#Journal: Rhythm of the Night

[paperkatt]

Some fanart featuring me and my partner as Night in the Woods characters! I know fall is the usual time to be thinking about this game, but I've been thinking about it a lot lately and will probably be wandering Possum Springs again soon.

[soothing-roses]

Music is starting to help heal myself.

It’s a way to keep the thoughts from getting too loud and the silence too deafening.

[ozzgin]

Based on The Lighthouse (2019) movie, because I feel like it would make a nice monster romance. Isolation, vivid dreams of sea creatures, and a tentacle beast hiding in the top room? Come on.

Content: gender neutral reader, same gendered captain (homoerotic tension), monster romance (merfolk and tentacles), dubious consent, absurdism, horror, NSFW

“Y’know, the others…they don’t make it to the six month mark.”

Your captain continues to eat, unbothered by the ominous statement they just made. You fiddle with your cutlery, slowly digesting your present circumstances.

You’ve been shipped to this island as the lighthouse keeper. It’s you, the captain, and the tall, crashing waves. A boat will pick you up and bring you back to land in a few months, if everything goes well.

If everything goes well.

You drag your feet upstairs, to the small, cramped room you share with your higher up. Your hands search underneath the pillow, until they eventually pull out a wooden statue. It’s a monstrous human donning a chiseled fish tail instead of legs; the merfolk. You’d found the trinket on the day you moved in, stuffed in your mattress.

When did your vivid dreams start? Probably around the same time as your discovery. You opened your eyes to a pale, deformed creature thrusting into you. You could hear the wet, sloppy sound of its claspers ruining your hole, the waves breaking against the rocky shore, and its breathy giggle as it observed you. You tried to slap it off you, but your arms were mush, flailing without aim. Your gaze lowered to its long, scaly tail, spasming and curving to the rhythm of your defile.

One morning, you woke up outside, sprawled on the sand with your tongue dried up and your skin scratched all over. Your fingers relaxed, revealing a clump of translucent scales.

“You must’ve sleepwalked”, the captain declared at the time, stroking your hair with one hand and holding their smoking pipe in another. They reminded you of your parent, yet the nostalgic feeling quickly vanished once their bony fingers slid up your thigh.

You sat in their lap, quietly accepting the flaccid explanation. Then, you wondered whether to bring up another dilemma: at night, you can hear them sneaking away, up into the locked room you are forbidden from seeing.

“No one but me has a key to it”, the captain huffed. “It’s where we keep the light. It’s the heart of the lighthouse.”

You followed them once, much too curious to remain in your chamber, silently pacing yourself to their heavy, limp step. Through the cracks of the attic door, you could see enormous tentacles swirling around, engulfing the burning lamp. You ran back to your room, hiding under the blankets and praying for an ounce of clarity. In your slumber, you met the kraken once more. It throbbed and slithered, calling out to you alluringly.

“I dreamt of a beast with many tendrils”, you finally confessed, squirming within the firm hold of the sailor.

“It does have a thing for pretty ones like ya!” the captain joked, releasing a loud, strident laugh.

You place down the statue and flip through the pages of your work journal. Only a few more months to go. Then you’ll be away from the bizarre visions, and the strange yearnings, and the isolation. You’ve touched yourself one too many times to the uncanny silence.

“Dumbass!”

The captain sways in, visibly drunk. They notice your thick, little binding of pages and chuckle.

“The boat was s’pposed to arrive yesterday. You missed it. Matter of fact, it never showed up.”

No. They’re lying again. They always feed you nonsense and fake promises!

Your ears pick up a faint sound coming from outside, millions of suction cups rapping at the old tile of the lighthouse, trampling down to your window.

You’re not stranded here. It can’t be.

[More Monsters]

[prettieinpink]

OPTIMISING THE SLEEP + MAXIMISING YOUR BEAUTY

This post is all about how to optimise your sleep and beauty at the same time <3 I hope everyone can use at least one tip today and apply it to their sleep routine.

Have a sleep schedule

it is ideal for us to sleep at the same time, and wake up at the same time everyday. This is so our bodies are producing what we need at given times, and healing us of any injuries without interruption + strengthening our circadian rhythm(regulates our alertness and sleepiness)

Create a good sleep environment

Before you go to sleep, make your room clean and wipe off any excess dust, a cluttered room makes for a cluttered mind. Turn off all lights and close curtains. Having a good sleep environment allows our body to shut down more easily.

Avoid caffeinated drinks and high sugar drinks before bed

Caffeinated drinks should not be consumed 4-6 hours before bedtime possible, which does include soft drinks. It keeps you alert, which causes trouble for your sleep. Sugary drinks before bed reduces the quality of your sleep.

Have time to wind down befor bed

Don’t do any high focus activity, or high intensity exercise before bed. Our body and minds need time to release the stresses and excess energy from the day. Reading, mindfulness, disconnecting from social media, journaling are some things we can do.

Avoid doing high focus activities, exercising and eating in your bed

Your brain should only associate your bed with sleeping or relaxing, or else it makes it harder for you to go to sleep easily.

Minimise naps during the day

This can contribute to any sleep complications, if you really do need to nap, keep it under an hour.

Sleep on your back

Sleeping on your side or stomach can cause asymmetry in your face. Plus, allowing your face to touch your pillowcase can cause acne because of bacteria.

Use a sleeping mask

Blocks out most of your sight, minimising the distractions in your sleep. Make sure it’s a comfortable one which you wash regularly, or it can cause acne.

Sleep using a silk pillowcase

Pure silk can be very beneficial for your skin and hair but also minimises the skin pulling on our faces.

Wash your face before snoozing

The excess residue and dirt on our face transfers to our pillowcase, which we use the next day and causes acne. + an unwashed face can lead to breakouts.

Sleep with a humidifier

For my dry skin girlies, a humidifier allows for your skin to stay moisturised during your sleep, to wake up to bright, glowing skin. This is really recommended, as we are getting into winter.

Brush your teeth before bed

This can help remove any prior food particles, protect from any bacteria and regularly doing this limits the ability for plaque to build up + bad breath is minimised in the morning

Use an overnight moisturiser

For my dry skin girlies, again, using a good overnight moisturiser can help keep your skin glowing throughout the night.

wearing a bonnet

Reduces having tangled, messy hair in the morning and protects your hair from too much friction. Silk/satin ones are recommended.

[haveihitanerve]

batman has trouble telling his family how he feels. So he decides he can write it down in a journal or leave them notes. It's easy to write down the words than say them because the words he wants to say always get lost in translation when he opens his mouth. Dickie when he was robin has a whole box filled with notes from Bruce. Turns out batman can be funny when he writes his thoughts down. Jason writes back to Bruce just as sassy.

i love this

With Dick, the first note appeared after the first fight. A nasty fight, where Dick had screamed

"YOU'RE NOT MY DAD, WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE, I DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU!!!!"

Bruce had gone quiet after the words, and isolated himself away. Dick had felt crummy afterwards, but there wasn't much to do about it, Bruce wasn't around to apologize to and... well, it was true. The screams had just been... inner thoughts he hadn't voiced.

Bruce knew it too. And, it shouldn't have to be up to Dick to make amends. So he withdrew to his office, locked it tight, so that he wouldn't say words he'd regret and make things worse with Dick.

The first few drafts... were hard. But Bruce found his rhythm, and it was so much better. He could erase and start again, and reword, and clear up any parts that weren't clear. He could be concise, precise, honest and literate, he didn't have to stumble and rip his way through an uncomfortable conversation where he'd make things worse.

Dick found the note later that night, laying on his pillow, three pages worth of words that told him he was loved, whether or not he wanted Bruce to be his dad, he could just remain a friend, a brother if he wanted, and that he cared, even if it wasn't always shown, even if it wasn't as a father.

Bruce established boundaries, and apologized too, because it was needed, and it was so much easier to say what he needed to through written words, instead of admitting them aloud. Maybe it made him a coward, it made him a coward, but the next morning Dick hugged him and apologized back, so it worked.

The notes became frequent from then on, usually after fights, or misunderstandings, and Dick understood the need, knew that Bruce wasn't as able to concisely share his thoughts and formulate them as well on the spot aloud, so he let it happen, but soon they became more commonplace, left on chimneys on patrol for Dick to find, little love notes and encouraging words that Bruce became better at saying aloud too.

Dick kept each one, tucking them safely into his belt, and kept them in a box in his closet, one he had made at school with Bruce during a parent-child fun day, and pulled them out to read every so often, when things between them got hard.

The box moved with him, stuffed in the closet at Bludhaven, and postage was expensive, travel even more so, but Bruce still sent him letters, apologies Dick didn't open, notes taped to his window he tossed away (still into a pile he never threw out, but never read either).

When things got better, Dick would read the notes, but he never touched the letters from before, because for once he needed the words from Bruce's lips, and he had liked Bruce's stumbling, his faltering and chagrin, and did not want to read his well thought out, thorough one instead. He still kept the notes, of course.

With Barbara.... Bruce didn't have a claim to her. She wasn't his daughter. She wasn't looking for a father. She wasn't, quite honestly, even looking for a mentor. But she found one in him anyway, whether either of them liked it or not.

But Bruce still sent her notes. Little letters, facts, information, telling her through a note was easier than in person. Because then he could lay it all out, and maybe she'd see something he'd missed. Because she always did. She completed him, in a way none of the other did. In a way even Dick didn't. But, then again, they all completed him in different ways. Hers was just more noticeable.

