#that has absolutely nothing to do with my feeling of utter exhaustion

[tardis--dreams]

What I always fail to consider when I create my absolutely realistic to-do lists and plans is the fact that I'm just. So so tired

[pibsboots]

I've always had chronic fatigue. I remember being twelve, and an adult mentioned how I couldn't possibly know how tired they felt because adulthood brought levels of exhaustion I couldn't imagine. I thought about that for days in fear, because I couldn't remember the last time I didn't feel tired.

Eventually I came to terms with the fact that I was just tired, and I couldn't do as many things as everyone else. People called me lazy, and I knew that wasn't true, but there's only so many times you can say "I'm tired" before people think it's an excuse. I don't blame them. When a teenager does 20 hours of extracurriculars every week and only says "I'm too tired" when you ask them to do the dishes, it's natural to think it's an excuse. At some point, I started to think the same thing.

It didn't matter that I could barely sit up. It was probably all in my head, and if I really wanted to, I could do it.

When I learned the name for it, chronic fatigue, I thought wow, people that have that must be miserable, because I am always tired and I cannot imagine what it would feel like if it were worse.

Spoiler alert, if you've been tired for a decade, it's probably chronic fatigue.

Once I figured that out though, I thought of my energy as the same as everyone else's, just smaller in quantity. And that might be true for some people, but I've figured out recently that it absolutely isn't true for me.

I used to be like wow I have so much energy today I can do this whole list for sure! And then I'd do the dishes and have to lay down for 2 hours. Then I'd think I must gave misjudged that, I didn't have as much energy as I thought.

But the thing is - I did have enough energy for more tasks, I just didn't go about them properly.

With chronic fatigue, your maximum energy is obviously much smaller than the average person's. Doing the dishes for you might use up the same percentage of energy that it takes to do all the daily chores for someone else.

If someone without chronic fatigue was to do all the daily chores, they would take breaks. Because otherwise, they're sprinting a marathon for no reason and it would take way more energy than necessary. We have to do the same.

Put the cups in the dishwasher, take a break. Put the bowls in, take a break. So on and so forth. This may mean taking breaks every 2-5 minutes but afterwards, you get to not feel like you've run a marathon while carrying 4 people on your back.

Today, I had a moderate amount of energy. Under my old system of go till you drop, I probably could have done most of the dishes and wiped off the counter and then been dead to the world for the rest of the day.

Under the new system, I scooped litter boxes, cleaned out the fridge, took the trash out, cleaned the stove, and wiped off the counter and did all the dishes. And after all that, I still had it in me to make a simple dinner, unload the dishwasher, and tidy the kitchen.

It was complete and utter insanity. Just because I sat down whenever I felt myself getting more tired than I already was.

All this to say, take fucking breaks. It's time to unlearn the ceaseless productivity bullshit that capitalism has shoved down our throats. Its actively counterproductive. Just sit down. Drink some water. Rest your body when it needs to rest.

There will still be days where there is nothing to do but rest, and days where half a load of dishes is absolutely the most I can do. But this method has really helped me minimize those, which is so incredibly relieving.

[fleurriee]

— wanted desires ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!pregnant reader

synopsis ; too worried about being rough on you, neteyam won’t allow himself to give into his desires, despite you having never looked more ravishing. but, it’s simply been too long for you, and you can hold yourself back no longer.

word count ; 4.4k

themes ; smut, fluff, established relationship (mates)

warnings ; explicit content: pregnant sex, p in v sex, breast play, nipple play, ear kissing, but all kinda sensual??

author’s note ; (in this, ive kinda just assumed that na’vi sleep naked) so this has slightly less dad!neteyam in it & more horny neteyam which im sorry about. i really can’t decide if im happy with it but i want to go along with the plans i have for this series & this was a chapter i’d planned a while back. i had originally planned this to be more smutty but as i started writing this i just couldn't bc even tho it's dad!neteyam who’s just 🥵 he'd be too scared to hurt you, so, we've ended up with this?? i PROMISE the next one is absolutely fucking adorable & will have everything people want when it comes to dad!neteyam!! this is part of my dad!neteyam series, which you can find in my masterlist below!

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Neteyam was everything you could've asked for... and more.

As you slowly but surely started to reach the end of your pregnancy, the last stages just looming over your shoulders, he was always there for you. You were becoming more irrational, and there was no doubt in your mind that you were annoying everyone you came into contact with. But, each and every one of them seemed to understand, and none better than Neteyam.

Your mate was constantly by your side - physically or mentally - tending to your every need and abiding by your every request. Hormones getting the better of you, you also started to take your problems and own annoyances out on him. It was completely unfair and it always made you feel incredibly guilty and horrible in the end, crying your eyes out in your mate's arms as all you could do was apologise profusely.

But, not once did he hold it against you. No - instead of taking every harsh word you uttered to him to heart, instead of truly believing that you meant them, he allowed the blows and the insults to be thrown his way, soaking them in until your temper died down and there was nothing but an exhausted, drained and broken girl in front of him. After that, he'd soothe your apologies, caging you in his arms protectively, stroking both the top of your head and your expanding stomach whilst he assured you he understood that you hadn't meant all those words, that it was okay.

He'd insist that he didn't mind taking such aggravation, not when you were doing all the hard work... not when you were carrying his entire world on your shoulders.

To no surprise of anyone, his family were as perfect as they could be, too, always either giving you a helping hand, or steering clear less they want to say the wrong thing. It was obvious from the very start of the stark differences between the two sides of Neteyam's - and, you guess, your own - family.

When it came to those that were always supportive and understanding, it was always the girls. Neytiri would constantly make sure that you were the most comfortable in any situation you found yourself in, wanting to ensure that the mother was safe and healthy before anything else; Kiri was, without fail, bringing you different concotions made by both herself and Mo'at that helped ease your pain and soothe your anxieties; and Tuk, consistently babbling about how excited she is to finally meet her niece or nephew, planning out how all she's going to do when they arrive is dote on them. Each of them had created their own roles to play in your pregnancy, and each one comfortably took your mind off the worries that were swirling around, believing that simply nothing could go wrong when you had such beautiful people around you all the time.

On the complete other side, there were the boys. Both Jake and Lo'ak were different stories compared to the rest of their families - whilst the two of them were as excited and eager to meet your baby, too, neither one of them wanted to really get too involved, something that didn't exactly bother you, rather just making you giggle at their reactions. They gave you as much space as possible, too scared to get too close in case they either annoyed you or did something wrong. Whilst Jake had done this many times before, gone through several of these similar experiences with his own mate, he didn't want to overstep any boundaries between yourself and his eldest son, considering he had no idea what it was like carrying a baby for so long. And, Lo'ak... Lo'ak was just scared of his older brother.

After all, you were now considered delicate, and they knew if something happened to you, they'd be on the feral side of Neteyam... something neither of them particularly wanted to experience any time soon.

But, there was one thing that you couldn't stand during all of this, and, surprisingly, it wasn't anyone else trying to help.

It was Neteyam, and the fact that he wouldn't touch you.

Way more often than you were used to, you found yourself feeling sexually frustrated, the only thing you needed being for yourself and Neteyam to be intimate in the same way that got you in this situation in the first place. You narrowed your sudden feelings down to the fact that it had been so long - whilst the two of you never really had sex all the time before becoming pregnant, after being denied of your wants for an excruciatingly long period of time now, you were slowly teetering over the edge.

And, it wasn't as though you weren't trying, either. Your attempts of kissing him sensually, gaining beautiful-sounding moans out of him before he forced himself away from you; touching him explicitly, feeling him shudder under your grasp, before he moved himself impossibly further away from you, eyes scrunched tight as he held himself back; laying yourself bare for him when he go home, before he sighed dejectedly and shook his head, doing his damn best to ignore you... all to waste.

Neteyam just couldn't stand the idea of hurting you or the baby.

Sure, you guess you could understand where he was coming from, too, considering neither of you had been in this situation before, having no idea if having sex could harm either one of you, and the both of you were too prideful to ask someone else about it. So, you were stuck in what felt like a never-ending loop, enjoying itself as it tortured you blissfully.

But, you had never been so frustrated in your entire life.

The day had, once again, been a long and tiring one for the two of you, trying to let sleep overtake your entire senses and succumb to the world beyond. You were lay down upon your mat, the two of you on your sides - something that always felt more comfortable against the pains in your stomach, so Neteyam was happy to oblige - as your mate's front curls into your figure, his tail automatically wrapping itself around your bump protectively, like it always did, like a ritual.

That's when you started to feel it.

Your mind was beginning to deny you of any sleep anyway, your arousal once again getting the better of you as it painted your wanted desires within the forefront of you mind's eye until there was nothing else you could think of. But, it seemed as though Neteyam was feeling something, too - a bulge poking against your lower back, throbbing gently every now and again like it was demanding your attention, like it was excited.

For a moment, you wondered if Neteyam had even noticed his own predicament, considering he was the one so desperate to not engage in this way, and now he's aching. It's ironic that the roles have suddenly reversed, and you wonder how next to play this out.

Taking in a shuddering breath when you feel his tail subconsciously stroke against your skin, you weigh up your options - you could either ignore it completely, knowing it'll be a fight to get him to give into you, allowing the sultry thoughts within your mind to be the only release you'd get... or, you could take control for yourself.

In no time at all, you decide upon the latter. It wasn't much of a decision to make, either, too wrapped up in the sensations you knew only he could give you, wanting nothing but him all over you.

You start of with the barest of movements, not wanting to completely pounce on him in surprise, knowing that if you did, he'd get angry. The best way to get him to give in was always going to be to get him weak. Fidgeting about in place, barely moving, you pretend as though you're subconsciously trying to get comfortable - after all, who was he to say that you weren't when carrying a Na'vi around constantly?

A small moan sounds behind you, under his breath like he hadn't meant for it to spill from his lips, but it already has you smirking slightly. Instantly, you know he wants this just as much as you do, and if your plan works how you intend it to, you'll both be falling asleep blissful and satisfied after too long of denying yourselves.

Your next step is start rubbing your ass against his bulge, but ensuring your movements stay slow, so as not to arouse him so suddenly. At the feel of him against you in such a sensual way, a breathy sigh leaves your lips, eyes fluttering closed as you forget how much you truly enjoyed the feel of his cock anywhere on you.

Just as you’re enjoying yourself, your ass continuing to rub painfully slow against his excitement, there's a rough hand placed firmly along the side of your hip. It's not too tight a grip, not wanting to hurt you or possibly bruise you, but it's enough to hold you down in place and stop your movements from carrying on any further. "Stop," Neteyam almost demands, voice gruff as though he's just woken up, which means he'd been dreaming about taking you like he always loved to.

His one word command does practically the complete opposite of its original purpose, however - instead of listening and giving into him, it only seems to fuel your fire, adding on to your already painful arousal. The way he said the word, sounding so authoritative and annoyed and just sexy has you wanting more, more, more. It definitely wasn't in his plans to have you reacting such a way, but you couldn't help yourself anymore, too far gone. This was the closest you'd been to one another in this way for too long.

Your response to him is a whimper, pathetic and pleading, as you force your hips to move once more despite him hand still placed firmly on you. When your ass brushes against his cock again, he hisses, the sensation no doubt sending him into overdrive, whilst his fingers hold a tighter grip, automatically indenting themselves into your skin.

"Please," you whine, breaths uneven and you were barely even touching each other. "Neteyam, please."

There's a brief moment of silence that lingers between the two of you as your words evaporate into the surrounding air, yourself guessing that it's now Neteyam's turn to weigh up the options set out before him. Unfortunately, he knows you like he knows the back of his own hand, meaning it's obvious straight away that you wont give in now that you're this close to getting what you want. Besides, despite having seen you plead for him to just touch you before you fell pregnant in a way that had him excited, he's never heard you like this - desperate, anguished, and downright aching.

