#Shes well over two and a half years and a growth makes moving around and eating difficult

[newkiqx]

Gonna miss you so much you silly idiot

Look at this little muppet blessing us all with her undivided attention

[kedreeva]

A couple months back, my neighbor wanted to get some Spitzhauben hatching eggs for his wife, so he asked me for help finding some good ones, from a good breeder. So I dug around for a bit, since Spitz are a bit of a rare breed, and found a few options that looked decent. One of them happened to be in Michigan with us, maybe a little over an hour from us, so I arranged to go pick them up in person to avoid the stresses of shipping on the eggs.

I picked up a dozen (baker's dozen, she added a few extra just in case), and a half dozen of the Marans eggs for myself (she gave me a discount because fertility hadn't been tested yet, as long as I promised to report growth/hatch rate and update about what comes out) because she claimed to have good quality and her eggs looked to be decent quality. She was really nice, very chatty, and the eggs looked great in person, too.

12 of the spitz eggs hatched, and 3 of the BCM. The BCM chicks looked great but they were being stressed OUT by the quail chicks they were in with, so I snuck them into the brooder with the spitz when I closed up the neighbor's birds one evening while they were out.

I've visited them a few times since, and they've been looking good, but they're finally to an age where on the BCM you can tell sex- perfect ratio, one rooster, two hens.

Now, I used to keep and breed BCM a long time ago. I had wanted to get into showing (never got around to it for several reasons), and I'd dealt with several lines. My original line that I'd mixed from a couple different people always produced REALLY stellar roosters- big lads with sweet, docile personalities that were 100% ready to die for their ladies, whom they always treated well. For roosters, those are all REALLY important qualities. The ideal is a rooster that treats his ladies well, is willing to fight to the death to defend them if something comes after them BUT--- importantly can tell the difference between a predator and a human who is messing with the hens (picking up, moving, treating w/ meds, whatever). Ideally, if a hen makes a noise of distress, the rooster come BOLTING to her at top fucking speed ready to kick ass, but stops dead if he sees it's just a human. And I HAD that- I used to sell the roosters to folks (SELL them, I never had to give away a rooster) as flock protectors, and I would get people coming back to buy another after their guy died defending the girls while free ranging. It's sad, but it's also one of two reasons to have a rooster.

And I see all the time people posting about their mean roosters, about how to handle roosters that are mean to humans, or people telling others oh the rooster is just young and roosters are mean when they're young and they'll mellow out when they get older, just keep putting up with it. Power through.

NO! There is almost* NEVER a reason to tolerate a nasty rooster- one that's mean to the girls, or to humans. This BCM rooster is only a few months old, but you can already see the purpose that's been bred into him. I picked up one of his girls and she went :( and he came RUNNING over to see what was wrong, looked me up and down and went nah that's cool, and then checked on all the other girls. Just in case. I went to move them from their cage to the big play pen that's set up for them, and I thought oh this is going to be a circus, trying to catch them all. The Spitzhauben were acting insane, like I was trying to kill them by looking at them. I braced the carry bin on the edge of the door, expecting to reach in to (try to) grab each bird and put them in. But no. This rooster walked over, got in, called the others, and they all chilled right out, came over and jumped into the bin with him. He's in the playpen right now just watching over all the others. If someone gets into an argument, he runs over and gets between them, and then checks on them both after. When he lies down, the others come lie down with him. On him.

THIS is what a good rooster looks like. Not in a year, not in two years. Right from the getgo, the instincts are all there. Hormones shouldn't eliminate/supercede this behavior- they shouldn't turn a bird into an asshole. They should instigate a second set of rooster behaviors- dancing/courting, tidbitting, and mating attempts. Running girls ragged, pulling feathers, causing injury, attacking people- these are all poor breeding and/or handling problems. These are things that can (and SHOULD) be selected against when breeding fowl

*The "almost" never is that a breeder starting out may not have a choice when it comes to shitty personalities- they may find themselves having to tolerate the least shitty for a few generations, until the personalities show improvement. In this case, most (good) breeders know better than to dump the wash outs on the unsuspecting, and will instead do hard culls for food or sell to folks raising food or who are aware of the personality problems. In any case any tolerance should be an in-progress tolerance, not an endgame result.

