#And by that I mean I'll be doing prompts at random without any pressure of actually finishing bc it's just for fun

[denim-wizard]

Katatober - "Fangs" [Bite Force PSI Unknown]

I get so nervous about sharing my sketchy stuff but honestly fuck it. I deserve to have a public space where I can just share stuff, and I'm really happy to be able to participate in a prompt list, even if it's with messy work. It was fun to make, and I actually enjoyed myself the whole way through-- I want that spark back. anyways the love of my life. a giant man named after a pretty flower who could snap rebar with his bare hands. and also gets grumpy when he doesn't have his specal afternoon tea time. (dreamy sigh)

[imtrashraccoon]

It's here! I don't have a name for these series of connected prompts just yet but I'm sure I'll think of one! I was originally going to write the characters doing more in this chapter but it didn't work out. Still, I'm happy with this narrative I'm creating. By the way, I am planning on posting this to AO3 like all my other works if you want to check it out!

@owl-bones Please let me know if you don't want me to tag you for each prompt. Thanks for making the list!

Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Horror - Hot Drinks

Word Count: 2,914

It was a dreary day today, yet despite the overcast sky and brisk breeze that often whipped snow into your face, it was the nicest it had been in days. You'd practically gone stir crazy after a freak snow storm had blown in several days ago and so now you were getting some much needed fresh air.

It had been an incredibly spontaneous decision to come out to this barely traveled trail. You'd been meaning to check out the area for ages but had been too busy in the fall. While your winter gear was generally enough to keep you warm on most days, it seemed like you should've worn an extra layer or two with how chilly it was out here in the woods in comparison to the city.

Regardless, you were moving at a steady enough pace to keep your blood pumping. So long as you weren't out here for longer than a few hours and got home before it got dark, you should be alright.

The walk had been every bit as beautiful as you'd expected it to be. While the forest was mostly made up of deciduous trees, you were now walking through a large grove of mature cedar trees, which just so happened to be your favorite type of conifers. The dense shrubbery served to insulate this part of the trail from both the wind and the sounds of the wild, not to mention that they smelled lovely as well.

The path made a sharp turn to the left up ahead, although right in front of you was a natural gap in the treeline, possibly made by animals as they passed through this grove. Feeling a tad curious, you ducked under the branches and emerged in a small clearing on the other side.

The clearing seemed to be natural as you couldn't see any signs of tree cutting, even with all the snow. It was framed on all sides by cedar trees whose boughs were blanketed in a thick layer of the white powder. It was strange though. You couldn't see anything that looked special about this little clearing and yet it was so peaceful here.

You'd only walked a few paces into the open space when you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Something was very wrong.

Some sort of primal instinct deep inside your soul screamed for you to duck and your body responded without even thinking about it.

You heard the unmistakable sound of an object whizzing through the air where you'd been standing moments prior.

You barely had time to register what happened before someone roughly grasped your shoulder and flung you into the snow.

You landed hard on your right side. The cold snow stung your face. There was pressure on your abdomen.

It took a moment for you to catch your breath. When you did though, you shifted slightly to see what had just attacked you, but as soon as you did so, the pressure on your side increased sharply.

A low rumbling growl was the only warning you got to stay put.

Now your mind was racing. This wasn't a random animal and no human could possibly sound like that. So could it be a monster? They'd been on the surface for a couple years now and were pretty commonplace in the city. In fact, you didn't know of any that would willingly choose to live out in the middle of nowhere after being trapped underground for centuries.

"Uh... H-hey, can...can we talk about this...?" Your voice came out much hoarser than you'd expected it to but you didn't know what else you could do right now.

Nothing happened for what felt like ages. You continued to stay as still as you possibly could, save for the pounding of your heart and how badly you were trembling. The snow was cold and your clothes were rapidly becoming soaked, but you barely registered it.

Your attacker suddenly shifted their body and the pressure on your abdomen eased, although it didn't go away entirely.

You chanced turning your head in their direction this time, rather than trying to move your entire body.

Your gaze immediately locked onto a singular glowing red eyelight. It belonged to a hulking figure of a skeleton monster who was currently pinning you to the ground. The eyelight itself took up almost the entirety of his socket and there was a thin line through the center, likely acting as a pupil. The only other details you could make out from this angle was that he was breathing rather heavily and he had a large hole on the top of the left side of his skull.

You didn't dare break eye contact for fear the monster would lash out suddenly if you did so. Whether it was how blown out his single pinprick looked or the tight smile that seemed much too wide for the current situation, but you could tell something was very wrong him right now.

Taking a shaky breath, you tried to speak to the skeleton again. "H-hey... Big guy... Are you...? Is something wrong?" you asked. Although to your frustration, your tongue betrayed how nervous you really were right now.

He said nothing and just continued to stare down at you, or maybe through you was more accurate. If looks could kill, you'd be dead at least a hundred times over.

For whatever reason, he wasn't actively restraining your arms, just preventing you from getting up. So against your better judgement, you slowly raised your left hand and reached for his face. Although you quickly discovered he was at least several inches out of range and you couldn't actually touch him.

His eyelight tracked your movements and seemed to focus on your outstretched fingers. He still said nothing though and just sat in silence.

"It's okay... Did I startle you earlier?" Your voice was becoming stronger the more you spoke and while you were still rather nervous, you were feeling a bit more confident than before.

He seemed to be acting pretty distant. The lights were on, pun unintended, but nobody was home. So what had stopped him from actually hurting you earlier? The only thing you could think of was when you tried to talk to him and since it seemed to be having a positive effect, you decided to keep doing that.

"Hey... Um, you scared me pretty bad, you know...?" No response. "But it's okay! I'm... I'm not mad or anything..."

People said you tended to ramble when nervous but you'd never believed them until now. Not that you'd been in many life or death situations before now to know, or at least none where talking your way out had been an option.

"Okay... I'm not going to hurt you, but... I'm going to try doing something." With a nervous chuckle, you added, "Just...don't take my hand off, okay...?"

You waited a moment to see if he'd try to respond but shocker, he still didn't react. So against your better judgement, you attempted to sit up so you could reach him. You moved slowly while keeping a close eye on him, but thankfully, he didn't show any signs of further aggression.

He startled when your mittened hand met the right side of his face. His red eyelight wobbled and flicked between your outstretched hand and your face. The corners of his painfully wide smile fell a fraction as he seemed to properly take in the current situation.

"Ah, that's better," you murmured. "You seemed far away so I was wondering if you could actually hear me. Are you...? Are you okay?"

He said nothing and continued to stare at you. Then his gaze flicked back to your hand and his bonebrows furrowed slightly. Before you could protest, he grasped your wrist and with some hesitation, jerked it away.

Crap... His hand is like twice the size of mine.

He let go of you and managed to stand up, staggering away from you. Complete shock was practically written across his skull and you could see how desperately his mind was scrambling to make sense of this awkward situation.

Although your muscles were a bit numb from the cold, you slowly crawled to your feet and attempted to dust yourself off. Although the snow had completely soaked through your pants and coat so your efforts were futile.

"..."

The mysterious skeleton muttered something that was so quiet, you almost didn't realize he'd said anything in the first place.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that..."

He blinked, somehow, and actually made eye contact with you this time before trying again. "...sorry..."

His tone was about as deep as you'd expected a guy of his size to sound, although it was also rather subdued. You couldn't be sure if that was just how he spoke or if he was feeling ashamed about what had just happened.

Speaking of his height though, this monster was much taller than you'd initially thought. He was easily more than a foot taller than you were, even with the way he was purposely hunching his shoulders. Was he trying to make himself look smaller?

"It's alright, you didn't actually hurt me," you responded.

He gave you a strange look but didn't say anything else, instead he started looking around in the snow.

Feeling rather awkward, you chewed your lower lip and kicked a small clump of snow. He didn't seem like much of a conversationalist and you didn't blame him right now.

After a moment of searching, he seemed to find what he'd been looking for a couple paces ahead and to the left of where you were currently standing - a large axe with a rather sharp blade. The way it was stuck in the snow suggested he'd actually hurled it at you and the thought of how close your brush with death had really been, sent chills down your spine.

But, if he had intended to kill you from the beginning, how come he'd hesitated to follow through?

You watched as he hefted the axe onto his shoulder with minimal effort. There was one more question on your mind now though.

Who was he?

Taking a step forward, you cleared your throat to get his attention. "Do you need me to call someone?"

He straightened up a bit more but remained facing away from you. "...no."

You frowned and pressed again, "Then...do you live nearby? Do you need help getting home?"

"...no," he responded in that same quiet tone. He turned to look at you again but this time his expression seemed more perplexed than anything.

You didn't know what to say next. You wanted to do something, anything, to help him, but he'd denied each of your attempts to do so. You couldn't just walk away now, not when he was so clearly struggling with something.

"what's with you?"

His question was a bit surprising and it took a second for you to come up with an answer. "You're hurting... I just want to make sure you'll be okay..."

He threw his skull back and laughed. It was a slow, bitter sounding laugh that nearly broke your heart to hear. After what felt like several long minutes, his laughter finally calmed down and he fixed you with a scrutinizing look once again.

"i just about killed ya."

You nodded solemnly, "But you didn't..."

He cut you off with a harsh glare. "and you're incredibly lucky right now..." he growled. "...i'm a dangerous person and you're pretty foolish for stickin' around this long."

You crossed your arms in annoyance. "Yeah, I guess I am foolish..." you huffed. "I don't know how to leave people be, I'm too nice for my own good, and I can't say no to people even if I really don't want to do what they ask me to. So yeah, I know I'm foolish!"

