#Country Friends coins

[filloas-e-blini]

All Americans acting like this is just

The Worst™

and the end of the world and "we all lost TODAY" and "I'm so shaken I gotta substance abuse and forget about the world pray for us" and "this SURE is stress awareness week amiright" while. Palestinian people have been living in literal hell not just for a whole year of continuous bombing, kidnapping and torture. But 76 years in a row. And not even to mention the rest of the horrors worldwide caused and funded by USA. Are you out of your mind

[ura-niia]

Hey chat so um idk if this is common tho it's unlikely but does half of the population in a building are related to you at some point or it's just me

[carvers-hawke]

you know healing, and especially more advanced spirit healing, probably requires an extensive knowledge of anatomy right? gotta know how to direct the magic to put the body back properly and all, yeah?

and how a big part of the study of anatomy involved the dissection of animals and, ultimately, of the human body. so, logically, makes sense that mages who pursue healing would have to study anatomy extensively.

except access to cadavers has historically been difficult (I mean, to the point a whole profession existed solely around digging up bodies to sell to doctors) so how's a mage to find quality cadavers in a circle? not like there's a whole ritual where if you take too long you get killed just to be safe...

now imagine a young anders, spirit healer savant, having to dissect the bodies of apprentices who failed their harrowing, or mages who had killed themselves. because, for practicalitys sake, you can't just pass up the opportunity if you want to study. and healing is one of the nobler pursuits for mages, to the extent that they are allowed to intentionally engage with denizens of the fade to further their abilities. so he has to reckon with the fact that people he knew, people he might have shared jokes with, had just been laughing so hard they couldn't breath a few days ago, has been depersonalized into a cadaver to be taken apart piece by piece and studied. for the greater good.

in the worst of it, when he's alone in solitary, he thinks to himself that, if he dies here--from neglect, abuse, or his own hand--at least he'll still be of some use to someone.

[chiisana-lion]

mmmm kinda miss independence day festivals here they were always the most fun

[eelhound]

"I think Homer outwits most writers who have written on the War [fantasy archetype], by not taking sides.

The Trojan war is not and you cannot make it be the War of Good vs. Evil. It’s just a war, a wasteful, useless, needless, stupid, protracted, cruel mess full of individual acts of courage, cowardice, nobility, betrayal, limb-hacking-off, and disembowelment. Homer was a Greek and might have been partial to the Greek side, but he had a sense of justice or balance that seems characteristically Greek — maybe his people learned a good deal of it from him? His impartiality is far from dispassionate; the story is a torrent of passionate actions, generous, despicable, magnificent, trivial. But it is unprejudiced. It isn’t Satan vs. Angels. It isn’t Holy Warriors vs. Infidels. It isn’t hobbits vs. orcs. It’s just people vs. people.

Of course you can take sides, and almost everybody does. I try not to, but it’s no use; I just like the Trojans better than the Greeks. But Homer truly doesn’t take sides, and so he permits the story to be tragic. By tragedy, mind and soul are grieved, enlarged, and exalted.

Whether war itself can rise to tragedy, can enlarge and exalt the soul, I leave to those who have been more immediately part of a war than I have. I think some believe that it can, and might say that the opportunity for heroism and tragedy justifies war. I don’t know; all I know is what a poem about a war can do. In any case, war is something human beings do and show no signs of stopping doing, and so it may be less important to condemn it or to justify it than to be able to perceive it as tragic.

But once you take sides, you have lost that ability.

Is it our dominant religion that makes us want war to be between the good guys and the bad guys?

In the War of Good vs. Evil there can be divine or supernal justice but not human tragedy. It is by definition, technically, comic (as in The Divine Comedy): the good guys win. It has a happy ending. If the bad guys beat the good guys, unhappy ending, that’s mere reversal, flip side of the same coin. The author is not impartial. Dystopia is not tragedy.

Milton, a Christian, had to take sides, and couldn’t avoid comedy. He could approach tragedy only by making Evil, in the person of Lucifer, grand, heroic, and even sympathetic — which is faking it. He faked it very well.

Maybe it’s not only Christian habits of thought but the difficulty we all have in growing up that makes us insist justice must favor the good.

After all, 'Let the best man win' doesn’t mean the good man will win. It means, 'This will be a fair fight, no prejudice, no interference — so the best fighter will win it.' If the treacherous bully fairly defeats the nice guy, the treacherous bully is declared champion. This is justice. But it’s the kind of justice that children can’t bear. They rage against it. It’s not fair!

But if children never learn to bear it, they can’t go on to learn that a victory or a defeat in battle, or in any competition other than a purely moral one (whatever that might be), has nothing to do with who is morally better.

Might does not make right — right?

Therefore right does not make might. Right?

But we want it to. 'My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure.'

If we insist that in the real world the ultimate victor must be the good guy, we’ve sacrificed right to might. (That’s what History does after most wars, when it applauds the victors for their superior virtue as well as their superior firepower.) If we falsify the terms of the competition, handicapping it, so that the good guys may lose the battle but always win the war, we’ve left the real world, we’re in fantasy land — wishful thinking country.

Homer didn’t do wishful thinking.

Homer’s Achilles is a disobedient officer, a sulky, self-pitying teenager who gets his nose out of joint and won’t fight for his own side. A sign that Achilles might grow up someday, if given time, is his love for his friend Patroclus. But his big snit is over a girl he was given to rape but has to give back to his superior officer, which to me rather dims the love story. To me Achilles is not a good guy. But he is a good warrior, a great fighter — even better than the Trojan prime warrior, Hector. Hector is a good guy on any terms — kind husband, kind father, responsible on all counts — a mensch. But right does not make might. Achilles kills him.

The famous Helen plays a quite small part in The Iliad. Because I know that she’ll come through the whole war with not a hair in her blond blow-dry out of place, I see her as opportunistic, immoral, emotionally about as deep as a cookie sheet. But if I believed that the good guys win, that the reward goes to the virtuous, I’d have to see her as an innocent beauty wronged by Fate and saved by the Greeks.

And people do see her that way. Homer lets us each make our own Helen; and so she is immortal.

I don’t know if such nobility of mind (in the sense of the impartial 'noble' gases) is possible to a modern writer of fantasy. Since we have worked so hard to separate History from Fiction, our fantasies are dire warnings, or mere nightmares, or else they are wish fulfillments."

- Ursula K. Le Guin, from No Time to Spare, 2013.

[thirteenfrogs]

‘hot & heavy’ — leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x fem!reader

based on hot & heavy by lucy dacus !

italics are flashbacks

not proofread and idk if makes sense

so. many. words. (7.8k)

—

being back here makes me hot in the face

hot blood in my pulsing veins

england, you know, is home.

you associate that word with the country so often that it always surprises you that the dictionary definition of home isn't simply the polaroid of your house in milton keynes that you took when you were 8.

england is home even when you leave, and it's home when you come back after years away.

being back in england — specifically in milton keynes — makes your cheeks warm, and you're not sure whether it's the uncharacteristically hot sun or something deeper in the pit of your stomach that makes you all too aware of the hot blood in your pulsing veins.

heavy memories weighing on my brain

hot and heavy in the basement of your parents' place

your memories of milton keynes are varied — some are from your childhood, where you spent hours wishing on dandelions, kicking a ball around the neighbouring streets, and chasing the ice-cream van with a 50p coin you found in the gutter in the hopes of a screwball or a mr. whippy.

some memories are from your teenage years, where the bus ride to school was more entertaining than any parties your friends dragged you to in short dresses and the promise of a kiss from the good looking lad in the year above, no matter how much you insisted that you would much rather go to the cinema with your mates (and sneakily hold hands with your best friend).

few memories are from your adult years, when you decided to travel to neighbouring cities and spent hours exploring the intricacies of museum architecture and flirting to get free drinks in the new pub that opened around the corner from your secondary school.

every memory, though, includes her.

leah williamson — your childhood best friend, teenage love, and the reason why being back home feels both freeing and suffocating at the same time.

you used to be so sweet

leah used to pick flowers.

it was something that, more often than not, ended with you both being chased down the street by an angry neighbour who had fists in the air yelling that they were already on the phone to your mums and you would both be in for it when you got home.

it was always worth it, though, when after running so fast for so long you swear your legs could fall off, leah presents you with a fistful of whatever flowers were growing in that particular garden with some blades of grass and the roots still attached to the muddy bouquet. there would always be a dandelion, too, and the blonde girl would insist you make a wish just so she could pester you for hours after about what you had wished for.

and even when your mum does inevitably tell you off after the streetlights had come on and signalled your time to retreat home, the crumpled flowers you hold tight in your grasp remind you that tomorrow you'll do it all again, and the collection of wilted flowers on your windowsill will surely grow once more.

when she sees you again for the first time in almost 5 years, leah refrains from breaking into the nearest garden to steal you a flower and instead settles for a quick hug that feels more like home than any house she's ever lived in.

now you're a firecracker on a crowded street

couldn't look away even if i wanted

it’s merely a coincidence, you tell yourself, that your trip back home coincides with leah’s 26th birthday.

she invites you to a small get-together she’s having in london, and you try not to think about all the birthday traditions that have been broken in the years apart from your ex-best-friend. gone are the sleepovers you held the night before, gone are the parties your families had in your back-gardens, and gone are the shared slices of your favourite cakes.

get-togethers in hidden bars in london are new to you, but they seem familiar to leah and those she considers most important to her.

meeting up with her teammates and friends is a bittersweet experience, and you try not to think about how the leah they’re celebrating is wildly different to the leah you’re celebrating.

you look at the blonde and see the girl you once considered your better half, your extra limb, and they simply see the woman she is today.

leah’s the same as she always was, you notice from your seat at the bar, as she attracts the attention from the entire room without even trying. she’s still the same leah that was a thousand times more popular than you, and she’s still the same leah that never seemed to notice the hold she had on others.

you watch the way her eyes light up when she’s had a drink, and it takes you back to bonfire night when you were 7. when leah first held a sparkler on your crowded street, and her immediate thought was to try and cast a spell on you, giggling like a madman when you throw yourself to the floor like you had been struck.

you think the sparkle in her eyes is still there, and you pretend not to notice the way it brightens when she catches sight of you watching her. you couldn’t look away even if you wanted, and it takes a tap to your shoulder to snap you out of your leah-induced haze.

“kei!” you throw your arms around the ginger in a warm hug, and she responds back eagerly.

“hi, y/n/n, it’s so good to see you again.” keira smiles, squeezing your shoulders gently.