[phantomsies]

grown woman • r. sukuna

📝: modern au, black fem!reader (she’s in her 30’s), alcohol use, missionary, oral sex (f. receiving), choking, cumshot, subby-ish sukuna, spit play

wc: 2.2K

📃: I’m still struggling to get back used to tumblr so I’m gonna be a lil slow posting. It’ll also be on patreon as well and hopefully, it doesn’t get flagged!

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a subtle touch, a gentle kiss..a slight nudge of the nose to the neck. It was all of the small movements that made him tick. Even the slightest bit of movement sent his heart into a fit of flutters. Honestly, it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of either..for he was simply a man in love. Unapologetically and unconditionally. Some would even credit you solely for his change in demeanor…from a slick, smooth talking womanizer who couldn’t even spell love. To the shameless romantic with enough passion to fuel the entire planet. Hell, if you let him tell it, the world didn’t even start spinning and the sun never shined until you came around. In essence, you changed his life!..and quite frankly, his image as well.

Ryomen Sukuna was known for many things throughout his life but being a monotonous, adoring homebody was not one of them! No longer were the days of club hopping and late night hookups…wandering home with whatever girl piqued his interest for the night and taking out all of his unbridled sexual frustration on her. In an even more callous move, she was out before the sun even rose and her name was irrelevant. He’d come to work with the same charming, fun disposition as if he hadn’t ruined another girl’s perception of love and healthy relationships. It was all a part of the game as far as he was concerned. So naturally, when you entered his life over a year and a half ago..never would this man have imagined that he’d be standing in the kitchen of a shared condo; towel draped over his bare shoulder as he stirred a pot of homemade sauce to serve with the dinner he’d prepared for you. Domesticated like an animal that had once roamed the streets mindlessly..now, spending his Saturday nights drinking wine with R&B reverberating through the speakers of a mounted flat screen. It was the after effects of dealing with a grown woman, after all. Firm in what you wanted, even more steadfast in what you wouldn’t tolerate and what he could do if the rules didn’t suit his fancy. However, him walking out of the door was the least of your worries now. Especially when you had him reeled in so closely.

“Mmmph..damn.”

the gesture catching his attention as you sat adjacent to him on the couch. Long, slender brown legs crossed as you nursed your own glass of Sauvignon. It was your third one of the evening and it was certainly taking its toll. So much so, your appetite had completely shifted from what was being prepared…

“Don’t worry. The food’s almost done..just finishing up a few things.”

to the one who had so graciously concocted the meal! Make no mistake, Ryo’s cooking was nothing short of a divine dining experience. But the carbonara wasn’t the only thing you were in the mood to slurp on! See, he could appreciate your honesty for the things you desired. How you weren’t shy or bashful about your needs. So long had he been the one controlling the narrative..making the decisions and sadly, trampling all over the women in his life because they made it easy to do so. But you weren’t any of them and that fact was reinstilled each time you two were alone. (Y/N) had finally grown tiresome of quelling your urges and set the cogs in motion so that this evening could truly end the way you both hoped for. You’d been hiding your time, watching him move around from the stove to the fridge, bringing you tiny samples in between and even halting momentarily to steal an influx of kisses. He’d been fantasizing about spreading you out on that table but with growth came reservation and he always waited for you to initiate things now. Twirling him around and moving him as if he were your puppet and like the helpless lover boy he’d transformed into, Ryo followed!

“Actually…why don’t you turn that off? I’ve got something better..” Instead of preparing plates, he was summoned by the wave of a finger..decorated with French tips and the sight of your fur lined robe slightly ajar from you pulling it open. “Oh, is that right? So watching me sweat over that stove was just for your amusement then, huh?” You immediately sensed the sarcasm in that deep voice of his and that toothy, foolish grin on his face gave away any hint of annoyance. As he drew closer, your legs spread further apart and you’d welcome him in between with no hesitation. Cackling as your lips connected into sloppy tongue kisses and those nimble hands cupped his face. Those large tattooed hands wasting no time in groping you subtly as they roamed your exposed skin.

“More like for my pleasure. Now shut up and come eat this pussy..”

his sharp eyes would cut at you, followed by a chuckle as that frame towered over you. Both of his hands and arms resting by your side like two giant pillars.