After Joker... every day he wrote to her, flooding her phone with messages, her laptop with emails, her room with cards and flowers and notes.

And when she moved to the Clock Tower it didn't stop, maybe slowed a little, became smaller in quantity, but he always sent her something. Let her check over his work, proofread anything and everything. His fresh set of eyes.

She wrote back, sometimes. But she was more like Dick in that regard, choosing to answer his messages verbally rather than write back. She did have the perfect time to do it too, and she always had something to say.

Barbara never struggled with her words the way he did. And he appreciated it. Loved it, even. Even if it usually didn't mean anything good for him...

With Jason... Bruce hadn't done it, originally, because Jason was just so bright, and understood, and didn't need the words because he heard them because Bruce was better, all the mistakes he'd made with Dick cleaned up a bit.

But Jason needed the words, and he had such a spark, so Bruce began writing again, sliding notes under his son's door and leaving them taped around the house, or on patrol. And Jason, Jason wrote back.

Little witty notes, marked up Bruce letters with grammar corrections, book recommendations, questions about what they were eating for dinner, or little stories, scrawled in the margins of notebook paper, stuck to Bruce's cape, or on his pillow, or taped to his mirror.

Bruce still wrote the letters, left them in Jason's room, after his death. Red Hood never mentioned it, but after a trip to the manor to "haunt" them, he became a little less violent.

With Tim, Bruce was ashamed to admit, he just didn't care. He didn't care that Tim winced at his words, he didn't care if he was misunderstood, he didn't care if he neglected the boy.

And it hurt, Bruce knew it hurt him, but he just didn't care, couldn't bring himself to, not when Tim was so much like the boy he'd lost, not when Tim was so different.

But Tim started writing letters, originally just for himself, begging for affection, begging for his parents to love him, begging for Bruce to notice him. Then the notes got angry, rants, screaming, slashes across the page, pencil marks that tore paper and dug groves into the table.

He kept them all to himself, waded up in the corner of his room, but Bruce found them, found them all, and he hated himself, hated the Drakes, but he couldn't even fault them because he, oh he was much worse. (no he wasn't the Drakes owed Tim love and affection those were his parents and a child deserves that from his parents Bruce tech didn't owe him anything but shiii he was awful and-)

So Bruce started writing again, answering all of Tim's pleas, cataloging every single movement and jump and case and file and everything Tim had ever done right and congratulating him, giving him pride Bruce wasn't even sure he was allowed to give anymore, and he apologized, begged for forgiveness, for a chance to start over, because he was better now, Tim had made him better, and he wanted... he wanted to be better. For Tim.

In the end the note was twenty three pages long, and ended with the simple phrase, "I love you, you are my Robin, and I'm so sorry"

Tim was at school, so Bruce left it on his bed, and shut himself away in the cave until he got home. He always stopped by his room first, tidying everything up, because he was only a "guest" and all, before heading down to the cave.

Bruce waited for two hours. When Tim finally came into the cave, his eyes were red, tears still falling down his face.

"Oh Timmy," Bruce breathed. "I'm so so sorry." Tim walked to him, and collapsed in his arms.

And from then on, things were better. Not perfect, nothing to do with Bruce's personal life was perfect, but it was better. It was good. And Bruce started sending notes. Slowly, they turned from letters into emails, into texts and shared google docs. So Tim would have evidence in his favored form, of Bruce's love.

With Stephanie... things were different. She didn't live at the manor. She had a father, albeit a bad one, and Bruce didn't want to give her another one of those.

But he still left her notes, information, or clues, things that gave her autonomy for a bit, let her work still "alone" as Spoiler, but kept her connected to him. To Robin. And when she died...

Bruce gave every letter to Leslie. Not because he knew, exactly, but because he knew she was closer to Stephanie, and he couldn't have them at home. Couldn't look at them.

Leslie gave every one to Steph. Who read them. Sometimes. Enough times that when she came back, she wasn't as hard on Bruce. Enough times that she let him hug her. And came over for dinner. And never regretted being Robin. Enough times to admit she loved him too. And that he would never be her father. Because at his core, he was a good person, and Arthur Brown was not that.

With Cassandra, Bruce didn't write letters. Not only because Cass couldn't read, but because she could read him. And no words were necessary. For once, he could love someone in silence.

With Damian, words came easier, somehow. Maybe because Damian needed words, needed the commands to be spoken aloud, needed the reprimand or the praise. He needed the tone, couldn't weed it out of what Bruce had written like the others, needed the verbal confirmation or denial.

Bruce needed the words to. To tell his son it was alright to mess up, to make mistakes. He needed to words to reassure his son that harsh language was the extent of what he was going to get. That punishment wasn't physical in their world. In his home.

He wrote Damian letters too, of course, in the case his youngest might feel excluded, but usually only at special occasions, a card for his birthday, or a quick poem to brighten his day.

And words... words came easier now. After so many. It was easier to tell Damian what he needed, aloud as well as on paper. It was easier to speak, to not stumble over his words, to praise and apologize. A good thing too, because Damian needed it. And maybe... maybe Bruce did too.

[girlietips]

8 weeks to a fixed sleep schedule

A little time line for getting your sleep schedule together. You could do all these steps really quickly but it’s better to ease into these things.

Week 1

Pick a time you should wake up at to do a short morning routine without to much of a rush.

Go from your wake up time back 7hrs (at least) this is the time you are going to set your phone to turn off. In settings you can have it go into dnd and limit certain apps.

You probably won’t fall asleep in time if you aren’t used to it but you absolutely have to get up on time. (Don’t move on to week 2 steps until you have enough discipline to get out of bed)

This week is probably gonna suck but if you wake up on time you should eventually begin to fall asleep earlier.

Week 2

Start creating a calming night time routine with at least 30 mins off your phone before bed.

Also if you are still struggling with sleeping I would make sure you are limiting caffeine after 3pm. There is also a lot of little things you can do to help you fall asleep and I can make another post about it.

Keep waking up at the same time to get it fully into your system

Week 3/4/5

Begin pushing your wind down for bed time to earlier and earlier but keep your alarm at the same time. Allow your body to soak up that 8-10hrs of sleep

Also take notice of your natural wake up time and how much sleep you need to feel your best. I like to do this in a journal.

Use these couple weeks to experiment with the night time routine you enjoy the most.

Week 6/7/8

Pick a good wake up time that will allow you to have a nice slow morning and not feel rushed at all. This is when you start jumping out of bed because you love doing your morning routine.

Also start going with your circadian rhythm. I like to use the sun as a good indicator for my sleep. Sun up is work time and activities. Sun down is calm soothing activities.

Other tips

Don’t do anything but sleep in your bed it should be a place of rest not work.

Invest in good bedding (makes a world of difference)

I recommend a sunrise alarm clock. It slowly lights the room before your alarm so you are not jolted awake.

Keep your sleep schedule sacred and don’t let anyone (even yourself) disrupt it.

Also for all you who say you “work better late at night” I want you to seriously answer this question.

Do you actually work better at night or do you work better under a forced time crunch and the stress you created by procrastinating???

Because one of those can be reasonably healthy if that’s how your body actually works and the other is putting your body under unnecessary stress and adding sleep deprivation to it. If you genuinely are a night owl make sure you are still getting the sleep you need.

[midnighvtm4ss]

A scenario I often imagine is Arthur drawing you while you show him your favorite music. Him simply worshiping your body, making you his muse and capturing it in his journal forever ♡⁠˖

thank you so much for your request !

You’re my first request im super super excited !! I hope you like it and that I met your expectations even though it’s a quick read <3

highhonor!arthur morgan x f!reader

warnings: maybe a bit suggestive but mostly fluff, wrote this on my notes app so grammar errors for sure sorry :(

wc: 1.2k

“Wanna put some music on f’me sweetheart ?”

The deep rumble of Arthur’s voice muffled in the crook of your neck broke the silent shared bubble of intimacy that surrounded both your naked bodies.

His hands holding you close to him, tracing abstract shapes on your back as you both came down from your highs, a very well-deserved peace after the events of the past month.

The mood around your fellow camp members was slowly starting to get better after escaping the cold claws of Colter’s harsh climate, which trapped the gang in an endless white desert of snow for several weeks with little to no food and an abundance of regret regarding the failed robbery and the miraculous escape from Blackwater.

Although the evening air was still a bit chilly in Horseshoe Overlook camp, being only the early start of spring, one could sense hope warming all your hearts, melting away some of the sorrow and disappointment that the failed robbery and the loss of young Jenny and the Callander brothers left you.

Dutch, more than anyone else, clinging to this glimmer of hope, trying to keep everyone’s faith in the gang.

The wind whistling through the flaps of your and Arthur’s shared tent made a shiver run up your naked body as you made your way from your shared cot where you two were laying, to Dutch’s gramophone, which was opposite the bed, kindly lent to Arthur for a few days.

A small thin cloud of dust and dirt rose up from where your hands flipped through Dutch’s records, eyes scanning meticulously trying to find some of your favourite ones.

Behind you, you could hear the shifting sound of the thick cotton sheets as Arthur moved into a sitting position, his eyes automatically glued to your seductive form like a moth to a flame.

“A ha ! Here it is” you softly exclaimed as you finally found the record you were looking for, the one that never failed to put your mind at ease whenever Dutch would play it around camp.

Sliding it out of the wooden box, careful not to scratch it, you put it on.

As the soft melody of ‘The Flower Duet’ filled the rather small space of your tent you started to sway to the rhythm of the song.