He raised a bonebrow as your voice got louder and louder but let you keep ranting until you'd gotten everything out. Running his free hand over his skull, he chuckled quietly. "wow...sounds like you've had a lot of experience, huh?"

"No kidding..." you muttered.

His footsteps crunched through the snow as he moved closer and you looked up at him again when he stopped about a foot away. He seemed to size you up for a moment before his permanent grin widened slightly.

"you're a funny human..."

You balked and took a step back. "Wha...? What's that supposed to mean?" you stammered.

He chuckled again and placed his free hand on your left shoulder. His touch was much gentler this time, even with the tips of his phalanges being rather sharp like claws.

"just that. ya got spunk to look at a guy like me an' think 'i can help him'." He hummed thoughtfully and then asked, "so how'd ya do it?"

"Do what?"

"shake me out of it..." He trailed off and a confused frown flickered across his face for a moment. "you were talkin' but i don't remember what you said until you touched me..."

"I don't understand. I didn't do anything more than that though. I just... You seemed...like you were somewhere else and not fully aware of what was happening? I guess I thought that maybe physical contact might help?"

"huh, interestin'..." he murmured thoughtfully. "so you've never heard of intent?"

You frowned slightly. The way he'd specifically put emphasis on that word made you think it meant something different than what you'd initially thought. "I can't say I have," you said with a shrug.

He started to respond when a sudden gust of wind blew through the small clearing and caused you to shudder as the cold air went right through your soaked clothing. You clutched your coat closer and stamped your feet in an effort to warm up.

Changing the subject, he made a quiet tisk sound and commented, "you'll catch your death if ya stay out here much longer, human."

A little voice in the back of your head wanted to retort that you wouldn't be this cold if it weren't for him, but that would be cruel, so you didn't. Instead, you gave a little laugh and tried to smile, but it wasn't exactly easy with how badly your teeth were chattering.

"Um, my car's not that far from here and before I left the house this morning I made a thermos of hot coffee... If you'd like some...?"

He laughed, much more genuinely this time by the way, and shook his skull. "crazy human... do ya have no self-preservation instincts or somethin' ?" he asked in a tone that practically screamed "ya can't be serious?".

You nodded, "Compared to some men I've met, you've been downright pleasant to make conversation with." Turning to head back to the trail, you added, "It's probably a good thing you took me by surprise though, because I definitely would've tried to fight you if I'd seen you coming."

"you'd definitely be dead then," he muttered bitterly.

You chose not to continue this morbid train of thought and walked on in silence. It was a bit surprising that he'd decided to actually take you up on your offer, considering he'd rejected every other one, but you didn't mind in the slightest.

After a few minutes of travel, you asked, "Do you have a name?"

He made a low humming sound before answering. "axe..." He grinned when you shot him a confused look and nodded his skull towards the weapon he had slung over his shoulder.

"I see... It's kind of...fitting? If I can say that?"

"mhm. what about you?"

"Oh! How rude of me... It's..." you gave him your name, "Sorry, I guess I completely forgot my manners in the heat of the moment..." You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly.

Axe repeated your name out loud a few times like he was trying to commit it to memory. You paid him no mind as you knew all too well how annoying it was to forget someone's name. You didn't think you'd ever forget his though, not with how crazy today had been.

You caught him typing something into his phone out of the corner of your eye before he slipped it back into the pocket of his shorts again. He really hadn't needed to borrow your phone afterall it seemed.

"i am sorry for scarin' ya that badly...and for nearly killin' ya too," Axe muttered. He looked rather sheepish all of the sudden, like his previous apology wasn't nearly good enough now that you'd talked a little.

You waved him off and smiled warmly. "Hey, it's fine now. I'm not mad at you for something you couldn't help."

"i'm surprised you're not askin' more questions about me or why that happened in the first place..."

"Do you want to tell me?"

He shook his skull silently and glanced away.

"That's fine then... If you're gonna be okay now, then that's all I care about."

You hummed happily as your little car came into view at the side of the road where you'd parked it earlier. That coffee sounded absolutely divine right about now and you were so glad you'd decided to make it. Thank your lucky stars you'd thought ahead today.

Your companion had grown rather silent all of the sudden and when you glanced at him, you saw his bonebrows seemed to be knit together in deep thought. While you definitely were curious about him and where he came from, you didn't want to pry into something that wasn't your business.

Besides, the less you knew, the better...

[dairy-farmer]

So I've recently made a new AO3 account (completely separate from my main one, different email and everything lmao) bc I want to start writing porn, and I was wondering if I could have your permission to use some of your asks as like, prompts or ideas? Especially ones that were my own (this is PP!Tim Anon btw, and I've sent in. A lot of asks without signing them off as that, like I could make an entire list and it would probably hit double digits of which asks you've gotten that were mine lmao)!! I would ofc credit you and your blog! I don't know how to imbed links to the individual asks (I'll still try but I can't promise anything lmao), but I'll at least mention your Tumblr name and AO3 account!

I really wanna try my hand at some random, filthy oneshots without a bunch of world building or context, bc that's something I tend to get hung up on in my writing, and I wanna stick to some short and sweet smut oneshots about Tim being a pregnant, underage nympho slut, or a puppy factory, or a cocksleeve for the rogues of Gotham and their goons, all that good stuff!!

On that thought tho, do you have any pieces of advice for like, consistent writing, or motivation to write? Bc that's my biggest struggle tbh is sitting down to start writing. Usually once I start I can churn out a couple thousand words in one sitting, but I gotta start first, ya know? Any words of wisdom would mean a lot ❤️❤️❤️

answered out of order:

yes of course❤️❤️❤️!!!!!!!!!!!! you don't believe how happy that makes me to hear!!!! so many of the asks i get sent are just so brilliant and well done and it would make me so beyond happy to know people started writing or got inspired to write out their ideas!!! and i'm sure that people who submitted other posts you get inspiration from would love to see others expand further on their asks ❤️❤️❤️❤️!!!

one shots are a really great way to really get back into a sort of groove of writing because it can be shorter, the plot may be not as dense or complex as something from a multichap (though you can also write VERY long one shots that are incredibly detailed too), and it can be mainly composed of "fun" writing in the sense that you don't have to do buildup for bigger things like you would in longer multichaps or those that are heavily plot driven. i totally get struggling to get motivation to write, for me it was always like i had to wait for my brain to be turned "on" or in a working mode for me to get any writing for my fics done which meant it usually only happened when i was studying for exams or doing projects for school. however for me that meant when i was in the 'off season' like breaks from school it meant that even though i had time, i no longer had motivation to write. that's something i'm still working to break myself out of and i think one think that is pretty effective is thinking of a scene or piece of dialogue i'm excited to write and look forward to getting to so it motivates to write to reach it. that works sometimes, other times i think of a reward i'll get myself once i finally finish. something like candy or some snack or food i don't often get or go out of my way to get. and another thing that works for me sometimes is basically planning the fic, for a short one shot the major bullet points of what happen would be a short list and so it would pretty much trick your brain into thinking 'wow a short task list i can do all of these pretty quickly/complete them without too much hassel or procrastination!'.

ultimately i think writing one shots takes a lot of pressure off since as a single chapter there's basically no further commitment needed like it would during a multi chapter fic which can be very relieving for people who get easily stressed or pressured by commitments with no hard deadline.

im very happy to hear you'll be expanding on your tim ideas and look forward to them!!!!!! also if you need any help with embedding on aow the reference collection on ao3 is really helpful and its where i learned to embed links with this tutorial ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[cellsshapedlikestars]

I’m sure you’ve answered this before, but I scrolled through your Tumblr for an embarrassingly long time and wasn’t able to find a post on it so I thought I’d ask you (possibly, again) but please don’t feel any obligation to answer (which goes without saying), but: what is your secret? You’ve written 60 works in your fandom in 3 years — that’s insane! And they are such good quality writing! The prose, the plot, the dialogue, the characterization, everything. How do you do it? How do you find the time, because I assume you’re an adult with a job, etc. (this conclusion, dear reader, being the result of my aforementioned sleuthing) and how do you find the motivation? Sometimes I come back from work, and if I even manage to make it in before 8 pm, I’m still a zombie staring at the wall. Do you plot? Do you outline? If you outline, do you have a specific way of outlining? How long do you spend on a first draft? I’m sorry, I want to know EVERYTHING, because I’m so impressed, not just by your stories or your writing or your storytelling, but your CONSISTENCY — I’ve been writing 30 years and it takes me so so long to produce any type of writing (100 words can take me a whole week) . Having said that, obviously no pressure at all to answer this, in which case, just know that I find your writing magic 🥰

I feel like I've answered all of these in bits and pieces over the years.

answer below the cut cause it's kinda long

yes, I'm adult lmao, but an adult with a job where I'm high up enough that I often have a ton of excess time during the work day, which I'll use to write. Notice how my fics are usually updated on a Tuesday or Thursday? It's because I work from home those days. Now, does my job also have periods of intense stress where I end up not writing for a full week because my brain is too numb? Yes, absolutely.

on the topic of writing quckly, I've explained it like this before: when I'm doing something mundane like driving or showering or work or whatever, I think about my stories constantly, and therefore by the time I sit down to write, I've watched the movie version play out in my head dozens of times and so all I need to do is type it out. Writing is my creative outlet, stress relief, and therapy all in one.

Do I plot? In my head, absolutely. I always know the end of a story when I start it. How I get there may shift and change, but usually not the main plot points, and I've very rarely deviated from my original ending. The only one I can genuinely think of is help me out. The main killer changed about halfway through, as did what Jon chooses to do with his life at the end.