“And since when did you start telling me what the fuck to do? You know I don’t take orders from anyone.” But if Ryomen knew one fact..it was that you weren’t these other little girls he was used to fooling around with! You’d put him in his place and he’d stay there if he knew what was good for him. Quiet as it was kept, he loved the shit! Something about being bossed around by a woman who was a fraction of his size made him illicit feelings he shouldn’t have. Sitting cross armed with seemingly not a care in the world, (y/n) raised your leg..only to place it atop his shoulder blade and pressed down until that six foot five frame sank to its knees.

“Yet here you are…doing..exactly what the fuck I told you.” Honestly, that snarky tone would’ve gotten anyone else slung across the room. But not you..he graciously accepted those demands and got to work. The tension was mounting and veins began to protrude from his forehead. Without a single moment of haste, Ryo aggressively tugged your panties to the left side and out of his way..allowing him to delve into your center. Leaving sloppy, full licks all over your wet folds, suckling roughly on your clit and clawing his fingers into your thighs in the event you tried to scoot away from him. It didn’t take long before a trail of saliva and delicious cream began to trickle down to your most sensitive areas.

“Ugh!—fuck..yeah, good boy. You know what I need.”

your words seemed to have elicited a response out of him; a half verbal one that caused him to loudly grunt and follow it with a hard slap to your thigh. Eventually, your legs began to tremble and the sensation reverberated throughout your entire body. “You better be lucky you taste so goddamn good..I shouldn’t give you shit.” “Mmmhm. I hear you…”

Meanwhile, your digits scoured his hair..guiding his head along. Your legs were resting idly on Ryo’s shoulder and still rattling when you’d feel your throat constrict. Those large hands coiled around your neck and he’d squeeze lightly just to add to your mounting pleasure. Those calculated movements would only continue to grow increasingly more aggressive and euphoric. By the time he came up for a semblance of air, you’d coated your boyfriend’s face in a veil of sticky warmth. (Y/N) clawed at his forearm, but to no avail. He’d finally gotten you within his clutches..just as that orgasm drew near. Just as your entrance began to contract around his middle and index fingers whilst they worked inside of you. And just as you were about to release, he’d rise to his feet and hover over you. Burrowing his knees into the couch cushion and positioning himself between those parted legs. With a deviant scowl on his face and in one fell swoop, Ryo tugged at the elastic waistband of his Nike sweats; bringing them to the floor and his stiff cock from their confines. It was seeping..the tip puddling with precum and aching to be nestled balls deep inside of you.

“Look at you..about to pass out. How cute.”

“But I’m not. So fuck me until I do..”

however, rather than being greeted with frail whimpers and pleas for mercy, (y/n) returned that smile with your tongue dangling from your mouth and commands to do his worst! ”You got a lot of fucking mouth, y’know that? Talk that shit with this dick inside of you. I’d love to hear that.”

Those freshly shaven lips were tapped with that pulsating cock head before it found its way between those silky walls.. and quite possibly his kryptonite!..only fitting about three solid inches before he’d begin to buckle. Frustration truly began to set in when he realized your reaction didn’t mirror his own and instead of being met with the sight of hands pawing at his abs, those acrylics rested on your clit and began to trace circles. Your tits sitting upright as you peered down to see how far he’d got in.

“And you really think that’s enough to shut me up? C’mon, baby. You can do better than that.”

it was always him..always him talking and guiding his sexual partners through the sessions. It was always him who was vocal and demanding the next move..but you’d once again flipped all those notions onto their heads! Tightening that force against your throat, Ryo sought to prove himself. Starting out with only a couple slow strokes before drilling into you full fledge. Loud smacking noises from colliding flesh filled the room and with that hulking frame towering over you, he’d try his best to get you to break! Feeding you long, deep and impactful thrusts..interchanging fingers from your throat to your mouth and even pressing into your stomach to feel his own imprint.

Anything to garner dominance..but it was you with the upper hand. Even with that deranged simper stretching from ear to ear, (y/n) still egged him on. Despite tears trickling down your face and that fresh silk press becoming disheveled. Your toes curled midair as they remained on his chiseled pecs..limbs flailing about and your screams added to the chorus of chaotic noises. Your juices began to puddle and a sheath of white leaked from that tight hole. In that moment, he’d glance up to see only the whites of your eyes and thought it was a golden opportunity.