“Sous le dôme épais, où le blanc jasmin à la rose s'assemble”

Turning back to look at Arthur, you found him already looking at you, his aqua irises mixing with yours for a second before quickly looking down his lap and scribbling in his worn leather journal, his face relaxed and a small hint of a smile making its way into his chapped lips.

“What you writing in there ?” you asked softly, body still swaying to the sweet rhythm of your favorite song, a shy smile creeping up your face.

“Nothin’, just some quick…” he took a moment to finish his sentence as he looked back at you, eyes flying to catch every single inch and detail of you.

How the light from the small lamp on the night table made your skin glow and your curves even more defined with the contrast from the darkness of the night sky outside, your french braids, all untidy from the intimacy shared before, shifting with every move you made.

In this moment in his eyes, you were the definition of a goddess, his poor mortal heart struggling to keep an even pace near you.

“…thoughts.” he exhaled the last word, licking his chapped lips before flipping through some pages of his journal seemingly filled with various sketches.

“Ah! Glissons en suivant doucement glissons, de son flot charmant”

As a comfortable silence fell between the two of you with only the soft melodic sound floating in the air and the scraping of Arthur’s pencil on paper you continue to sway, your mind floating away carried by the suave voice of the singer, unaware that the man sitting on your bed is engraving this peaceful and intimate moment forever on paper for his eyes and his heart only to see.

“Dans l'onde frémissante, d’une main nonchalante, gagnons le bord”

His eyes were bright and focused on how to draw your mesmerizing face, afraid of not portraying your unworldly beauty right on paper, so focused that he was slightly surprised when your soft arms wrapped around his torso as you climbed back to your cot, planting a small kiss on his bearded cheek making his heart skip a few beats.

As you rested your head on his shoulder you looked down on his lap expecting to find a doodle or a quick thought scribbled away in his perfect cursive handwriting, but instead, your eyes were met with a full sketched page of you dancing near the gramophone.

With cheeks of a deep red and wide eyes, you looked at Arthur, trying to say something but failing as your heart filled with even more adoration for the not so cold hearted outlaw beside you.

“Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmin, ah !Descendons, ensemble!”

Your relationship with Arthur was relatively new, barely six months, and in those six months of relationship you would often catch Arthur sitting somewhere quiet and isolated with his journal, sometimes writing stuff down or sometimes moving his pencil in quick strokes which you guessed were doodles of stuff he would see every day, but you would have never guessed how talented he was in his art.

“Well it ain’t much of a picture” he murmured, a faint, almost imperceptible blush covering the apple of his cheeks, feeling self conscious of his skills under your attentive gaze.

“Oh you silly man, it’s beautiful, Arthur” you quickly reprimanded him with an awestruck tone, your index finger gently caressing the drawing careful not to put much pressure and smudge the graphite version of you.

“Can I see more of your drawings ?” you asked him, meeting his unsure gaze which was already on you, with your hopeful lovesick one. After a quick internal struggle, he fully put his journal in your hands, giving you full permission to explore this new side of him.

As you flipped through the pages you started to see fewer drawings of plants, animals and views and more drawings of you, from portraits to full body.

He carefully captured in each drawing every single detail of you, your beauty stuck graphite to paper, making you look like a lady every painter would fight for the opportunity to draw.

With each passing page, you also noticed how some drawings featured you in more intimate moments, some when you were asleep or braiding your hair, but one in particular made you stop your flipping, heart racing as a deep blush rushed to your whole face.

On a rather empty page, on the left bottom corner there was a drawing of you naked, splayed on the bed, your expression one of pleasure with your hands seemingly caressing your body.

You stared at the drawing for a full five seconds before Arthur noticed what you were looking at and snatched closed his journal in embarrassment his eyes avoiding yours.

“Well, that’s for another time sweetheart.”

[softerglow]

how to wake up earlier

sleep is a challenge for many people. after vacations or intensive projects or even a couple rounds of staying up late playing video games, we've all messed up our sleep schedules before. this is a guide on how to wake up earlier and get healthier sleep. please let me know if you'd like more posts like this. wishing love and prosperity to all <3

the night/day before:

choose a bedtime that's 9-10 hours before your wake up time. make sure you're in bed at this time. if you don't fall asleep immediately (which you won't, the first couple of times) read or journal until you feel sleepy.

turn your devices off or put them away at least 30 minutes (ideally 2 hours) before your bedtime. if you have any devices that stay on overnight, make sure they aren't within arms reach and notifications are turned off. if you're using your phone as an alarm make sure it's on the other side of your room, so that you have to walk to turn your alarm off in the morning.

make sure dinner is a light, satisfying meal. don't eat after dinner, as this can lead to acid reflux and interrupted sleep.

avoid caffeine and sugary drinks in the afternoon and evening. keep your caffeine intake under 400mg per day.

sleep with your curtains or blinds open. this will help adjust your circadian rhythm to the day/night cycle.

find a relaxing hobby you can do before bed. some ideas include crochet, knitting, reading, journaling or building puzzles. these are well known in helping with stress management and can help you unwind before you go to sleep.

create a relaxing night routine. make sure you feel clean and comfortable by the time you go to sleep.

make use of a lavender scent before you go to bed. whether it's a linen spray, incense, a candle or an oil diffuser. lavender is calming and can help you feel sleepy, especially if you learn to associate it with sleep.

in the morning:

get out of bed the second you wake up. you need to get up, turn off your alarm and stay out of bed.

make your first activity of the day one you enjoy. your skincare routine, cooking a nice breakfast, a warm shower or even sitting on the couch watching netflix is an option. there's no shame in what you choose to do first thing in the morning, even if it's not productive. if it gets you out of bed, it's the right choice.

expose yourself to sunlight as soon as possible in the morning. just 10 minutes could help your circadian rhythm adjust. if it's dark in the mornings because of the weather or the different seasons, turn your lights on.

other tips:

avoid pulling all-nighters or taking naps. staying up all night is bad for your health, full stop. lack of sleep weakens your immune system and ruins your focus during the day. taking naps regularly can impair the sleep schedule you've been working so hard to build. however, if you're really tired, a 20 minute nap is better than a cup of coffee.

make your mental health and stress management a priority. depression, anxiety and stress result in poor sleep. they can be managed with a well balanced lifestyle and professional intervention.

having a well balanced diet can improve your general health as well as your sleep. make sure you aren't skipping meals. have of each meal should be fruits and vegetables, a quarter grains (preferably wholegrain) and a quarter protein. eat as much variety as possible.

stay well hydrated. the common recommendation of 8 glasses a day is a good goal. staying hydrated can help you stay more alert during the day.

regular exercise can improve quality of sleep. exercise during the day if possible, but definitely not within 2 hours of your bedtime.

make a list of reasons why you want to wake up early. read this every night before you go to bed and first thing in the morning. make sure your reasons are important enough to motivate you.

if you're struggling to adjust to a new sleep schedule because your current sleep schedule is so far off, adjust your bed/wake times in 30 minute increments. this can make the adjustment more comfortable.

stay as consistent as possible. try to keep the habits you've built, even over vacations or exam seasons. discipline will eventually become a habit.

only drink in moderation, alcohol can do serious damage to your circadian rhythm. alcohol generally is bad for you and should not be overconsumed.

if you're having persistent issues with sleep, reach out to a doctor or a sleep specialist who can help you.

finally, be kind to yourself. you can't force yourself to sleep, and stressing about it will only make sleeping properly more difficult. change comes gradually, and you can achieve anything you set your mind to as long as you're consistent.

~*

i hope you're having a lovely day. if you have anymore tips for achieving a healthy sleep schedule, please let me know. i would love to hear it.

[starlight-incarnate]

House of Feänor as Aesthetics:

Fëanor  —  loud voice, commanding presence, analytical, natural leader, piercing eyes, foggy hillsides, black boots, tipping their head back to breathe the air, mirrored lakes and everything below the surface, tearing leaves from trees, blunt sarcasm, long dark hair, deep sleeper, rotting tree stumps, black leather jacket, songs that makes you want to create a storm, rebellious, ambition, unstoppable passion, fast trains, polaroids, empty castles.

Maedhros — walking silently, stronger due to all the stuff meant to kill them, ignoring their mental health issues, fiery red hair, crumbling marble, oversized hoodies, raw voice, lingering touches, faint music in the distance, calming down from a panic attack, long heavy cloaks, cold hands, disillusioned with the world, insomnia, unhealthy habits, sighs made visible by cold night air, strong hugs, never sleeps, loud music, freckles, dark under-eyes.

Maglor — hypnotising smiles, a broken mind, melancholy, driving through mountains and the woods, iced coffee, the faint feeling of raindrops on your cheeks, ripped jeans, tight hugs, whispered compliments, deep conversations, late night texts, nimble hands, thin blades, white lilies, vertigo, unkept journals, lightning and thunder, rhythms so raw the heartbreak is showing, shattered glass, walking alone on a cold night, silver necklaces, regret.

Celegorm — bright eyes, climbing rock formations, cold-hearted, hard breathing after running, wood cabins, gladiator arenas, wicked smiles, twisted branches, wild hair, growing more and more dangerous, night drives, adrenaline rushes, bruises, bloody cloaks, running from society, breathless laughing, that animalistic unpredictability, silver and leather bracelets, strong coffee after a sleepless night, city lights from a high rise, addiction, barking dogs, hurricanes.