Do I outline? I try. My current outline for saddest summer is just "chapter 5 - festival". Like plotting, I tend to do it all in my head. If I type out an outline, it's a stream of conscious set of words and thoughts and possibly phrasing I want to use. there's no bullet points or anything like that

I'll be honest and say I don't really know what people ever mean by drafts. I just start writing the chapter and I'll usually reread what I've written before continuing to write, so the first part of a chapter is always the most edited. One shots I tend to write in one go, read it over once, then post it.

I've seen other people on here talk about writing like it's some elegant craft, whereas I feel like I throw a bunch of nonsense at the wall and call it art. I feel like my writing is as chaotic and random and last minute as my home renovations are, but somehow both always turn out alright. I'm really just here to have fun and hopefully other people can have fun reading what I write!

Also, you say 60 fics, but remember that 30 of them are one shots I did for events/prompts, and about 10 more are 2/3 chapters only. Also my stories in general tend to average about 10 chapters, which is also how I get so many written. I don't enjoy writing super long fics (though I have no problem reading longer fics?) When I was first starting out, I posted waaaayyyy more frequently, especially with the events here on Tumblr that aren't really a thing anymore. Now I average a chapter a week

[fishrpg]

Laying Out The Ground Rules

In a few days I'm planning on starting the Hexplore24 challenge. It's based on an idea by the Monsters and Mazes blog to replace the ritual of this year's Dungeon23. Basically you create a solo campaign that you play effectively in real time. One day of game time is one day in the real world.

Unfortunately, the challenge as written doesn't really jive with my workflow. That's because if I'm playing a solo game, I'll want to document EVERYTHING and that takes a lot of time and brain power that I can't necessarily spare with work and school obligations. Also I tend to prefer my hexes to be relatively densely populated with content so there aren't really truly empty hexes. I want to do something where I can legitimately spend only a few minutes doing each day without the extra pressure of longform solo journally. That means I'll need to tweak the specifics of the challenge a bit. This is just as much for me as it is for anyone following along, because I'll probably be periodically adjusting the rules and stuff to suit my schedule.

But as it stands today, here's what I'm thinking my Hexplore24 challenge will entail:

Create one or two hex's worth (or hex equivalent) of stuff each day. This might be a landmark, a questgiver, an encounter, a dungeon, or something else.

Every month, I'll change up the theme so I don't get bored. The theme for January rooted in the traditional D&D wilderness aesthetic.

The theme for the next month will generally be selected at random from a list, and there won't be any duplicates. Every fourth month, though, I'll allow myself the privilege of manually choosing a theme so I can keep my personal interest up in case I get several months of prompts that aren't terribly interesting to me.

Although I will be working on this project every day and will want to post every day, I'm only going to publicly commit to posting twice a week so that I won't feel like a failure if I miss a day. I'll probably post more than that, but I need to make space for those times when I can't churn out stuff like a machine.

I'm not going to be creating a character or party who interacts with the world in a sandbox adventure; this is to be more of a neutral observer or cartographer who merely documents the world as it is explored.

I'm also toying with the idea of including a few "freestyle days," which are days where I can go back to a previous day and flesh it out more. Like adding a map to a town, or a layout to a dungeon, or extra steps and treasure to quest. The exact scope of this section is still to be determined.

Oh, and here's the table I'll be using to choose my themes!

Hexplore24 Potential Themes

Generic Fantasy (City Exploration)

Western (Traditional)

Western (Weird) (August)

Sci-Fi (Planetary)

Sci-Fi (Space)

Cyberpunk (June)

Post-Apocalyptic

Folklore/Mythology (April)

Steampunk

Ancient Culture

Modern

Pirates (May)

Cartoon (September)

Pulp Martial Arts

Spooky/Horror

Superhero

Pulp Prehistoric (March)

Grimdark Fantasy

Redwall-Inspired (July)

Undersea (February)

Feel free to send me asks or suggestions of stuff you would like to see!

[rjalker]

I mean this in the nicest way possible:

Please do not write stories like this.

I am touch averse. And this is so fucking harmful.

Writing stories where touch averse people's boundaries are seen as burdens that other people have to suffer from is not new or revolutionary or helpful. Forcing touch averse people to touch someone else is not "accomodating" anyone. Pressuring touch averse people to touch people is not accomodating anyone.

Stories like this do nothing except shame touch averse people for having boundaries. Literally the entire plot of this short story is that someone is going to suffer unless the touch averse person gives up their boundaries and their comfort for the sake of someone else's happiness.

That is not accommodating anyone.

That is literally the baseline for society. Everywhere touch averse people look, we are told that we are broken and unnatural and wrong and just hurting everyone around us by not being normal enough. We are told that not wanting to touch people and not wanting them to touch us is a burden and an insult and a crime.

We are told that we are lying, that it's impossible for anyone to not enjoy human touch, that being touch starved is literally universal and if you say otherwise you're either lying or hate yourself and just won't admit you want it.

Please. Please. Do not write stories where touch averse characters have to give up their boundaries and touch other people. Do not write stories where other people's happiness is placed as more important than the touch averse person's boundaries.

This story is not doing anything new. it's just perpetuating the exact same bigotry that every other facet of society pushes. Touch averse people are a burden, and do nothing but cause other people harm by having boundaries.

Please. I am begging everyone who read this comment. Stop telling stories like this. Stop creating writing prompts like this. Stop treating touch averse people like we're a burden that has to be negotiated around in order for other people to be happy. The entire point of this whole story is that someone being touch averse causes other people problems, and it's the touch averse person's fault, and in order to fix it they must give up their boundaries.

This is...literally just harmful.

It's not cute. It's not sweet. It's literally just more bigotry. I should not have to find things like this when I'm just looking for fun stories about touch-averse characters.

I was going to link it but no I'll just copy and paste my entire other post, since apparently no one who's not touch averse even knows what the hell being touch averse is like.

Some examples of what touch aversion feels like, for people who can’t even imagine not enjoying physical touch:

Reddit link, archived link

for me, (especially if it’s sudden and comes without any warning), it feels like someone is branding me with a hot iron. Burning heat, and weight. And even after they stop touching me, the physical sensation of the weight of their hand or arms still remains. I will still be able to feel the literal sensation of them touching me on my skin even half an hour later, accompanied by pins and needles and depending on the circumstances, like if some random stranger came up behind without warning and hugged me, which happened multiple times when I worked at Walmart, a fucking panic attack. (If you’ve followed me for long enough and we were both awake at the same time, you’ll probably remember the day that happened)

Touch aversion is not just “having trust issues” or “having self esteem issues”. For many people, it is a physiological reaction that cannot be controlled or mitigated. It doesn’t matter who’s touching me, whether they’re a stranger or a family member, it’s all equally distressing.

Like, again. I probably sound like a broken record but please, for the love of fuck, if you want to support touch averse people and actually be allies to us, do not write stories like this.

Stop treating touch averse people like we're a burden. Stop treating touch averse people like our boundaries do nothing but inconvenience or harm other people.

Please.

if you are not touch averse, do not try to fucking argue with me, please. You are, however, encouraged to reblog this so maybe this kind of thing will stop happening. This is exhausting.

Prompt idea: touch repulsed (unless iniciated themselves) aroace and touch starved aroace try and navegate a platonic relationship in a middleground

.

[mrpenguinpants]

Spider’s Thread [Reverse AU]

Possessive Red Xiao x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Commissioned for: @profoundwitchsalad

Art Credit: @ruoyeahs

Warning: Unhealthy relationships.

Prompt:

“You’ve ruined my life because I have a warped idea of what love is and I can’t live without you. But now you’re trying to leave me and I won’t allow that. You left me alive. You have a duty to live for me and by me. I’m not letting you go.”

---

Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ] [ Opposites Attract ] [ String Of Fate (Soulmate) ] [ Fainting ]

Link to original posts:  [Red! Xiao.] [Reverse AU]

[Masterlist]

Alatus was once told a story by his Master. A sinner who falls into hell is rewarded for his only good deed, choosing not to kill a spider. As his reward, a thread is lowered down for him to climb out of Hell. In the end, the sinner remains in Hell because he kicks aside others and the thread breaks. Alatus doesn't remember why his Master told him this story but he still empathizes with the sinner. He would have done the same or asked for this 'saviour' to extend their hand down instead. That way he could pull them down.

"Xiao? Are you okay?"

He slowly opens his jade eyes to see you hunch over, peering down above him, eyebrows furrowed together in concern as you reach down and softly tap his temple. He allows you to take a moment to do whatever you want with his face before he reaches up to grasp at your wrist gently, holding back on his want to rub circles into your skin. His reminiscing can wait for now.

"What is it?" he asks curtly, sitting up and resting his elbow on his raised knee. You pout at his curt tone but shrug it off as you take a seat next to him and lean your shoulder against his. You dig into your bag and pull out slips of commission papers and hand it over to him to read through what needed to be done today. A few Hilichurl camps needed to be taken care of, sabotaging a slime balloon, all tasks that seem mundane to someone who fought in a war. As he's preoccupied, you take a moment to look at Xiao's face. He's just the slightest bit unnerved whenever you do this because you always seem to know what's bothering someone.

"Were you dreaming of her again?" you ask quietly. The silence is a good enough answer but you nod understandingly. You never knew his Master personally but you did fight a long strenuous battle against her. From one look you could tell she was a manipulative and cruel woman. While it may not be very kind to say, you were glad that with her passing, Xiao would be free from her physically. But mentally...there were still some things to work out. But Xiao was a very reclusive person, especially with his emotions, so pushing him any further would only make him irritated and closed off.