“Yeah..I knew it. Knew you couldn’t handle—“ “Yes, baby! Give it to me..make this pussy come!..make me nut on that fucking dick..” But condition aside, you’d laugh and become joyous at the sight of his roughness. Opening your jaws graciously for slaps and trails of spit. Taking every inch as if it were nothing…even when you’d begin to squirt and dampen those abs. He’d expected you to cower down and eventually tap out, like all the others before you. That he would be the top dog at the end of this little rendezvous. But when he felt that pulsation of his own climax nearing, Ryomen began to panic. Doubling down on his hard strokes, his pace and movements becoming erratic and the onset fear that he’d be coming in a shorter duration than he ever had!..it was too much..and yet again, in another move for control, (y/n) made the final call.

“Pull out..I want it on my face..” too spent and quite frankly, too enamored to fight back, the all mighty Ryomen Sukuna..notorious playboy turned pathetic fuck toy..retracted and allowed you to do as you wished. Leaning up, you’d wrap those nimble hands around his shaft and make jerking motions until that warm splatter of cum rain down on your mouth, tits and pretty features. “G’ahh! F-fuck..I’m coming!—“ “I know, baby. I know..give it all to me. Let me drain you..”

All with a toothy grin and that maniacal cackle as you licked up the remnants. But not before ushering him in for another kiss.

“Thank you, daddy..just what I needed. See, you can follow directions.”

It was at that exact moment that the epiphany crossed his mind. And all Ryo could do was burst into laughter. No more were his days of mindless control and having his way..he was a changed man. Who was fucking with a grown woman!

[rylem33]

My Dinner with Andrea

Outside the entrance of the upscale restaurant, Natalie glanced nervously at Ethan. “Are you sure your mom really wants me here tonight? I mean, she barely tolerates me on a good day.”

Ethan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know she can be intense, but trust me, Nat. She means well. She’s just… picky.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “I think she’ll come around eventually.”

Natalie forced a smile. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot. We’ll make the best of it.”

They took a deep breath together before entering the restaurant.

Inside, Andrea was already seated at an elegantly set table. She rose, greeting them with a firm hug for Ethan and a polite nod for Natalie.

“Ethan,” she said, a faint hint of warmth in her tone, “could you be a dear and check on our reservation for next week? I want to make sure everything’s set.”

“Of course, Mom.” Ethan smiled, then turned to Natalie, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before walking away.

Once they were alone, Andrea turned her gaze to Natalie, her eyes narrowing appraisingly. “Natalie,” she said softly, her fingers reaching into her bag to produce a small box. “I thought this might suit you.”

She opened the box to reveal an ornate, antique necklace, its gold chain gleaming in the light. “It’s a family piece,” she continued with a cool smile. “I think it might bring out your best qualities.”

Surprised by the gift, Natalie hesitated before taking it. “Thank you,” she murmured, clasping it around her neck. As soon as the necklace settled against her skin, she felt a warm sensation spread over her.

Ethan returned moments later and they settled in at the table. Andrea folded her hands primly, her gaze drifting between the two of them.

“So, Natalie,” she began, her voice measured. “How are things at work? Ethan mentioned you’re in marketing. What is it you do again?”

Natalie straightened, trying not to let her nerves show. “Yes, I work on social media campaigns. Mostly planning and tracking how they perform.”

Andrea gave a polite nod, her eyes flicking briefly to Ethan as if to gauge his reaction. “Interesting. And how long have you been with your company?”

“About three years now,” Natalie said, feeling herself relax slightly. “I’ve learned a lot since I started.”

Andrea tilted her head. “Three years. That’s a good amount of time. And I imagine there are opportunities for growth?” Her voice held a faint edge, and Natalie couldn’t tell if she was genuinely interested or subtly prodding.

“Oh, definitely,” Natalie replied, smiling with more confidence. “There’s a lot of room to move up, and I’m excited about it. I’ve been setting goals, and I’m determined to make a real impact.”

“Haven’t you?” Andrea replied, her eyebrow lifting slightly as she studied Natalie’s expression. “Planning ahead is one thing, but sometimes it’s more practical to focus on family, don’t you think?”

Natalie hesitated, thrown off by the unexpected remark, and glanced at Ethan for reassurance, though he was adjusting his napkin, only half-listening. “Of course,” she replied quickly, “but it’s always been important to me to have something of my own. I really enjoy working toward something meaningful.”