Caranthir — ironic smirks, bitten nails painted black, lightning in summer, empty threats, sunglasses hiding dead eyes, thick chain jewellery, temperamental, goes to car races just to watch the crashes, deep glares, tongue/lip piercings, midnight walks, lightbulbs burning out, diamonds, crushed ice, a glint of cat eyes in the dark, gold coins in storm drains, cold hands, storm clouds rolling in, theatres, suppressed emotions, wrought iron gates, motorcycles. 

Curufin — cherries and Diet Coke, white marble, a studio apartment on the 67th floor, tattoos, neon lights, sweetened coffee, smudged makeup, too-loud music, cursive notes written in red ink, veiny forearms, sharp canines, fresh snowfall, high rise buildings, white light, sheer robes with nothing underneath, fog, stained glass windows, colourful hair, slow heartbeats, long-forgotten love, cold mountaintops, eternal silence.

Amrod — burnished copper, feverish eyes, hues of orange and gold, stars and spades, brewing tea, freckles, hardwood floors, poisonous flowers, listens to Hozier, messy hair, fake circle glasses, bullet point notes on a restaurant napkin, comfortable silence, broken wings on insects, old hungers, the whispering of trees, kicking stones on deserted paths, forgotten places, origami stars, old overgrown stone castles, morning mist, horse riding.

Amras  —  misplaced keys, wandering aimlessly, selectively mute, deep lakes hiding secrets, pine trees, restless nights, misunderstood, reliving the same day over and over again, graphic tees, dead moths, visual mind, muffled screams into a pillow, listens to asmr, doc martens, profanity, burned cigarettes, zoning out often, heart fluttering nervously, confusing satellites for stars, comic filled bookshelves, radios, old jeeps, glowing keyboards.

Celebrimbor — ravens, white-hot metal, the darkest shade of black, glittering skin, low waist pants, stars falling, the heat lingering in the evening, petals falling off dead flowers, trusting the wrong people, blue veins, cobblestone paths, linoleum tiles, bruises/scars easily, the heat lingering in the evening, cities awake late, card games, overanalysing everything, shiny fabrics, the slamming of a shot glass, the sting of betrayal.

[a-simple-imagine]

Pass Me By

Synopsis: Jordan doesn't wanna date you but no-one else can either.... based on this prompt by @poppy-metal

pairing: jordan li x fem!reader

words: 2.9k+

WARNINGS - swearing, suggestive themes, alcohol, insecurities about gender and just a hint of a toxic situationship

It's a tranquil, cosy night under the relaxing sound of rainfall rattling against the glass windows that do not open. faint moonlight bathes the room in a divine glow. this wasn't your dorm room but a place you knew all too well. from the collection of beer bottles starting to form across their desk to the joint buds in the ashtray. a guitar sits collecting dust in the corner. you've never seen them play it or so much as acknowledge it. a skateboard balanced on the shelf for decoration more than anything. The room always has this pleasant smokey cologne lingering in the air. it was a messy room. a sort of organised chaos that was so incredibly Jordan li. but you loved it. you'd drown in the ashy mix of cologne and joint smoke if you could because it meant spending time with them. it meant they wanted you here. it meant something. you liked Jordan and they liked you. although they had trouble showing it. you have had that very awkward conversation before but now you avoid any mention of it. they explained they didn't really know what they wanted and at the time, you were fine with that but now you're not too sure. now you kind of wish you could bring it up again and have a grown-up conversation but you're much too scared to face reality. because an ounce of their affection would always be better than none of it. you would rather live in the mystery than feel completely alone.

your head relaxes against their toned, slightly sweaty, chest. fingertips gliding up and down your stomach in a slow steady rhythm. it's delicate. soothing. tickles just a little bit. you could honestly stay like this forever, relishing in their affection. they feel so warm against you. it fills you with such a content, comfortable, feeling. you have been together like this for a while now, listening to them spill secrets in your ear like you're an angsty teenager's new journal. they scribble down all their hopes and dreams; their greatest fears. garnishing the page with pretty stickers and pictures so when they look back, they can't help but smile. it's silly but it makes you feel good. it was such a uniquely intimate moment. nobody knew Jordan the way you did. they didn't allow themselves to be vulnerable too often. perhaps some misguided attempt to seem cool and mysterious. but with you they did and that must mean something, right?

"I don't know," their soft voice fills the otherwise quiet room. "it's really kinda stupid."

"you don't have to tell me," you explain, moving your head to briefly look up at them. "but I'm here if you want."

a warm silence settles over the two of you. you take it as a sign that they don't want to talk about it which is fine. you would never pressure them into talking about anything they're not comfortable with. After a moment, they speak up again. "my powers are such a big part of who I am," their voice is very quiet almost like they're scared to say it. "would I still be this way without them?"

rolling onto your stomach, you finally look up at them properly. his hair is tousled and just a little messy but pretty. no matter what, it always looked pretty. even in the dim light, you can notice the dusting of pink across their cheeks. they seemed content; relaxed. "be what way?" you wonder. jordan's hand that once danced across your skin now rests against the small of your back.

"bigender, obviously."

"I don't know," they wanted an answer you couldn't give to them. identity was such a personal thing." how did you feel when you were younger?"

"I guess it's always been a little confusing,"

"Why are you suddenly questioning it?" you wonder with a slight chuckle. imitating their action from earlier by running your fingers up and down their chest.

"dunno," they shrug. "it's just a little fucked that my powers are just one more thing for people to hate me for."

without powers, Jordan never would have gotten into Godu. and if they hadn't gotten into godu, you'd probably never have met. the world can be a cruel place full of distaste and anger but as selfish as it was, you're grateful for the opportunity to know them. "you're always gonna get people who hate supes."

"yeah, but I mean like people hate that I shift. the whole bigender thing doesn't sell- it's fucking shit." his voice is louder now; firm. "add that to the whole Asian thing and I'm screwed. everything is against me."

"Jordan," you hum softly, stopping your motion. they've always been so confident in their identity. never cared what anyone else wanted from them. it was something you admired about them, so it was almost weird watching them discuss it with such uncertainty. to question something so fundamental to them. you hardly knew anything about yourself. "do you want to know what i think?"

"i guess," he huffs out. a grumpy little guy.

"I don't think it actually matters," you urge, planting a gentle kiss against their sweaty stomach. "maybe you wouldn't have been bigender. maybe you would have. maybe your powers are just a manifestation of who you were always meant to be. at the end of the day, all that matters is who you are now." you lay your head back down against their chest. "and i think they're pretty awesome." with a gentle hum, his arms slide over to hug you against them. guess they were satisfied with that answer.

"Well thanks," he says after a moment. "now if you could just convince the rest of the world to be less transphobic or xenophobic too, that'd be more useful."

"I'll get right on that,"

"parents would be happier. the powers they wanted but none of the gender shit. just their perfect superhero son."

"you are their perfect superhero son." you grin. "you're just also their perfect superhero daughter too. their perfect superhero person."

"you think I'm perfect," he teases.

"I think you're… something."

"hot? sexy? the coolest? what?"

you chuckle. leaning down to kiss their stomach but this time you gently nip the skin. "I'm not gonna feed that massive ego of yours."

"I already know you're obsessed with me," his grasp around you tightens ever so slightly. "can hardly blame you." you smile against them. they were probably right. you wouldn't admit it. "I wish they looked at me the same way."

"fuck them."

"don't talk about my parents like that." Jordan insists. "only I can say stuff like that."

"Sorry," you respond. you can hear their heart beating in their chest. one heart. one beautiful, fucked up person. you let your eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sound of Jordan li. "people put expectations on us and that's fucked. just be whoever you want."

"suppose." he mumbles softly. "sorry for being pathetic- no more talking about stupid ass feelings."

"I don't mind." you really didn't. you would listen to them talk about anything. "really."

the thing about being with Jordan is that you're never really with Jordan. it is always very hot and cold. you may find yourself in their bed naked, listening to their confessions but the very next day, they would probably ignore you. you rationalise their reaction by considering it embarrassment. they get self-conscious when it comes to being vulnerable. that doesn't make you feel better in the immediate sense but does allow you to remain hopeful for the future. you often see them around campus but you don't really talk. even if you did, they prefer to act like you hardly know each other. even just a smile is too much for Jordan Li; they prefer a dirty look. occasionally they found the time to text you back but that's hardly anything to write home about. plus you're always the one to initiate the conversation unless they're after something. your friends think they're an asshole. every time you find yourself left on read or longingly stalking their social media, they'd tell you to move on. and that's how you ended up here. at some random dorm party. apparently, the best way to get over them is to find someone new. you didn't want someone new but apparently, that's not a good enough reason to stay home. it's not a bad party. it's actually pretty fun once you relax and stop checking your phone every few minutes. but you should have known that if there was a party, Jordan Li would probably be there looking as radiant and mysterious as ever. a ghost haunting you in a crowd of drunk students. they also seemed to have a way of always knowing exactly where you are. you'd keep catching sight of them when you're getting a drink or talking to someone new. you're supposed to be ignoring them but they're making it very hard.

with a red cup full of the most disgusting beer in one hand, you're sitting on a couch listening to some random guy tell you all about himself. his name was Mike. Matthew? Matthew seemed correct. you don't remember exactly. it is so loud in here. the music wasn't even good. he was handsome though.

"so that's why I decided psychology would be better." he continues to explain his shift in major which had to do with his family. it's a sweet story. he seemed like such a genuine person. "I wanna help people but not through crime-fighting plus that'll give me a chance to work with supes and regular people."