"Venti and Zhongli are joining our party for a bit if that’s alright. They'll help out a lot with our commissions and travelling. I like Liyue a lot but climbing mountains stresses my shoulders out," you laugh as you change the subject to something less depressing. Standing up as you dust your clothes off before turning to Xiao and holding your hand out for him to take. He stares at it hard for a few moments before huffing and reaching over to clasp your hands together.

It has been so frustratingly peaceful since the war ended. He's not used to it and he can still feel the lick of cutting winds and the heavy pressure of rocks against his body when he sees the bard and funeral parlor consultant just on the horizon. If it were up to him, he wouldn't play nice with these two Archons but they're important to you so he bites his tongue until he tastes blood. He knows the Archons do the same. As soon as the two of them spot you both, Venti is already rushing and tackling you to the ground in his excitement.

"Traveler! I haven't seen you in ages. You need to come and visit Mondstadt more," Venti cried into your shoulder as you awkwardly patted him on his back. Always with the dramatics but you cared about Venti all the same. Xiao scoffed before flicking his jade eyes to meet gold as Zhongli stared down at him cautiously. Since the war ended, everyone seemed to have this warped idea that Alatus had some vendetta against the Gods and Celestia but he was fighting because he was told to.

"Xiao. It's good to see you again," Zhongli said to him. Xiao just nodded in acknowledgement. Even with this new mortal form, Morax never bothered to change his eyes. His gaze alone held the weight of the mountains he had thrown. If Xiao hadn’t been under one of them before, he might have crumbled under the pressure.

"Alright alright, Venti. I promise I'll drop by sometime this month but we still have commissions to do!" you laugh as you haul the bard onto his feet and swat his cape down from the speckles of dirt. He grins cheekily at you, linking pinkies with you to seal your promise, before suddenly lighting up as if he just remembered something.

"Actually! Before we start anything, I need to speak to Mr. Zhongli and Xiao. Super important archon things, you know?" Venti nodded to himself as the two mentioned people stared at him with varying levels of confusion. But Venti just waved their worries off and linked his arms with both men as he dragged them off to a more secluded corner with a surprising amount of strength, “We’ll be right back!”

"Do what you need to do but don't take too long," you called after the trio as you trailed off to the side, messing with your bag of commission papers and gear. Xiao hated that. He knows that these two Archons are your...friends.. but shouldn't you be a bit more cautious? Just because they have mortal forms doesn’t make them human, it doesn’t make him human either.

"Hey, there's no need to look so scary. There really is something important I wanted to talk to the two of you about," Venti speaks up as soon as you're out of earshot. It still gives Xiao whiplash whenever he drops the persona and switches back to Barbatos. "Since Morax is the only Archon I trust with this information and, while I don't trust you one bit, you're the one that's with her all the time you should also know. She's ascending to Celestia."

Barbatos gauges both of their reactions. Morax seems visibly surprised, his eyes slightly widened a fraction, while Xiao has no idea what that means. His Master didn’t exactly give him a history lesson on Celestia or Archons, just pointed to who was his enemy and dealt punishments when he failed.

"And what the hell does that mean?" Xiao asks as he crosses his arms. Venti appears for a second as the bard pouts before continuing.

"It's like I said. A mortal who performs great, heroic feats can ascend to Celestia and achieve godhood. Where they will watch over their people from above. I've only seen this once before so it took me a while to recognize the signs. But 1000 years ago, I helped a woman named Vennessa with her ascension and with the traveler's recent actions with winning the war. Well, you don't need me to explain the rest," Barbatos finishes. Zhongli simply hums as he cups his chin and absorbs what's just been heard. He doesn’t seem troubled by the news at all.

"Have you told her about this?" Zhongli questions as he looks towards the direction that you left. Venti shakes his head. “That would mean that she would vanish from this world."

“I know she loves this world. Whether she wishes to ascend or not isn’t my choice but I want her to continue her travels with that beloved smile on her face. But if she does choose to ascend, she will need our help," Venti stares at the two of them in a mix of pride, sadness, and determination. "Can I count on you two for your help?"

It's a complete white noise in Xiao's ears as his surroundings fade out. He thinks he can see Zhongli nod to Venti wishes, the ever calm smile on his face to match the cheery grin on Venti’s. What, now you want to become a God? Leave this world behind? That’s not funny. You made him give up everything. While in your eyes, your blinded hero syndrome, you think you've liberated him from a soulless conquest but he still has nothing. You still took everything away from him and your only compensation was to have him by your side until he left himself. But now you want to leave without a warning? That’s not fair. You don’t get to take back what you owe. He won't allow you to leave him behind.

“Did something happen? Did Venti say something unnecessary again?” you ask out of the blue. Zhongli and Venti had returned to their respective regions once your commissions were all finished. Since the three of them disappeared to talk Archon business, Xiao had seemed even more tense and aloof than usual. As if he was out of it? You knew that everyone was still suspicious of Xiao and they were angsty to leave you alone with him, but you knew Xiao would never do anything to hurt you. When he doesn't answer, you slowly reach over and you subtly nudge his head up onto your lap and look at him curiously. Before reaching down and cupping his cheek. He leans into your touch before turning his face into your palm and leaving a soft kiss. It makes you giggle at the ticklish feeling as you look at him so softly. It annoys him.

"You were never connected to the war and yet you fought against us anyways. Even when I killed so many people, why did you choose to spare me?" he asked as you blinked at him before giving it some serious thought. He went on a rampage and almost destroyed the world. It was fun. He doesn't have any regrets at all because he hated humanity. His own Master was human after all. But then you appeared and stopped him. A random outsider that wanted to play the hero. He thought it was cute. Perhaps he had underestimated the lengths someone would go to to save the world they loved but when he fell defeated at your feet. He said that this wouldn't change a single thing. He would still scorn humanity and what they did to him. He was so sure he would die there but you chose to extend your hand down to him instead despite what your companions felt. Even when the war ended and he had nowhere else to go, you offered him to travel with you. Nothing changed about his mentality, every person that chose to talk to him was quickly scared away with piercing eyes. Every conversation started would end in silence. Every touch would be met by the tip of his spear. But you would link your hands together with his and smile brightly, and he would always end up forgetting his trauma for a moment. You’ve... become precious to him.

"I love this world and everyone in it. You are a part of that world even if you tried to destroy it. It...didn't seem fair to leave you behind when you've suffered just as much," you finish but it only seemed to spark a wave of deep anger inside of Xiao. He quickly lurched up, almost knocking your forehead with his, before grabbing the scruff of your shirt collar and yanking you forward.

"Cut it out with that "love of everything" crap. It's revolting. So you're saying the people I killed weren't worth avenging? Do you think I'm so weak that I need protection? It's one thing to try and please everyone but at least have some awareness would you?" he snarled as he pushed you to the ground. He knew he was being harsh on you and you had every right to walk out and abandon him but you didn't. Of course, you wouldn't. You needed him as much as he needed you. You just reached over and tenderly reached your hand and placed it next to his. Damn it, why is he always the one stuck worrying about you.

"Then you want to protect me, right? Then don't break your promise. You left me alive which means you have a duty to live for me," he takes your hand in his and squeezes hard. Digging his nails into your own until crescents appear and tiny specks of blood appear so you know he's serious. He doesn't care how you interpret his words, just so long as you never leave him.

"Don't die on me, Hero."

It's been a few hours since the conversation so it's pitch black outside but Xiao was never one to sleep. Even if he could, his mind is too loud to fall asleep too. He's startled when you melt against him fully asleep. Honey smooth as you curl up to his warmth and cling to him like moss to a rock. He can feel his cheeks start to flush as his heart begins to pound against his chest. He can't breathe as his world is filtered through each beat that drums against his ears. He's not sure if there's actually something wrong with him or if it's just been a while since someone got so close and his instincts haven't left.

He's just realized it. He's feeling pain. The feeling in his chest is black but he can't claw it away. It's strange in a way that he can't explain it, that he's never felt before, that he's never felt the need to experience. His life had been warped by battle and a constant push to submit to his Master. They are all things he knows but the gentle words that come from your mouth, the bright eyes that hold the world, the horrible ice-hot feeling inside of him is so foreign yet too easy. He doesn't like it.

It makes him feel...clean in a way. Enlightened perhaps? His Master is long gone and it's like you said. He's free now. Free to make his own decisions and live his life how he wants to. He carefully turns over so as to not startle you away as he really looks at you. You look so peaceful in his arms, eyelids shut without worry, face slack without nightmares, breathing so softly against him. If you weren't so close to him that he couldn't feel the rise of your chest, he wonders if he would think you were dead. He stares at the lock of hair swaying back and forth with each breath like a starved man. The strange feeling doesn't stop. He hates it. It's everything that goes against him and what he knows and everything he should want. He's supposed to be the villain in your story, he should kill you right now-

"Xiao..." he hears you mumble beside him as you lean further into his arm. Damn it. How low is he going to go?

“What are you thinking about now? You just need to think about me. Don’t think about anything else...but me” Xiao sighs before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him until you're snug against his chest. Close to him, where he can touch you, where you belong. Not with Morax or Barbatos. Not with humans but beside him. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his head into your hair and he stares off into the distance. The feeling never leaves him for the remainder of the night.

"Ah! There you are. I was running around crazy looking for you," he turns his hair to see your flushed form pulling yourself up onto the mountain cliff, "When I woke up I couldn’t find you anywhere! You gave me a scare there."