“it’s been a while.” you agree, letting her take the seat next to you.

you find yourself sticking with keira and other familiar faces, such alex and georgia, for a lot of the night — getting tipsy as you reminisce on shared memories and anecdotes about a certain blonde who was drunkenly serenading the entire bar.

at one point, it’s just you and keira, both equally drunk as you laugh about that time leah fell off a swing and was convinced that a ghost had pushed her.

“she was mad — still is, i think.” keira grins, glancing over to leah as she dances around the room.

“it’s a wonder i survived so long.” you agree, a smile on your flushed cheeks.

“i always thought you were it for each other, you know.” keira muses quietly, glancing between you and leah across the room.

“me too.” you take a large gulp of whatever drink georgia had forced into your hand 5 minutes prior.

“i still do.” you glance up at her in confusion, but keira’s slightly slurred words continue, “i know i’m drunk, and i know you are too, but i really think you shouldn't give up on her. she never gave up on you, not really.” at your silence, keira backtracks slightly, wincing at her own drunken word-vomit. "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have- i know you're happy in spain now, i didn't mean to bring up old-"

"i’m moving back to london soon.”

and with that, you make your way to the bar to order another drink, eyes drifting around the room and automatically landing on the woman of the hour, who takes that as her cue to stumble over for the first time that night.

“dandelion! i didn’t think you were coming!” she shouts over the song that you know was once her favourite, wrapping her arm over your shoulder and squeezing you close in a once-familiar embrace.

“neither did i.” you admit quietly, never one to be able to lie to her.

“i’m glad you did, now we can sing our song!”

“no karaoke-“

“yes karaoke!”

and like no time had passed at all since you were leah and y/n, the blonde leads you to the small stage with a firm hand.

“one song, and then i’m sitting back down.” you say firmly, and leah simply grins, pushing a piece of hair out of your face as gently as she can with her clumsy hands.

“that’s my shy girl.” she coos as she pinches your cheek teasingly, and you simply roll your eyes. "you never were one for the stage, were you, dandelion?"

try to walk away but i come back to the start

led me to the floor even though i'm not a dancer

the night before your year 11 prom was spent in leah's bed — which was practically yours too with how much time you spent there growing up — laying side by side and staring at the ceiling as if the answer to why your cheeks were so warm was written above the bed.

"what if someone asks me to dance?" it's the first question you ask that betrays how nervous you really are for the upcoming event, and leah scoffs in response.

"tell them to shove off because you've already got a dance partner." the answer is so leah that you have to take a moment to roll your eyes, and because she apparently has eyes on the side of her head, she kicks you for it.

"i don't suppose that dance partner is you, is it?" you tease lightly, bumping your shoulder with hers and watching expectantly for her rebuttal.

"who else would it be?" she turns to look at you, blue eyes searching your face for the answer she knows she'll never get.

because the answer is nobody. there's not a single other person on planet earth you would trust to dance with you, and since there aren't any martians visiting any time soon, you'll stick with leah.

and stick with leah you do.

you're attached to her side when your mums take as many pictures as their cameras can physically hold, leah's hand settled on your waist and your head leaned against her shoulder as you stand outside your house. you pretend the blush on your cheeks is from the never-ending compliments from your families and the warm sun, and not the way that your best friend squeezes your hip gently to remind you pay attention to the cameras and not her.

you remain within arm's length of leah the entire night except for the 2 minutes that she disappeared to fetch you a drink that she knew you would need in the warm room, and even then she had tried to take you with her.

your interlocked pinky fingers keep you close as you make your way around the room, mindlessly chatting to your classmates.

you didn’t go near the dance floor, though, no matter how often leah tried to drag to towards it. you had made your opinions on dancing very clear and leah swore if that she heard the words “i’d rather die” come out of your mouth again then she’d kill you herself.

instead, the pair of you mingle with all of your friends and poke fun at the teachers’ outfits as they supervise the room with eagle eyes, though the blonde never lets up in her begging for a dance.

“come on, dandelion, just dance with me? please?” the pout on leah’s face is one you’ve seen many times in your decade of friendship, and not once have you ever had the heart to deny it.

“lee,” you whine, feeling your resolve crumble further when she steps closer. “i’m not a dancer. i don’t dance.”

“i do! i’ll show you how to do it.” she looks down at you with her most pleading expression, “please?”

“i’ll look-“

“you won’t look stupid, and don’t even think about suggesting it again.” she squeezes your pinky gently with her own, and you know you’re gone. “if anyone says anything, i’ll kick ‘em right in the face with these stupid heels — and that’s a promise!” you bite your lip hesitantly with a smile and leah presses further, “come on, y/n/n, please? don’t make me beg in-front of everyone here.”

“…fine. one dance.”

“that’s all i need, my girl.”

with leah’s hand in your own, you don’t feel nearly as nervous as you would’ve normally, and she leads you to the floor where you spend the rest of the night.

you find that you don’t hate dancing so much when leah’s your partner.

ask me all the questions that your parents wouldn't answer

"did you know that olivia in your geography class has two mums?”

it’s a tuesday night and leah’s in your bed. you’re 15 and there’s not much to do on a school night other than talk about whatever comes to mind. leah’s the first, tonight, and you wonder if she’ll finally let slip the reason she’s been deep in thought all day.

“really? she’s never mentioned it before.” you shrug, unsure of where your best friend is going with the conversation. “i guess she wouldn’t have a reason to, would she?”

leah bites her lip, clearly deep in thought. you have half a mind to tell her not to think so hard or her head will hurt, but you refrain.

“hey, what’s up?” you poke her cheek gently, hoping to snap her out of whatever headspace she was in. “you a homophobe or something? because i’ll have you know my cousin’s gay and-“

“i’m not a homophobe, you dick!” leah shoves you with a huff, and you grin at your success. “i’m just curious!”

“bi-curious or just curious?” you tilt your head, knowing it would only annoy her further.

“dandelion, i’m getting annoyed here.” she warns, glaring at you as best as she can with her 16-year-old baby face. “i’m just-“ she sighs, flopping back down on your bed. “do you think it’s…okay?”

“for?” you ask, laying down beside her.

“for two girls to…y’know, have a baby? get married?”

“i don’t see why it wouldn’t be okay?”

“i don’t see why either, but…” leah glares up at the ceiling. “when you think of getting married, what do you think of?”

you blink at the slight change of subject, but conversations with your best friend often go from topic to topic, so you shrug and answer honestly.

“cake- ow, leah! don’t hit me!”

“be serious for once!”

“i’m trying!” you huff, rubbing your shoulder from where she had so kindly elbowed you. “okay, when i think of getting married i think…a white dress, and some nice flowers. i think about songs i’d like to have play too. and cake.”

“what about who you’re marrying?”

“i don’t know, i never think of that.” you shrug, wondering what leah was getting at.

“well isla in our form class is convinced she’s going to marry jack, and she says she imagines it all the time. do you?”

“do i imagine marrying jack? god, no.” you snort at the idea. “he picks his nose still, did you know that?”

“y/n! be serious!” leah groans.

“stop beating around the bush and ask me what you really want to ask, then!” you huff, kicking her shin.

there’s silence for a moment, and you risk a glance towards the blonde.

she’s already looking at you — blue eyes piercing yours. “…do you ever think of marrying a girl?”

you roll over to your side and look back at her, eyes roaming over her freckled face that seemed awfully troubled for a simple tuesday night.

you shrug, “i dreamt i married lucy liu once, but i think that was because i fell asleep watching charlie’s angels.”

“was it…did it feel weird?” she furrows her brows the way she always does, and you reach out and press your thumb between them to remind her to stop.

“no, it was nice until she went all bridezilla on my dad. i can’t remember why, though. think he said her dress was ugly or something.” you remove your hand from leah’s face, but it doesn’t go far because the blonde reaches up and intertwines your pinkies and lays your hands on the pillow between your faces.

“i’d go bridezilla on him too. just for fun, though.” leah nods thoughtfully.

“and that’s why i wouldn’t marry you.” you roll your eyes, squeezing her finger.

“no? not even if i proposed with a million dandelions?” she asks with a smug smile, and you grin as she finally seems to relax.

“hmm…if you did that and got me a pretty ring, i wouldn’t say no.” you nod.

“the haribo ones aren’t good enough for you anymore?” she smiles, her eyes flickering between your own and your lips.

“diamonds are a girl’s best friend, lee. you gotta know that if you’re ever gonna propose to someone.” you poke her nose gently with your spare hand, and she grabs it with a gentle squeeze.

“i’ll keep it in mind.”

how could i deny a diamond in the rough?

it was awfully cliché, and you're aware of that, but leah had insisted that it was a rite of passage to play dancing queen on your 17th birthday, and so you allow the blonde to twirl you to her heart's content as the lyrics blare through your house. she sings along as she always does, never one to shy away from showing her passion for music and love for singing.

your families are scattered around the house and the back garden — leah’s grandmother playing scrabble with your aunt at the kitchen table, jacob kicking a football outside with your cousins, and both your’s and leah’s mums gossiping over a glass of wine while your dads manned the barbecue on the deck. to anyone else, this wouldn’t be considered a very good 17th birthday celebration, but to you it was perfect.

your other friends don’t understand that this is how you’d rather spend your birthday over getting drunk in a field (though, you weren’t opposed to that every now and then), and so it’s only leah who you spend the evening with, singing, dancing, and drinking as much as your families allow.

when it’s time to blow out your candles, it’s leah who stands beside you with a soft smile as your families sing the song you hate so much. it’s leah who presses a kiss to your cheek and tells you to close your eyes and make wish.

‘i wish it could always be like this.’

you open your eyes as watch as the smoke rises to ceiling, blushing as everyone cheers and claps, and giggling when jacob begs for the cake to be cut already.

“what did you wish for?” leah asks quietly, eyes solely on you as you watch your dad carry the cake over to the counter.

“you’ve asked me that almost everyday since we were 6, lee.” you chuckle, leaning into the arm she has around your waist. “and i’ve never once told you.”