It makes him feel more thrilled than he'd like to admit - especially to you, right in this moment.

With a sigh of defeat, Neteyam knows there's not much else he can do other than give you what you want - although, he could change how he does it. He removes his hand from your waist, tail staying still in its place like always, fidgeting about. You're unsure as to what exactly he's doing, not words or explanations exchanged, rather just letting him do what he wants. For a second, you wonder if your plan had backfired, and he was moving further away from you, or possibly even leaving. The thought has your heart aching in displeasure.

But, then all thoughts are wiped from your mind when you begin to feel a gentle prod against your soaked entrance, subconsciously lifting one of your legs slightly higher in the air at the sensation, before Neteyam is sheathing himself fully inside you. His hand closest to you wraps around your elevated leg to relieve you of the annoyance of lifting it up yourself. When all you can really feel is Neteyam, no longer empty but warm and full, a guttural moan escapes your lips before you can trap it, your hand coming up to slap over your mouth, eyes closed tightly as you take him whole.

You hadn't truly realised how long it had been since you last felt him this way until now. Curse him and his damn protective instincts.

In just seconds, you want nothing more than to chase more of that feeling, more of that euphoric sensation, rubbing yourself impossibly closer to him as the tip of his cock hits such a sweet spot, you're sure you're with the Great Mother in some type of beautiful heaven right now.

Before you can go any further, though, Neteyam's palm finds your hip again, stopping you in place and this time, you don't bother trying to hold yourself back. The whimpers and whines that leave your throat at such a denial are mewling and pitiful, writhing about to relieve yourself of his hold, but he's relentless. Somehow, his entire body is closer to you than it was last time, faces inches away from one another as he brings his lips to your ear. At first, all you can decipher are breathless pants as his chest heaves up and down from trying to hold himself back. "No," he grunts, puffing as he attempts to gain control once more, "we're not doing that. We're going to stay like this - that's the best I'll give you."

This time, it's a groan that falls from your lips, one that sounds almost painful but you're too annoyed to care, cursing out everything for Neteyam being such a gentleman. All you want is for him to fuck you - was that so much to ask? You're not even sure if the situation you've put yourselves in is any better than having nothing, either, because now you can feel all of him entirely, can feel how excited he is to finally be inside you as his cock throbs in pleasure at being snuggled between your walls. Now, it just feels like a taunt of what you could have.

He chuckles softly against your ear at your reaction, still having not moved - and he probably wouldn't now, not unless he wanted to really feel you. The teasing smile is wiped off his features after a second, however, and replaced by one of sympathy, words becoming softer than they were before. "I'm sorry, muntxate (wife), I really don't want to hurt you or our 'evenge (girl)."

There's just a brief split second where his loving words filter through you and knock your senses apart - of course, he wouldn't want to hurt his girls, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he ever did. The idea of anyone harming either of you drove him insane, let alone the cause of your pain being him. But, your fleeting emotions cascade into ones of just pure desire, filtering in one ear and out the other until your mind is nothing but a hazy cloud, panting desperately for more.

You give yourself a moment to just breathe, to not hyperventilate at the exultant feeling of him fully inside you. Neteyam assures that his grip stays firm against your hip, not wishing to relent against his own commands so easily, but he does rub his thumb in a soothing circle, painting your skin with a reminder of how much he loves both you and your child.

You're quick to move your hips again, eyes staying closed as you imagine everything he could be doing to you right now, rubbing yourself against him entirely. Immediately, your mate tightens his fingers in his grasp, a clear warning sign for you to stop in your teasing, to just bask in the embrace of one another and say that's enough.

Yet, it isn't enough. It's nowhere near being enough for you. There's a feeling of being slightly impressed at the restraint he's showing to you, and irritated all the same, until another idea comes to your mind.

Smiling a little smugly to yourself, already knowing what you're about to do next is something he definitely cannot resist based on the previous times you've done it, you clench your fluttering walls around his length, taking him whole and tightly. Your own actions cause a breath of blissful relief to pass through your slightly parted lips, loving the way you can feel his cock throb even more.

Another hiss sounds against your ear, his grip tightening, but this time, so does his tail as it continues to stay wrapped firmly around your bulging figure, the end vibrating in a fever of both agitation and anticipation. Even his body desires it, but he wont allow his mind to. He's starting to pant a little more frequently, too, now, like he's weakening at the seams, and that's when you know you have him exactly where you want him.

You continue to clench around him, bringing your hips up and down his length at a tantalisingly slow pace to ensure he feels every inch of you, hitting every spot of your walls. There's a feeling of triumph coursing through you when he no longer attempts to stop you in your teasing movements, knowing he's finally allowed himself to give into you entirely. Instead, the hand that was once gripping your hip snakes its way around your front, fondling against your breasts as he squeezes them sensually. When he moves to the other one, wanting to give it the same attention, he pinches your nipple, loving how sensitive they are due to your pregnant state, eliciting a deep moan from the back of your throat, no longer caring if anyone else can hear you.

"You're a little minx, you know that?" he taunts, words a harsh whisper against your ear but you don't care - not when the once slow movements between the two of you suddenly increase in their pace as Neteyam takes over. The alternating grip, too, against your breasts tightens, constantly squeezing them as he soaks in how swollen they feel. "Always getting what you want."

The tip of his cock repeatedly probes against that sweet, spongy part within you so beautifully as his thrusts continue to increase in their speed. Your mate almost feels feral with his actions, perhaps finally realising that he shouldn't have denied the two of you the pleasure of one another, not when you were so needy. Not wanting to stop clenching around him as he moves in and out of you in a relentless pace, you can feel your release quickly approaching already, no doubt having felt forsaken for so long - you're sensitive enough as it is being pregnant.

"Neteyam-" you moan beautifully, breathily, like a songcord to your mate's ears, sure he's never head you sound so ethereal before. You have to cut yourself off as you moan in pleasure when you start to feel his balls slapping sensually against your skin, the warm sensation within wrapping around you like a blanket, one you never want to get rid of.

He brings his head closer than it already was, burying his face within the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. Sometimes he wishes he could drown in your scent, more so than ever now that you're pregnant - somehow, you managed to emit an even more delicious scent than before. Sucking against your particular sweet spot he knows you adore having his attention on, he ensures to leave behind at least a small mark, wishing for the entire clan to know that you were his, even though you're carrying his firstborn, wanting to be sure.

Lips moving feverishly against your warm skin as he continues to fuck you at a pace that was relentless, your pleasing moans scratching against the back of your throat, he eventually finds himself at your ears, placing soft kisses against them. The sensation has them fluttering in satisfaction, but then he trails down to suck harshly against your jaw, and your breath stutters, whining. "Mmm," he hums against your skin, now resorting to placing gentle kisses when he was once rough. "What is it, sevin (pretty)?"

In all this time, whilst his mouth was focused elsewhere, not once had his thrusts faltered, loving the way you’re so drunk on him entirely.

"I'm - I'm so close, 'teyam," you mewl, eyes slightly rolling to back of your head as he grunts at yet another clench from you around his cock, before you close them shut when they start to tear up.

"I know," he agrees, words just a breathy whisper, already being able to understand how close you truly are from the way you feel around him. It feels like his mind is on fire as your walls flutter from being so close to release, clenching and unclenching around him, having lost its rhythm. His pants are becoming more erratic now, bearing down upon you, but it makes you feel alive. "I'm close, too."

Quickly, knowing that the two of you wont be able to last much longer, he brings his queue forward, the tendrils reaching out as he then connects it with your own awaiting one. Movements now becoming sloppy and uncoordinated, but continuing to hit right at your cervix, your eyes widen as you start to feel everything he currently is - all the love, the desire, the frustration - bathing in one another like two pieces of a puzzle only made for you two.

Burying his head back in the crook of your neck, hand moving down to caress your swollen baby bump - one that's just moons away from its expected day - he whispers sweet nothings against your skin, wanting to tattoo them into you so you'll never forget them. Words like I love you, you're so beautiful, I can't wait to make more, having you crooning somehow more than ever, feeling him peppering kisses to you now.

It's not long after that when the two of you are finally releasing together, explicit moans and grunts escaping your lips as your arousal's become spent. "Neteyam, Neteyam, Neteyam-" you repeat his name like a prayer, having never sounded more amazing to your mate.

You can feel the mixture of your cum with his against Neteyam's cock, awaiting the feeling of becoming empty and cold when he removes himself from you and lets it trickle between your thighs. But, nothing of the sort happens. Rather, your mate stays put, keeping his cock in your warmth, snug, and therefore, keeping all his cum pushed further in you - something he's always loved to do.

Eyes closed in bliss, mouth parted as you try to catch your breath, Neteyam gives your stomach a few tender taps, garnering your attention. Before you can fully move your head on your own, Neteyam's hand moves to cup the side of your face, bringing your noses together as you breathe one another in. He presses a forgiving kiss against your lips, letting them linger against one another, not wanting to pull away. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks, the worry and concern evident in both his tone, but also the way you notice his ears droop and eyes glaze over just at the thought.

Looking up at him, you give him the most loving smile you could muster, shaking your head adamantly. "No, ma'teyam," your words are gentle, soothing, "we're both okay, I promise." You make sure to kiss him again with the same softness he gave you, wanting to ensure he completely understood that you meant every word, that you were okay.

This time, when you pull away, he nuzzles your noses together in a domestic way he's started to do since a few moons ago - the same way he likes to do it with your stomach, like he's doing it with your daughter. Pressing his forehead against your own, his eyes never once leave yours, full of adoration and devotion. "I'm sorry I was neglecting you..."

Instantly, your heart sinks at his words, your hand moving up to caress his cheek soothingly like he does yours. You can hear the despair and brokenness behind his voice, and it only pains you further - Neteyam couldn't have been a better mate throughout this entire journey together, but he didn't understand that. He always thought he had to be perfect, that he had to do everything right straight away, but this was a journey you were experiencing for the first time together.

Neteyam couldn't neglect you if he tried. He's too doting, too domesticated, too tender to even think about doing such a thing.

"You do not need to apologise, my muntxatan (husband). I understand why you were worried - but you never neglected me, not once. You were just scared, and so am I..." you pause, your once sympathetic and caring expression turning teasing and menacing, "...but, now that we know that it doesn't do either of us any harm, maybe we could do it more often..."

He chuckles at your words, watching as you bite your lips in mock thought, attempting to hide the sultry smile playing at your lips. It's like your words instantly managed to clear his worry, feeling it dissipate at your loving reassurance, until his eyes were bright and his smile wide, looking down at you like you held the entire universe within you.

In a way, he supposed you did.

"I guess we could..." he relents, his own tone turning into one of teasing, too, smirking as he brings your faces closer into a sensual kiss. This one is all tongues and teeth clashing together, feverish in anticipation to experience more together now that the worries once clouding over the two of you had begun to part.

As his hands roam over your body, from your jaw, to your neck, to your breasts, and finally to your stomach, caressing every inch of your skin like you were a painting, he moves to hover over you, mindful not to put his weight on top of you. A giggle falls from your lips at his sudden change in demeanour, but that's soon swallowed by another deep kiss that has your breath dispersing almost immediately.