Andrea’s polite smile remained cool, her gaze unwavering. “I see. That’s… admirable,” she said, taking a sip of her water. She turned to Ethan, smiling faintly. “Ethan, you’ve always known what’s important. Being a provider. Right?”

Ethan gave Natalie a soft smile. “Mom.” He reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Natalie’s. “I think everyone has their own path. I respect Natalie and her goals.”

“Indeed.” Andrea’s gaze drifted back to Natalie, her fingers tapping lightly against her glass. “And what about outside of work, Natalie? Do you stay active?”

Natalie blinked, sensing the appraisal in the question. “Oh, well… I try to go on walks,” she said, realizing too late how it might sound next to the poised, immaculate woman across from her. But suddenly, an image flooded her mind. She was jogging through a scenic park, her toned muscles working as she powered up a hill. She wore sleek, high-end workout gear that fit her perfectly, and heads turned as she passed.

She blinked, momentarily disoriented, then recovered and smiled. “Actually, I’ve been really focused on fitness lately,” she replied smoothly. “It’s really important to stay in shape. I make it a priority every day.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows, a puzzled look crossing his face. “Wait… when did this happen? I mean, I didn’t even know you liked running, let alone did it regularly.”

“Oh, I make the time,” Natalie replied, her voice more confident than she’d expected. “It’s important to look and feel your best.” Her arms appeared more toned, her frame subtly more athletic. She felt a thrill as she noticed Andrea giving her an approving nod.

Ethan looked between Andrea and Natalie, frowning slightly. “But I’ve… never seen you go running, Nat. Not even once.”

Natalie shrugged, her confidence growing. “Well, maybe you just didn’t notice.” She shot him a smirk.

“Well,” Andrea said, “it shows that you have discipline, Natalie.” Andrea continued to query, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And how do you spend your free time, Natalie? What do you do for fun?”

“Oh, um…” Natalie hesitated, caught off-guard by the direct question. “I mean, I usually enjoy reading, watching movies, spending time with friends.” She shifted uncomfortably, realizing as she spoke how plain it all sounded.

Andrea’s gaze sharpened, her tone neutral. “Friends,” she echoed. “Yes, a social life is important. But I assume you get out more than that?”

Natalie’s mind blurred, and suddenly, a memory burst to life in her mind. She was at a lively club, dressed in a sleek black dress, laughing loudly as she moved through the crowd. The music thrummed around her, and she could feel eyes following her as she danced confidently, drink in hand, commanding attention with her energy and laughter. She wasn’t just out for the night—she was there to be seen, to revel in the spotlight.

The memory faded, leaving Natalie with a thrill of exhilaration. “Actually,” she replied, her voice a little louder and more energetic, “I’ve been going out a lot lately! Drinks, clubs… just enjoying life, you know?” She leaned back, a wide smile on her face.

Ethan blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait… clubbing? Since when?”

Natalie shrugged, her smirk widening as she brushed off his question. “Oh, Ethan, I’ve just been having fun,” she said, her tone almost playful. She noticed the pleased glint in Andrea’s eyes and leaned back, basking in the attention, feeling a strange satisfaction in her new, bolder self.

“Well,” Andrea said, “it’s certainly important to enjoy life and have an active social life.” She paused, her gaze thoughtful before continuing, “And tell me, Natalie, where do you see yourself in five years?”

Natalie was about to talk about her career goals, her plans to move up in her field and make a name for herself. Her work had always meant a lot to her. But before she could speak, another vivid image took hold. She was in a luxurious home, her time devoted to attending elegant events and looking picture-perfect on Ethan’s arm. Career ambitions were left far behind, replaced by a refined, effortless lifestyle focused entirely on supporting Ethan.

The image faded, and she felt a strange contentment at the thought of not working, of just being there for Ethan. “Actually,” she said, her voice softer, almost dreamlike, “I’ve realized that career ambition isn’t everything. I think I’d rather just… focus on supporting Ethan.” The words came out easily, and for the first time, the idea of letting go of her own ambitions felt right, even exciting.

Ethan leaned forward, his face a mixture of surprise and confusion. “Wait… Nat, since when? You’ve always cared about work, about building something on your own.”

