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"I got told to go to hell enough, eventually I took them up on their offer. I uh. I'm not dead, though? I mean, I have died, but I got better. Will me being here break anything?"

“Oh, good for you, you got better. But no, I don’t think you being in hell will have any affect on things. And if it does? Not my problem.”

#📺 ic #Asks #emberoops

emberoops

so glad you seem to be feeling better.

💖

c apricious. Isnt it

#emberoops

@emberoops

And favorite soil !! What a question! Its kind of .. Like how a different body part, you might want clothes on or not? Or prefer different textures, for what ever part you are focusing on? But I have answered this b efore, if it is at all interesting!! Here, at least and here

Feeling seen.. Just, for it to be realized that I. Am, who I am, what I am , My name not misspelled, misremembered, not seen as a man, not simplified down. To. Be worth asking questions about, to be worth curiosity, for the things I do not overly brag over , and there is so much unsafe, so much to brag of would be stupid, but , for some of it to show anyway. That I am not 'nice', II am putting an effort in, that I am not delicate, thatI have been unwell, that I am not not invincible, I am trying very, vvery hard and it is productive, it is work, and when I doing all that I can, that what I will be and what I have been are parts of where I am now. To recognize, have it recognized, how much of a fight, how much it has taken, that even ugly I was more than was ever easy to show That there is some thing to respect, in all of it. And it allways mattered. Even if something ugly isnt easy to look at Or easy to love. If some thing messy isnt easy to track with the eyes, that work done quietly doesnt show for all that it is. And so much work.. To not be a trophy earned. Genuine excitement! Conversation! Willingness to dig in, I am seen when I I dont have to scratch like a dog with my heart in my mouth at a door ,for it to open for me. To be worth looking at. To not feel like to keep earning love at all is a game of giving more,and more, for them to feel my love.. Too much, not enough. When I can lie down with the uglier parts of whhat Ive had to do and know I can lie that down with them. Uncurated. Unpruned., I .Valued. That one,, harder, maybe. But you are quite good at it, you know. I hope very much, love, that you know.

#emberoops

There is someone sitting on a chair that was, moments ago, empty. She looks uncomfortable, perhaps even pained, but otherwise completely ordinary. Her hair is red, loosely curled, and reaches just past her jaw. Her eyes are brown, dark and flat, lacking the romanticism of an eye that turns to honey in the sun. She smiles tentatively at House and asks, quietly, "Do you want a challenge?" Her clothes are just loose enough to hide how thin she's gotten, bordering just on the edge of painful, but the angularity of her face does not. Arms crossed, she looks hopeful and also resigned at once.

The dreaded clinic hours had to come sneaking up on him at some point. And it seemed after one of those long, stern talking tos he’d gotten from Cuddy, it finally had. So that’s where he’d found himself, having an utterly boring clinic shift until the stranger had talked to him.

Initially he didn’t think much of her. The next time his eyes scanned over the people waiting was when his interest—and concern too, was piqued. The first all day.

To the untrained eye she didn’t look too worse for wear. But he can see the signs of malnutrition easily. Now to try and access what was causing it. If it even was that.

“ Clinic isn’t exactly the easiest way to reach me. You’re lucky I’m here. “

He starts, trying to gauge where this will go.

“ Go ahead. Tell me your symptoms while we walk to a room. “