It was safe to say, with the amount of times the two of you came together as one just during that particular night, if you weren't pregnant beforehand, you definitely would've been after that.

taglist ;

@monahiiii @bakugouswaif @andraga12 @draiochtwrites @teyums @neteyamslovrr @tinkerbelle05 @netesanrr @lanasblood @camilo-uwu @queen190 @adrianarose7 @ttkttt @ayoungforeveruniverse-blog

[seineko]

minors do not interact!

a very weird thirst/whatever the thing this post can be called after not having sleep for 36 hours straight!

my kink is being married for so long that no (reasonable) kink actually feels weird enough i guess. i just want to marry diluc is all i mean. this has nothing to do with the post though, just a rant.

i said it once and i'll say it again, diluc can be a complete menace in bed if he wishes to be.

that kind of menace that can either wring out orgasm after orgasm from you before you either lose count or pass out from the sheer exhaustion.

or the one that can make you writhe and beg for release. he doesn't even make it easy, he can get you to the edge without even remove any article of clothing from you but as soon as he knows you're close, he just decides that you aren't going to be given any release until he thinks you deserve it and leaves you so desperately wanting.

the goddamn will power this man must have to be able to stop even himself from climaxing after making you (and also himself) almost reach the peak of pleasure before stopping it so abruptly that it has your head spin, all the while being sheathed deeply inside you.

and the audacity he has to let out a small chuckle after doing so.

of course, he won't do it always because he loves pleasuring both his beloved and himself but when exactly he does it isn't clear either.

it can either he after an extra stressful day or can also be on a day he did absolutely nothing. this side sometimes doesn't show for months together but sometimes it can also occur one after another.

i absolutely adore soft dom diluc and would probably die for him but, i also think soft is the not only thing he wishes to be in a few moments. while he is an utter gentleman, a small part of him is still, as i said, a menace and i love all of him equally.

he still has his mischievous side hidden deep inside him and once he gets comfortable enough with you, he will unleash it (only if you consent to it of course, because consent is fucking sexy).

©2023 by seineko @ tumblr

[istoleyoursk1n]

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A Wretched Love

A Gn!Durge X Gortash short fic.

Featuring Angst 💀

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An alternative outcome to the Gortash boss fight.

The first fic I’ve done in years so let's see how this goes :)!

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Bloodied and heavy is all this cursed body of yours felt as you clambered your way up another flight of steps, steps that felt…oddly familiar. Trailing behind you were your exhausted companions who had ever so generously lent their strength to aid you in every way they saw fit. They meant everything to you, such precious souls that you've fought to keep alive, not just from the enemies that dare stand in your path… but from this profound urge that leaves you ever so restless.

You've done so much just to get to this pivotal point, you've slaughtered his men, his noble warriors, and his onslaught of soldiers, all to get to Lord Enver Gortash. Strange how such a name fills a sweetness in your bitter tongue, a sweetness you can't help but wince at. Regardless, you shook the familiarity and strangeness aside, rushing forth to the final flight of steps. You're so close to victory, a victory that could put an end to the Absolute and the chaos it had wrecked in its path. Enraged and pumped to the bones with a blissful rush of sweet sweet adrenaline, you were ready to slice this man into pieces and revel in his blood.

And there he was.

Standing a few feet away from your bloodied hands.

For a moment your eyes widened, a strange pull tugging at your darkened heart that was enough to make you hurl if it weren't for the sheer stubborn will you carry. You froze as you gazed upon him, a tired visage you can't help but feel utterly fixated by. You've seen this face before… somewhere lost in the sea of forgotten memories, you've met those same tired eyes dozens of times. Still, you pressed on. You were this city's last hope were you not? This is what everything you've done has led, right?

“Gortash! Step forth and face me so! Allow my blade to pierce through your godforsaken body, let these walls be coated with the color of your damned crimson blood!” Your words were violent, a rumbling growl of malice directed toward the man before you, and yet in you stirred a barrage of emotions you couldn't possibly understand. You were angered, frustrated, hurt, and perhaps even confused. But he sensed it too. No, he did not confront you with a scowl or a prepared speech over breaking your shortly-formed alliance, the man was smiling. A horrid smile you wish you could just tear off his face.

“Ah. It’s been far too long since I've seen that fiery look in your eyes… that darkened urge to maul whoever was unlucky enough to meet your striking gaze. Oh, how I miss it.” He uttered ever so sweetly, his phrases akin to a soothing remedy that only seemed to cause you to choke on your own words. How dare he say such things? How dare he leave you so clueless, so lost, helpless to the loss of a forgotten past… a past that certainly involved him. You tried to still your frustrations, and your confusion, stepping closer with an unsheathed blade.

“Whatever I was to you. Whatever we were. It means nothing to me now! I will be put an end to this, I will do what I know must be right!” your words of conviction sounded more like a plea than anything else, a desperate cry that longs to put aside all these familiar feelings this man had placed upon you. No, you can't recall what you two had done or were… but everything about him sent you into a craze. You wanted to rip him apart, to curse him for all that he’s done to the city and your dearest friends but... Your hands, bloodied as they are they long to touch him. Still, you shake those cursed feelings rush through you, snarling at the sensation.

“Tell yourself whatever you wish, my dearest assassin. Lie to yourself. Blind yourself, try your hardest to claw your way out but we have shared far too much for you to truly forget… for your body to forget.” His whispers were sickening, sickening in ways that bewitched your entire being. Out of desperation, you lunged at him, slicing a cut through his luxurious robes, though he managed to save his own skin by missing just in time. His guards were all too ready to attack, moving to their master's aid and yet, he signaled for them all to halt.

Still, you were persistent, refusing to falter now. You've come too far to fall at the hands of a man whose tyranny couid have ruined this entire city. You drew your sword against him again, attempting to slice and tear pieces of his flesh just as you always do to your every foe and yet you couldn't hit him. It was as if he memorized your every move, exactly how you fought, exactly how your body would strike. It was a glorious dance of death. Your companions were left to stand back as they attempted to attack the guards who circled around their tyrannical Lord, allowing you and Gortash to focus on one another in a rather familiar proximity.

“Just as I remembered. Just as how I dreamed. You are as dreadful as the day I first met you. Just how many have you slain without me? Don’t tell me you've replaced me now.” He chimed, even laughing as he fought against you. A low growl found its way out of your lips, followed by the swing of your blade which Gortash could have so easily avoided yet again… but he did not. Blood began to drip down his chest as you finally were able to cut through his skin, his blood being the most beautiful kind you've ever seen. You shook at the thought of finding his blood beautiful, of finding him beautiful.

“Stop! Whatever it is you’re pouring into my mind! Stop this madness! I’ll cut your throat and dine on your bones like the worthless thing you are.” the words roared out your throat like a violent threat, enough to make anyone cower, anyone but Gortash himself. Instead, his smile only seemed to widen, his eyes brightening in ways you couldn't understand. That wasn't a look of hatred, that was a look of admiration, of enhancement, of desperate longing. Pure unrivaled longing. You couldn't stand it, you couldn't stand feeling so helpless around a man you swore to kill. With another swing of your blade, you continued to cut through his skin, your composure shattering bit by bit as cry after cry left your lips.

“And that would be the most magnificent thing you could ever give me. To have such an ethereal monstrosity such as you rip through my very heart once more…if I could only have you once more, if only you could cry out for me once more..” His words… so soft, words that were meant for you. He was smitten by your every move even if each strike was meant to hurt him. He was drawn to those bloodshot eyes and the trembling little growls that would leave your lips as if by nature. You felt as if you wanted to scream, to cry out, to pull out these confusing sensations you feel for the man who’s been happily bleeding out for you. It almost feels as if you've done this before as if you've made him bleed a dozen times and more…

For a moment, your eyes darted all about, finally taking in the massive room you and your companions stood within as you all fought and bled. A room that felt all too familiar to you. These stone walls and these blood-stained carpets… stained by your hands somehow if only you could remember. Those disgusting paintings you could have sworn you've passed by many times before and in the corner of your eye a soft bed whose bed frame is etched with deep claw marks of… are those yours?

All too suddenly, you were shoved up against those stoned walls by clawed fingers, snarling at the man who dared do such a thing to you. Writhing and clawing beneath his hands, you struggled to push him away from you. He was bleeding, bruised, and bloodied from your onslaught of attacks, and yet his smile never once disappeared. He was getting closer... Close enough to make your skin crawl. His scent was enough to drive you mad, an all too familiar scent that made you want to skin him in hopes of keeping such a precious scent to yourself.

“Oh, love. My wretched love. We could have been so good together. We could have moved mountains, we could have ruled this world, we could have been… us.” As charming as his words were you could feel a deep pain stir within him. He was smirking and yet pain was nestled within those dark eyes. He knew all too well that you wouldn't recall a thing, that all memories you may have had with this man were long gone, and yet… you could feel it. Like a cold haunting whisper that caressed your skin, your body, and perhaps even your heart could remember just how much this man meant to you, how much he once completed you. And the way he calls you his… the way that once upon a time perhaps you two were beyond mere allies or enemies.

You opened your lips to protest, to bark out every threat and insult that you could muster but they were silenced by a sudden tug of your hair and sharpened claws against your throat leaving nothing but a growl to rumble out your mouth. “We were unstoppable! We were a team! Through the hells and back we were by each other’s side. We were magnificent! We were above it all! Two Kings atop a golden throne! We waltzed through foul piles of rotting flesh and built towers out of our sheer brilliance! We were everything we could ever…” and for a brief moment, he hesitated to continue, not when both of your Gods looked down upon their chosen with weary eyes. He couldn't say such a thing… yet still, he pressed himself closer, clawing deep sweet cuts at your skin which only caused you to shriek. Even so, it all felt too good, such a wonderous feeling of chaotic bliss that you hadn't felt in so long. Both of you bleeding together, your breaths so close together. Somewhere deep within your heart no matter how much you deny it, you've been through this before. You’ve basked in each other’s unholy blood before.

“Enver. What was I to you?” You choked out through heavy sighs, the name rolling out the tip of your tongue like a forbidden pleasure. You've said this name a hundred times or even more, a name that even now despite all the memories you lack, leaves your body shuddering head to toe. Your blade was still pressed against his skin like a warning, a warning that if he came closer, close enough to reach your bloodied lips, he’d die. You couldn't let him get that close no matter how much you seemed to ache for it.

“You were mine. As I was yours.”

A sudden shiver ran up your spine at his confession, a confession so sweet it made you sick. You've come so far, and done so much to get here and it was taking everything within you to not drop your blade and fall into the arms of a man from your dreaded forgotten past. There was no denying it, both of you were pained beyond belief, lost in a flurry of sensations that left both of you breathless. Perhaps, in another life, things could have been better… perhaps you two could have been rulers of a rotting world, but not this one. Not anymore. The struggles you’ve gone through to resist The Dark Urge you felt coursing through your wicked blood were nothing compared to how insanely difficult it was to resist the treacherous embrace of Gortash. Your Enver.

In a final moment of sheer desperation, you finally mustered up the strength to pierce your blade through his body, heaving at the realization that you had just taken a life that at a certain point meant everything to you. His blood felt glorious against your skin, the life from his eyes slowly flickering as he gazed upon you with nothing but utter awe. Even in his final moments, hatred was something he never could have felt for you. You shook in fear for the first time in decades, grasping onto the man whose roughened hand gently began to graze the skin of your cheek. You did what had to be done… and yet you could not help but feel utterly broken. Shattered by the fact that even now, you’ll never understand just why your heart beats so intensely for him.

A sharp angered cry left you the moment the fondness buried deep within his eyes began to drain, a loss you couldn't possibly comprehend. All the people you've slaughtered and tormented throughout your life but why is it he that you cry for? All you wish to do now is claw at your own flesh and curse yourself for once again bloodying those sinful hands of yours with a sweet visage that long ago you used to long for. This battle was doomed from the start, you may have come one step closer to saving the world but would it ever be enough to fill the sudden void in your heart?

Gods above all, what has this man done to you?