He hates you. He hates you.

Words of his previous master ring in his ears, almost as if her very soul is wrapping around him as she whispers in his ear how weak he is. Ones with power that refuse to take what they want because they rather live in the comfort of nothing. Be greedier, take what belongs to you.

"Xiao?" you say as his piercing eyes stare directly through you. His Master always told him that she loved him. Even if he hated her he still clung to that false love. Of being wanted. Isn't love for a single person vile? Would feeling such emotions for one person instead of "everyone" bring you down to reality? It's not fair that you've crawled your way into his heart while you walk along in bliss. Now that he thinks about it. It was so simple. He just needs to monopolize your thoughts and love. This time it won't be as friends.

"I love you."

He'll pull you down to where he is. You extended your hand down to hell so it's your fault. He'll drag you down kicking and screaming if he has to. You left him alive. You have to live for him and by him. He's not letting go.

Reblogged for extra notes

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[xnever-fade-awayx]

kerry/v

"you know I'll do anything you ask me to"-prompt (sofia by clairo)

just an idea, no pressure^^

AN: Quick note, this is unedited, also this is with default Male V! Enjoy~ 

V groaned as he rubbed at his eyes and slowly opened them. His head was pounding and he felt like he was hit by a truck. He tried to piece together the night before but all he can remember  is Kerry fucking him senseless into the mattress. Which he did enjoy. As V sat up in the bed, he glanced to his side to see Kerry passed out on his stomach, completely naked. 

V got out of bed quickly and he began searching for his clothes to at least put something on. He wasn’t trying to leave before Kerry left per say, he was just trying to make sure he was covered from the paparazzi this time. They ended up using a drone that went undetected by Kerry’s security last time to take pictures of both men completely naked, asses all out. 

The paparazzi called V Kerry’s “current JoyToy” which pissed him off more than it should have. Maybe it was because he was developing feelings for Kerry and wanted to be more than fuck buddies. V shook his head at the thought and ignored it as he threw his jeans on and made his way down to Kerry’s kitchen to try to find some food, some real food. 

V managed to find some bread that wasn’t molding, at least from what he saw, and ate a few slices of that before he was going to dip. He heard the groans of Kerry echoing through the large villa as he woke up, walking down the stairs, still completely naked. 

“Mornin’.” Kerry mumbled out gruffly as he went to the table that had all types of food and began to pick at the stuff on it. 

“Morning. I don’t think it’s safe to eat any of that.” V said as Kerry turned and shot him a small glare. “And I think you should put some pants on before the paparazzi caught you, again.” V tried to tell Kerry as he threw another grape into his mouth. 

“Fuck ‘em. Won’t be the first or last time they’ve seen my gorgeous ass.” Kerry laughed as he walked over to V and looked him over. 

“I was just heading out. Gotta see Vik for a tune up.” V heard Kerry hum in response to what he said. 

“You comin’ tonight? Playing another show tonight with the girls.” Kerry said as he walked over to V and looked into his eyes. V shrugged and placed his hands on Kerry’s hips and pulled him close. Kerry chuckled and moved his arms to wrap loosely around V’s neck. 

“I’ll try to drop by. I think I’m gonna check up on Wakako to see if she has something for me today. Need a few extra eddies for rent this month.” V admitted which caused Kerry to frown at the taller man. 

“You know I can send you some money. You can always ask.” Kerry tried telling his friend as V pulled away and began walking towards the door. 

“It’s fine, Ker. I can make my own money. You don’t gotta act like my sugar daddy. Now, I gotta get going. Vik’s gonna be pissed if I’m late.” V said as he opened the front door and was followed by V. 

“Seven tonight if you come by! Talk to Tasha and she’ll get you backstage!” Kerry shouted as he watched V walking down towards his car. 

“Put on some god damn pants!”

                             « ----------------------------------------------- » 

 Vik had done his check up on V as normal, giving him an upgrade or two but was happy that V wasn’t pushing himself too far. Wakako was happy to see V had assigned him a job that shouldn’t take too long. She had him go to a Tyger Claw hideout and find a person, making sure they were unharmed and alive. There was a shootout, which V tried to avoid, but it was okay. The person he was transporting wasn’t hurt which was a plus but V was a mess and covered in blood. 

Wakako thanked V for the person and quickly transferred the money to V before he drove home to shower and change. His entire shower he thought about Kerry, and about them. He had fallen for the rockerboy about the second time they fucked. It was just a casual friends with benefits thing that would happen once every few weeks then turned into almost everyday. Every concert in the city, V would show up, drink too much with Kerry and then they would end up at his place. 

V wanted to change it and he decided tonight was the night before Kerry and Us Cracks left Night City for their tour across the world. He shut the water off in the shower and quickly dried off before throwing on some jeans and a random shirt, which happened to be one of Kerry’s shirts he stole. Funny story behind the shirt: Kerry was trying to rush V out since Johnny was coming over and Kerry didn’t want Johnny knowing V and him were fucking. So, V grabbed the first shirt he saw and threw it on as Kerry kicked him out. 

V double checked to make sure he had everything before leaving his apartment and heading to get to his car. The entire drive to the venue, V thought of what to say to Kerry and honestly, how the fuck does someone say, ‘hey I love you’ without making it weird or awkward? V shook his head at the thought and said he was just going to do it, fuck it. 

He parked on the side of the building, weaving between the fans trying to get backstage and smiled at Tasha. She had learned who V was quickly and smiled at him and allowed him in. She was telling him how he could chill backstage or on the side during the concert before leading him towards where Kerry was. The moment V spotted Kerry, his heart dropped. He was standing extremely close to another guy, smiling at him and giving him those fuck me eyes he always gave V. 

“Oh, hey V! Glad to see you!” Red Menace smiled at the man and hugged him tightly. Over the last few months, he got close to Us Cracks just like Kerry did. Kerry turned towards the two and smiled as he walked over to V. 

“Decided to show up, I see. Well, I’ll have to give you a special thank you after the show.” Kerry smirked as he made his way to V and closed the gap between them. 

“I don’t know if I’m staying. I, uh, have things I need to do.” V avoided eye contact with Kerry. He picked up the change in V almost instantly as he started walking.

“Let’s go somewhere private, V. Just chat a bit before the show.” Kerry said as he walked towards what was currently his little dressing room. V didn’t want to follow him but did it anyway, so he didn’t anger him. Once the two were in the room, Kerry closed the door behind him and locked it. V stood in the middle of the room as Kerry went to lean against a counter where all the mirrors were.

“Why did you bring me in here?” V finally asked as Kerry turned and looked over the other male.

“What the hell is going on, V?” Kerry asked, his arms crossed over his chest. V just watched Kerry as he sighed out. It was now or never.

“Look, Ker… I-we… well, you know how last week we were in that magazine? And they called me a Joy Toy?” V asked as Kerry nodded.

“Yeah. Those mother fuckers got a bad picture of me!” Kerry said, slightly angry as V shot a glare at him.

“Not the point, Ker. I don’t wanna be known as a Joy Toy, okay? I don’t want to be known as your latest fling or your fuck buddy. I wanna be known as… as…” V couldn’t seem to say it outloud. He felt stupid and embarassed. 

“As.. my boyfriend?” Kerry finished the sentence. V felt embarassed as fuck at that. Kerry walked over to V and grabbed his face in his hands. “You know, V, I’ll do anything you ask me to. And if that is to be your boyfriend, then I’m fine with that.” Kerry said as he pressed his lips harshly against V’s lip. V melted into the kiss before Kerry slowly pulled away.

“I’ve wanted that for a while…” V whispered, causing the rockerboy to chuckle.

“I was waitin’ for you to say something. If this was just meaningless sex, then I was fine with it. I was hopin’ it would turn into something more.” Kerry said before leaning in and placing another kiss to V’s lips.

“So, does this mean Kerry Eruodyne is no longer going to be a slut? No more man whoring?” V teased which rewarded him a quick slap to the chest.

“Shut the fuck up or else I might take back talkin’ about being your boyfriend.” Kerry glared at V as the other male rolled his eyes.

“Mr Eurodyne? Concert starts in 2 minutes.” A voice called from the other side of the door. Kerry and V both looked at the door before looking at each other.

“Stayin’ to watch?” Kerry said as the two walked out of the door. Kerry followed behind V as they began walking towards the stage.

“Of course. For my boyfriend? Anything.” V said as they got to the side of the stage. Kerry smiled and placed a small kiss to V’s cheek.

“I promise after we will go get dinner, something nice, then back to my place.” Kerry said as he got himself pumped for the show.

“Don’t hurt yourself up there. Gonna need you all good and in one piece later.” V teases as Kerry and him share a rough kiss before Kerry rushed up to the stage to start the concert.

[mantrabay]

A Little Known Shortcut.

Wandering the roads. It has me under a spell.

Even when prickly brambles

scrape my eyelids or those bony ankles are being twisted by tooth like stones. The angular sort clustered mischievously among the green shoots that litter every footpath.

They lie in wait, in ambush.

It goes with the territory for this seasoned footman.

Meandering landscapes are house and home to the spiral lanes and clover clad hills that are rife in my area.

Their rustic heritage sometimes sacrificed to the orphanage of malleable motives.

Crop farmers obsessed with bountiful harvest.

A restless developer pushing the limits of an urban jungle.

Fellow traveller in league with fugitives from the cockpit.

The pressure cooker of modern life.

The town dweller with split loyalties who clings to the tumult of the city but hankers after some rural idyll.

Culprits one and all.

A lair from the hubbub.