“i was hoping today would be different.” she pouts dramatically, “but, alas, my dandelion keeps her secrets.” the hand she places over her heart makes you roll your eyes fondly, and leah simply continues her theatrics for as long as she can before getting distracted with a slice of cake — typical.

you can’t help but feel like today is different, though. maybe it’s just because your head feels a little fuzzy from the beers your dad had allowed you to have, or maybe it’s because leah’s arm had been wrapped around your waist all day and you wonder how you’ll cope if she never does it again. either way, there’s something in the air that evening, and you feel it close in on you when leah shoves a piece of cake in your face, smearing icing across your cheeks with a laugh so loud, you wonder if you’ll go deaf.

you freeze in shock when it happens, and even though you can see everyone in the room cracking up, it’s leah’s laugh that captures your attention, and it’s her smile that you want to shove a piece of cake into.

so you do.

war is declared that night, and despite your mum’s protests about getting food everywhere, you and leah find yourselves in a cake fight that resembles the great snowball war of ‘05.

your cousins and jacob join in, like all children do, and you can hear your dad placing bets on who’ll be the first to tap out, but your attention is solely on your best friend and how stupidly beautiful she looks when she laughs. you don’t know anyone in the world who could pull off a cake-smeared face so well, but leah seems to do it in a way that has your heart beating faster with more than just adrenaline as you run around the kitchen with cake in your fists.

you know you’ll regret this all when you have to clean up later, and you know your hair will never forgive you for the amount of chocolate in it, but in those moments where cake is flying across the kitchen and out the back door, you know you’ll be okay.

eventually, your mum puts a stop to it all and orders your dad to hose you all off in the garden (something he takes sadistic pleasure in as you all scream and run away from the ice-cold water, leah even using your dog as a shield while you used her), and your aunt ends up taking your cousins home before they could catch a cold.

people start to leave slowly, giving you one last birthday wish and a kiss to the head, until finally it’s just you, leah, and your parents.

your mum sends you both upstairs with a reminder not to stay up too late gossiping like always, and you and leah simply share a look before running up the stairs and attempting to push one another down them.

after you take turns showering and changing into some pyjamas, you both settle on your bed with the lord of the rings trilogy lined up for the 4th time that month, just because it was leah’s favourite.

“that’s you.” you point to the screen where gollum currently is, like you always do, and leah smacks a pillow down on your face, like she always does. “that never gets old.” you grin.

“it never gets funny.” the blonde huffs, stealing popcorn out of your hand instead from the bowl like a civilised person. “one day that mouth of yours will get you in trouble, dandelion.”

“is that a threat?”

“it’s a promise.” she nudges your shoulder with her own. “and i’ll have you know i look nothing like gollum; i’m far more beautiful.”

“that’s not a very nice thing to say about your twin, leah.” you shake your head disapprovingly, and leah scoffs.

“that’s it!” and before you can even begin to comprehend what’s happening, leah’s attacking you.

the pillow that was once behind her head is now in her hands as she swings it down on your face, and you barely have time to react before it comes down again. leah’s laugh is loud as you squeal, trying to escape her wrath to no avail.

“i surrender!” you finally shout after far too long, and leah grins triumphantly from her place above you.

your breathing is heavy, and your cheeks are warm, but leah’s eyes are comforting. they don’t hold your gaze like usual, and instead they glance down to your parted lips with an unrecognisable expression.

“you surrender?” she double checks, holding the pillow threateningly.

you nod, trying to catching your breath.

“and you won’t say anything else about my appearance?”

“my lips are sealed.” you nod, watching as leah drops the pillow

“i can’t think of anything clever to say about your mouth,” she says, brushing some of your hair out of your face gently, “i just…”

you hold your breath as leah leans in close, lips brushing against yours, tentatively, for the first time.

you think about the first time leah ever kissed you when you were 6. when you had just learned how to ride your bike and in your excitement to show your best friend, you stopped looking where you were going. you had hit the curb and flown over the handlebars and onto the pavement. it was leah who pulled you up to your feet, and it was her who pressed a magic kiss to your grazed palm to stop your tears.

you remember thinking it was best magic kiss you had ever gotten, because it worked in taking away like the pain like all magic kisses too.

now, though, you know it pales in comparison to this.

you don’t think anything could ever live up to feeling of leah’s soft lips on yours, and her gentle hold on your jaw. nothing will ever compare to the way she slowly pulls away, smiles at you, and then pulls you back in for another.

you led me in your world until you had enough

the day after your kiss with leah, you find that she’s nowhere to be found.

you don’t wake up to leah’s arms wrapped around you like you usually do after a sleepover, and a quick look around your house tells you that leah’s not downstairs critiquing your mum’s pancakes like usual either. your dog sits at the front door whining in the way he only does when he misses your best friend, and you wonder why leah left so early and where she could have possibly gone.

you find that as the day goes on, your worry for leah increases. she hasn't responded to — or even read — the numerous texts you've sent, and even jacob had simply shrugged his shoulders when you asked where she could be.

you're pretty much moments away from reporting her as missing when you hear her familiar laugh in the park near your house. you wonder if you've gone crazy enough to start hearing things, but once glance out your bedroom window confirms that leah is, in fact, at the park. she's kicking a ball around with some girls you recognise as her friends from football, and you wonder why she hasn't invited you like she normally does.

despite every cell and fibre in your body telling you to close your window and pretend you never saw her, you find yourself clipping the lead onto your dog's collar and walking him across the road like you had a reason to be there apart from confronting your stubborn best friend on why she had seemingly disappeared all day.

leah doesn’t notice you — if she does, she ignores you — as you approach, your dog tugging the lead with the insane strength that only appears whenever he sees leah.

“hey, y/n!” one of leah’s friends waves, and that’s when the blonde finally looks your way.

leah reluctantly kicks the ball away, sending her friends chasing after it, and turns to you with an air of coldness that you had never been on the receiving end of before.

“haven’t see you all day,” you remark casually, ignoring the way she rolls her eyes dismissively. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, fine.” leah shrugs, patting your dog’s head lightly as he happily licks her hand.

“oh.” you’re not really sure what to say after that. you watch her for a moment, taking notice of the way she avoids your gaze. “did you want to talk about-“

“look, i’m really sorry but my coach says i don’t need any distractions. can you leave me alone?”

with that, your best friend (?) walks away, leaving you standing there in confusion.

“coach says i don’t need distractions.”

you wonder if leah sees you as a distraction, or simply just the kiss. you hope it’s neither, but the way she seems to avoid you like the plague for weeks after your conversation tells you it’s probably both. she spends all her time with football, and even in school she seems to find a way to distance herself.

and so you see less of your best friend as her passion for football grows, and you feel selfish when you find yourself missing her.

you don’t understand why you can’t just be happy for her, but a part of you deep down knows that it’s because you don’t want her to be happy without you.

she is, though. and that hurts more than anything. leah seems perfectly fine to spend all her time with her football friends, and you find that your late night talks have been replaced with an occasional text asking about homework that never leads to anything more than a 1 minute conversation.

leah doesn’t call anymore, and so you don’t either. she doesn’t knock on your door and beg you to come out, so you take the long way around town to avoid her house.

you still attend her matches — because no matter how upset you are at her, she’s still your best friend and you’d always support her — but she doesn’t run to you at the end of the games anymore, instead she sticks close to her teammates and barely glances in your direction.

drifting away from leah is a slow process, and yet you feel completely blindsided because one minute she was your leah, and the next it felt like you barely knew her at all.

you knew that i wanted you to bend the rules

how did i believe i had a hold on you?

losing leah feels like losing a part of yourself, and you hate that it’s because, technically, you are.

you had always been leah and y/n.

when one of you wasn’t in school, teachers would ask the other where your other half was. when your mum made dinner every evening, there was always enough for another plate because she knew that your best friend would be there whether she was invited or not. when leah’s mum booked that family holiday to spain in 2008, there was an extra ticket with your name on it because she would never dream of separating leah from her y/n. you would never find one without the other, and that’s the way it always had been.

leah and y/n.

you don’t know how to just be y/n.

you find yourself looking to your side to tell her a funny thought that popped in your head, only to be met with nothing because leah’s not around anymore.

your parents don’t understand when you tell them you’ve simply grown apart, and neither do you, because ‘growing apart’ wasn’t in the cards for leah and y/n.

leah and y/n were supposed to stay together until the very end, even when the street lights turned off. leah and y/n were meant to stand by each other’s side, even when you were being lectured for stealing dandelions from mr. miller’s garden. leah and y/n were forever and always, like you had promised when you were 7.

but you’re not 7 anymore, and leah hadn’t given you a dandelion in so long, you wonder if you still know how to make a wish.

you were stupid to think you were ever important to leah. how did you believe you had a hold on her?

you were always stronger than people suspected

underestimated and overprotected

you knew that leah joining the senior squad for arsenal was inevitable — she was an amazing player with passion for the game and a love for arsenal that could rival even the biggest gooners.

it doesn’t surprise you at all to hear through the grapevine about leah’s permanent move to london, but you think that fate isn’t on your side when you find out she lives close to your new london flat that you share with your friends from university.

you’re just grateful that your busy school schedule and leah’s packed football life means no accidental meetings in the big city.

except it does. because of course it does.

you think maybe it's because your body had been accustomed to being near leah your entire life that it seeks her out even when you know it shouldn't. you think that must be why you always seem to bump into her no matter where you go.

it certainly doesn't help that you can't resist attending her matches too. call it routine, or simply call it love, but you don't think there's a single world where you wouldn't support the girl you once considered your best friend. watching leah play football had been a staple in your life for as long as you can remember, and there had been too much change in your life for you to ever consider giving this comfort up.

you pretend you don’t notice the way her eyes always seem to find your figure in the mostly-empty stands, and you always make sure to wear a jacket over your williamson jersey just so she doesn’t know that she’s the only reason you’re still there when everyone else goes home.

after a particularly good match, a few months into the season, leah finally picks up the courage to approach you. it had been months of longing stares from the pitch, showing off whenever she was near your section, and trying to catch your eye at the end of a match, and leah was now finally ready to speak to you.

properly. for the first time since she decided to be a coward almost a year ago and tell you you were a distraction instead of saying the truth.

the truth was that she loved you.

leah had loved you for as long as she could remember, and she was sure that she’d love you for the rest of her life.

the only thing to do now was ensure that you’d actually be in her life, so she could love you up close again.

it’s after a pretty intense match that leah finally had enough to confidence to approach you (after a few words of encouragement from alex, of course). you were sat in the stands, talking animatedly with another girl about the game.

leah swallows the brief feeling of jealousy, and walks towards your seat. you look up almost immediately, like you can sense her, and your expression doesn’t change. you pull your jacket tighter over your body, and leah catches sight of the red jersey beneath.

she hopes it’s her last name across your back.

“big fan?” leah nods towards your jersey as she leans over the barriers slightly, her voice surprisingly not giving away the nerves she was feeling at being face-to-face with you again after so long.

“oh, absolutely,” you agree, your voice dripping with the sarcasm that she knows too well, “i just love vicky losada.”

leah scoffs, “you’re wearing #6, really? let me see.” she gestures for you to take your jacket off, and you shake your head.

“6 my favourite number.” you shrug.

“14 is better.” she taps the #14 on her shorts pointedly.