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[mlove44lh]

Don´t hurt yourself

Chaprter 4 - Apathy

Masterlist

Previously chapter

Warnings: mention of cheating, angst, swearing, mention of miscarriage, mention of blood and hospital, alcohol use. This chapther it may be triggering for some people

Words: 4.337

“So what are you gonna say at my funeral, now that you've killed me? Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. Here lies the mother of my children, both living and dead. Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted. Most bomb p*ssy who, because of me, sleep evaded. Her god listening. Her heaven will be a love without betrayal.

Ashes to ashes, dust to side chicks.”

August

"The physical pain is a gentle breeze compared to the emotional pain that engulfs me now. The contractions still echo through my body like violent waves, and tears continue to stream down my face. But none of this compares to the tightness I feel in my chest. The image of what happened before still haunts my mind like a nightmare that won't go away.

It lasted so little, I didn't even have a chance to know him, to hear his voice, admire his eyes, feel his warmth against mine. I will never know which one of us he would have resembled more. My dearest dream has turned into a nightmare.

They promised me that this would be the last exam, just to make sure I don't have any residue left inside me.

"Residue". That's what he became.

I go through all the procedures while being completely on autopilot, I no longer care where they take me, the smell of ether is already ingrained in me and everything seems like a loop of the same thing. Doctors come and go from my field of vision, their voices distant as if they were whispers.

A lot of blood lost, they said.

I think of Lewis, I think I saw him this morning, but I'm not sure, dreams are becoming more and more similar to reality. I don't know if I can trust my mind.

"Mrs. Hamilton? Do you hear me?"

The doctor stares at me, even though he is close, the sound of his voice feels like it's coming from miles away. I try to focus on the moment but it's almost impossible.

"We can search for treatments for your condition, but for now, the best course of action would be for you to refrain from attempting a new pregnancy. So that we can investigate and make the best decision before proceeding with anything else." He pauses before continuing, perhaps waiting for a question. I must have a million of them, but I can't even manage to utter my own name now. “I will call your husband, if everything goes well, you'll be discharged by morning. I'll be around if you need me.”

I watch him leave the room, the hole in my chest makes me feel absolutely nothing, which ends up being more comforting than the suffering I felt when I came across all that blood. I go back to staring at the white ceiling and hope this all passes soon.”

There is nothing more exhausting than loving for two.

I look at the diamond that even after six years, still shines brightly on my ring finger. It would be so much easier if there was no love, but it seems like love was the only thing that remained, even if only on one side.

Everything else has gone away; happiness, respect, attention. The only thing that remains will be the hardest to let go, love.

How does she look through the eyes of my husband? How does he see her? Certainly very different from me, certainly much better than me.

I don't know if I want to forgive him for what he did, but I also don't want to regret not having tried to fight for us both. Forgiving him would mean accepting what happened and trying to move forward together. On the other hand, moving forward without him would mean trying to heal on my own and leaving him behind.

But I don't want to be alone, and I don't want to lose him, even though the feeling that dominates me now is that I have been alone for much longer than I thought.

I stare at the cold coffee on my table, I thought I'd be rested and that I'd be able to think more clearly after a night of sleep, but I couldn't sleep for even a minute, and today things seem even more confusing and painful than yesterday.

"I don't think you should ask for a divorce"

"What?!"

"Put an end to this and move on."

I stare at the woman sitting in front of me as if she had just said the most absurd thing in the world. And it really sounded that way.

“Can't you see the state I am in right now?”

“Yes, your sadness today is clear to me. Just like your happiness almost blinded me during these seven years.”

The cafeteria is more crowded than usual, people are moving back and forth, most seem late for appointments. Emma and I are the contrast to these people, we've been sitting for hours, and many of those minutes have been spent in complete silence. For some reason she was the person I called as soon as I woke up from the worst night of my life.

Emma became practically my confidante over the years. I met her shortly after moving to Monaco, on the first day of my new job. She has always been kind, always seemed to understand me, and it didn't take long for her to become more than just a work colleague. Even after leaving the company after a few years, I didn't stop keeping in touch with her.

I know she has been married for over 30 years, and I also know that she is a very intelligent woman. So it made sense to me to arrange this meeting.

"Have you been through this?”

She says with such certainty that I should forgive him that it's almost like a confession.

“I've been married for thirty-two years. What do you think?"

"And was it like that? Did you just forgive him?”

“No. It was a lot of struggle, we almost gave up.”

“What happened?”

“I was pregnant when he told me he was in love with someone else and wanted to leave me. Can you imagine that?"

Emma is one of the sweetest people I know. Imagining her going through that makes me even more disturbed.

“How did I not know about this?”

“No one knows about it. I promised myself I wouldn't tell a soul.”

“Why are you telling me now?"

"Because you need to.” The woman continues to stare at me as she takes a small sip of her cappuccino. “No one can make the decision for you. But know that if you take him back, you will have to forget what happened and never bring it up again. On the other hand, you can achieve so much more together.”

I rest my head in my hands. I thought this conversation would bring clarity, but I'm even more confused now.

"I don't know, Emma. It's so complicated.”

"It's not easy, Y/n. It's a marriage, everything requires sacrifices. And sometimes those sacrifices are our principles. But if you love each other and want to give it another try, the rest can be fixed."

The thoughts and possibilities rush through me so quickly that I can't focus on just one. I promised myself I wouldn't go through this, but experiencing it firsthand, it's much more complex than I imagined. It's not just a simple 'yes' or 'no'. What's at stake is much bigger.

"Why don't you go out with some friends? It'll help clear your mind. Sometimes a hangover makes us think better about life."

I chuckle at your unusual request.

"I don't think that's a good idea. I'm exhausted."

"Staying in this spiral of sadness and doubt that he put you in won't help you, that I know."

I look at the woman in front of me for a few seconds, but I don't respond to her. The idea doesn't sound as absurd as it did seconds ago, but I don't think my exhaustion and melancholy would allow me to do something like that.

The woman gives me a kind smile, but I can sense pity in her gaze, which only makes me feel more ashamed and guilty.

"I need to go now," she says.

Emma gets up and grabs her coat, and I do the same.

"Thank you for listening to me.”

"You're welcome. You know I'm here for you anytime.”

As we leave the coffee shop, I feel the cold wind of the day wrapping around me. I put on my coat before turning to the woman one last time. Emma pulls me into a hug that I wasn't expecting, but I nestle into her arms, grateful for the chance to see her and for her willingness to help me.

"You'll know what to do when the time is right. And know that you'll never be alone, no matter what decision you make," her voice comes out softly in the midst of our embrace.

"Thank you so much," I say.

We part, and Emma continues to look at me for a moment before she starts to move. I watch her leave the street as she walks away calmly.

I get into the G-Wagon parked in front of the café, and I spend a few minutes staring at the steering wheel in my hands. I don't feel like going home. Even though he's not there, the idea of being surrounded by his things and his scent makes me anxious.

I look around the car and can visualize him in the passenger seat, with his mischievous smile and sparkling eyes. I remember how we used to travel together, planning adventures and sharing laughter along the way. Now, everything feels different.

I left everything behind to come here, to rebuild my life by his side. I faced different people, different cultures, a different language, but I had him by my side, so I didn't mind the barriers I encountered. Because I knew everything would be okay as long as I was with him. I've never regretted leaving what I left behind, even though I left a lot.

I contemplate before reaching for my bag and taking out my phone.I skip through all the unread messages from Lewis and go to her name in my contacts list. I feel anxious as I wait for the call to be answered.

-

The amber liquid goes down my throat, burning, but it burns less than the last shot seconds ago.

I slam the glass back on the round table and pop the small slice of lemon into my mouth, feeling the sour taste cut through the burning sensation of the drink.

I've lost count of how many of these I've had already. But I don't care about drinking too much now, because for the first time in weeks, I don't feel as suffocated.

I could become an alcoholic if it meant finding some peace from my own thoughts.

I reach for my phone inside my bag and stare at the lock screen. The small icon of his photo stares back at me.

“35 New messages”

Since yesterday they haven't stopped coming. I haven't responded to our conversation, but I can still read the messages. A mix of “please” and “let's talk” and a bunch of other things that make me want to drink even more.

Alessia sits back in front of me after returning from the bar with a drink in her hand. She notices my serious expression and looks at me with attentive eyes.

"Are you going to tell me what happened now?" She asks, leaning towards me.

The busy bar isn't too far from Alessia's place, and the bustle around us are louder than I'd prefer. The piano music plays softly, and despite the chatter of people, I can still hear Alessia's words clearly. Ever since we met at this bar, Alessia has been trying to get out of me what she knows is wrong.

She knows me very well. Too well, I would say. It would be impossible to keep something as significant as this a secret from her, but I don't want to have to talk about it at the only time I can deceive myself and pretend it's not happening.

"It's complicated. I don't think here is the right time or place. I just want to be able to drink with my best friend tonight."

Alessia tilts her head, studying me intently. She knows I'm avoiding it, but she's also familiar with my stubbornness.

"Okay. But you're going to have to talk to me sooner or later."

I nod at her as I put my phone back in my bag.

"Tell me. How are the preparations for the move going?" I ask her.

I try to shift the topic of conversation, and fortunately, I succeed. Alessia's eyes light up when I mention my curiosity.

"An organized mess." She responds with a smile. "Everything is in chaos in the gallery, with boxes everywhere. I'm moving just a few blocks away but it feels like I'm moving to another country with so much to do. But I'm really glad I got that spot."

I can't help but smile as I listen to her. I know how much she's been looking forward to this moment, and her joy is contagious.

"The location is perfect, it will help a lot with business.”

"Well, I hope so. This effort has to be worth something. At least it's almost over."

"Do you already have the opening date?"

She nods as she takes a sip of her drink.

"I organized the inauguration cocktail even before starting the move." I chuckle with her. "It's going to be on Saturday. So make sure to arrange to go."

"Of course, I will."

The conversation with Alessia flows for a few more minutes as we share laughs and more drinks.

I'm already feeling buzzed, but the more we talk and drink, the calmer I feel. We're immersed in our conversation when the waiter suddenly approaches, placing an elegant glass on the table in front of me. The transparent liquid inside the glass shines under the soft bar light.

"A dry martini for the lady," the waiter says with a smile, pushing the glass towards me.

"I didn't order that." I say to the waiter, looking confused.

The waiter points to a man sitting at one of the high stools at the bar, who looks our way and raises his whisky glass in a suggestive gesture. He appears to be in his early thirties, with dark hair and a mischievous smile on his face.

"It was the gentleman at the bar who ordered it for you," the waiter explains before walking away.

I look back at the man in the bar, surprised, as he gazes at me with a confident look. He raises his whisky glass in a suggestive toast.

Alessia glances at the man and then turns her inquisitive gaze back to me, clearly confused about what's happening. I shrug and take a sip of the drink, trying to appear indifferent. The bitter taste of the drink mixed with the sensation of the ice in my mouth makes me realize that it's a well-made martini.

“Jesus, either he didn't notice this giant diamond on your finger, or he's confident enough to be an asshole.”

“Maybe he's just curious.”

She looks at me and just by her expression, I can decipher her thoughts. On a normal day, I would decline the drink, send it back, not touch it, or do something like that. But today, I just accepted it willingly, with a smile on my face, from the stranger who bought me an unrequested drink. So I understand the reason for her confusion in her expression.

Alessia is a smart woman who knows me well. I can almost hear the moment when it clicks for her. But she doesn't say anything, just shakes her head negatively.

“What's wrong? Why are you looking at me as if accepting the drink was a crime?”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You don't need to say anything with that look.”

She laughs.

“I just wasn't expecting that reaction, but whatever.”

The sound of Alessia's cellphone interrupts us, she reaches for her phone in her bag, rolling her eyes as she looks at the screen.

"Oh my God, they really can't do anything without me in that place," she says, getting up from her chair and preparing to move away. "Give me a minute, I need to take this call before the gallery catches fire or something."