Dwellings of the quaintest kind huddle together like dots in a matrix separated only by a minuscule space.

The more alluring aspects of tradition have been preserved.

Among these are shortcuts or bypasses.

Those sequestered passages that shave miles off for the perennial rambler or clueless hitchhiker.

The eye becomes a lense to all these

things hidden or supposedly hidden.

Human vision as sensor to magic trails.

Those tucked away secret spots beloved of local wiseacres.

They festoon the sprawling countryside at random.

My name is Eric Spring.

Anthea, my partner a transcendental meditation teacher retired early at an early age.

Her withdrawal from work was never meant to be permanent.

A final decision hinged on Anthea's ability to purge that fiendish veil of sadness that had been shadowing her.

There were several obstacles in her path but they weren’t insurmountable.

Thoughts of Anthea in her halcyon days haunted me.

Mental pictures of a vibrant woman imbued with passion.

Poignant evocative heart-tugging images.

Bar excursions into town my station is that of Anthea’s carer.

This eternally stoic woman is mindful of her mental boundaries and the abyss concealed by each of them.

But she is not prone to self-hate or abuse. The more lethal plagues of the psyche hadn't yet impacted on her.

Anthea was groping for exits but hadn’t found the signs.

She remains housebound as I embark on those age defying treks into town.

We keep in touch by mobile phone.

A very angelic sensitive looking person is she.

Reminiscent of a Sunday Times editor.

The accent filters every noun and stresses every nuance.

Like the sounds from an early morning orchard.

Anthea's job became monotonous and her other pursuits painting and writing fled without trace.

A budding artist’s most dreaded syndromes struck.

Writer's block. Artistic vacuum.

The wellspring of her imagination now devoid of those inspiring flashes that sustain creative impulse.

She had few outlets bar my care and a lady called Fidelma who had the edge on me with regard to local knowledge. I longed to hear Anthea's voice on my device.

Her hypnotic voice bridges gaps.

You feel close even when speaking to her from a distance.

I love the walks and savouring all those pivot points of folklore.

I pride myself on my intimate knowledge of every branch strewn rivulet, stream and layered rock formation.

My links to the environment are almost erotic as I crave it's sensual touch.

At times I enter a tranquil zone where the shutters are drawn.

Just myself and all those habitats.

“Hello Eric? Lost in thought again.

How is anthea these days?

I spoke to her over the phone a few days ago.

I sometimes drop in on her when you are out.”

Fidelma speaking with that chirping red robin voice of hers.

She had this penchant for suddenly appearing like an archaeological site.

And she vanished just as quickly leaving the person she spoke to scrambling to process her asides and insights before they disappeared.

Neighbour, friend, root and branch archivist whose grasp of detail was legendary.

“She seems to be coping.” I said.

“Glad to hear that. Maybe I can pay a flying visit some time soon.

But aren't you a foolish man to be imposing all those Olympic Marathons on yourself?”

Fidelma about to share one of her treasured nuggets.

“I love walking but any tips?”

Spring enquired naively as events soon demonstrated.

“There’s a shortcut…..a little known shortcut.

People in the know recommend it though I have never actually used it myself.

Maybe I will one day.

See, it's on the right hand side up the road there.

Think it might be useful when you want to get home in a hurry.” She concluded.

Fidelma in advanced middle age was still sprightly and youthful in her ways.

I missed a text from anthea and Fidelma noticed.

“Yes. I have one of those gadgets too.

Keeps me connected.

Took me awhile to master it.

Wish there was a shortcut for that.

But I'll best be on my way.

Take good care whatever the route.”

As always having spoken to Fidelma I wondered about in a trance.

Another colourful aspect of Fidelma’s personality was her “Banana Skin Syndrome.”

She could lose her balance betimes when enthusing about a topic or when she stumbled on an area that fascinated her.

The feet were a little wobbly.

All this against her philosophy about how interconnected everything is.

The mind is an antenna sending out signals to others was a frequent broadside of hers.

Even when Fidelma said very little she always had this magnetic effect on others.

Those terse one liners could trigger an avalanche in the mind.

Her thin phrases were always shrouded in a well crafted poetic meter.

It was in the tone, gestures and body language.

Those beady yet expressive eyes scanning her environment like a radar screen.

A cascade of images and sound bytes ensued when she left.

Several hours passed as my mind was in overdrive like a central processing unit.

I heard this inner voice telling me to explore this “shortcut.”

Having texted Anthea I then proceeded to this offshoot of a lane.

It was going to lighten the journey of this slope and pavement plodder.

Off I went down this quaint country shortcut.

Nothing out of the ordinary to begin with until Anthea rang.

“Gnawing feeling of sadness.

My mind is a dark blue canvass at the moment.”

Her lilting twang mingling with the song birds at the start of my downward journey.

I sensed this was urgent and started to walk quickly.

That's when problems arose.

Just a plain country passage with a primarily flat surface at this point.

There were houses on each side and some weeds strewn and partially mangled, turned to mulch by wild and indiscriminate boots.

Strange feelings welled up within me as I felt like a geyser at yellowstone.

The puff and splutter of tractors in nearby fields as furrows, the epicenter of future yields were turned.

Scarecrows were strategically perched in the meadow behind the right hand hedge to ward off some menace or other.

Something told me to relate my surroundings to Anthea.

If only to divert attention from an impending gloom.

Those barely audible inner prompts again.

“Eric, I don't want to pressurise you but at the moment I feel this dark cloud.”

Eric paused.

It then occurred to me that I was engulfed by dark foreboding clouds in tandem with a rising rainbow like haze.

As Anthea continued her disorders seemed to be complemented by external threats of rain intermingled with sunshine.

“I feel, Eric there is a radiance trying to break through.

Just to see you … your presence is a light which I could focus on.”

Then I realised that speed was of the essence.

That's when I could have panicked.

Anthea’s voice seemed louder, but also more lyrical as I realised this obscure

overlooked route could have done with some restoration!

Tufts of grass oozing slime.

Mounds of mud with pockets of oil stained water.

The briars were a shock team that endangered every part of the human body.

I was conveying all this to anthea as I was trying to dash at my normal pace.

Oddly Anthea’s tone of desperation started to dip.

But she did appear less tense as I told her this story over the phone.

“Someone told me this is a shortcut.”

Eric said gingerly.

“Who was that ? Anthea asked.

“Fidelma. We met on the main road just a short while ago.” I responded.

“You know her a bit better than I do.”

Anthea observed. “She's going to call over one of these days I'm sure.”

By now Anthea, initially nervous was mellowing as I continued with my frantic running … and staggering commentary!

She didn’t have had much to excite her over the last five years.

But I had to be careful lest those dark brooding phases returned.

Like a roving reporter I regaled her with lurid descriptions of limp green shrubs, tea brown leaves shredded on fissured rocks, juice dripping blackberry bushes with foraging earwigs seeking shelter from the sun.

But here I was almost knee deep in tangled foliage while keeping the love of my life up to speed!

The labyrinthine outcrops and mock craters were all included.

Suddenly misfortune struck without warning.

I nearly sprained my leg as I fell face down on a grassy patch.

Sprawled awkwardly across this surface my phone went flying but I managed to catch it.

“Eric, are you ok?

I don’t mean to be a burden.

Will I get someone to meet you at the end of this lane or short cut.”

Anthea again.

“I'm fine, Anthea.”

Eric said before slowly rising.

I kept detailing my observations and Anthea was reacting positively.

But I made it eventually with the sounds of the road as guide.

The temperatures continued to rise causing perspiration.

Peering thru the maze of entwined growths I saw … Fidelma.

“Where did you spring from?” Eric punning his own name.

“Fidelma ...you fell too.” A question that might have appeared tactless.

She was getting up, having fallen when taking her bearings it seems.

“Fidelma …. thanks but no thanks.

The shortcut.” I said.

“You are shivering.” She observed.

“I am. Spring responded.

“Got to get to Anthea because she might be in need of help.” Spring continued.

We both headed for my house as quickly as possible.

But it wasn’t far.

I texted Anthea and she answered by saying she had every reason to speak to me.

One wondered what that might be.

My face whitened.

Fidelma and I soon reached the house where I lived.

Eric pressed the doorbell as his heart pounded.

The door opened suddenly and we couldn't believe what we saw.

“Anthea, is that you?

I haven't seen you smile like that in years.”

I said.

Fidelma and I were perplexed to say the least.

“It’s early days yet but those locusts of darkness hopping around in my head maybe dwindling.

Those creative juices returned when I sensed your anxiety down the lane because I didn't want two sick people in this house.

But you brought splashes of vivid colour into my drawing room.

I could almost smell the rustic fragrance of every wilting petal and the creaking of every twig.

You set a whole cycle in train.”

Anthea then showed me two items she was working on.

“I have started a rough sketch of the lane you detailed and a short story.

There's been a sea change.” She said.

“Oh I wonder what I'll call this sketch and that short story?

Any ideas?” Anthea enquired.

Fidelma and I looked at each other and spoke almost in unison.

“I think we both have a fair idea what they both might be called.

Your story included.”

A little known shortcut indeed!

Photograph and short story copyright protected

[wackpainterkid]

I felt like jokingly messaging "coffee shop au!" but I'll be nice, a serious drabble request, Liv gathers the whole gang to surprise them with a first listen to her album (if she's signed or goes indie you can decide)

a/n: Okay this prompt was sent in ages upon ages ago and I’m like half convinced there isn’t even an audience for it anymore but I needed to make myself a bit happier in these troubled times and it’s actually the one year anniversary of my first skam nl fic (this one) and it’s Monday so I’m back again! I hope you’re all doing well ♥

rating: T

1500 words

ephemeral feelings

“Welcome everyone! I’m so happy you all could come. Before we start, let me just give a tiny introduction because you’re probably wondering why you are all here.”

