, it generally combines with my period."

By the fall of 1962, the poems (which Plath carefully dated as they were completed) seem to follow a pattern of metaphorical renewals and optimistic transformations for roughly two to three weeks of artistic production, then jagged, seething accusations and aggression for a couple of weeks.

Thompson's PMS theory has been largely ignored by Plath scholars. But it immediately gained two important supporters: Anne Stevenson, Plath's controversial biographer, and Olwyn Hughes, Plath's former sister-in-law, whose letters were published in a subsequent issue of Triquarterly. Though oddly defensive in tone, Stevenson's letter does commend Thompson for her "invaluable contribution to Plath scholarship ... Certainly no future study of Plath will be able to ignore the probable effects of premenstrual syndrome on her imagination and behavior." And it states that she wishes she had been able to utilize Thompson's insights in the writing of her own work on Plath.

A letter from Olwyn Hughes also congratulates Thompson for her scholarship, but unlike Stevenson, Hughes practically stumbles over herself in amazement at the PMS theory. Hughes, who was quoted in Janet Malcolm's book "The Silent Woman: Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes" as characterizing her long-dead sister-in-law as "pretty straight poison," wrote to Thompson: "It is quite a shock to digest all this -- after thinking for so long that Sylvia's subconscious mind was her prison, and to suddenly realise it may well have been in part, or wholly, her body. But it certainly tallies with Ted's mentions -- he has always felt some chemical imbalance was involved."

Hughes further points out that Ted Hughes had spoken of Plath's ravenous appetite just prior to her periods and asks, "I wonder if that is a known characteristic of PMS?" (According to the PMS literature, it is.) But most tellingly, Olwyn Hughes explains that "one of the reasons I was so bowled over by your piece is that Sylvia's daughter, very like her physically, suffers quite badly from PMS but is, in these enlightened times, aware of it and treats it."

Dr. Glenn Bair, one of the leading experts on PMS treatment and research in the United States, confirmed to Salon that PMS is typically passed from mother to daughter. In a rare interview about her parents, Frieda Hughes told the Manchester Guardian in 1997 that after the "collapse of her health," including extreme fatigue and gynecological problems, she underwent a hysterectomy in her 30s.

After a careful review of Thompson's article, of a seven-page monthly breakdown of Plath's symptoms for 1958 through 1959 and of the documented evidence of Plath's pregnancies and postpartum symptoms of 1959 through 1962, Bair said, "If you hack through the PMDD criteria, I think that you'll find that she fits the PMDD profile."