"Sure," I say, chuckling as I watch Alessia walk away from the table until she's out of sight.

I turn my gaze back to the man who is still watching me, a small smile on his lips. His desire is evident, but my interest in him is as nonexistent as my desire for a dry martini tonight.

But I accept the drink, and now I gaze at the man with curiosity. Not because I want anything with him, but because I wonder what it would take for me to do to Lewis what he did to me. Definitely much more than an attractive man buying me a drink. I still know this, even though I'm angry and drunk to the point of not thinking about how it would further affect my situation.

I hate this stranger for making me go back to thinking about Lewis when I was managing to deceive myself so well for a few minutes.

I watch the man get up from his seat and slowly walk towards me. I don't know why he thought he was entitled to all these actions, and I have no interest in talking to him now, but I still don't move to stop him. I stay in my seat with my eyes fixed on him, waiting to see what will happen.

His posture is impeccable, and he seems to be over 6 feet tall. His suit is flawless, and the watch on his wrist looks expensive. He is an attractive man for more than just these things. But even so, I couldn't be less interested.

"I've been trying to choose a drink for you for a while." He says as he gets close enough.

"And what made you think a dry martini would be a good idea?"

"It's an elegant drink, and you seem like a very elegant woman, so it made sense." He smiles.

"Thank you." I smile back at him.

"I'm Henry," he says, extending his hand, expecting a handshake.

"Y/n." I say, extending my left hand to him. He looks at it while shaking it. The ring on my finger is not something that would go unnoticed, especially to someone interested in flirting with me. But that realization doesn't stop him from being here, with the same smile and the same posture.

"So, did I make the right choice?" he asks.

My drunkenness and thoughts make me take a few seconds to realize he's talking about the drink he sent me.

"Well, to be honest, that wouldn't have been my first choice," I laugh nervously. "I prefer something sweeter. But thank you, it was very kind of you."

The unwavering smile remains on his face. Meanwhile, I struggle to maintain minimal eye contact. Regret and anxiety flood me for having accepted the drink and not having avoided the conversation.

"Let me buy you another drink then, one that you like this time," he laughs. "I'm staying at the hotel across the street and maybe we could continue the night there..."

"I'm married," I say, hoping to make the man realize my lack of interest and leave. But that's not what happens.

"I noticed," he says, seemingly unfazed. "But you accepted the drink, so I didn't think it would be an issue."

He says it as if it were a simple math equation, as if it were obvious that I would want to sleep with him in exchange for a fucking dry martini, even though I'm married.

At least I have the answer for Alessia: he saw my ring and has enough confidence to be an asshole.

I don't respond to him immediately. I just stare at the man in front of me, trying to process the audacity of someone making such a crude assumption.

“Is everything okay?” I feel Alessia's hands on my back. She says to me as she glares at him, there is clear anger in her features directed at the man.

"Thanks for the drink," I say as I grab my purse and stand up from the table. I have to concentrate when I put my feet on the floor so I don't end up falling due to drunkenness.

I walk to the exit of the bar and head towards Alessia's car, which is parked a few meters from the front of the place. I hear her footsteps behind me.

"What happened?" she asks.

My heart is racing, and I don't even know why. What happened in there wasn't anything that hadn't happened before, but for some reason, it affected me to the point of wanting to cry. I didn't realize it would be such a big trigger for me.

"Nothing. I just..."

And then it happens. What has been pent up finally surfaces, and I burst into tears. The wave of emotion is so overwhelming that I can barely stay on my feet. I know there are people outside the bar staring at me now, but I couldn't hold it back even if I tried.

In an attempt to have more privacy, Alessia retrieves her car key from her purse, unlocks the passenger door, and guides me inside. She doesn't say anything, but holds my hand and waits for me to calm down.

I know my sobs echo through the car, but I couldn't keep them down even if I tried. I denied myself this feeling, and I knew it would take over me sooner or later.

I don't know how much time passes there. I am silently embraced by my best friend, who holds my hand firmly as if she feels that I might slip away at any moment.

"He cheated on me," the words come out between sobs. I watch her posture change beside me. "In September, Alessia."

"Son of a bitch," she whispers, and I'm not sure if it's directed at me or herself.

"I thought nothing was wrong. He was distant, but after everything, it was normal for that to happen," I break my gaze from Alessia and look down at our connected hands. "But then I found a fucking bracelet in his car. And a few days later, I found out who it belonged to."

"Did you talk to him?” Her voice is low, as if she's not sure if asking me something like that would be helpful or not in my situation.

I nodded at her before continuing to speak.

"I saw her, Alessia. I looked into her eyes while she confirmed to me that she was with my husband. I've never felt so ugly, ridiculous, and humiliated in my life."

I give myself a few seconds to try to calm down, but every time I start speaking again, the tears and despair come flooding back.

"He told me that I was distant, that I changed after the diagnosis. He tried to justify what he did" I say, feeling Alessia's hand gripping mine tightly, providing comfort. "I don't know what to do now."

I look back at her, and I can see the emotion in her eyes.

"You know what to do, Y/n. Look at yourself now, if this isn't a cry for help, I don't know what is. The only problem is that the only person who can get you out of this is yourself."

She pulls me into a tight hug, and we stay like that for some time.

"I'm so sorry. Truly, deeply sorry," She say, pulling away from the hug, but Alessia stays close to me. "I swear, I could kill him right now."

"I know," I manage to smile through my tears. "But I don't think that would solve much."

Alessia backs away from me when she realizes I have calmed down, and she starts the car.

"You can stay at my place as long as you want," she says, releasing the handbrake and preparing to drive out of the parking spot.

"No. I want to go home," I reply.

Alessia looks back at me.

"Y/n, I don't think it's a good idea. Stay with me for a few days, try to think about it away from him,"

"No, I don't want to run away. I shouldn't have even left home today." She keeps staring at me with the steering wheel in her hands. "Please, I need this."

Alessia looks at me for a few seconds before sighing in defeat.

"Alright."

The drive home isn't long. I try to calm down during the journey, but the closer we get, the more I feel the urge to turn back. I know I have to resolve this situation and make a decision soon, but I'm afraid of saying goodbye to the only good thing I've ever had in my life.

Author's notes: Thanks for your patience in waiting until now, and... CHAPTER 5 IS OUT NOW! GO, GO, GO!!

Taglist:

@slafgoalskybaby, @justanormalfangirlsworld, @ravenqueen27, @nakamotosmoron, @supersanelyromantic, @maryseesthings, @bebesobrielo, @tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden, @bbhyunee, @missamericana69, @thotsposts.

If you want to be put on, or taken off my taglist, please let me know!

[gabessquishytum]

Omegaverse War Prize AU (dubcon, slow burn enemies to lovers, mpreg?) (cuntless hob, sorry y'all) :

Hob is an (immortal) Omega, currently working as a mercenary and fighting in the latest war. For whatever reason, he's captured and brought to the enemy King's palace- and his chambers. He would have been kicking and screaming but unfortunately for him, he's bound and gagged.

He's left there, alone, until (magical, Endless?) Alpha King Dream finally shows up. And maybe it's a combination of the stress and alpha pheromones, maybe he was given something to force it to start, but: Hob enters his heat.

Dream... Dream can't resist. The scent is too strong, too good- it calls to him like none other.

By the time he manages to remove the bindings, undress both of them, and place Hob onto the bed, Hob is completely gone. Any fight he had left in him disappeared when Dream first licked him, right along his scent glands. All he wants now is an Alpha, this Alpha who smells so lovely and can apparently hold him down like it's nothing.

They spend a week like that, Hob's heat being prolonged both by the Mating Bite he received the first night (on the first knot) and Dream's subsequent rut.

The exhaustion and hunger he feels is the only reason Hob allows Dream to bathe and feed him, after.

And Dream... apologizes. Says that not being able to control himself is no excuse, and that he thinks the whole thing was an attempt to distract him. Explains that it's not possible to let Hob go now- not when he's carrying their child, and Dream's heir.

Hob stabs him in the leg.

(and so begins a 9 month long slow burn of enemies becoming lovers <3 there's drama, there's getting to know each other, there's stabbing, attempted murders & kidnapping, and ultimately: shy kisses and love confessions <3 <3 <3)

Omg the DRAMA, the ROMANCE the ANGST of this, oh hell yeah.

Hob is fucking feral, ok. He's not a good omega (whatever that means), there's a reason he's however many centuries old and has never bothered to settle down. He enjoys being a soldier, he likes fighting and fucking.

So. If he's got to be mated to this alpha, then he's gonna get fucked as much as he requires. Which is a lot. Instead of cringing and cowering, Hob climbs into Dream’s lap every morning and gets himself a good ole knotting. And then he starts making himself an absolute problem for Dream to deal with.

He bites. He stabs (if he can get his hands on anything sharp). He swears and spits at anyone and everyone. No one can really do anything about it because Hob is the king’s omega, so he can pretty much get away with anything. He's doing his utmost to make Dream’s life hell to be honest but Dream? Doesn't seem to bothered about it.

Because Dream knows that Hob doesn't want to be here. There's nothing to bring them together except bitterness, and a child. Thus, Hob more or less gets away with murder... until an actual (attempted) murder happens, and Hob suddenly realises: oh shit. I might be in love with my alpha.

He sees the assassination attempt coming, and his soldier's instincts have him scrambling. He doesn't think about his own safety or even that of the baby. He shoves the would-be murderer aside, knocks the blade away and wrestles the assassin to the ground. Dream stands there in utter shock, bleeding from a superficial wound at his shoulder and watching as Hob nearly tears out the throat of the man who just tried to kill the king.

Dream’s guards eventually drag the assassin away and Hob sits on the floor, holding his stomach and staring up at Dream in a kind of horrified fascination. Dream promptly joins him on the floor and they just. Cling to each other. They've fucked a hundred times by now but Hob has never been held by his alpha like this.

And of course Dream is like "you know.... I can't die.... and that was completely unnecessary" and Hob bites him. But he refuses to leave Dream’s side after that, and it becomes fairly obvious to everyone that love has bloomed.

By the time Hob delivers their child, they're absolutely inseparable, and Hob has command of Dream’s armies. A lot of decent compromises, and a very successful marriage ensue.

[feroluce]

Hello!! I came here because I was informed you had some Wriowinne headcanons and ramblings to share? Would it be alright for me to ask for some 👉👈 (or as much as you want to share please I'm desperate for food)

OH BOY DO I.

I feel you anon, I've been shipping them like...since the PV. So I've been stuck in utter absolute hell, getting nothing but father&daughter content from the fandom (shoutout to @hydrachea for being able to dual wield and letting me talk ship to her, light of my life fr weh). I'm hoping now that 4.1 has been out for a little bit, we'll get some more of them, though. I've dug through our dms, and found a hc that takes place after 4.1. So spoilers for that archon quest, but no leaks are involved!

Anyway, I love thinking about how close they cut it at the climax of 4.1, and the aftermath of it all.

Sigewinne somehow finding out what happened down there at the bottom of Meropide while she was evacuating the inmates, and like. She knows what the stakes were. The Primordial Seawater could not be allowed to rise. Clorinde made the right decision in shooting the gate lock. Even if it had killed Wriothesley, it still would have been the right decision.

That doesn't mean it's not a bitter pill to swallow.

Sigewinne can usually put it out of mind during the day, especially when she's busy treating patients, but it's harder when she's asleep. She dreams of the evacuation, and the alarm blaring, and waiting and waiting and waiting, and Clorinde walking past, alone, with her head down and her fists shaking, until Neuvilette finally approaches. Wriothesley isn't with him.