“ever so humble, williamson.”

“you know me well, dandelion.” the nickname falls from her lips as easily as it used to, as if no time had passed at all since the last time she said it.

like you were still leah and y/n.

she seems to think so too, because leah grabs her own jersey and pulls it over her head. “here,” she says, holding it out to you, “it’s not a #6, but one day it will be. for you.”

you hesitantly take the warm jersey, “i’ll hold you to that.”

“wait, let me sign it.” leah grabs a sharpie that someone had left in the seat beside you and you hold the jersey out for her, trying to keep your eyes solely on her hands and not anywhere else. “there.”

“how much do you think this would go for on ebay?” you ask, folding the jersey and tucking it under your arm.

“not funny.” leah frowns, the familiar crease forming between her eyebrows. “you have to keep that.”

“we’ll see.” you grin, waving goodbye as you step back.

“see you next week.” leah waves, watching you go.

it’s only when you get home do you realise what she’s written on the jersey.

‘call me?’ with her phone number attached.

your roommate wonders what has you smiling so widely for the rest of the evening.

—

things with leah don't go back to how they were — you doubt they ever will — but the new normal, you find, isn't so bad either. it definitely helped that leah had offered a sincere apology for what she had said and how she had been acting with a collection of your favourite snacks, your favourite movie, and a dandelion she had insisted you use to make a wish about her embarassing herself at her next match — which she seemed to think she deserved for how she had treated you.

you don't bother telling her that when you close your eyes and blow on the flower, you only wish for the best for her, like you always have.

you want the best for leah, and a part of you deep down knows that you don’t fit into that idea anymore.

you cherish the time you spend with your once-best friend, and you let her cart you around london with her teammates for months before you break the news that you’re leaving for good.

when i went away it was the only option

couldn't trust myself to proceed with caution

the job offer comes at the perfect time. if you didn’t know better, you’d probably say it was divine intervention or the years of dandelion wishes catching up to you and granting you this once and for all.

either way, you don’t dwell on what causes your boss to offer you a position in spain, you simply give a grateful smile and ask when you can start.

you try not to think about the fact that spain reminds you of leah — of that family holiday you were invited to back when you were 9. you try not to think of the hours you spent playing mermaids in the pool and getting sunburned while eating as much food as your little bodies could handle.

you think you’d be able to find a connection to leah no matter where in the world you are.

every time you walk past a group of children playing football, you’re taken back the hours of running around fields with your blonde best friend as she dribbled past you like you weren’t even there — and then letting you take the ball back moments later because she felt bad.

every time you go grocery shopping, your brain subconsciously reminds you which foods leah does and doesn’t like, as if she’ll be popping around for tea like you live on the same street again and not in a whole different country.

leah didn’t take that easily, either — the fact that you wouldn’t be within in walking distance of her anymore.

you remember the way her eyes shined with tears when you showed her your transfer email. you remember the way she begged you stay, insisting that the better pay and higher position wouldn’t matter if you moved in together. she promised she would take care of bills, and that all you’d have to do is stay.

she didn’t understand that it wasn’t like how it used to be.

leah wasn’t the sun. not anymore. your life had to revolve around something else now.

spain is quite sunny, anyway. you’re sure you’ll find something new.

the most that i could give to you was nothing at all

the best that i could offer was to miss your calls

you settle into your new home quickly, and when you ignore the constant ache in your chest, you find that spain makes you quite happy.

leah calls more than she did when you were in london, and you find yourself purposely ignoring them for the sake of letting her down easily. you lived in spain now, and leah lived in london. it just wouldn’t work.

you wish you were a big enough person to pick up the phone, but you knew that the second you hear her voice again, you’d be back to square one.

the most that you can give is nothing at all.

try to walk away but i come back to the start

and it happens over and over and over and over again

over and over and over and over again

i wish i was over it, over it, over it, over it

even in spain, you think of leah.

you always think of leah.

you watch her games whenever you can — both for england and for arsenal. you buy a williamson #6 jersey when she changes her number and you wear it proudly whenever you sit in front of the tv and watch her play the game you had become so accustomed to.

the signed jersey from all those years ago is the one you wear to sleep. leah’s message has long since faded, and it doesn’t smell like her anymore, but the comfort it brings is the same as it always was.

every birthday, you find yourself staring at the candles wondering what you should wish for. back when you had leah everything, you could always come up with something new to wish for. now, though, you don’t know. there’s only one thing you want, and you can’t have her it. when you close your eyes, the warmth of the candles in front of your face uncomfortably familiar, you only see images of leah. you see her smiling, laughing, and playing.

you wish for her happiness.

you’re not sure what that means for you.

a hidden gem, my own goldmine

you had the wide and wild eyes

leah isn’t just your favourite footballer anymore.

she’s an inspiration to thousands of people, one of the best in her field, and you know deep down that you’ve done the right thing by leaving.

she’s doing everything she ever wanted, what does it matter if she’s not doing it with you?

you’re sure she doesn’t miss you, anyway.

you pretend not to notice when leah views your instagram stories, and you act like it doesn’t make your ache to reach out to her.

but you can’t.

you were a secret to yourself

you couldn't keep from anyone else

now you're the biggest brightest flame

you are a fire that can’t be tamed

you're better than ever, but i knew you when

leah williamson, england captain. but you remember when she was simply leah, the girl with legs too long for her body and a smile too wide for someone in the middle getting told off for tracking mud into her mum's kitchen.

leah williamson, european champion. but you were there when she was just leah williamson, the teenager determined to prove herself and make her family proud.

you held her when she had a bad game, and you cheered on the sidelines when she played her first match as a gunner.

before she was anyone else, she was your best friend.

but...she had always been more than that, hadn't she?

she was always meant for more than you and your garden bouquets and your late night conversations.

she was always going to be more than that little street on milton keynes, and maybe you had always known that you were doomed for heartbreak.

leah williamson had never really been yours.

not even when you were 16, and she told you she liked you the way girls should like boys.

she wasn't yours when she tentatively pressed her lips against yours for the first time on your 17th birthday.

she wasn't even yours when she promised she was.

she had always been her own person, and you were simply the idiot on the sidelines with your arms open for whenever she felt like being someone else’s for a moment.

she had never been yours, but you had known since the day she first presented you with a stolen flower when you were 6 that you were hers.

leah wasn't yours, much like that dandelion wasn't really yours either. because she had ripped it from the ground outside mr. miller's house much like she had done to your heart when she told you that you were a distraction.

you’ve had a long time to get over leah, and an even longer time to find yourself outside of being her best friend. but either you simply don’t want to, or that birthday wish you made when you were turning 17 really did come true, because you find that leah’s the only person you want even after years apart. even after leah had broken your heart and failed to fix it, you still want her to hold you at the end of the night and tell you everything she thinks and feels, and you want nothing more than to listen to her voice and the steady beat of her heart and know that you’re home.

you think that maybe it’s not a bad thing to still want leah. maybe you can start over. you can be leah and y/n again.

it's bittersweet to see you again.

you spend most of your time home falling back into routine with leah, much like the one you had when you were 16.

and while the conversations no longer revolve around who of your classmates fancies who, or how badly you think you did on your recent exam, you feel the same warmth on your cheeks as you did when leah first held your hand so many years before.

your inside jokes still make you laugh harder than any comedy show you've been to, and leah's arm over your shoulder fits better than that tailored coat you got for your 21st birthday.

being back with leah feels right, and that terrifies you.

because it was wrong, wasn't it?

it was wrong to look at leah and see everything you could've had.

but when she catches your eye and glances down to your lips with pink cheeks, you think maybe you'll always be the girls in milton keynes, and maybe the flowers blooming the ground would belong to you once again.

the grin on her lips makes you hot in the face, hot blood in your pulsing veins.

heavy memories weigh on your brain as she presses her lips against yours like they were coming home, and you register her slide something soft into your palm as she kisses you.

reluctantly, you pull away with bated breath and open your hand, peering down curiously at what you now hold.

a dandelion.

“make a wish, y/n.”

you glance up at leah — your leah.

“i don’t think i need to.”

—

[reasonsforhope]

Life is hard for neurodivergent people in Peru. Now a grassroots uprising of people with bipolar disorder, ADHD and autism – organised through picnics in the park �� is pushing for change at the heart of government.

On a bright summer afternoon in Lima, the capital of Peru, Carolina Díaz Pimentel takes some red and green tape out of her backpack. She’s in a park waiting for people to arrive at a picnic she and her friends are hosting. Guests know that they don’t have to be on time, don’t have to make eye contact, and can leave at any time if they feel overwhelmed. No one will question them.

“We want everyone to feel comfortable. At least this afternoon we want to take a break from the rules that are imposed on neurodivergent people every day to fit in,” says Díaz Pimentel, a journalist and a co-founder of the Peruvian Neurodivergent Coalition (CNP), who is herself autistic and has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

Hence the coloured tapes. Each attendee will choose one to express their “social battery”. If they choose the green tape, it’s because they want to participate in the activities. Red signals they prefer not to be approached. Everyone wants company, that’s why they are here, but in different ways. And that’s OK. People start to arrive. Several choose red.

CNP is a social initiative that first kicked off in March 2023. It is the alliance of five neurodivergent women who were already making waves by posting openly about their conditions on social media, but who longed to make real-world change. “I used to see this kind of gathering in countries like Mexico and Argentina and was sad to be so far away, until I saw the announcement of a picnic in Peru. Before joining the coalition, I didn’t really relate to anyone. I had good friends, people that care about me, but I knew I wasn’t like them,” says Mayra Orellano, another of the directors, an interior designer with borderline personality disorder (BPD).

Today [in March 2024] is the coalition’s fifth gathering. A picnic may not sound like fertile ground for a burgeoning social movement, but behind the bags of cookies and crisps, that is what CNP is doing – campaigning for the rights of neurodivergent Peruvians to be understood and accepted, and to live free from stigma and abuse.

The birth of the neurodiversity movement

The concept of neurodiversity has been around for almost 30 years after first being coined in 1997 in an undergraduate thesis by Judy Singer. Singer, an Australian who is now an eminent sociologist, argued that conditions such as autism, dyslexia and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) are all simply part of the myriad ways in which human brains are wired. It proposed a new way to think about human difference and provided a name for a burgeoning movement. In Peru, however, it remains a concept that few have heard of.

“Neurodiversity is not a medical diagnosis, it’s a political movement that brings us together to defend our rights,” says Díaz Pimentel. When she first started posting about her bipolar disorder on social media in 2017, it was taboo: very few talked about their diagnosis in public. Bipolar disorder remains a stigmatised condition in Peru...