Because they all are; each and every one of Liv’s friends accepted her quite frankly vague invitation and is now bunched up in Hotel Overvecht’s living room, watching her with curious and expectant eyes. She has to admit that her heart is beating faster than it probably ever has, that the stress is rushing through her veins.

“You’ve probably all noticed that I’ve been very busy lately and that I have not been as present as I usually am. Well, the reason for my absence is that I’ve been working on an EP and it required a lot of work because I wanted it to be perfect. But I finished it and I invited all of you here tonight to listen to it. This is the first time I let anyone hear the whole thing and I wanted you guys to be the first because your opinion means the world to me.”

What if they hate it, what if they don’t recognize her or think that being signed to a label has changed her too much. And who cares if her producers and her label love it, if her friends don’t. Their opinion means everything. Which is why she has not told any of them about her project, in fear of failing, in fear of the pressure becoming too much. She didn’t want to go through what she did with her dad, where making music became a burden, lost its essence and its allure.

Liv wanted to make this record only because she wanted it. And she had and it had become something she is so proud of.

Her friends clap and cheer in response and while they hadn’t known about the existence of this project two minutes ago, they have now gone into full supporting mode.

“I’m so excited!” Isa exclaims with a wide grin.

“You guys have got to be honest about what you think of it, okay?” Liv says, stepping over Janna’s legs, avoiding Esra’s fingers, heading towards her stereo with her most prized possession in an unmarked box between her ever so slightly shaking hands.

“We will, don’t worry,” Ralph replies, nestled between Lucas and Bennie.

“I’m sure we’ll love it, Liv.” Engel smiles at her and her other friends all nod in acquiescence.

“I hope you will,” she says quietly, brushing a stray curl behind her ear.

“Does it have a title yet?” Esra asks, just when Liv is about to start the CD.

“Oh, it does!” She turns around to face her audience. “It’s called Ephemeral Feelings and it has six songs.” 

Liv takes a deep breath and presses play. 

It’s out of her hands right now. 

There’s a vacant spot left on the couch, right next to Noah–who probably has something to do with that– and she settles there. He intertwines their fingers and winks at her, a silent reassurance that it will turn out alright.

He is the only one who knew in advance why she organized this evening; the only one who had heard bits and pieces of her songs here and there; those times when she got a sudden burst of inspiration and had to record a voice note before it disappeared again, before the hum became silent again, before the words lost their coherence. However, he hasn’t heard the full thing either.

Some of her nerves dissipate as she feels his pulse against her skin; she lets it guide her, steady her. He’s good at that, calming her down, sometimes even without being aware.

The EP is six songs. 

21 minutes and 56 seconds. 

Lyrics she’d poured her heart out for, she’d dug so deep to retrieve, melodies that had been the soundtrack of her life for so long without being uttered, without being whole. And now they were. Now they were being listened to by her loved ones. 

The stereo whirrs and the disk comes to a halt. 21 minutes and 56 seconds have passed.

And it’s quiet.

Painfully quiet.

So quiet you could hear a pin drop.

No “Well done, Liv!” No “Song two was my favorite.”

Nothing.

They must hate it. Fuck. 

Fear inhabits her and she doesn’t dare to look around and see the disappointment on everyone’s face. She keeps her eyes trained on her lap. 

“There’s something I don’t get,” Janna breaks the silence and Liv braces herself for the rest of her sentence.

“Why do you have to be so fucking talented?”

“I know, right?” Ralph concurs.

And it’s like a spell is lifted.

Because everyone starts talking at once.

“Does anyone else have the urge to cry right now?” Isa asks and both Micha and Jayden raise their hand.

“Hey, but this is definitely worthy of a Grammy,” Esra tells the room.

Liv gets overwhelmed by the response and by the utter positivity that her friends send her.

Engel requests Liv’s attention. “Could we listen again?” she asks with a hopeful look.

“Yeah, can we?” other voices join in.

“Umm, sure.”

So Liv restarts the disk. And her friends are as excited as the first time, some of them sitting with their eyes closed, some slightly leaning forward, as if they want to hear even better.

“Hey Liv, what’s that song called?”

“It’s called And Away We Go,” she replies.

Noah’s eyes settle on her and she returns his look with a promise of a conversation, not now but later. She knows that’s what he’d prefer either way. He hasn’t said anything yet but Liv knows he’s reserving it for when they’re alone. 

What follows the EP ending for a second time is an evening of praise, of compliments left and right and while the night could not have gone any better, the minute everyone is gone, that she closes the door behind them, Liv finally feels like she can breathe again.

It’s just her right now.

Well, her and Noah, who is waiting on the couch until she returns. 

She catches him inspecting the record’s unmarked box before subtly laying it back on the coffee table as she enters. As always, they’re drawn to each other, sitting as close as they were sitting before, as if the couch was still packed with other people. Noah softly kisses her and asks, “How are you feeling?”

She thinks about it for a second and then answers truthfully, “I kinda wanna cry. For various reasons,” she adds.

Noah chuckles. “I know how big of a deal this was. You did great, Liv. Like, “I agree with what everyone was saying and then some” great.”

A smile appears on Liv’s face. “Thanks.”

“And Away We Go was my favorite one, how did you come up with that original title?”

Liv rolls her eyes before laughing. Of course he would gloat.

“Funny story actually,” she recounts, “It’s from this random note I got from this random dude and he thought he was a poet or something. I don’t know, I thought it sounded good.”

“It does,” he agrees. “It’s pretty incredible to see all of those tiny bits and lyrics from the last few months come together and to finally understand the bigger picture.” His eyes land on the box again and Liv lifts a corner of her mouth.

She is lucky to have him, to be with someone who understands her. And not just as a person, not just her walls and her moods, but on a deeper level. On the level of an artist, of a creator, of someone that can get consumed by an idea buzzing in the back of their mind and won’t relent until it’s realized. He’s like that as well.

Liv places her and on his shoulder causing him to look up at her. “Speaking of pictures, it’s quite convenient that you’ve got this whole artist thing going on because, as you’ve probably noticed, I don’t have a cover yet.”

“That’s going to cost you, Ms. Reijners,” he retorts without even batting eye. He starts counting on his fingers. “First plagiarism, now customized art. I see your fame is already rising to your head.”

“Oh, you’re asking for it, Mr. Boom” Liv grabs a pillow from the couch and hits him with it. It doesn’t take long for him to retaliate. He pounces, heading straight for her waist and lifting her up and she bursts out in laughter. 

Noah carries Liv from the living room to her bedroom, drops her on her bed and kisses her deeply.

“That’s a yes to my business proposition, I presume?” she asks

He hums against her skin.

“Good. You know what they say: teamwork makes the dream work.”

“Liv, shut up.”

And she no choice but to comply.

[anxietysroomsupport]

This isn't urgent or anything so its okay if you don't get this out immediately. But I've been having a lot of weird thoughts recently, especially now that school is getting so intense with people pressuring me a lot abt my grades and at least 1 major project in almost every class. But a few days ago I was watching a video on a horror game I like and a scene comes one with explicit, extreme body horror. The rest of the game doesn't have depictions like that and it's for a specific characters backstory. But it contains two of my worst squicks and I had to physically look away from the screen. Since then I keep thinking someone is going to bash my teeth in, or my stomach will be slit. That I'll choke on something or that I'll be hurt in some way. Randomly I'll think about suicide without much prompting. I'm taking off guard and distressed by these, especially the ones that I can almost feel on my skin/teeth. A friend called these intrusive thoughts but I'm not sure it fits

Hi Anon,

It sounds like intrusive thoughts to me, too.  Not only because of the images you describe, but because you say the thoughts are increasing due to the stress of school.

Intrusive thoughts definitely increase when we’re stressed or not sleeping well, which is unfortunate because the thoughts themselves can cause stress and mess with your sleep.  It’s a cycle.

Seeing something graphic is a common precursor to having more graphic thoughts, either of what you saw, or new random horrors.  They’re often very specific to the things that you find disturbing.  From DWIT, Logan points out that religious themes are something Character Thomas is sensitive to, which is why Remus leans heavily on those themes for his brand of intrusiveness:

“There is a reason why the Duke has continuously used religious language-- he’s playing to your sensitivities.”

It can be really distressing.  You are not alone in this, intrusive thoughts are rough.  It’s okay to have thoughts like this.  It doesn’t mean it’s going to happen, or that there’s something wrong with you.  Everyone has bad thoughts come up sometimes.

“..you can’t banish any and all unpleasant thoughts when there is a constant stream of thoughts going through your head at all times... the substance of these thoughts typically provide no insight into your true character.”

Since they can’t be repressed, one of the best things you can do is simply remind yourself that it’s not a real threat, and those thoughts don’t mean anything.  If you’re still struggling, consider talking to a therapist or a willing friend.  Talking about the thoughts can help you analyze them and see how they do not need to be taken seriously.  

Good luck.

-Miss Fay

[mantrabay]

A Little Known Shortcut.

Wandering the roads. It has me under a spell.

Even when prickly brambles

scrape my eyelids or those bony ankles are being twisted by tooth like stones. The angular sort clustered mischievously among the green shoots that litter every footpath.

They lie in wait, in ambush.

It goes with the territory for this seasoned footman.

Meandering landscapes are house and home to the spiral lanes and clover clad hills that are rife in my area.