"that's cool," you nod. it came out a little sarcastic but you never meant it that way. you had such admiration for people who wanna use their powers for good. it's not like you wanted to take over the world or anything but rather you had no clue what you wanted. it reminded you of your conversation with Jordan. you have no clue who you are or what you want. "I wish I was smart enough for that. kinda feel like I'm just here at the moment."

"that's fine too like you've got loads of time," he assures you, shuffling a little closer. a hand coming to rest on your arm along the back of the couch.

"that's true," you agree. "I don't know. we'll see, I'm not too worried like it's-"

"hey," you both look up to spy a masculine Jordan Li staring back with their arms crossed over their chest. his expression was indecipherable but fuck, did he look so good. "you gonna introduce us?" why would you introduce them? jordan wasn't part of this interaction and you hardly knew the other guy. Why was Jordan even here? they haven't spoken to you in days. when you don't respond, Matthew takes the liberty of introducing himself. you did remember his name correctly. "I'm Jordan."

"I know- everyone knows. you're in the top ten dude." Matthew is a little too eager. you would think he was the one sleeping with them.

"I am, yeah. can I just borrow," they point at you. "for a sec."

"uh…"

"I'm sorry. I'll be back." as you stand, Jordan clasps your wrist and basically hauls you up and off towards the hallway. you don't bother protesting. they were stronger than you anyway. "what do you want?"

"what are you doing?" voice firm. jordan shifts to his femme form. fluffy short hair becomes an adorable bob. a much smaller frame but arguably more intimidating.

"excuse me?" your brow furrows.

"Are you stupid ?" Jordan asks, in a slightly more aggressive tone. "what are you doing?"

"what do you mean?" you had no clue what was going on right now. "I'm not doing anything."

"that dude is like all over you."

"no, he isn't. We're just talking," you argue.

a humourless laugh. "I know you're not that fucking naive,"

"Why do you even care?" you shoot back. you would hardly consider the conversation you were having the epitome of flirting. sure, there were a few lingering glances and some touching but there wasn't anything wrong with that. at least they were actually interested, unlike Jordan. "you've been ignoring me all week." a flash of surprise across their face that quickly disappears as they turn away from you.

"I've been busy."

"That's what you always say-"

"excuse me for having a life that doesn't revolve around you," Jordan fires back snappily, scowling back at you.

"why are you mad at me?"

"oh, I don't know. blatantly flirting with guys when you know I'm right there is a pretty shitty thing to do."

"I'm not flirting with anyone, we're just talking about our majors," you clarify. "and it's none of your business anyway, it's not like we're together. I can flirt with whoever I want."

"so you admit it." a scoff leaves your mouth. wait. was Jordan Li jealous right now? the same Jordan li who couldn't be bothered to so much as smile at you in the hallway was now mad that you're talking to someone else at a party? you can't help but laugh a little and when they frown in confusion, you laugh a little more.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" you ask, a playful quirk of your brow. "is the infamous Jordan Li jealous?"

"don't be an idiot," they defend, taking a step away and leaning back against the wall. you watch them carefully before following their gaze out into the sea of other people. "why would I be jealous?"

you close the distance once more; leaning in close. you hold their gaze. such soft pretty eyes hold so many secrets. "because you like me,"

"fuck off," Jordan huffs, flinching away from you. "I don't care what you do."

this whole conversation proved otherwise but okay. either way, you were done arguing over it. you were supposed to be focusing on other people not getting wrapped up in Jordan li again. "sure," you comment sarcastically. "I'm gonna get a drink and you're gonna leave me alone." you don't give them a chance to respond; simply walking away in search of a new drink. you half expect them to follow but they don't. with a fresh red cup, you decide to return to Matthew. he seems to have found somebody new to talk to. a tall guy with very distinctive feline eyes. "sorry about that." the boy looks at you, with a confused frown and then back to his friend. That was weird. "are you okay?"

"yeah," a smirk. "I just don't fuck with other people's girls. too messy." with that said, they both walk away. other people's girls? you weren't dating anyone. falling down against the couch, you search the crowd and spot a certain guy sporting a mischievous smirk. surely not. surely Jordan wasn't that much of a dick. when they catch your eye, they start walking towards you

"you look a little lonely over here."

"fuck you." you spit sharply.

"touchy." they hold their hands up in the air to feign innocence.

"you're such a fucking asshole," you grumble. sinking further down into the plush fabric of the couch. you were pissed. not over Matthew specifically. after all, you hardly knew him. but over the fact, that Jordan was so petty. you never expected them to do something as stupid as this.

"I didn't do anything " Jordan claims, a quick shrug of their shoulders. "he was just a dick."

"you told him I was your girlfriend."

"I didn't do shit," Jordan responds casually, shifting into their femme form as they fall down on the couch beside you. you sit forward ready to leave but not quite doing so. "I just decided to come talk to you since you seemed all lonely- sorry for trying to be nice."

"you don't know how to be nice."

"ouch," a playful hand slaps over the heart. "however will I go on" they chuckle, leaning back in their seat.

"fuck you."

"Will you chill out," their hands slide over your shoulders; gently pulling you back and into their awaiting embrace. "that guy was fucking dull as shit,"

"you don't even know him," you huff. no attempt to move out of their embrace; breathing in their perfume. it was surprisingly fruity. not their normal go-to.

"maybe not." Jordan answers. "but I know you." she hugs you against her chest. warm and tight. "I know your body." their hand slips down across your waist to rest upon your upper thigh. leaning in close, her breath is hot against your neck. "that dude could never fuck you as well as I do." whispered in your ear. A tingle spills down your spine. you shift against them, feeling very hot all of a sudden. "we both know it." you swallow hard. You don't know what to say. and frankly, you're worried that if you do they'll hear the tremble in your voice. you definitely don't want them to know the effect they had on you. not right now. not when you're supposed to be ignoring them. a feather-like kiss against your neck before it presses deeper. jordan sinks her teeth into your skin and your mouth falls open. a soft sigh slipping into the air.

"fuck…"

"That's what I thought," hummed against your skin before they pulled away. "so how about we stop playing games and go find somewhere quiet," they gently squeezed your thigh. "yeah?"

Jordan fucking li. they really were a piece of work. and your friends were gonna be oh so disappointed in you.

[see-arcane]

I am truly thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even of our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I did not think so at first, but I know better now. [...] I daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours; but I must be resolute, and to-morrow I shall keep dark over to-night's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened.

Jonathan, no, don't give into the guys' peer pressure noooo

It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am to-day; after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all. This morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and though Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me before he went out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never mentioned a word of what had happened in the visit to the Count's house. And yet he must have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I suppose it must have distressed him even more than it did me. They all agreed that it was best that I should not be drawn further into this awful work, and I acquiesced. But to think that he keeps anything from me! And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I know it comes from my husband's great love and from the good, good wishes of those other strong men.

[...] Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all; and lest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that I kept anything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he has feared of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of my heart put down for his dear eyes to read.

Mina, no, you have to communicate now, in the present, you're you, you can un-acquiesce, you can break the curse, just talk to Jonathan now, noooooo

GOD this is masterfully infuriating work, Bramward Stokerbroker. Here we have on paper just how much this new status quo--the 'proper' status quo--grates against both of them. You can almost hear them grinding their teeth with the effort to keep smiling and nodding through this unanimous* decision. They know it is For Mina's Sake that they are doing this. Sure, they both hate every second of it and it breaks a loving rhythm they've shared for years together, BUT THEY KNOW BETTER NOW :)))

(Lucy is screaming in the afterlife. Renfield has his head in his hands.)

But all that aside, a thing I'm hooked on this read-around is the fact that, hey. We are reading this. Spoiler, but the entirety of Dracula is actually compiled together by Mina after the story closes. These are all written documents we're reading that the entire group has laid eyes on already. With everyone (bar Art and Quincey for some reason, thanks Mr. 3 Lines Allowed and Mr. Laconic :/, Jack is just talking and waiting for Mina to transcribe now, augh) on duty in some way to record the progress of things so that they can be read later as reference...I have to wonder now.

How honest are these pages the Harkers are putting down now versus what they wrote before joining Van Helsing's Scooby gang? Neither one is writing in shorthand. It's all plain English.

I had a class once where one of the assignments was to keep a daily journal. One page filled out every single day, about anything. Anyone want to guess how many personal secrets or honest feelings I put in those pages for the guy grading my class to read? If you said anything higher than 0 you're wrong.

The Harkers have an audience to worry about right now. An audience of Prof. Et Cetera, Dr. Asylum Director (whose asylum they're currently living in! the kind of place where Jonathan could've ended up and innumerable women have been imprisoned for being women the Wrong Way! whee!), Incredibly Wealthy and Empowered Lord, and Mr. Likewise Rich 'We Should Do Guns About It' American. Who all seem to like them, fresh-from-the-lower class, industrious and Dracula-confronting sorts that they are. Fast friends, all of them.

(Jonathan is still only Harker to them. Simultaneously the Man Who Survived Castle Dracula and the gofer guy doing the footwork and the paperwork/property hunt while Van Helsing hits the library and the others...well, I'm sure they're doing something. Other than re-reading the first half of Dracula.)

(...Which was compiled and transcribed by Mina. Who faced down Dracula in her jammies. Unarmed. At night. For Lucy. But she can't handle your scary stories about the houses full of dirt boxes, let alone join you on the hunt she was explicitly prepared and eager to help with. Can't risk it, little lady, off to bed now.)