Diaz Pimentel’s commitment is stronger than prejudice, she says. Two years ago, when she received her autism diagnosis, she posted a photo of herself holding a rainbow cake with the words ‘Congrats on the autism’ spelled out in white icing. She wanted to celebrate with her community because she considered it a rebirth: at the age of 29, some of the puzzles of her childhood finally made sense...

From picnics to influencing policy

Neurodivergence is a huge umbrella that describes people with very different conditions. In Peru, this causes confusion and a lack of accurate data. Even in the case of autism, the best recognised of the neurodivergent conditions, the National Registry of Citizens with Disabilities lists some 15,000 people on the spectrum. But according to international statistics on the worldwide prevalence of autism, there are likely more than 200,000 people with the condition in the country. 

María Coronel, the psychologist in charge of the ministry of health’s child and adolescent mental health department, says that clarifying this data is one of the institution’s priorities. She acknowledges that initiatives such as CNP’s can help educate people: “These organisations add to our efforts to detect people on the autistic spectrum and give them the help they need. They have a great ability to reach others because they are telling their own experiences.”

Although CNP has only existed for a year, the group is already influencing government policy. Two congressmen have asked for members’ feedback on bills to protect the rights of autistic people. The state agency in charge of integrating people with disabilities into society consulted them on the appropriate terms with which to refer to neurodevelopmental conditions. And the ombudsman’s office made a video with them to warn about gender bias in autism early detection. (In Peru, 81% of people receiving treatment are male.) ...

Creating a more sensitive society

The CNP community says its work has changed their own lives, but Díaz Pimentel recognises that it isn’t enough. Some experts agree – that the problems are as much structural as they are societal. “In Peru we have a gap in specialised human resources. We need more psychiatrists and neuro-paediatricians. We need more young people to choose these careers,” says Coronel...

[Natalie] Espinoza is also a CNP founder and the only founder who is a mother. She has a five-year-old autistic daughter. Finding a pre-school that would accept her was very difficult. Espinoza is familiar with that kind of rejection. At a former job, she was fired when they found out she has bipolar. She had always performed well, she says, but she was told that a person “on that kind of medication” could not work with them.

“When I found out that my daughter was autistic, there was no mourning or denial, just a desire to hug her tightly because I felt very afraid of what society might do to her. I would like her to grow up in a more sensitive place,” says Espinoza. Dedicating time to the coalition’s work is her way of contributing to that change. Currently its communications reach more than 12,000 people and it has 15 WhatsApp groups. Messages whizzing back and forth help their community in everything from getting diagnoses to finding places to sleep in the event of being evicted from their homes.

So what does the coalition want next? “We want it all,” says Lú Herrera, a lawyer with BPD and the fifth co-founder. They would love to create, for example, a “neurodivergent house”, a place where they can offer shelter to victims of violence, run educational workshops, organise neurodiverse entrepreneurship fairs and provide legal advice on inclusion rights.  “Everything we already do but in a place of our own. 

“You know what else we want to do in that house?” asks Herrera as if reminding herself. “We want to have mindfulness sessions, dance lessons, pottery classes. Activities that will ground us. We neurodivergents struggle so much every day that it would be nice to have a place to rest.”

For now, the picnics are opportunities to recharge, ready for the next conversation-shifting step.

-via Positive.News, March 13, 2024

[servantofthefates]

Life-Changing Money Manifestation Tip 💰

This is not a technique I learned from books, or a principle my elders taught me. It is simply something I have observed to be unfailingly effective.

I know it might seem counterintuitive, impractical, and perhaps even downright foolish. But it has been consistently true for me and the people around me.

The tip is: Never ever be frugal with money.

Even when you're afraid you won't have enough, be open-handed with your spending. Spend on your needs, spend on your wants, spend on others who deserve your generosity. Just. Keep. Spending.

The fuck, right? What if you already don't have enough to begin with?

Well, you know how they say, "Love is infinite" or "There's enough love to go around" or "Love multiplies, it doesn't divide"?

The same is true for money.

Money is energy. It just happens to have physical manifestations like coins, bills or gold.

Love too is energy. It just happens to have physical manifestations like kisses, words or gifts.

And it is common knowledge that if we wish to be loved, we must first love ourselves, and give love freely to those who are worth it. We must let love flow through us.

Same with money. If we want to have it, we must first spend it on ourselves and give it freely to those we deem worth it. We must let money flow through us.

And flow it will.

Just as it is nearly impossible for a cold-hearted person to invite love, it is also very hard for a stingy person to invite money.

I have seen this first-hand many times.

This man owned a boutique advertising agency. He gave out bonuses and free international trips to his team the way corporations give out cheap pizzas to their employees. And back then, this man's business thrived. Some months, he made more than global agencies did. And the awards were pouring in too. He was on top of the world.

Suddenly, his elderly mother got terribly sick, and he panicked. He knew he had to spend a fortune on her medical bills, and his fear got the best of him. So he cancelled the free trips. He stopped giving bonuses. Eventually, he even cut down salaries and moved to a smaller office.

One year later, his business went bankrupt. Because all his talented employees left. And with that, the trust of his clients dried out. His business — which had the potential to become an empire — ended up becoming just a TikTok trend.

Because he held on to money too tightly... money felt suffocated and walked out on him entirely.

The opposite example is me. No, I do not also own an ad agency. But I have learned to never worry about money. And since then, money has never disappointed me.

Last year, someone dear to me had been praying for a MacBook, but her parents couldn't afford it. I too couldn't afford it. Not without digging into my savings. So I did. Because I know money will always come back to me. And it did.

Two days after I placed the order, I received an email from Shareworks that my stocks were ready to be withdrawn. The amount? Double what I paid for the Mac. These stocks are released yearly, so I tend to forget about them. But they came at the right time.

And it is like this every time.

I buy a Louis Vuitton bag with money meant for my holiday. Suddenly, a friend invites me to go with them on a fully paid trip to the same country I was planning to visit.

I buy a bunch of tarot decks with a week's worth of transportation costs, and my company announces we're working from home for a week while they repair some rain damage.

I buy a box of Patchi chocolates when I'm already short on my monthly budget, and my salary gets released early because it's the holidays, and the CEO is feeling friendly.

I know life is not always as sweet as I described it to be. Sometimes, it's not about Louis Vuittons and Patchis, but about diapers and cough medicine. I am perfectly aware some people are struggling — not about holidays and tarot splurges, but about keeping the electricity on and putting food on the table. I will not pretend to know the solution to their hardships.

What I do know is there are people who are considered poor in my community who are seriously way happier than me. And I know I have had bosses who made thrice as I did who were far more miserable than me.

And that tells me that despite our different stations in life, energy is energy. And it's always best to let it flow freely.

So I repeat... never ever be frugal with money.

When it knocks on your door, say, "Hey, nice to see you!" When it leaves your house, say, "See you again soon!" And when it finally seems to be making itself at home, do not lock it in the basement. Cook dinner with it. Invite your friends over. Watch a movie. Do karaoke. Look money in the eyes and say, "I'm glad you've decided to stay."

[stitchwraith-stingers]

ppl r acting like were a barren wasteland and stuck in the 1520's so me and my wee grandma are harvesting ye old pepper and 10 tomatoes to eat at 7 am im crying GUYS YOU CANNOT BE REAL

this is innacurate, every balkan person knows breakfast is coffee, airyan, banitsa from a cheap store in the metro that posted 3 leva, maybe 10 alchohol bottles if youre a drinker

[lexirosewrites]

Okay the regency era/bridgerton inspired plot bunny.

Steve is definitely noble, his father is a Viscount, so Steve was raised moving back and forth between their country estate in the fall and winter and their estate in London during the spring and summer. This AU relies on designation being known from birth, so when Steve is born they know he’s an omega and is raised like a noble omega. He can read and write but any other academic interests are done on his own time. He always wears beautiful dresses and has his hair in pristine curls. He has plenty of precious gems but he most commonly wears simple pearl jewelry. Robin is his lady’s maid, and best friend. Her mother works for Steve’s mother and they were raised together until Steve had his presentation heat and she became his official lady’s maid.

Eddie is raised in London and is orphaned shortly before his presentation Rut. His mother was a barmaid and his father was a lamp lighter. He finds a skill for the arts around the same time; he will play a lute on a street corner for coins, or do sketches of people in the park for money. Eventually he saves and saves until he can open his own studio near the high streets and finds that the marriage season leads to increased sales. He meets Steve at the end of the last summer before he is presented to the Ton. Steve and Robin had just left the modiste and were strolling when he saw a beautiful landscape painting in a store window. He drags Robin inside and demands to know who painted the work and if they would do a commission. Eddie admittedly flirts before realizing just how important Steve is, but the interaction ends with Steve clutching a piece of paper with his information so he can send him a commission letter. Eddie ends up getting the letter a few weeks later and a few days after that he makes his way to the country where he stays for nearly a month. Steve and he end up spending a lot of time with only Robin to chaperone them and they both individually develop feelings but both know it’s impossible. Steve starts contemplating if his title is worth it when Eddie sneaks onto the estate during the dead of winter to present him with a hand painted silk hand fan for his birthday.

Then the spring comes and Eddie is visited by a member of the royal staff, explaining that he had an uncle who recently passed and his lordship has passed onto Eddie himself. Despite his shock, Eddie thanks the man and then immediately writes to Steve to inform him of this change. He professes his love in the letter and tells him that as soon as he is presented to the Ton the following month he will make an official motion of courtship. Steve is giddy over this, unable to stop smiling the whole day of his presentation, it only slipping from the shock of being named the diamond by the queen herself. But then, the next afternoon, Steve’s parents show him all of the bids they received that morning but there’s nothing from Eddie. He even asks and his parents say no one named Lord Munson stopped by.

Robin finds him that evening and presents a letter. She tells him she found it in the waste, though the flowers were unable to be saved. It’s a note from Eddie, he had shown up and Steve’s parents had thrown his gifts away.

They begin a secret courtship, late night strolls and secret letters and gifts. Steve goes to insist to his parents that he has found his alpha towards the middle of July but before he can speak they inform him that they have approved of his engagement to Lord Thomas Hagan behind his back. Tommy hadn’t even shown up to any balls to try to woo Steve, the whole engagement had been done behind closed doors.

I don’t know how they’ll figure out the next part yet but they end up deciding to run away together, leaving a ball early. Steve ends up giving a speech, lamenting being a doll in someone else’s playhouse then proclaiming that he refuses to be that doll anymore. He will choose his own husband. After he finishes his speech he goes to run through the estate to the front where Eddie should be waiting but the Queen’s right-hand intercepts him and tells him that his presence is being requested. I won’t go through the whole scene because it’s wordy but it culminates in the Queen approving their marriage and, to punish the Harrington’s for their audacity - to take her diamond away without him having a say - she strips them of their titles and give them to the new Viscount Munson. The Harrington’s are then “gifted” the newly vacated lordship and reminded to be grateful.