Their rustic heritage sometimes sacrificed to the orphanage of malleable motives.

Crop farmers obsessed with bountiful harvest.

A restless developer pushing the limits of an urban jungle.

Fellow traveller in league with fugitives from the cockpit.

The pressure cooker of modern life.

The town dweller with split loyalties who clings to the tumult of the city but hankers after some rural idyll.

Culprits one and all.

A lair from the hubbub.

Dwellings of the quaintest kind huddle together like dots in a matrix separated only by a minuscule space.

The more alluring aspects of tradition have been preserved.

Among these are shortcuts or bypasses.

Those sequestered passages that shave miles off for the perennial rambler or clueless hitchhiker.

The eye becomes a lense to all these

things hidden or supposedly hidden.

Human vision as sensor to magic trails.

Those tucked away secret spots beloved of local wiseacres.

They festoon the sprawling countryside at random.

My name is Eric Spring.

Anthea, my partner a transcendental meditation teacher retired early at an early age.

Her withdrawal from work was never meant to be permanent.

A final decision hinged on Anthea's ability to purge that fiendish veil of sadness that had been shadowing her.

There were several obstacles in her path but they weren’t insurmountable.

Thoughts of Anthea in her halcyon days haunted me.

Mental pictures of a vibrant woman imbued with passion.

Poignant evocative heart-tugging images.

Bar excursions into town my station is that of Anthea’s carer.

This eternally stoic woman is mindful of her mental boundaries and the abyss concealed by each of them.

But she is not prone to self-hate or abuse. The more lethal plagues of the psyche hadn't yet impacted on her.

Anthea was groping for exits but hadn’t found the signs.

She remains housebound as I embark on those age defying treks into town.

We keep in touch by mobile phone.

A very angelic sensitive looking person is she.

Reminiscent of a Sunday Times editor.

The accent filters every noun and stresses every nuance.

Like the sounds from an early morning orchard.

Anthea's job became monotonous and her other pursuits painting and writing fled without trace.

A budding artist’s most dreaded syndromes struck.

Writer's block. Artistic vacuum.

The wellspring of her imagination now devoid of those inspiring flashes that sustain creative impulse.

She had few outlets bar my care and a lady called Fidelma who had the edge on me with regard to local knowledge. I longed to hear Anthea's voice on my device.

Her hypnotic voice bridges gaps.

You feel close even when speaking to her from a distance.

I love the walks and savouring all those pivot points of folklore.

I pride myself on my intimate knowledge of every branch strewn rivulet, stream and layered rock formation.

My links to the environment are almost erotic as I crave it's sensual touch.

At times I enter a tranquil zone where the shutters are drawn.

Just myself and all those habitats.

“Hello Eric? Lost in thought again.

How is anthea these days?

I spoke to her over the phone a few days ago.

I sometimes drop in on her when you are out.”

Fidelma speaking with that chirping red robin voice of hers.

She had this penchant for suddenly appearing like an archaeological site.

And she vanished just as quickly leaving the person she spoke to scrambling to process her asides and insights before they disappeared.

Neighbour, friend, root and branch archivist whose grasp of detail was legendary.

“She seems to be coping.” I said.

“Glad to hear that. Maybe I can pay a flying visit some time soon.

But aren't you a foolish man to be imposing all those Olympic Marathons on yourself?”

Fidelma about to share one of her treasured nuggets.

“I love walking but any tips?”

Spring enquired naively as events soon demonstrated.

“There’s a shortcut…..a little known shortcut.

People in the know recommend it though I have never actually used it myself.

Maybe I will one day.

See, it's on the right hand side up the road there.

Think it might be useful when you want to get home in a hurry.” She concluded.

Fidelma in advanced middle age was still sprightly and youthful in her ways.

I missed a text from anthea and Fidelma noticed.

“Yes. I have one of those gadgets too.

Keeps me connected.

Took me awhile to master it.

Wish there was a shortcut for that.

But I'll best be on my way.

Take good care whatever the route.”

As always having spoken to Fidelma I wondered about in a trance.

Another colourful aspect of Fidelma’s personality was her “Banana Skin Syndrome.”

She could lose her balance betimes when enthusing about a topic or when she stumbled on an area that fascinated her.

The feet were a little wobbly.

All this against her philosophy about how interconnected everything is.

The mind is an antenna sending out signals to others was a frequent broadside of hers.

Even when Fidelma said very little she always had this magnetic effect on others.

Those terse one liners could trigger an avalanche in the mind.

Her thin phrases were always shrouded in a well crafted poetic meter.

It was in the tone, gestures and body language.

Those beady yet expressive eyes scanning her environment like a radar screen.

A cascade of images and sound bytes ensued when she left.

Several hours passed as my mind was in overdrive like a central processing unit.

I heard this inner voice telling me to explore this “shortcut.”

Having texted Anthea I then proceeded to this offshoot of a lane.

It was going to lighten the journey of this slope and pavement plodder.

Off I went down this quaint country shortcut.

Nothing out of the ordinary to begin with until Anthea rang.

“Gnawing feeling of sadness.

My mind is a dark blue canvass at the moment.”

Her lilting twang mingling with the song birds at the start of my downward journey.

I sensed this was urgent and started to walk quickly.

That's when problems arose.

Just a plain country passage with a primarily flat surface at this point.

There were houses on each side and some weeds strewn and partially mangled, turned to mulch by wild and indiscriminate boots.

Strange feelings welled up within me as I felt like a geyser at yellowstone.

The puff and splutter of tractors in nearby fields as furrows, the epicenter of future yields were turned.

Scarecrows were strategically perched in the meadow behind the right hand hedge to ward off some menace or other.

Something told me to relate my surroundings to Anthea.

If only to divert attention from an impending gloom.

Those barely audible inner prompts again.

“Eric, I don't want to pressurise you but at the moment I feel this dark cloud.”

Eric paused.

It then occurred to me that I was engulfed by dark foreboding clouds in tandem with a rising rainbow like haze.

As Anthea continued her disorders seemed to be complemented by external threats of rain intermingled with sunshine.

“I feel, Eric there is a radiance trying to break through.

Just to see you … your presence is a light which I could focus on.”

Then I realised that speed was of the essence.

That's when I could have panicked.

Anthea’s voice seemed louder, but also more lyrical as I realised this obscure

overlooked route could have done with some restoration!

Tufts of grass oozing slime.

Mounds of mud with pockets of oil stained water.

The briars were a shock team that endangered every part of the human body.

I was conveying all this to anthea as I was trying to dash at my normal pace.

Oddly Anthea’s tone of desperation started to dip.

But she did appear less tense as I told her this story over the phone.

“Someone told me this is a shortcut.”

Eric said gingerly.

“Who was that ? Anthea asked.

“Fidelma. We met on the main road just a short while ago.” I responded.

“You know her a bit better than I do.”

Anthea observed. “She's going to call over one of these days I'm sure.”

By now Anthea, initially nervous was mellowing as I continued with my frantic running … and staggering commentary!

She didn’t have had much to excite her over the last five years.

But I had to be careful lest those dark brooding phases returned.

Like a roving reporter I regaled her with lurid descriptions of limp green shrubs, tea brown leaves shredded on fissured rocks, juice dripping blackberry bushes with foraging earwigs seeking shelter from the sun.

But here I was almost knee deep in tangled foliage while keeping the love of my life up to speed!

The labyrinthine outcrops and mock craters were all included.

Suddenly misfortune struck without warning.

I nearly sprained my leg as I fell face down on a grassy patch.

Sprawled awkwardly across this surface my phone went flying but I managed to catch it.

“Eric, are you ok?

I don’t mean to be a burden.

Will I get someone to meet you at the end of this lane or short cut.”

Anthea again.

“I'm fine, Anthea.”

Eric said before slowly rising.

I kept detailing my observations and Anthea was reacting positively.

But I made it eventually with the sounds of the road as guide.

The temperatures continued to rise causing perspiration.

Peering thru the maze of entwined growths I saw … Fidelma.

“Where did you spring from?” Eric punning his own name.

“Fidelma ...you fell too.” A question that might have appeared tactless.

She was getting up, having fallen when taking her bearings it seems.

“Fidelma …. thanks but no thanks.

The shortcut.” I said.

“You are shivering.” She observed.

“I am. Spring responded.

“Got to get to Anthea because she might be in need of help.” Spring continued.

We both headed for my house as quickly as possible.

But it wasn’t far.

I texted Anthea and she answered by saying she had every reason to speak to me.

One wondered what that might be.

My face whitened.

Fidelma and I soon reached the house where I lived.

Eric pressed the doorbell as his heart pounded.

The door opened suddenly and we couldn't believe what we saw.

“Anthea, is that you?

I haven't seen you smile like that in years.”

I said.

Fidelma and I were perplexed to say the least.

“It’s early days yet but those locusts of darkness hopping around in my head maybe dwindling.

Those creative juices returned when I sensed your anxiety down the lane because I didn't want two sick people in this house.

But you brought splashes of vivid colour into my drawing room.

I could almost smell the rustic fragrance of every wilting petal and the creaking of every twig.

You set a whole cycle in train.”

Anthea then showed me two items she was working on.

“I have started a rough sketch of the lane you detailed and a short story.

There's been a sea change.” She said.

“Oh I wonder what I'll call this sketch and that short story?

Any ideas?” Anthea enquired.

Fidelma and I looked at each other and spoke almost in unison.

“I think we both have a fair idea what they both might be called.

Your story included.”

A little known shortcut indeed!

Photograph and short story copyright protected to mantrabay