And Neuvilette's face doesn't really show much. It never does. But Sigewinne is close enough to the surface that she can hear the absolute downpour raging outside as Neuvilette tells her that he's sorry, he's so so sorry, and he gives her a gray and black and red coat, so soaked through with Primordial Seawater that he'd been afraid to let anyone else touch it, and the fur collar is matted and wet against Sigewinne's face when she clutches it close-

Sigewinne jolts awake, grasping at whatever is in her reach, which just happens to include Wriothesley's arm. His eyes almost immediately fly open, slurring out a mix of what's goin' on and what's wrong, and then a do we need to evacuate and poor Sigewinne, she feels awful. He hasn't been sleeping as well since the almost-flood, every little sound wakes him up now.

(There are nights where she'll wake up alone, and if she goes looking, she'll find Wriothesley, still in his sleep clothes and looking exhausted, down under their secret passage and staring at Neuvilette's seal over the sluice gate. Like he's keeping watch over it, or just daring it to try and do something.

Whenever she finds him like this, Sigewinne tells him to come on, come back to bed, and he'll keep his eye on it until the last possible second, but generally Wriothesley comes when called, and he'll let her lead him away. On his worse nights, he'll tell her to go back without him, he can't sleep anyway, he's going to stay down here for just a little while longer. He'll be back later. And she does occasionally go back to bed, but most of the time she stays, because she doesn't like the idea of him alone down there. Sigewinne will tuck herself into his side, or she'll get him to relax his guard just enough to lay with his head in her lap, and they'll stay there like that until Wriothesley finally decides he can bear to leave it alone and go back to bed with her.)

So with all that in mind, when she accidentally wakes him up, Sigewinne quickly gets her breathing back under control and pets his hair until he relaxes again. She tells him it's fine, everything is ok. Meropide is safe. Their home and everyone in it is safe. Go back to sleep. He needs his rest if he's going to go up to the overworld for supplies in the morning. She'll go sleep in the infirmary, she just had a nightmare, is all (the truth), it was nothing, she barely even remembers it anymore (a lie).

Sigewinne doesn't even make it out of bed, though, because when she tries to go, she finds her wrist suddenly caught. She turns back and Wriothesley is squinting up at her face, human night vision isn't nearly as good as a Mélusine's. They sit there like that for a moment, until she can see through the expression on his face that he's come to some sort of decision. Wriothesley pulls her back in and Sigewinne lets him, lets him rearrange them into something more comfortable. It's easy to give up when it's him, she didn't truly want to leave anyway. By the time he makes a satisfied little huff into her hair, Sigewinne is tucked under his chin, her face against his chest, one arm wrapped around her to keep her there. She pats his side and tells him ok, ok, she gets it. She won't go anywhere.

Wriothesley buries his face in her hair and sighs at that, something deeper and more content that hilariously reminds Sigewinne of a dog asleep on the floor. "Good." Wriothesley sounds like he's already half-asleep again. His arm still tightens around her waist though, just to make a point. "How could I sleep, when I know you're off somewhere crying alone?"

Sigewinne touches her cheek, and sure enough, it's wet? She has tear tracks. No wonder Wriothesley had been staring at her so hard. She hadn't even realized. And she opens her mouth to protest because she wasn't crying, some tears in her sleep doesn't count, but. Wriothesley is already asleep again, breathing slow and deep and even, and his arm is heavy and warm around her, and his sleep shirt is soft and comfortable against her face, not at all like the fur-collared coat in her dreams.

Sigewinne gives in again, curls into all that warmth and wraps herself up in it, until it lulls her back to sleep.

[blackjackkent]

The brain shudders under the final blow of Hector's fists and he feels something deep and vital give with the impact. It howls, a noise of agony and rage that chills him to his soul.

"I----impossible--- ---------PAIN-- --FEAR- ---TERROR--"

It wails, and he watches dispassionately, exhausted, overwhelmed, as it writhes in pain. Even watching the deaths of many of his greatest enemies, he has felt a certain level of regret, or of compassion. But he has none for this thing that has destroyed so much, claimed so many lives and so many more minds...

The pain in his head is tremendous. The brain's pain is his, and his is the brain's. They are still bound even in this moment of its destruction.

"-- reconsider-- -------assess--- -----implore---- ---SURRENDER---"

As if they would even consider it.

"There," Orpheus says hoarsely. "At last. It is subdued."

The brain screams again, desperate bellowing pleas that echo like thunderclaps.

"--SPARE ME-- --JOIN ME------ --WIELD ME----- BECOME ABSOLUTE"

He can feel the demand all through him, the compulsion that grows out of the worm in his head. The desire to evolve as the Emperor called it, to take power, to control.

But he has never wanted it. Even in the darkest moments he has never even considered it as an option.

"And thus I honor my mother's legacy," Orpheus murmurs. He sounds incredibly tired, worn, inexpressibly sad. "The Grand Design, once again, ended by my line."

Narrator: The brain is on the cusp of its final thought. And it's taking all of Orpheus's strength to keep it there. An opportunity perhaps?

(A/N: Obviously Hector isn't at all interested in taking the control option here, but I have to say that just looking at the dialogue choices when they popped up kind of gave me chills.

)

"Go ahead..." Hector whispers. His head is throbbing, tears hovering at the corners of his eyes. It seems almost impossible that after so many months of suffering and struggle, it could possibly be over. He feels Karlach's hand on his shoulder, Jaheira and Lae'zel's presence at his side, and it brings more strength into his voice, greater volume. He speaks more steadily now, fists clenched at his sides. "Command the brain to destroy all tadpoles and the itself."

Orpheus does not respond, but power pulses out from the Netherstones. The brain convulses, seems to curl into itself.

"--- my master--- -i must---- OBEY-- --I must... END"

In the blink between one breath and the next, they are shoved forcibly out of the strange plane where the brain resides. They are back out on the platform where the portal tossed them, and the shock of cold air makes Hector's breath catch in his lungs.

Narrator: Hopes, nightmares, and the screams of legions upon legions of unborn illithids...

Sudden agony. Pain lances through Hector's head, stabs at his temple; it should be familiar, but this is an entirely new kind, like flame, like lightning.

Narrator: The pain rips through you, obliterating all thought, all feeling. Your tadpole burns in your brain.

Just as the pain reaches its peak, blinding him, just as his skull feels like it will collapse... there comes an explosion. The crown shatters apart with a burst of white energy. The platform rocks under his feet. He cries out, feels Karlach grasp his arm hard enough to bruise.

The pain clears. The pieces of the crown fall away. He sits on his knees on the platform that houses the brain, and everything for a moment is blissful, utter silence.

There is nothing within his mind but him. No Emperor, no Netherbrain. None of his friends, bound to him by fate and love and hope, either; it is all gone. It is all over.

A strange sort of panic takes him at not feeling the gentle, everpresent brush of Karlach's presence within his mind; he spins frantically, only relaxing when his eyes settle on her.

She smiles shakily at him. "Did we do it, Hec?" she whispers. "Is it really over?"

He isn't sure he can speak. His heart is still pounding. The whole moment feels unreal.

Narrator: Silence. For the first time in a long time, your thoughts are entirely your own.

Narrator: And then... gravity.

"Oh, hells--" he manages to get out, and then the whole world turns sideways.

In a slow, graceful arc, tumbling, the brain begins to collapse down out of the sky, its spinal cord dragging into the ground, knocking aside buildings and crashing through roads in its headlong careening downwards.

There is no time to make a plan, to reach out to each other, even to cry out-- only to hold on for dear life as the movement threatens to throw them clear into the city. Hector is conscious only of a sudden terrible fear, and the pain in his fingers, and a sort of bewildering frustration--

After all we've been through, there's still THIS?

And then they hit the water.

He's thrown sideways in a stomach-churning arc, hits the surface almost a hundred feet away; the cold shocks through him like a blow and he opens his mouth to cry out, taking an unexpected mouthful of putrid harbor water.

For a long moment the brain floats unmoving. Hector struggles for breath, flailing in an attempt to keep his head from submerging.

And then because, frankly, everything wasn't awful enough, the brain explodes.

-----

Hector is lifted entirely out of the water by the explosion, sent flying another twenty feet, and slapped back down into the surface hard enough to knock the breath out of him again. "Gods, please..." he howls, choking, struggling against the urge to simply sink and not fight it anymore. "Gods, please, no more... let it be done... I have given all, and still it does not end! LET IT BE DONE!"

The water calms. There are no more explosions. In time, his breath returns to him, and he floats quiescent amid scattered bits of flesh and wood.

"Karlach?" he calls weakly. "Karlach, are you there? Jaheira, Lae'zel--"

Silence. His heart stutters in his chest.

Then-- "I'm here, soldier!" He hears a heavy splashing behind him, turns to see Karlach barreling towards him at top swimming speed. Without hesitation, she throws her arms around him, pulls him into her chest to send them spinning lazily through the water, tangled together. Her engine is practically aflame now, he can feel the heat painfully even through her armor, but he doesn't care, and clings to her with exhaustion and relief that makes his heart ache.

In the distance he can hear Lae'zel shouting, and Jaheira even further off.

"We did it..." he whispers. "We did it... we did it and we lived..."

She kisses him, so hard that it almost hurts, her lips crushed to his desperately. "We did it..." she agrees shakily, burying her fingers in his hair. "It's really over... and we lived... you lived... thank the gods..."

[widowsbite3]

With Many Regrets and Much Hope

Summary: Regulus wrote two letters the night he left for the cave. One for the dark lord, the other for himself.

CW: Mentions of suicide, suicidal tendencies. Discussions of death and mental illness.

If you are ever feeling lost or like there is no hope, please reach out to your local suicide hotline. No one should ever be forced to feel that death is the only way out. 💕

To Myself,

You will be dead long before these words are ever discovered, if they are at all, but I felt it important to write the words I never let leave my mind. The words in which I held inside for so long because uttering them felt a betrayal to the person I tried so hard to be…

Perhaps, that’s the point. That in my last moments I have lost all will to be that person. To be the perfect child that they all demanded I be. That for once I truly share just how I feel, just how lonely and broken I truly am. You see, all they ever saw was the perfect child, the one who never said no, the one with perfect grades, the one who would do absolutely anything, be absolutely anything, as long as it meant I would feel some shred of love from those meant to love me unconditionally. And yet, I sit here writing this letter and realize that I never felt love at all. What a sad realization that at death’s door the only one to look at me with any true emotion is the grim reaper himself. I thought I knew love once. Thought that it was the yellowing of bruises, the remarks at the dinner table to sit straight, to be polite. I thought love was the reprimands whispered in large crowds and shouted in private rooms. I was wrong. Love… feels like it should be so much more. It is what I desired from the start. It was the unconditional warmth that fuels your heart and reminds you to dance in the rain and laugh at even the stupidest joke. It is the days spent holed away with friends and dreaming of what could have been. It is the belief that I deserved so much better than what I received. It is knowing that the authors of the books that share what love is must have known something I did not, had experienced something I had not for I have never known the emotions that they write upon their pages…

I face death knowing that I am ready to find love and warmth and some… some sign that all the pain and torture that I have put myself through has been worth it. They say man should not fear death, but welcome it with open arms. I never understood, never could comprehend leaving behind those that needed me. But maybe that’s the whole point. Maybe, just maybe, it’s not about leaving people behind, it’s about making a choice for yourself. They’ll call me selfish, a coward, a necessary loss in a war that no side is winning, and at the end of the day people will move on. They will go about their lives and forget I ever existed. They will come to the same realization that I have; that I had always loved more than I had been loved…

I can’t keep chasing whatever it is I am after. Perfection, love, any kind of emotion to stop the dull numb that has washed through my mind? I am tired. I am so incredibly tired. My bones ache with exhaustion and the mere idea of moving forward feels like an impossible task. I want to rest. I want to feel free. I want to be let out of this cage that I have locked myself in. 