I have more thoughts about the fall they spent together and then their courtship and wedding but only if people want it.

not only do I want more of it, I demand more of it🥰🥰🥰

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Dispater, Lord of those Below

No Kings Beyond Death

A god of riches and horrors beneath the earth, protector and jailer of the departed souls, grim Dispater rules many realms with a stern hand and an iron will. Often cursed and seldom praised by mortals, it is this god's cosmic lot to keep order in the underworld, where the caverns of the mortal plane intersect with the labyrinths of the underdark and the shadowed halls of the dead.

While his worship overlaps with many other gods of death, few pray to Dispater as his heart is thought to be as cold and unmoving as stone, hardened by the grim work of keeping the domains to which psycopomps and other terminal forces deliver souls, ensuring that they neither have the chance to escape nor that they are picked off by fiends or other malign spirits.

Judges and other arbiters sometimes swear by him, especially when handling matters of life and death, as do miners, bankers, and others who work in precious metals or stones, as Dispater has a connection to caverns and other buried places. His clergy collects tribute in the form of those soft, perishable things that cannot be found below the earth: grain and livestock, flowers and wine. Their sacrifices of these things are said to pass on to the dead themselves, after their lord has taken his due tithe.

Adventure Hooks:

A monstrous bat haunts the countryside, endlessly harrying a graverobber who pilfered from a cemetery consecrated in Dispater's name. The exhausted scoundrel just so happens to have taken refuge in the same country inn as the party, passing himself off as a peddler who was shaken down by bandits. When the bat attacks that night (as he knows it will) he hopes to use the chaos to shift some of his plunder into the heroes' packs, diverting the creature and the divine wrath it represents.

Rumour is, if you find a trail of archaic coins scattered along the road, following it will lead you to one of the mysterious grey merchants, traders from the underworld who deal in memories and mementos cast off by the dead. Woe to anyone who attempts to harry or cheat the merchant though, as they travel under the protection of the lord below.

Shortly after a resurrection of a partymember (that may or may not have gone wrong), the heroes are approached by a dour devil in clerk's garb who insists that they need to follow her into the underworld to help clear up some post-mortality paperwork, or else their friend's soul might be held in litigation for a literal eternity. "Clearing up" in this case involves helping to clear out a field office somewhere in the shadowfell overtaken by the unquiet dead, fending off hostile spirits while the devil and the deceased do a lightninground of signatures on the relevant forms.

Behind the scenes: Hades has fascinated me since I started learning a mythology, and that fascination has only grown as I've traced the idea of him through history and popculture.

Like all the other Greek gods, Hades gets a roman makeover in Pluto; god of earth, the underworld, and wealth. One of his titles "Dis Pater" literally means " Father of Riches", as the earth contains both mineral wealth and the wealth of good harvests.

Because of his association with the underworld Pluto/Dis Pater starts to get adapted into emerging Christian Mythology as the devil, as his realm of of Tartarus (and its punishments reserved for the most wicked) likewise becomes Hell (which exists to torture anyone who sins and doesn't believe).

Fast forward about a millennia and a half and you have the creators of d&d making all the different names for the devil into a rogue's gallery of different fiends. With Dispater's connection to greek mythology completely forgotten he gets sectioned off as the extra schemey member of hell's boyband, at once brilliantly adept at making plans and driven mad with his own paranoia. While this makes him a little more interesting than some of the other devils, it just wasn't enough for me in the end, so a revamp had to ensue.

I wanted to take things full circle and use Dispater's name to bring my own Hades analog into my game's mythology, a god not of death but specifically the underworld, fully drawing on the connotations of both afterlife and underground. Playing with motifs of kingship and a "death and taxes" sort of legalism also makes for unique themes when it comes to the subjectmatter of mortality: Dispater as death is owed tribute by natural and divine law, but that relationship also grants protections to the tributary. Imagine a paladin of Dispater saving someone's life from unlawful execution because they are owed a righteous death.

Thanks as always to @5ecardaday for the monster stats

Artsource

[gravestrain]

walked in and dream came trued it for ya (nh13)

happy summer fic exchange @nol-pat! I hope you love this, my goal was to write a fun, lighthearted, Euro summer fic and I hope that translates into my writing. thank you as always, Demi for hosting this event for our community. @wyattjohnston. title from espresso by Sabrina carpenter :)

This is 1.8k words of pure fluff, strangers to lovers, I tried my best to make this a gender neutral reader so that it's safe for all to read.

You weren't sure that you ever imagined a trip like this.

One of your best friends was getting married to the love of her life, and when she asked you to be one of her bridesmaids, of course, you said yes. When you met Lucy in middle school, you couldn't say you thought that the two of you would be in each other's weddings. The "friendship" started off rocky, with Lucy holding hands with your boyfriend during science lab right in front of you. Lucy however, had no idea he was your boyfriend, and when she found out, she pushed him over and immediately coined you two as best friends. You were apprehensive at first of her outward nature, but soon found out the two of you made a perfect pair.

When Lucy decided to go to NYU for college, you staying closer to your home, neither of you could've imagined that she would've met the love of her life weeks in to her freshman year. Or that the love of her life would just so happen to be New Jersey Devils defenseman John Marino.

John was in his first season with the Devils when Lucy met him at a bar downtown, and the two of them clicked immediately. The two had been dating for a few years when John proposed. A few months later, John was traded to Utah, taking your best friend with him.

Since John's first full season in Utah, you had only seen Lucy once. When Lucy let it slip to John one night that her dream was to get married in Italy, a long lost dream that had gotten lost amongst the piles of student loans and outlandish New York rent fees, John jumped through every hoop to make it happen, and managed to get it all pulled together in a year. This all led you to here, in beautiful Lake Como, clutching your bags at the arrival gate feeling like a fish out of water.

To her credit, Lucy met you at the gate, the two of you embracing in a hug that was so needed after the long months you spent apart. "I missed you so much! I can't believe you're here!" She exclaimed, squeezing you tightly. "I can't believe it either! And I can't believe John paid for my flight," you grumbled in an attempt to hide how guilty you felt. When Lucy told you her and John were to be married in Italy, it took only seconds of her observing the horrified and disappointed look on your face until her and John decided to fund the trip. Lucy paid her share, working as a nurse practitioner now based in Utah, and the two of them didn't flinch before booking your trip. Lucy said it would be "absolutely foolish" to get married without you by her side as one of her bridesmaids. The title of maid of honor was always reserved for her sister, you coming in as a close second.

"Oh! And I have to tell you, I paired you up with Johnny's gorgeous teammate. He's foreign, single, and not to mention, he's the captain." Lucy squealed as you walked out to the rental car, your eyes bugging out. "Oh I'm googling him immediately," you giggled.

----------

The group of wedding party members arrived a few days early to spend some time in Italy exploring the beautiful country before the wedding duties begun. All Lucy informed you of was that you were going to be boating around the water and having lunch at a waterfront restaurant. As you got ready in what you thought was most appropriate for the occasion, your mind drifted to the man you saw on your phone screen yesterday.

When you found Nico on social media, you couldn't believe that Lucy had paired you two together for the wedding festivities. Nico was absolutely stunning. You never felt like a particularly shy person, but you found yourself rehearsing potential conversations, feeling like nothing could prepare you for any sort of interaction you had with the Swiss center man.

When you walked into the lobby of the resort, meeting the rest of the bridesmaids, they all squealed when they saw you, ready for the day on the boat. "Oh my god! You look incredible!" Daphne, Lucy's college roommate squealed, pulling you into a hug, which you had learned was her signature greeting. "Nico isn't gonna know what hit him!" Another bridesmaid had yelled. You shook your head laughing. You knew that Lucy had made it out to seem like you were forlorn, but the truth was that Lucy hated your ex so much that she was determined to set you up right after the breakup. What you felt was enough time to cope with the breakup had added an extra year onto that time, and it was safe to say you were ready to get back in to dating.

When you met the happy couple and the groomsmen at the boat, you weren't sure what to expect. But you can safely say you definitely were not expecting a party yacht, with blaring music, and men who already looked like they had downed a few bottles of champagne. After the boys moaned and groaned about your "late arrival" of 10 minutes, the boat set off.

You snuck away from the hustle and bustle momentarily to watch the views, seated towards the water with your drink of choice, when the man you had been thinking about for the last 24 hours came to greet you. "Y/N?" he asked hesitantly, almost like he wasn't completely convinced it was you. "That's me!" you smiled at him, and when you turned and made eye contact with his smiling face, little did you know the two of you melted like butter in the hot summer sun.

"Wow," he muttered out loud, much to his dismay. Sensing his nerves, you stood up to shake his hand. "Hi! Nice to finally meet you, Nico. I understand we're going to be walking down the aisle together?" you asked with a smile. He took your hand with a shake, albeit a bit clammy, and put his other hand on your forearm, causing goosebumps to arise. You were suddenly grateful for your decision to wear your favorite swimming suit, the one you felt most confident in. You considered leaving it until after the wedding, but no better time than the present.

"Yeah, we are. Have you been in a wedding before?" You asked him with a smile, causing Nico's cheeks to turn pink. "I've been in two weddings before. Best man in one and a groomsman in the other. What about you?" He asked you, trying not to show his nerves. "I've never been in one. I haven't been to many weddings, this is all very new to me." You smiled at him, grateful that you would have his smiling face next to you throughout this journey. You didn't know hardly anyone here, and before you met the other bridesmaids, you were starting to realize how nervous you really were. But as you met the other bridesmaids, the wives and girlfriends of John's teammates past and present, and of course, Nico, you felt much more comfortable with the fact that you had never traveled outside of the country, had never been in a wedding before, and knew virtually no one outside of the bride and groom.

"Hopefully I can keep you good company, make your first wedding very memorable for you." Nico mentioned cheekily, the same blush dusting the apples of his cheeks. "I hope so."

-------

You never doubted that Nico would make the wedding and your trip memorable, but you were surprised at the amount of chivalry he was pulling out. You were so nervous to impress him, but little did you know, Nico had been thinking about you constantly since you met on the boat. Not to mention he spent the rest of the time on the yacht keeping you company, getting you refills of your favorite drink, and bringing you water when the July Italian sun proved to be as bright and as scorching as you had imagined.