This is where they are now that they've ~joined forces~ with Van Helsing and the Suitor Squad. After all they've done, all they're still relied on to do, the Harkers are with allies who have had their acquaintance for less than three days. And now, to appease those allies and their opinions and to keep everything placid with these nice, outnumbering, socially and monetarily endowed parties, they do what they've always done when faced with the fact of their being perpetually on the low rung of the ladder.

The Harkers accommodate. Including in their own diaries, as these too are now deemed forfeit important to the Cause, should the gang need to comb back through it all for clues.

That's why the Harkers are the only ones writing it down--because they already were. They're the kids in the group project who can be trusted to do the work. So just let them keep doing it. Keep an accurate record now, kids! You do such a good job of it, we'd only be getting in the way, ha ha. Remember that we can and will read everything you put down in the future.

Hence: All of what we read today. And will read in the dates to come.

The Harkers are writing under a (friendly) gun right now. They can purge some feelings, but not all of them. And not completely. And not in any way that certain doctors and upper class people of power they barely know might misconstrue as ungrateful or mad in any sense. The Harkers are good people. The Harkers are helpful. The Harkers are team players even if that means no longer being a team themselves. They chafe a little at this, but it's all so new to them! It's alright. God's will and Van Helsing's be done. They know better now.

With all this in mind, it makes much more sense why Jonathan chooses to use shorthand for a Very Particular Entry we see coming up. An entry that Mina alone could read and decide to enter in the distant future, after the storm had passed.

And why, in light of all that happens, he cannot trust himself to put more than a vignette's worth of lines down as time goes on. Not if he wants to keep himself from laying out some actual honesty for everyone to read. Mina's entries will be weightier things, while she still has the capacity to write--carefully. Always carefully.

[haunteddetectivepeach]

Danny 'Jed Olsen' Johnson x pregnant reader

You

You met the ghostface regularly, or rather, it went to your home. You had sex many times, at first you felt guilty about the fact that it is the ghostface and the same hands that satisfied you and touched you are the same ones that kill innocent people.

Most of the time he did not use a condom. But it was okay because you are taking pill, but now, the unexpected happened, your mestruation has been late for 2 weeks, you thought it was just because of the stress of work unitil it started to feel alot of nausea and your breasts were well sore, you refused to take a pregnancy test, for fear, fear off what will happen if you are pregnant, pregnant with a serial killer, not just a serial killer, but the ghostface, or rather, Danny, at the least that was the names he gaves you.

You just woke up from a party that your friend Jessie called you, you are not much of parties, but you were a little away from your friend because of your little case with the largest serial killer in the United States of America, and was scared of what he can do about people close to you, Danny is a little jealous, the last time a guy screwed me, he cut his throat the next day...

I felt guilty for days, but the guy ran a hand on my ass, so on a second thought, i don't feel guilty at all.

RING RING RING

The alarm sound tuck tou of you thoughts. And them the desire of vomit again, i think i will really have to do this...arriving in the bathroom, you took the small box were there was the pregnancy test from the courter where you have you things. After doing the whole process, you let out a sign and them start to despair when you look at the results, positive, "Positive, a fucking positive, of couse, the pill was no use shit any" you talk softly "Jesus Christ, what do i do? Abortion? Tell him? Cry?scream? Oh my god, oh my fucking god, i have to run away? Just go?" You start crying softly, looking at the little staff in your hands, and finally, thrown on the trash.

Danny Johnson/Jed Olsen

I woke up early to play the perfect american citizen Jed, the dear Jed, who all love and no one even suspicious. I passed my gel on my black hair I observed my body toned on the mirror, despite some scars, and them my suit and tie, all perfect.

I arrived at gazette journal, greeted the receptionist and secretariats until i arrived at my office. I was trying to make my new article, John Smith, my last victim, but i couldn't have her out of my head, the woman i find myself, me, Danny, not the Jed. Then my mind dive to her body curves, her breasts, her ass..."Damn" i have to stop thinking about her, i have to do this article, and a can't to it with an erection, it would spoil the perfect Jed, no one can think Jed is a pervert that get hard at work, but damn, i still remember our last night, the last time we saw each other, because unfortunately i was too busy with John shit Smith, at least it was a good death, but nothing, nothing make me forget her, my bunny, she's too perfect, her body, her face, i remember every little bit about her body, you can't forget a woman like that, not even if i wanted to, i still remember...our sweaty bodies in that bed, her breasts swaying as the rhythm increased, her nails digging into my back, her legs whapped around me as if she didn't want me to leave, her sly moans in my ears as you told me to go deeper, harder, more...more, the creaking of the bed, the wet sheets, your room smelled of sex, and the only sounds heard were our skins slapping together, you sweet moans. Only her, only she can do this to me, she holds me and i can't let go, she was the only woman, who entered my thoughts and i can't take it away, i can't.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

A knock on the door brought me of my thoughts. "You can come in" Soon Jeff enter "Olsen, here is some informations that the police gave us, we need this article sent today" Jed gives him a small smiley enough to Jeff "Of course sr, it will be ready before you remember it" Jeff nodded "I knew a cold count on you, Olsen" Then Jeff left the room eating his disgusting greasy donut in his hand, Danny wanted to kill this man, but he know's he can't, he realized that he can't kill anyone at work that would bring suspicion, and he really doesn't want to be seen or have problems with the police.

You

I'm at work talking to my boss about a state transfer, it was my decision, i going to leave, i going to run away and I'm not going to tell anyone, not my friends, anyone. I really have to go, what would he do if he found out I am pregnant, and worse, with his child. I can't, i can't take it, I'm terrified, we don't even have a relationship, i don't even know if a know him well, of course I know that he is the ghostface, the most wanted serial killer in Roseville, Florida. But at all, I never saw his face, at least not all of it, we kissed so much times, we had sex but I was blindfolded most of the times or remaining wearing a mask. My boss said there was a transfer to Utah, and i accepted. And about Danny, he hasn't come for a few days, probably busy with new victims, and we are not dating ou anything else, We just fucked, a lot of times. Whenever we fucked i would wake up alone in the sheets, wich still had his cheap cologne on, he would stay with me until I fell asleep and leave late at night so he wouldn't be seen. He always leaves a post it saying something like: See you, Darling. That's why I know he cares about me, but a child? A child of ours? A mini us? I'm definitely scared if he finds out before I can leave, it's for the best for us, because he is a fucking serial killer, and yet, I slept with him and not just once. Okay, i have to leave today, I'm not taking any furniture, nothing, just some clothes and essential objects for my work so that he doesn't get suspicious before I can leave. I told my boss not to tell anyone about where I went , no matter who. I took the first taxi to the airport and just let myself go. "Goodbye, Danny."

Danny

After work, I got ready with my ghostface costume and went to see her, i parked far from her house, in the darkest part, where no one could see me. I watching trying to find her, but nothing. I decided to go in, i looked in every room, and i waited for her to arrive, hour passed and i tried to call her on my spare number that I use for ghostface calls, but she wasn't answering, I ran to check the drawers and nothing, there was no nothing, i decided to go back the next day.

The next day, i went to the hospital where she works, I ask the receptionist if you was there, and she told me that you don't longer work there, i asked to speak to your boss, he told me that you request transfer. Why? I asked him where, but he said you asked him not to tell anyone, no matter who. Shit. At night, i went to your house, pissed, angry, that's all l fell. Why? You think you could get into in my head, and just...leave, like it's was nothing? I started to break down everything, thrown everything on the floor. "FUCK"

You

It's been 2 years, 2 years since I left, 2 year I've been in Utah and a year since my baby was born, a strong and healthy little boy, he has the same grey eyes as Danny, and the face is similar, it's been exactly 2 weeks since he turned 1 years old, I made his day the most especial. My mother helped me with everything since I arrived in Utah, she helped me with the move furniture and my house a large two-story with 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, my son's room is fully of toys, painting notebooks and very colorful for my baby.

I was preparing his food while he has coloring with crayons, when the news on television caught my attention, i was paralyzed. ALERT: 26-YEARS-OLD MAN FOUND DEAD THIS MORNING. On the television was the photo, the ghostface over the censored corpse, my son was entertaining himself with some building blocks, for wich i thank the gods. It took a while to reason, he...he's here, in Utah. He knows? Does he knows I'm here? Did he come after me? Did he come to kill me for leave? No, I just paranoid, there no way he was discovered at all. "Damn, stop worrying, everything will be okay, he will not find me, I hope..."

Two weeks after the first ghostface murder

Danny

I was crouching in a bush watching a house, and that's when I saw her. There she was cooking and dancing to the sound of a song where I couldn't identify. But... she was not alone, squeezed my eyes and managed to see, was a baby, a boy, apparently 12 months or 1 year. Smiling without teeth right. So he made the calculations, 1 years that the baby appears to have and 2 years she left, she was still meeting him, wasn't she? Or she was having sex with another guy while sleeping with him..or is his baby?. That's why, why is she gone? Is the baby really his? A fruit of them two? I was dipped in my thoughts. I need to see right, I need to see the boy well.

You

I was holding my son on my hip while we danced to the sound of (f/v)

And I prepare a food for both of us. Until I observed a movement outside. I put in (y/c/n) in the Feeding chair and headed toward the window, watched and found nothing. Maybe it was my head, or not. When I and (y/c/n) we finished eating, it was a little late and put him in the crib, I sang a song until he fell asleep, when he slept, headed for my room that was near him to be easier to Listening to crying or meeting your needs, put a nightgown and tied my hair awkwardly with a little hair in front and lay down. A few hours or minutes maybe I heard a wooden noise, I took a bat and went towards the noise came from.