I was wrong. I was wrong to hate my brother, to spite him in the wake of his own freedom. I was so busy clipping my own wings that when I saw him take flight all I could feel was utter hatred and disgusting jealousy. And to you, Sirius, if you ever have the misfortune of finding this letter, I want to apologize. I’m sorry for putting our parents first, for letting my need to be perfect get in the way of what could have been a brotherhood we will never know. I’m sorry for leaving you with these words and nothing else. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the brother you deserved, but I am so glad you could find that in someone else. That in my failure you had James. A man I know who will stand by your side for eternity, a man much better than I could ever dream of being. 

To my younger self I wish to tell you that you will find freedom. You will find a voice beyond the silenced screams you so desperately wanted to release. I want you to know that in our finals moments we finally found peace. The anguish and hurt that you held in for so long will be set free. That in our last moments, in our last moments, we finally understood what it meant to live for ourselves. There were no more expectations, no more need for perfections… There was just us and a weightless chest no longer holding stuttering breaths of panic. To my younger self, I give you permission to not be ok, to not be the perfect son you expect yourself to be. I give you permission to live and not just survive. It’s okay, I promise.

Lastly, to the future heirs and heiresses that follow in my wake, I implore you to be better, not more perfect, no, but just better. I implore you to live better lives, to find better friends, to find better purposes in life than just pleasing others. It will surely be all our downfalls. There is so much I wish had been said to me as a young boy. So many times, I wish someone had seen the pain in my eyes and bruises upon my skin. Do not be silent in your suffering. Do not let those that lock you in gilded cages convince you that the riches within outweigh the freedom from outside. Do not be complacent in this ever-growing fear of incompetence. Do not believe that you are not worth the love you deserve simply for being you. And if no one else has told you today, let it be me, you deserve to live your own life and find your own love wherever it may take you. Be the person the younger you would’ve never thought possible. Heed my warning, and hear my strife, the wind in your wings will feel better than whatever any rainy day could bring. I may have lived and died alone, but you do not have to…

With many regrets and much hope,

R.A.B

[whumpshaped]

remember lynx, the oc i made specifically to be tormented by kane? well @whumpsday and i have been talking abt trans kane au, where kane only later realises he's a man, and lynx believes hes a woman all throughout his captivity and a few months into the time when he's already got kane from the hunters. it kind of changes absolutely everything, because as another trans guy, lynx has nothing but complicated feelings now. anyway i wrote a drabble

tw past trauma, revenge arc

-

"I really d-don't mind if you hurt me, sir. It's okay. You deserve to have your revenge. You've been very fair, more than fair, more than I deserve. Please don't feel discouraged, punish me as much as you like. Just, just, please don't make me go back, please."

Lynx stared at the vampire kneeling at his feet. His entire body was unbearably tense. Every single word that man uttered was fuel on the fire constantly burning away in him. Burning away at him. 

Truth be told, he wanted to hurt him. It felt like his carefully planned and calculated revenge was slipping through his fingers, flying away in the wind like a balloon he failed to hold the string of tightly enough. The first curveball was the fact that Kane had been tortured already, for years, more viciously than anything he’d ever done to Lynx. Then came the realisation that Kane wasn’t the same person as before. The fact that there was nothing Kane really, truly missed about his life from even before the hunters, not the way he’d missed his friends and family. And god, the hunters… Lynx was saving him, not kidnapping him.

And then Kane told him about the fact that he finally realised he was a man. A trans man, just as Lynx, asking in a shaking voice whether he was allowed to be that. There was nothing but helpless rage inside him, there was no space for any other emotion; hadn’t been for weeks. 

He clenched his fists and stretched them again, neck slightly twitching with the unspoken words that he wished would have the courage to scream at Kane. Or the lack of morals. There was nothing noble or justified about any of this. He wanted it to feel like that. He wanted so badly for it to feel good, to feel like justice was being served, to feel like he was finally getting back at his tormentor from years ago.

He felt none of that.

It felt like Kane took that away from him just by being so unbelievably pathetic and broken. As if that was his own fault. 

Lynx’s shoulders slumped in defeat and he closed his eyes for a moment. The anger was corroding him from the inside out, making him experience the most vile and disgusting thoughts daily. He just couldn’t do it. 

“I won’t send you back,” he said quietly. “I don’t- I don’t need you encouraging me to hurt you. I don’t need you holding my hand. It’s fucking weird.” The words were flat and passive, spoken without any kind of malice behind them. He was exhausted. “I’m gonna go back to my room and lie down.”

[nellie-elizabeth]

Grey's Anatomy: Come Fly With Me (19x17)

Okay, this was a solid middle-of-the-road episode, where some of the plot threads worked really well for me, and others were a miss.

Cons:

This Nick and Lucas thing was kind of baffling. We see that Nick is frustrated with Lucas for dropping the ball on some patient care matters, and he tells him to work out his ADHD meds so he can stay on top of his career. Lucas is baffled, having had no idea he had ADHD, but once he looks into it, he realizes that it fits. He and Nick talk, and Nick says that he does too, and that he thought it might derail his career, but he manages it now like every other part of his life. This is... fine, like, I don't have a problem doing a story around this, but for one thing it verged into after school special territory for me with the cheesiness and neatness of the story. This is the first we've known about this being an issue for Lucas, it just kind of came out of nowhere. And the utter inappropriateness of Nick, Lucas's boss, just... making an assumption about his mental health diagnosis and whether he's on meds or not? I was staggered by how clumsy and inappropriate that moment was, and it just felt very forced and unrealistic. So yeah, the concept seems cool to me; if Nick (the most boring character in the world) is really sticking around, might as well give him a mentorship role for Lucas. It just felt weird how they did it.

Doing a quick check-in about the Luna going Deaf thing: I didn't love the fact that Jo talked about all the appointments Luna needed, and mentioned speech therapy among them, but nothing about ASL classes. I hope that changes. Speech therapy is great! But Luna should learn sign language! I really, really hope they go into that.

I think the absence of Simone's shitty fiancé is starting to weigh on this love triangle story a bit. I don't feel at all connected to this choice she's making, to marry this man we've met in one episode, and who didn't exactly make the best impression. So Jules being her maid of honor, proving that she knows her, that's fine. It just feels sort of disconnected from reality.

Amelia apologizes to people for her crappy behavior in last week's episode, and while Mika accepts the apology instantly, Winston is stony-faced and storms off once she's finished talking. I find Amelia's distress just sort of exhausting, and Winston's attitude in response to her genuine apology was pretty harsh. She lashed out at him and that wasn't fair, but she took full responsibility and he just has to hold a grudge? Yeesh.

Pros:

To my absolute astonishment, I rather liked Owen and Link working together, keeping it professional to start, and then all the drama that followed therein. I think it's because I'm so against the romantic relationships that these two men are in (or going to be in), that a story with interpersonal tension that was entirely about work, was honestly refreshing. Like, Owen sucks, and he behaves poorly, but also Link is scared because of his last big complicated high-profile surgery, that ended up killing a young man. They both need to adjust their behavior here, and Simone kind of gets stuck in the middle, but ultimately it's a big damn victory for Link and the entire hospital, as they end up pulling off a complex surgery involving a man with over 90 broken or fractured bones.

Blue made a mistake by letting Jules's elderly neighbor wander around the hospital in a delirium because of a UTI. I like that he immediately worked with the patient and was super gracious and welcoming, but then left out of selfishness to pursue a learning opportunity. He basically made an honest mistake, misinterpreting the severity of Max's condition, and now Jules is furious with him and lashing out. A realistic set of circumstances, I feel. I loved seeing Schmitt, too, come into his role as a leader, as he firmly chastises Blue for his mistake, and also shows great bedside manner with the patient.

My favorite part of the episode is the conversation about the interns. We get a gathering of some of our senior doctors in the firm, as Teddy, Richard, Bailey, Amelia, and Nick meet to discuss some feedback they've gotten from the residents. The thing that stick with them most is the note about the salary, and how it doesn't even meet the average cost of living for Seattle. They reminisce about their own bad memories from early in their career, and weigh the pros and cons of trying to make things better. There's a benefit, as Teddy points out, in upholding tradition and helping people to grow through adversity. But how can they train good doctors if everyone is sleep-deprived and working extra jobs to make rent? My favorite part was when Bailey is remembering not being able to get time off to go to her aunt's funeral, and the attending telling her that being a "resident" meant "living in the hospital." Richard frowns and asks: "did I know the attending at the time?" and Bailey responds: "It was you." That made me laugh!

And meanwhile poor Yasuda is going around all day thinking that she's about to be fired. I love how she storms in to say her piece, and then gets the news: they're going to create a grant, to help interns out financially during their lower-paying residencies. Good for Teddy, for seeing this problem and taking tangible and immediate steps to address it! Honestly, I liked her a lot in this episode. Maybe that's the trick to make me not despise Teddy or Owen as characters, just don't let them share scenes together.

Richard goes to Helm at the bar to ask her how he can get her to come back, too, which I thought was so nice! I'd love to see Helm return to the hospital. I honestly miss her, and Schmitt needs his friend around.

So there we have it. There were things about this episode that kind of concerned me or just annoyed me, but other things that felt like real and surprising strengths! It's awesome that the show is delving into the issues with our healthcare system, up to and including the very busted way we actually train our doctors to do their life-saving jobs.

8/10

[thejournal123]

Inhumated

I woke up in the dark, the absolute abyss, wondering if I was still sleeping, not knowing that soon eternal slumber will claim me. "What in the world is this? So dark and small a space, I can barely mobilze my hands, but I seem to fit completely here!". I try to move a little more, only to realize that my attempts were but futile, however I could move my head. There was a oddly familiar smell of something mixed with the odour of soil. Soon I understood that it was wood, but not just any wood, "it's Walnut! Which would mean...". The realization slowly dawned upon me as I uttered, "Oh dear God! Oh Christ, what have I done to deserve this?". Overcome by panic, I try to force-open the lid, but it does not budge, if only I had the strength of the devil with me now, I could flee this horrid fate. "Oh God, have mercy! Help me escape this desolate doom!", I muttered quietly under my breath, although I consider myself fairly religious, fear and sheer hopelessness gave way to blasphemy, may God forgive me! Slowly the exhaustion of dread and the wrestle with the coffin tired me down, and I had time to reflect upon my sins. "What grave sin must have I committed to be so damned? I am loving to my wife, my children, even to Samael, such a bright boy, such potential he has, can do so much good, he used to be so obedient, so kind, never questioned me! But recently, I don't know what has possessed him! He refuses everything I say, I don't even know why!", said I, in frustration, I have always tried to do so much for that boy, but it never seems to be enough for him, "he used to be such a loving son..", slowly starting to tear up. I always tried to help him anyway I could, but he just made me feel like I am the worst father that there is. Sometimes it truly felt like he hated me. A few days ago, before he left the house, he said how he wished that I was dead! That shattered me inside, his final words before leaving his life, his family! Soon he would get to know that his wish was granted, I wonder how he would react.

As the air inside the coffin starts to dissipate, I begin hearing things, They sound like voices, "Who could be down here?" I wondered. As the oxygen was depleting, their muddled whispers started to become clearer, they were squeaky and snarling, nothing that resembled normal human voice. "Why is he down here?", asked one of them. "I don't know, He seems to be alive!", answered another. I knew that I was soon to slip into my quiet demise, thus I tried to pray for one last time. Gathering all the energy I had in me, I began, "Our father.. who art...in heaven..hallowed be thy name.."

[w1llb7ers]

Run Away, Turn Away, Run Away

(aka byler run away together but like rebellious celeb will x fanboy mike)

someone write an au where will is a famous model/YouTuber/or influencer and mike is will's fanboy but like his Biggest Fan. he will do ANYTHING to get tickets to his latest fan meet up, but he's not like all the other inconsiderate paparazzi, he actually values will's personal space and admires him from afar. making sure he never (even if he does take them) posts any pics of will on his days or nights out on the town (he will however, only take the pics to fanboy over later).