You were getting ready with the other bridesmaids, putting on another coat of mascara when you heard a knock on the door. You were the only one doing your makeup at the time, and after a quick scope around the room to make sure none of the girls who were changing were gonna flash the visitor at the door, you opened the door.

A pleasant surprise greeted you: Nico with a bouquet of flowers, looking breathtaking in his soft grey groomsman suit. "These are for you," he mumbled nervously, pushing them towards you with that blush on his cheeks that was becoming very familiar to you. "Thank you, these are gorgeous!" You smiled, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek as a sign of gratitude. Nico had no idea how he was standing on his own two feet at that point. In just a few short days, you had turned him into putty in your hands. He found himself wondering how far the travel would be from where you lived to Newark when the season started.

He bid you a goodbye, the both of you going to finish off getting ready for the wedding and helping the bride and groom respectively to get ready for the walk down the aisle.

When you met Nico at the end of the aisle, the two of you felt your heart stop. And when Nico continued to make eye contact with you during the ceremony, keeping a soft hand on your back throughout the reception, and when the two of you finally joined each other at the end of the night for a dance, you melted into his arms, Nico feeling so lucky to have been paired with you. He felt himself falling hard for you, and you felt the same way.

"Can I convince you to make a trip to Jersey this season? I know Lucy and Johnny aren't there anymore, but I'd like to think you have another reason to come back." Nico asked with his head resting against the top of your head. "Do I?" you teased, causing Nico to laugh. "I'm kidding, I'd love to." When you looked up at him after confirming his plans, seeing the sparkling look in his eye, you only had one more thing to do. The two of you felt the magnetic pull towards each other, your lips finally touching, and you both knew that the two of you were smitten. As Nico rested his hand on your waist and pulled away, seeing John and Lucy smiling at you, everyone had a feeling the four of you would soon find yourself in a similar situation a few years down the road.

[monstersandmaw]

Monster: Werewolf

Prompt: Childhood friends to lovers?

I can't drabble, apparently. Also there's some angst with a hopeful ending. :3

__

Gods, it hurts to look at him now. It shouldn't, but it does.

You've seen him skin his knees falling off the new bike his parents bought him. He'd been showing off and trying to do a wheelie. You've seen him crying after he put his palm down on a wasp while the two of you were splashing in the blow-up swimming pool when you were six. You've seen him with ice cream all round his face on a sleepover where you watched a movie that was too scary for the both of you and you both cried and curled up under the blankets together to sleep that night.

And then you went to high school together and he broke the hearts of everyone who had one to lose in the first place. Tall, athletic, handsome, he grew into his body in a way you didn't think you ever would.

He went to college and you moved across the country, and you used to call each other and talk late into the night.

Then he went silent.

At first you'd been worried enough to call his parents, but they just told you he was going through something and it would be best if you didn't call again.

Gods, that had hurt. You'd thought that was the worst pain, but now, seeing him in some bar in the city, with his sleeves cuffed up to his elbows and a whisky glinting in a cut glass tumbler between his lax fingers... He looks incredible and you feel like shit.

You whisper his name, and there's no way he should have heard it over the live band in the corner, but he jolts like he's been electrocuted and turns around with a wild look in his eyes, and the glass slips from his fingers onto the bar with a clunk.

You see his mouth form the shape of your name and he's half risen from the stool before he staggers a little. He's not drunk; he's shocked. He says your name again and the music steals it away again.

You cross to him and he looks down at you, his breathing shallow and fast. The light catches his eyes and flares them gold like the toss of a coin.

He says your name again and reaches for your shoulders as if to check you're real; that you're really standing there.

"Fuck," he whispers. "Fuck, I've missed you so much."

"What happened?" you breathe back, looking up at him.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he exhales as he sits down heavily on that stool again and takes a deep draw from the whisky.

"I always believed you," you said. "Until you told me we'd talk soon. That was four years ago."

He screws his eyes shut. "I'm sorry."

"Try me," you say again and there's fire in your voice now. He hears it, and when he looks back at you, his eyes really are glowing gold.

"Alright..." he says. "Here goes nothing."

[dearsnow]

OUT OF TOUCH (1)

- you lost contact with the boy next door, and you believe your life is better for it. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader, ⚠️ adult topics mentioned, part of the series “out of touch”)

OUT OF TOUCH: It’s been twenty years since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw, and, suddenly, you realize he’s finally grown up.

word count: 1,003

a/n - aaaaaa my top gun obsession as of late is currently taking up everything in my brain 🥹 now that i’m out for the summer, i really am going to try to finish what i started. come along for the journey, if you dare <3

You were never “together” together with him. You used to wish you were, praying desperately to every fallen eyelash and coin in a fountain and 11:11, but nothing could make Bradley Bradshaw, the only thing your teenage self wanted, settle down.

Instead, you followed him like a lost puppy, and he reveled in your affection. He was fifteen years old, just barely starting to grow his hair out, and you were fourteen. He was also your neighbor, something you could not get out of your giddy head every time you caught a glimpse of him riding his bike outside your window. You supposed it was a thing of proximity; you fell for the only boy you had ever really talked to, and he wanted a warm body.

It was an innocent crush. You liked the way he moved his (frankly horribly styled, which you only realized later) hair out of his brown eyes, and he liked that you liked him. So you went out on “dates”, and you had a fun time, and he inevitably left you to fend for yourself when his friends came around. It took two months of this for you to finally realize that it just wasn’t going to happen.

As soon as you pulled yourself off of your metaphorical knees, he was attached to another girl. A blonde named Rebecca with curves that were certainly not age-appropriate, even at seventeen. You hated her, for a time, but looking back on it, she had the same lovesick look in her eyes that you did. He had that effect on everyone.

When Bradley left, you didn’t even miss him.

You’re thirty-four now, with a brand-new sparkle in your eye. Things are perfect. You just accepted a new job in sunny San Diego to be closer to your long-term boyfriend, and really, life couldn’t be better.

After high school, you moved halfway across the country to attend your dream college, where you met Derick. He’s a nice guy. He brings you flowers, knows your drink order by heart, and, most importantly, he isn’t afraid of commitment. He has a big, shiny ring tucked in the back of his sock drawer, and you won’t ever tell him you know where it is.

Even your job is amazing, which is something people rarely get to say. You got the opportunity to own and manage a cafe quietly nestled into the cozier part of the California coast, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. Its proximity to a naval base is also a great thing, as uniformed men line up in droves for an early morning coffee or the odd pastry on their cheat days.

You’re hardworking, and finally, finally, it’s starting to pay off. You smile to yourself as you pull the morning’s cash profit out of the cash register and divide it into folded envelopes. Nothing, you think, could ever go wrong.

Bradley’s life is great, too. That’s what he’d like to think, at least. He has friends. He loves his job. He loves the freedom of hooking up where he wants when he wants, without anyone trying to tie him down. He likes condoms and birth control, too, which are very important to his lifestyle. But when he looks at couples, rings around fingers and hands tucked into back pockets, something inside of him gives a little.

He’s never been one to stay in one place. He moved around a lot as a kid, and some essential part of that stuck with him. His job doesn’t make it easier, either–he’s constantly on the move. Now, though, he’s living in San Diego semi-permanently, and his roots are beginning to dig into the sand. And the whole time, he’s stayed depressingly single.

Women want him. There’s no doubt about it. He’s young enough, at thirty-five, for the twenty-something’s to chat him up, but old enough for the forty-somethings to not feel creepy talking to him. He’s fit, smooth, confident, and if he wants to take it that far, very good in bed. Despite all of that, he’s never found anyone that could truly tie him down. He’s getting a little tired of it at this point.

“Lord, she’s the hottest thing I’ve seen all week.” Fanboy moans into his palms. There’s a croissant on a napkin in front of him that he hasn’t even touched.

Hangman grins from behind him. “You gotta get us there so we can take a shot. As a humble man, I can firmly say that she won’t even think about her boyfriend when I walk through the door.”

The daggers are going on about their new crush of the week. Apparently, Fanboy had spotted what he describes as a “cuteness off the charts” cafe owner on his quest for a new dessert spot. There’s only one thing that deterred him from sweeping her off of her feet: she has a boyfriend, one that she’s evidently quite serious about.

Rooster isn’t into taken women. It’s too much hassle, and he doesn’t like getting in the way of a relationship. He’s made that mistake in the past, and gotten a black eye to show for it. A bit of him is curious, but he won’t take that bait.

“I want to go back. Maybe… maybe I can say the croissant was so good that I had to get another. Guys, you need to go with me. It’s serious serious.” Rooster can firmly say that he’s never seen Fanboy so worked up about a girl before. Who in the world could make his friend geek out like this?

Phoenix chimes in from her spot behind Rooster. “I don’t condone messing around with girls with boyfriends, but I’ve gotta see her for myself.”

Fanboy stands, determination written on his face, as he takes a bite of the croissant. “Let’s go. And you guys better not steal my thunder.”

Rooster rolls his eyes, but follows behind his very smitten friend. He’s in for an interesting (if not somewhat funny) afternoon.

NEXT

Taglist: @m1dnightsnackz @itsarabellebabes

[thedivineart]

Confirmation Signs To Determine Your Future Spouse

ꕀ ׅ࣪ ꒰ ✮ ꒱ links : navigation. send love.

pacs. paid services.

one

wishing well, a fountain, throwing coin and wishing in fountain, unexpected meeting, receiving the most special gift from someone, a lost purse/wallet, climbing alone in mountain to reduce stress/ hangout, being alone without feeling lonely, a dog coming towards you, small home in forest, cross roads, being happy in other people relationship, going to building/institutions to fix legal documents, a friends to lovers trope, visioning your past life, a gallantry from someone, aiming financial achievement, lucky money wins, a nest eggs, flames, mutual feelings with someone, being flirt, co-worker, a new friend, ships, a little home/cottage, new house/places, moving to a new place, soulmate connection, meeting perfect person/ ideal lover, seeing lots of abiding love, wedding, wedding rings, hurt/painful feeling, hospital/doctor, unrequited love

⋆ feel free to ask question you didn't understand in this reading

‹𝟹 leave like or re-blog when you love it !

two

changing location whether it is for work or residency, when you heal from the past, starting a new, stork, a invitation for a event, gifts ( receive or give ), helpful advice from someone, receiving lots of good news, a clock/time, your hate and fear towards someone, a handshake, a journey ( travel ), birds, sharing ( partnership), food, restaurant/ fast-food places, notice of correspondence from important bills, writer/ journalist, financial loans/help, being at your lowest point such as feeling trapped/tired/staying at home/unhealthy situation, a friend betrayal, older than you, foreign, lawyer/authority, being attack, an enemy, invitation in weddings or engagements, church, cemetery, thinking negative/ having negative thoughts, a large body of water such as beaches, pools, fountains etc, night, cold weather/winter, locks, fishes, physical union with someone, a mending of broken friendship/ex love, party, clubs