It came from my son's room, walked fast towards a totally dark room, I stared at the crib and he wasn't there when I looked at the armchair that is located in the corner of the room and was there. Danny. Holding our son, in his arms, was the small figure sleeping peacefully with his little hands playing lightly in the white mask, Danny who looked at him, suddenly changed his gaze to me, the only lighting in the room was the moonlight brightness, Until then the silence was broken. "Hello Darling"

"What are you doing here?" "What? I can't visit my lover? Or rather, my son's mother"

He said getting up carefully as he snuggled (y/c/n) in the crib. "It's my baby, isn't it? So you left?" He says approaching slowly until he was centimeters from you, the difference in visible height and the small space that could only be heard the breaths of each other, he put his hand gloved in his chin and raised stop his eyes through the mask. "Answer me, honey" He speaks so low that he sounded like a whisper. His lips separated to speak, but nothing left. He raises a little from the mask and gets closer, you finally wave your head."Yes..." he then gets millimeters from you and collides the lips against yours. When you leave it, he looks at you eyes with a predatory gray look at yours and says "our son, and you are mine, sweetheart, just mine, and we are a family. We and our little boy. I love you, bunny"

He said with his head now without the mask touching yours. with your lips almost touching

"I love you too, Danny".

[novlr]

I want to write poetry but I have no idea where to start. Any tips?

Poetry is experiencing a massive resurgence. With the rise of social media, poets are becoming the literary heroes of the Instagram feed as more and more people recognise the therapeutic value of poetry and turning their own thoughts to the page.

Maybe you’ve thought about writing poetry but haven’t been sure where to begin. Not to worry —  we’ll guide you through everything you need to know, so that you’ll be writing great poetry in no time. 

Before writing

Learning the art of writing poetry starts before you even pick up the pen. Here are some preliminary steps to take before you write a great poem. 

Read widely

The best thing you can do as a new poet is read the kind of poetry you want to write. Not only will this give you a sense of what other poets are doing well, but it will also help train your inner ear for the sounds and cadences of poetry. It’s a bit like learning a new language; you’ll absorb it best by immersion. 

Learn the basic poetic terms

You don’t need an MFA to write poetry, but it will help if you learn some basic terminology like stanza, line break, enjambment, caesura, metre, and so forth. Being able to put a name to these moving parts will help you make more conscious decisions as you write and heighten your awareness of these choices.  

Study rhyme, rhythm, and metre

Likewise, it will help if you develop an awareness of the way a line of poetry is put together. You don’t necessarily need to worry about technical terms like trimeter and trochee just yet, but try to focus on where the voice rises and falls throughout a poem. 

One of the most popular metres of poetry is called iambic, which is a pattern of unstressed syllables and stressed syllables: “’Tis now the very witching time of night”. This undulation makes the poem soothing to the ear. 

Once you see patterns in the way writers structure their poems, you can choose how to bring these patterns into the way you structure your own poetry. 

During writing

Ready to start writing? Let’s dive in.

Choose a subject to write about

Now it’s time to choose what you want your poem to explore. It can be something minuscule — a drop of dew on a blade of grass that looks a bit like a tiny globe — or something grand, like the corrosion of free education, for example. You might find it helpful to do some journaling on the topic first to explore how you feel about it and get your creative wheels turning. 

Find a format that works for you

Because poetry is so intimate and emotionally driven, it can be beneficial to give it a tactile element by writing with a pen or pencil and paper as well as drafting on a digital platform. Different forms look and feel different depending on where and how they’re composed, so explore what works best for you.

Don’t worry too much about getting it “right” — that’s what revision is for! Just begin structuring your thoughts into some kind of order and practice, practice, practice. 

Overwrite first, trim later

When you’re writing a rough draft, put down lots of material that you can shape into a polished poem later. Many poets find that their poems become a lot shorter as they revise. That’s because they write out a lot of lines and phrases that help them uncover what the heart of the poem is and then cut away the parts they don’t need.

Find your poem’s turning point

Great poems are characterised by what’s called “the turn”, or a shift in the poem’s tone or focus. Often these poems begin by talking about something small and innocent, and then shift into something more emphatic part way through.

For example, maybe a poem starts by talking about a drop of dew on a blade of grass that looks a bit like a tiny globe, but soon the reader realises that what the poet’s really talking about is climate change. Or you could start by writing about a dress you haven’t worn in years, then shift to talking about the person you last saw the night you were wearing that dress. This “turn” gives your poem emotional layers. 

After writing

You wrote a poem! Congratulations!! Now it’s time to make it the very best it can be. 

Read your work out loud 

Great poetry is all about rhythm. The best poets know that reading a finished poem aloud is the key to picking out any snags in the musicality of the piece. Pay attention to any moments in which you get stuck on a hard consonant or trip over any hidden tongue twisters. 

Hearing the way it sounds out loud can help you catch issues that you wouldn’t have noticed on the page and make the language as smooth as it can be. 

Revise, revise, revise

Poets (in fact, any writers) rarely get it just right on the first draft. Once you’ve completed a poem, set it aside for a little while and come back to it with fresh eyes. Then, you can examine how to give each line the maximum impact and how the overall narrative comes together. 

Also, look at the way you’ve shaped your poem and if the line breaks and stanza breaks are pulling their weight. Cut out any material that isn’t necessary — it’s not uncommon for poets to delete the first few lines of a poem because they were just their way of warming up their voice. These superfluous lines are sometimes called “throat clearing” lines. 

Get your poems out into the world

Once your poem is as perfect as you can make it, and you’ve revised each punctuation mark and line break until you’ve gone cross-eyed, you’re ready to send it out. There are thousands (thousands!) of literary journals in the big, wide world that welcome submissions of poems from new writers. Somewhere out there is an editor who is going to love your poem and want to share it with their audience. 

Next stop: worldwide acclaim. Good luck!

[shaisuki]

｡‧˚ʚ°ɞ˚‧｡ ─── HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SATORU.

｡‧˚ʚ content warnings ɞ˚‧｡─── use of "chan" excessively, food play, finger licking, dry humping, thigh riding.

｡‧˚ʚ notes ɞ˚‧｡ a late birthday fic for our strongest sorcerer and dedicated for @plush-journal.

ᝰ.ᐟ it looks he could pair his birthday cake you baked for him and you. he's on a treat and is looking for more birthdays to come.

“happy birthday, satoru.”

his thumb and index finger meet to pinch the hem of his blindfold before raising it to take a peek. one of his blue eyes twinkling like stars in the night sky. the shimmering getting more prominent as he sees you. his girlfriend in front of him, holding his birthday cake.

he smiles. that soft, boyish smile without the playful and teasing that he always sports wether it was to annoy or make fun of others. it warm and sincere. his pinkish lips curled up into a smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

gojo places back his blindfold in its proper place. straightening his posture in his chair. “come here, baby~.” he calls you and placing yourself in his lap and gojo immediately latches in to you. his slender arms locking around your soft middle. patting your tummy in a rhythm for his amusement and his jaw resting in your shoulder.

“make a wish, 'toru.” glancing at him before going back to see the fire dancing at the wick of his birthday candle. nothing too fancy about the cake. covered with white icing and the frosting the same color. sliced strawberries place between the dotted frosting. chocolate syrup glazed in the sides and the center is written with happy birthday and his name. clearly homemade and gojo appreciate the effort. it's hard to come by these days.

blowing the candle, gojo smiles after the fire was extinguished. the smoke slowly dissipating in the air and you kissed his cheek. muttering a quick greeting. “happy birthday, satoru.” placing the cake in the table to meet his gaze. blindfold already discarded.

“did you make the cake?” he asks. “yeah. i just want to do something for your birthday since you don't celebrate it.” gojo chuckles. blowing raspberries to your chubby cheeks in which made you giggle. “celebrate, huh? nuzzling his cheek to yours. in a deep thought. it had been years since he celebrated with the people he trusts and after that, his birthdays for him are another regular day with the exception of his students birthdays and yours. he made sure he goes the extra mile to give them a memorable celebration. it would be a surprising for someone to know he doesn't celebrate his birthday considering his birth tipped the balance of the world. there's nothing worth of celebrating that, he thinks.

“it's your day, satoru. you can do whatever your heart desires.” you say softly to him. running your fingers in his white hair. “would it be wrong if it's you i desire?” your face burned in embarrassment. flustered at his suggestion. his smirk getting bigger as he sees you getting flustered. his grip on your wide hips tightens. pulling you closer to prevent you from getting up. “t—there's nothing wrong about that, 'toru. it's just we're here. anyone could walk in.” squirming at his lap while you tried to push him away. his face getting closer with that huge shit-eating plastered in his face.

“anyways, i-i should get us a plate and a fork.” you attempted to get up but you were planted firmly in his lap while trying to avoid the impending embarrassment creeping up on you. “no need. feed me with your hand (y/n)-chan~” he requested and who are you deny him. it's his birthday.