- (i got carried away, enjoy lmao)

so one day when will is taking his morning stroll, he bumps into mike on the street. will apologizes for not watching where he was going and mike wants to do the same, but his voice is caught in his throat. oh my god it's will freaking byers. he is absolutely stunned and manages a quick, “no, it was me too! it's alright.” to which will smiles and it's mesmerizing. mike thinks he goes blind for a few seconds before will snaps him out of his trance by asking him where he's headed. why is he asking me of all people?

“i'm just taking a stroll up the road and back down the block.” he supplies, bringing a hand to scratch at his neck. he's super nervous and he's afraid will can tell. play it cool.

“oh! what a coincidence, so am i. do you live around here?” will wants to know about my life. where i live. what i'm up to. is this heaven?

“uh, yeah. yeah, i do. just..” he gestures to a part of the sidewalk that cuts off and leads to a large area filled with trees and bushes. “over there. a small apartment complex. nothing much, but it's everything i need.” suddenly he feels a bit stupid. telling this celebrity about his needs. what would will want with that information?

to mike's surprise, will let's out a giggle. it's not a quiet one either, it's almost shocking how prominent it is amongst the bustling streets. the sounds of people walking their dogs, kids running down the walkways laughing and yelling to their hearts' content, cars zooming past them with each second that goes by.

cute. is all mike can think of at the moment. will byers is cute, adorable even. and he laughed, no he giggled because of mike. he can die happy now.

”what's so funny?” mike asks, suddenly feeling more than eager to receive an answer. he feels like time is running out and that his time with will needs to be well-spent.

will has a soft smile plastered onto his face, the corners of his lips lifting up as a memory of the laughter he'd just let out moments before.

“oh, nothing. you're just very interesting.”

him? interesting? now, that's something he's never heard before.

“i'll.. take that as a compliment.” he states, noticing a small tilt in will's head position, “unless that's not what you intended-”

will laughs this time, a hearty full-body laugh that almost knocks him over onto mike.

“it was. i don't normally meet people like you. usually it's.. different. they treat you like you're an animal in a zoo. waiting and waiting for you to do something new, exciting, or interesting.”

mike nods along as he holds onto each and every word that will's mouth utters.

“it's.. it's refreshing to meet someone that doesn't treat you like an exhibit. y'know?" will looks him dead in the eyes, a hopeful glint passes through. it's practically unnoticeable by mike.

practically.

“i mean, yeah. i've never dealt with something like that, but i can definitely expect it to be exhausting.”

will smiles brightly at him and mike feels like his world may stop right then.

“i wish i could...” a pause. a glance. his lips open slightly. another pause.

“eh, nothing. it's stupid.” will finishes, holding the inside of his arm against his chest.

“how stupid can it really be?” mike is feeling braver, more comfortable. it's almost like they've known eachother forever.

“extremely. i-” he looks up at mike, finally.

“i want to get away from it all. escape. but i...i can't.” he claims, lips pursed in a pout.

“who says you can't?”

“common sense.”

“screw that, then!” mike throws his hands up in the air. the sun is rising still and the light illuminates his face perfectly.

“what?” will asks, suddenly intrigued.

“screw common sense. if you want to get away, get away. if you want to run away, run away. if you want to turn away from the world, turn away.” mike pumps a fist in the air signifying victory.

“it's not that easy.”

“sure, it is. it's so easy, i could do so right now.”

“but you aren't a celebrity surrounded by media, are you?”

there's a silence between them.

“right..but that doesn't mean you can't hide from them. you have your privacy and you have your comforts. they don't know everything about you. it's all just shit they found online and chose to believe. their version of you is fake, it's an artificial you. be who you want to be.” mike spoke so fast that he almost tumbled over onto the grass near the sidewalk they're standing on. the air is leaving his lungs in small, short huffs.

“would you..help me?” will's voice tiny and filled with worry.

“help you? of course, i would.”

“run away with me.” the demand is clear in will's eyes and mike swears he's dreaming. no way there's absolutely no way he just asked me that.

he shakes his head, along with the thought.

“you- you don't even know my name and you're asking me to run away with you? that's not-”

“common sense? yeah, but you just said to screw it, right?” will isn't joking. mike keeps searching his face and/or body language for any sign that he's joking about this. but he can't find anything. it's probably the most sincere thing will byers has ever done.

“i-i know that, but-"

“but what? are you chickening out of your own idea?” will taunts.

“no- i am just saying we hardly know each other." mike claims. it's slightly true, mike knows will but will doesn't know mike.

“let's fix that.” will steps closer, he's taller by an inch and his hair hangs in front of mike's eyes as he breathes slowly. “what's your name?”

“mike. mike wheeler.” he chokes out. why is he standing so close to me?

“well, mike wheeler, will you run away with me?” will looks into his eyes and mike responds a little too quickly.

“yes.”

will giggles once again and grabs his hand, scanning the streets for crowds so they can blend in.

this morning, mike had been looking at pictures of will byers on his phone and planning to see him at his meet and greet that weekend, but now he's somehow on a train, heading who knows where with the man himself.

this is gonna be a long ride.

-

THE END :]

[scattered-winter]

WINTER. i need to you know that you talk about the things you love with such joy and enthusiasm and excitement that it makes me want to be excited about them too, even though i know literally nothing about them. anyway congrats on the michael-bay-less transformers movie <333

LMAO I'M GLAD IT BRINGS YOU JOY <3333333333

the truth is I have ,,, sooo many mixed feelings about transformers. like. it's part of a much bigger universe filled with lore and it's like. star wars or dc comics-sized. and I simply do not have room in my brain for ANOTHER comics-sized media because that would be. too much. so I just forced myself through the worst movie franchise in history to cherry-pick things that I liked from it and made up everything else. <3

but like. first of all my inner 8 year old goes absolutely buckwild for transformers. they're GIANT ROBOT SUPERHEROES!!! that can TURN INTO CARS!!!!!!! and sometimes they have SWORDDSSSS!!!!!!!!! and as much as I can't stand the movies, the cgi with the transformations is soooooo <3333333333333333 and the transformer designs are all soooo cool too !!!!!!!

and the thing that really gets me about the transformers movies is that they have SO MUCH POTENTIAL to not only make inner 8 year old me the happiest guy on the planet but to also tell a very compelling story!!!! the autobots were forced from their home planet and most of their race was killed by the war that tore their planet apart!!!! all that's left of this once powerful race of incredibly powerful beings is a small handful of exhausted soldiers who are hiding out on earth because they're being hunted all over the galaxy!!!! and even after losing everything, they all still decide to fight for earth and protect humanity from the same fate that took their families, their people, and their entire planet away from them!!!!!!! I'm literally biting !!!!! and after setting up that premise michael bay just. didn't follow through. and the movies are filled with utter bullshit storylines and every autobot's personality gets completely rewritten every single movie because the entire plot revolves around michael's bland self insert characters. the movies are soooooooooo bad but they could be sooooo good and that's my entire mental illness about transformers summed up in a single sentence.

but anyway. I don't know anything about the director of the new movie or if they're any good, but the only way they could be worse than bay is if they let a toddler keysmash on a typewriter <3 I'd even argue that'd be a BETTER alternative than michael bay's directing <33 but anyway. I don't like how optimus looks in the trailer because like I said, the transformer designs in the bay movies are, unfortunately, really really cool. and the new movie seems to have taken optimus' original design like in the toys and old cartoons, which is FINE but also ,,, I miss catboy optimus :(

like. say what you will about the og movies but they sure could design an autobot !!!!!!!! optimus just looks so ,, boxy in the trailer. and I definitely prefer his other design. but honestly I'd rather have a shittier-looking optimus without bay than a badass-looking optimus with him. so.

I'm overall very very happy with how bumblebee looks though <3333 but to be fair he's my silly little guy skrunkle gal pal so whatever he does will always have me giggling and twirling my hair <333 he has never done anything wrong in his life <33333333

[allycryz]

Idk if this is canon, if this will become something larger, I'm just in my Hades and Nerys post EW feelings and wanted to write something

Big ol spoilers for 6.0

Fresh air. She needs fresh air and the sun of her face and what comes out of the cracked window right now isn't enough. 

She needs to move.

She needs somewhere she can think and process everything. Not here in this still room with its white walls and high white ceiling and white molding. 

At least now she is conscious enough to think. Just yesterday she still drifted in and out of sleep, nothing but a holding cell for exhaustion. 

Nerys eases herself into sitting position. Tears prick her eyes--healing magic can only do so much when you're on the brink of death. The act raising herself is agony. But once she stands-

-well, it's still awful. But less awful. She reconsiders her plan to jump down--even with her dragoon training, the landing is going to kill her when she's in this state. 

If there isn't someone standing outside her door, one of the servants will be posted in the hall. No doubt under orders from Ameliance and the medics to keep her where she is. 

No jumping. Gentle scaling down it is. 

Putting on trousers beneath her nightgown is more complicated than it should be, especially with the garments needing to go over bandages. She feels slightly lightheaded once she takes off the nightgown and presses a hand to the wall. 

Maybe no scaling all the way down. Maybe she will simply climb out onto one of the roofs and sit in the fresh air. Nerys manages into a thin robe and doesnt bother with an undershirt. Her breastband will suffice. It will have to suffice. 

Nerys perches on the window sill, her feet find the ledge just below. The door opens behind her. 

"Absolutely not," says Hades. He does not move, nor does he snap her into bed. It is both kind (letting her make the choice) and patronizing (expecting that of course she will go back to bed.)

"Hades."

"Hero."

Nerys drops, leaning her head against the windowfrane. "I just want to sit outside for a little while. Please."

He makes a noise. "You could have asked."

"Please?" She looks back at him. "Oh great and esteemed Eme-"

This time he does snap. They are on the roof with her cradled in his lap, her cheek against the fabric of his jacket and ruffled shirt. The Sharlayan fashions agree with him though he rather dislikes their lack of embellishment or panache. 

She looks up, about to ask to be left there for a while. That had been part of it after all, the chance at solitude in a new location. But his grip is tight and the way he looks at her-

Worry, beneath the mask of annoyance with her. 

What she remembers most of waking up on the Ragnorak is Alisaie crying. How badly the sound broke her heart. But she also remembers the utter helplessness in Hades' eyes. Something about Ultima Thule severely limited his creation magic and he hadn't been able to snap her to safety as he'd wanted. 

It had wrecked them all, her friends and lovers on that ship. But Hades wasn't used to feeling powerless. Even his death at her hand had been at the height of his prowess and ability. 

"Thank you," she mumbles into his chest. The breeze stirs at her limp curls, the sleeves of her robe. 

"You're ashen," he tells her. One hand lifts into the air to conjure a grimoire almost coalescing purple smoke and aether. "How were you going to get back into your room?"

"I was going to figure that out when it came time," she says. "No one's confiscated my linkpearl yet."

"Yes well, it's for if you need assistance." He says with pointed expression. His magic washes over her in cooling, gentle waves. "And Thancred has permission to …confront anyone who uses it to ask you for an errand."

"You're all too much." She hides her smile against him.

"My dear you like me precisely because I am too much." He closes his arms around her, carefully, tenderly as the magic continues oothing her. "You would not change a hair on my perfect head."

"I don't know," she says. "I also liked the hair you wore when I met you in the past."

"If you're good, perhaps I might let you witness me in such a style again." 

"I have been very good."

"Try telling me that when I haven't just caught you halfway out a window."

She laughs and falls silent with a smile, soaking up the sun, the wind, the fresh air, the scent of Hades and spring.