⋆ feel free to ask questions you didn't understand in this reading

‹𝟹 leave like or re-blog when you love it !

three

younger, foreign / leader, bad girl & boy image/personality, unexpected kiss, feeling lonely, a new lover/person, family oriented, lady and moody, soulmates connection, unexpected friendship with someone, horse/sagittarius, a good news coming, an artist/poet, student of arts, athletic body or an athlete, lack of focus in commitment, receive or give gifts, fountains, generous, wears uniform that symbolize their position at work, a friend, co-worker, a peer, taking time to heal the wounds of the past, in park, in forest, walking around and meeting someone new, having time alone, wandering in woods, in the big trees, travel, achievement, lucky breaks, successful moving up ( at work or something), the space, distance, someone is far away, delay, receiving love letters and bouquet of flowers, country side, simple life, money surrounds them, professional person, workaholic and less focus on love, a bank; good at handling finances, provides good advice in finance, a happy family, fire/burning, summer, evening, warm weather country, good judgement, social

⋆ feel free to ask questions you didn't understand in this reading

‹𝟹 leave like 🙵 re-blog when you love it !

four

authority, can be foreign, arrogant, weddings, older, negative emotions, large body of water such as beaches, pool, fountains, lake, pond etc, night, cold weather/winter, a dog, a friend, a church, a purse, money, financially stable/ wealthy, office, jewelry box, a social butterfly, enjoy clubs and socializing, likes to be busy and active, wine, travel, trips via water, clouds, heavy rains, good partner, sensual, good at financial advice, an expensive wedding of a friend, children, financially secure, fixing cars, lily, workaholic, trying their best at difficult situation, lion, a Leo sign, quite, electric, jealous and possessive, like to give great advice, streets of gold

⋆ feel free to ask questions you didn't understand in this reading

‹𝟹 leave like 🙵 re-blog when you love it !

© thedivineart. do not plagiarize any of my work, translate or repost it on other social media platform.

[artificial-transmutations]

The road trip

College was finally over! Randy and Danny, who had spent the last four years living in the same dorm room, were celebrating their graduation with a dream they had nurtured for the past few months: A road trip across the country! They would travel together, spend the time driving and the nights in motels, and finally visit some famous places along the way.

Both of them had the money for it and the time to spare. Danny, of course, who was the more reliable of the duo, was the one who had planned out the whole trip in advance. He had the maps, the motels and the sights all written down, and now they were driving through the countryside to the west.

All went according to plan and the two friends were already a few days on the road, when the accident happened. Randy, who didn't get much sleep the night before was driving while Danny was taking a nap in the seat next to him. The monotonous sight of the country road was not helping much, and Danny found it more and more difficult to stay awake. In hindsight, the sensible choice of action would have been to park the car and take a nap as well. But Randy wasn't the type for sensible choices. He just kept driving and driving until...

*BANG!*

Randy's car hit something, a rock, a stone, a tree. Danny woke up with a jolt and looked around. Everything had happened so fast. The front window was broken, and the airbag had exploded.

Danny couldn't see because of the airbag and tried to open the door. Luckily, it wasn't jammed, and he could work himself out of the car just in time to see Randy crawl out on the driver's side as well.

"Randy! Are you hurt? What happened?"

"No, I'm okay, but the car... "

Danny, who had managed to stand up by now, took a look at the front of the car. They had collided with a large rock next to the road. Even without any mechanical expertise, Danny recognized that the car was wrecked, damaged beyond repair. Next to one of the car's wheels, he spotted something on the ground. When he picked it up, however, it was just some old coin that he quickly pocketed.

"Fuck." was all Danny remarked. It was unlike him to swear, but the situation called for it.

Randy was still looking at the wreck of his car in disbelief. A thousand thoughts spun around in his head, ranging from "my dad's gonna kill me" to "I should really have been more careful". He finally decided on:

"How are we going to get back to civilization?"

"I'm not sure, but we'll figure something out. We should really get the rest of our luggage and call for help."

The two former students did as suggested and collected their luggage from the car. Luckily, everything that had been in the trunk was more or less intact. Calling for help, however, was a bigger problem than anticipated.

"No reception." Randy stated and Danny nodded, adding only another "Fuck.".

"Perhaps, there's some sort of service station nearby. We should probably walk in the direction we were driving." Danny said after a short consideration.

Neither of them knew how far it was going to be - but surely, at some point, they would be able to use their phones.

After walking for about twenty minutes in the blazing heat, Danny suddenly stopped.

"What's the matter?", Randy asked.

"It's fucking hot, that's what it is", Danny answered. His voice sounded scruff, but that was probably just because of the lack of water. After a short bit of hesitation, he pulled his white t-shirt over his head and used it to wipe away his sweat before dropping it to the ground.

"Better." he mumbled, but it didn't take long for the sweat to return.

Randy, who had also stopped when Danny did, looked at him and his surprisingly well defined torso, glistening in the sun. He had known Danny for a long time, and had seen him shirtless more than once, but his friends exposed chest was way more impressive than he remembered.

"Aren't you hot?"

Randy was interrupted in his thoughts by the question.

"No, actually... I'm not sweating one bit." he answered truthfully. That earned him a strange look from Danny, but no further comment.

Danny was hot, really hot. His mind was clouded, and it was difficult for him to think straight. After another short while, he cursed again.

"Fuck this shit! We're not getting anywhere like that."

Absentmindedly, he scratched his chest, which showed a coating of fine dark hairs now. Randy was pretty sure they weren't there some moments ago. What was going on?! Randy really didn't want to stare, but there were some not-so-subtle changed in his friend. The chest, the hair, the sudden change in behavior... and was that a tattoo on his shoulder? Randy was very, very certain that Danny didn't have any tattoos and yet, here was one. It looked like a crest or something, perhaps a military motive? That was impossible, of course, Danny was a gentle pacifist.

It didn't look bad on him, though. Randy found his eyes glued to his friends body, taking everything in, the muscles, the tattoo, the hair, the... bulge.

"Are you enjoying the view?" the question was snarky, almost aggressive, and definitely not what Randy was used to.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" Randy began, but Danny had already closed the distance between them and closed his hand (Randy could swear it was bigger and rougher than before) around Randy's crotch. Only now that it had been touched, Randy realized that he had grown hard.

"Don't act innocent, you little fag", Danny growled. "You're enjoying the view."

"Yes." Randy breathed. The whole situation was weird, and definitely not good, but his friend's hand on his cock felt so incredibly good. Of course, Randy wasn't gay... was he?

When he looked up, he saw Danny grinning a superior grin, despite his harsh words. He had grown significantly, Randy noticed. Not taller, but broader, with big, strong muscles. More tattoos had appeared on his other arm as well, and his chin was covered in bristly stubble now.

Most importantly, though, Danny, too was obviously hard in his pants. The bulge was big, way bigger than what Randy would have expected, even though he had never seen Danny's member hard before. The sight was mouth-watering.

Danny laughed and pressed his groin into Randy's, letting him feel the hardness.

"Yeah, I know what you want."

He opened his pants with his free hand and dropped them, revealing a huge member.

"Do you like what you see?"

Randy couldn't do much else than nod. The sight was just mesmerizing. He was still vaguely aware that they were open in public, on a road, but he couldn't help but stare at his friend's huge cock.

"Come on, give it a kiss."

Randy did as he was told and started to kneel down in front of his friend, but he was interrupted again by Danny's big hand that stopped him.

"But first...", Danny's voice sounded lower, more manly now, as he reached into Randy's pants and underpants and closed his hand around Randy's very stiff dick before he continued:

"I'll take this."

With that, he suddenly *yanked* at Randy's cock and balls, who was expecting the pain of a lifetime. Surprisingly enough, it didn't feel too bad. There was an odd pulling sensation for a moment, but it passed quickly. Even as Danny had retracted his arm, Randy could still feel his firm hand gripping his cock and balls - and he could *see* them, too: Danny was still holding them in his hand, detached from Randy's body.

"Ah, a perfect toy. This should keep you busy while I make use of your mouth."

The realization of what had happened was overwhelming, but it didn't stop Randy from feeling horny. It didn't help that Danny was idly playing with his detached cock, making him moan.

"Didn't you hear me? On. Your. Knees."

Randy was surprised, and even scared a little. How could Danny speak with such authority, like he was a superior man? Like he was... Randy's master.

As he finally went down on his knees, he looked up and was confronted with a different kind of surprise: Danny had been wearing blue jeans before, but now he was greeted by old and worn, and, most importantly, smelly, camo pants, held by a leather belt with a big metal buckle. The pants were open and his giant dick, still hard, hung out between the legs, resting on the heavy balls.

"Suck it." Danny said.

Randy did as he was told, putting his lips around the giant cock and started to suck. It felt more than weird, sucking another man's cock while having his own member detached and being slowly rubbed by the manly hands of his frie...

No, Danny was clearly superior to him now, much too superior to be a peer of his. He was his master, his owner perhaps. He was the one who held his cock in his hand, quite literally. The thought was thrilling for Randy, and he moaned out of pure pleasure.

Danny seemed to enjoy the blowjob as well, and, surprisingly, his cock grew even larger. With a low growl, Danny came in Randy's mouth. It was an incredible amount of cum, filling his mouth and making him gag.

"Good." Danny smirked and zipped up his pants. "And now you're gonna replace the car you crashed."

With these words, Randy found himself beginning to change. He fell to the ground and watched as both his hands and feet became larger, black and rubbery. There was no doubt: They were turning into... tires!

His whole body exploded in size, shredding his clothing as if they were made of paper. His skin turned hard and metallic and took on a bright yellow color. His body hollowed out and glass formed on the front, the sides and the back, as Randy, the human quickly became Randy, the car. And not just any car. He was becoming a brand new, modern, yellow jeep. His intestines turned into one of the most powerful engines you could own, while his mind underwent another transformation.

Randy's thoughts became clearer, simpler, more mechanical, as his mind was being absorbed into the on-board computer, effectively becoming nothing more than a subservient AI. With all his sensors, Randy noticed of course, as the rugged redneck, Dan the man, entered his interior and took a deep breath of Randy's new car smell.

"Alright, let's get going." Danny mumbled to no one in particular and inserted the key, which had been Randy's cock before, into the keyhole that had been Randy's mouth.

Immediately, Randy roared to life, and at the touch of his owner accelerated down the long country road.