“okay.” your eyes scanning the cake until you settled in picking up the plump strawberry resting in the top of the cake, coated with cream and you faced him. “here you go, satoru.” his lips parting before taking a bite of the fruit. humming in delight as he tasted the sweetness of the fruit. he takes a bite again, eating the remaining and before you could take another piece of the toppings in his cake. he holds your wrist. your fingers covered in juices of the fruit and before you could take your hand back, he takes a lick of it. his tongue wide, swiping the remnants of the fruit from your cute, chubby fingers. “satoru....” you muttered. he didn't even break eye contact with you. maintaining it and the action's hot.

you uncomfortably shift in his lap. “it's my turn, baby.” you remained stunned from his deed. you didn't even feel him smearing the cream in your cheek before offering you a piece of the sliced strawberry. “let me feed you, (y/n)-chan~” you look at him before taking a bite. nibbling on the goodness the fruit have to offer.

he thinks he could cum in his pants just by looking at you eat. it always does but nothing beats this sight — so innocent and adoring in his eyes. watch as your soft lips move as you chew. the cream smeared in your round cheek and fuck, you look appetizing. seeing you enjoy and relish on the taste. he wants some too.

“i want to taste that too, baby.” before you could even protest his lips is in yours. nibbling your lower lip. a permission to grant him entrance in which you did. although a little hesitant cause you didn't even manage to swallow the remaining bits and his tongue is already making home inside your mouth. swirling and exploring every part of it. you swear you could hear him groaning. his hand on your lower back while the others in the back of your head. deepening the kiss to taste all of you.

your hips unconsciously grinding in his thigh causing a moan to slip from you. sparks of the familiar excitement running in your veins and the wetness dampening your panties.

he's the first to break the kiss. softly moaning and licking the corner of his lips. “tasty and oops— you have a stain in your cheek, (y/n)-chan. let me clean it for you.” and his mouth is already in your cheek. engulfing it with his lips before sucking on it. tongue swiping in the expanse of your skin. when he was done, his saliva connects to his lips and to your cheek. “all clean now!” he exclaims and his deft, nimble fingers is already unbuttoning the buttons of your cardigan. pulling it away in a quick motion from you. leaving you in your low cut, puff-sleeved dress. “you won't mind if i eat my cake, do you?” you shake your head. thinking he was finished with you but you didn't see it coming when he took a chunk of the cake you baked for him. his palm covered with the soft crumbs and the frosting before he smudged it to your chest.

“thanks for the food.” he says before diving in. face buried to your chest while his tongue do all the work in cleaning you up. he happily laps it all. your natural taste and scent infused with the warm goodness of the confection you made for him just send him off at the highest part of heaven. he feels you too. warm and ready. your warm pussy in his thigh moving back and forth. gojo smirks. he sure could help you while he feasts on you.

he wraps his arm around you, resting in your lower back and the other gripping your plush ass. assisting you to grind your hips harder to his thigh and he was rewarded with the sweetest moans he could ever hear.

“satoru~....” you moaned out. your thick thighs trapping his own muscular thigh while you ride him. your body hot. your insides shaking the more you move and slow build of your release is already making its progress.

your fingers finding refuge in his soft, white lock. tangling your fingers and the occasional grip you pull his hair when the delicious friction of your clit meeting his thigh. you wouldn't last long not when he moves your hips, not when you can hear the noise of his satisfied moans and groans while he happily licks the cream out of you.

and when the final roll of your hips and a forceful tug of his hair, you came undone. your soft, voluptuous thighs shake from the orgasm you had. panting softly as you try yourself to get back to your own breathing.

at that moment he finished eating the frosting he just had smudged to you. a more than satisfied smile etched in his lips. his blue eyes filled with sincerity and enjoyment of the tasting. you're just that addicting to him.

“happy?”

“more than happy.” he says, tugging the sleeve of your dress. licking his lips at the anticipation of you being fully bare in front of him with cream covering you. he looks at you like a madman combined with a child high in sugar. his blue eyes losing it's usual glimmer and turning it into one of a full blown lust. dark and seductive. opposite in what he can see in your own eyes. “don't think i'm done with you. i still need to satisfy myself and you will help me, i need you for myself.” he chuckles. completely removing your clothing and it pools in your waist. your stomach with its rolls that made his mouth water, is bare for his eyes to feast.

“i'm not still finished in eating you up.” he warns you and you reminded yourself that you still need to be sane after he fucked you dumb.

[tchaikovskym]

Using 17 cm diameter wheels, hamsters typically will run about 9000 wheel turns per night when first introduced to the wheel. [...] Animals are considered elderly when the amount number of turns has dropped below 10% of the young adult value (i.e., about 500 to 1000 turns/cycle).

Hurd, M. W., & Ralph, M. R. (1998). The significance of circadian organization for longevity in the golden hamster. Journal of biological rhythms, 13(5), 430-436.

And how many turns of the wheel can you run?

[nell0-0]

Writing requests open?? What about Wind doing something that is SO REMINISCENT OF TUNE that Time and Wars start sweating? Or TIME GOING FULL MASK BEHAVIOUR causing Wars to have flashbacks?

I am very in love with your HW-era art, especially with Mask, by the way 💜

Not sure if this 100% fits the request, but hopefully you like it anyways ^^

Main characters: Wind/Tune & Time/Mask

Wind was biting his tongue. It could be barely seen between his teeth, peeking out the slightest bit. Sitting down on a log as he was, back teetering dangerously back and forth from exhaustion, it was a tad concerning.

Or it would be if Time wasn’t already familiar with such a sight. Legend could keep sending the sailors all the sneaky worried glances he wanted, and Wild could try to cook as many of the sailor’s favorite dishes as he could with the ingredients he had, but none of it would make much of a difference.

The long walks had been hard on the sailor, and that summed up with chasing down the latest batch of black blooded monsters from Twilight’s time, the shift to Sky’s era and the subsequent series of favors they completed for the people of Skyloft (which Wild insisted in calling side-quests, Farore knows why), had been taking a toll. Not only on the sailor, of course, as Four could also be seen on the edge of camp laying on top of his bedroll, completely knocked out for the night.

In short, it wasn’t a surprising sight for Time. Wind biting his tongue, the back and forth rocking and the restless ears, flopping up and down without apparent rhythm. It was one of Tune’s tells regarding deep exhaustion.

For a hero used to adjusting his posture to the rocking of the waves, long hours spent looking at the horizon with nothing in sight, this particular adventure was draining. Then again, it was one of Tune’s tells, not Wind’s. Even though they were the same person, it was only in the way that Mask and Time had once been one in the same. That was probably why the others were concerned.

Casting a quick look in Warrior’s direction, the captain didn’t seem to notice anything odd. Probably not realizing this was something out of the ordinary for Wind, since it was so normal to see from Tune. So, since the captain was out, it was up to Time.

Getting up with creaking knees that made Hyrule snicker, Time walked towards the sailor, dropping to the ground next to the log in which Wind sat.

“Hey.”

Goddesses, Time cringed internally. An accomplished warrior he may be, but casual conversation was not his forte.

“Hey there.”

Then again, not that it mattered if Wind was so out of it to not notice.

The thought of getting Legend’s ice rod to see if Wind’s peeking tongue would stick to the icy orb did cross Time’s mind. The reaction would have been priceless, all wide eyes and betrayed looks. Time could picture it. He was quick to discard it.

After all, a prank like that would lose effectiveness if it was expected. Tune’s reaction had been so memorable he still remembered vividly to this day.

“You want to talk about whatever has you down?”

A grunt. A negative, then. Not that it surprised Time, he had been expecting this kind of response.

Rummaging through his pack, he looked consideringly at some loose parchment, then thought again and grabbed one of his newer journals, with barely a name (which they shared, so it wouldn’t be an issue) and a little log of the last couple of time jumps.

After some time just letting the silence fester, Time asked again, just to get the same negative response. Plan b, then.

In the end, Time passed the journal and some ink to Wind, who looked at them uncomprehending.

“Here, take it.”

Little hands did take the items, peeking tongue retreating to the insides of the mouth as downturned lips showed confusion.

“It helps sometimes, to draw instead of talk. If you’re too tired, or just don’t want to talk, then doodle some.”

“I’m not a little kid.”

The indignation would have been endearing if it wasn’t funny as hell, because he had said those exact same words to Tune all those years ago (or to come. It was a matter of perspective. Time magic was confusing like that).

“I know.” Time patted the cover of the leatherbound journal pointedly. “I use them too, and I’m grown up, aren’t I?”

That got a laugh. A win on Time’s book.

“Grown? More like old.”

With a fond smile, Time messed Wind’s hair, who protested the treatment heavily. And yet, the weight against his hand increased, seeking contact and reassurance, as Time knew it would.

“Here, let me show you some of my doodles.”

And when Wind criticized how badly Time drew everything BUT horses, the man shrugged.

“Take it up with the guy who taught me to draw in the first place if you’re so bothered.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that? I probably won’t even met him, ever!”

“Oh, believe me, you will.”

Years later-ago-somewhen, when there was a war that included different time periods, fought over a hero that wasn’t supposed to awaken so soon yet had to, with two displaced kids holding the same sacred title as the captain, a certain sailor had a realization.

He looked down at his hands in horror, then up towards the sky in despair as he yelled.

“Oh my goddesses, I can’t believe that-that-“

Mask pouted scowled, used by now to the antics but no less inconvenienced.

“Are you gonna teach me to draw Epona or not?”

“Shut it, this is your fault in the first place!”

“Sure” Mask shrugged, wanting the dramatics to be over with. The chances of it working were slim, but never zero. At least it would speed it up. Hopefully.

“On my pride as an artist, you will learn how to draw something else other than horses, that I swear!”

Mask sighed. “Okay. But Epona first.”

Mask never ended up learning to draw anything else other than horses during the two years that followed that interaction.