“Oh, Ethan,” she replied with a light laugh, waving him off with a simple, dismissive smile. “I just think it’s time to focus on being a good girlfriend…. and, you know, maybe having a family someday.” Her voice had taken on a softer, simpler tone. A serene smile settled over her face.

Andrea’s smile widened, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “Exactly, Natalie. Those are the qualities that last. Isn’t that what you want in a partner, Ethan?”

Ethan glanced between the two of them, looking more unsettled than ever. “I mean… sure, but…” His voice was tense, uncertain as he looked at Natalie.

Natalie giggled lightly, her words flowing out easily and without a hint of her previous ambition. “Oh, Ethan, there’s nothing wrong with simplifying things! It’s all about what really matters, right?” She flashed a soft smile as Andrea watched her approvingly.

Andrea’s gaze settled on the necklace at Natalie’s throat, her eyes gleaming. “Natalie, tell me, have you ever thought about refining your style? Presentation can mean everything.”

As she listened, Natalie felt another warm pulse from the necklace, and an image overtook her mind. She was browsing a designer boutique, her fingers gliding over luxurious fabrics. She could see herself in the mirror wearing the latest trends, entirely focused on looking good….no, looking hot.

“Yes,” Natalie murmured, her tone soft but cheerful. “I think quality is, like, super important. You know? It’s all about looking… amazing.” She glanced down, a delighted smile spreading over her face as she noticed how her dress now hugged her frame perfectly, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that made her waist look tiny and her figure even more striking. She gave a little giggle, feeling pleased as she noticed Ethan’s gaze lingering on her and catching Andrea’s approving nod.

Ethan’s confusion deepened as he took in her sudden transformation. “Nat… are you okay?”

“Oh, Ethan,” she replied lightly, giving a little laugh as she dismissed his question with a casual wave. “I’m just, like… great!” She glanced over at Andrea, who gave her an approving nod. Feeling a pleasant warmth at the silent approval, she flashed a wide smile, entirely pleased with herself.

Ethan’s growing confusion shifted to suspicion as he looked between Andrea and Natalie, his gaze settling on the necklace, its delicate chain glinting in the low light. “Natalie… where did you get that necklace?”

“Oh, this?” Natalie touched it with an innocent giggle, her fingers lightly tracing the necklace as a warm hum pulsed against her skin. “Your mom gave it to me!” she replied with a wide, cheerful smile. “She said it would bring out my best qualities.”

Ethan’s face paled, his mouth opening slightly as he turned to Andrea, a flash of anger in his eyes. “Mom… you… you gave her that?” His voice was thick with alarm.

Andrea’s smile remained perfectly calm, her satisfaction barely concealed. “Yes, Ethan. I thought it was time. Natalie deserves to reach her full potential, don’t you think?”

Ethan turned back to Natalie, frustration and alarm flashing in his eyes.

“Don’t try to fight it, Ethan,” Andrea continued. “The changes can’t be reversed.”

Natalie only tilted her head with a blank, cheerful smile, her voice light and sing-song. “Oh, Ethan. Are you upset? I like being your girlfriend. I can, like, be supportive and stuff.” She giggled, the sound bright and carefree. Her ambitions, once so important to her, seemed like distant memories now, replaced by a calm that felt perfectly right.

Ethan clenched his jaw, his voice thick with frustration as he struggled to hold on to his anger. “Mom, you’ve made her into someone else… someone you want her to be.”

Andrea placed a gentle hand on his arm, her voice smooth and assured. “Ethan, this is exactly what you need, a woman who values simplicity and devotion. Someone who will support you without all those complicated ambitions.”

Ethan looked back at Natalie, her features soft and sweet, her giggles almost childlike as she smiled up at him. She seemed so different, yet wholly pleased with who she’d become. Ethan’s anger slowly dissolved into reluctant acceptance.

With a sigh, he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re right, Mom. You always are.”

[cxvii666]

part 2 🫡

"so i take it you two have met before?"

"yes!"

"no."

ino takuma turns to you, with a irritatingly cute half smirk on his face as you pointedly focus on ignoring him.

"no? really?"

you resist the urge to roll your eyes and give nanami kento, your superior a tight smile.

"we uh, we were at the academy at the same time."

in a room full of your seniors and underclassmen you so hoped he wouldn't be here but, as always, luck was on your side.

you had left tokyo and moved to kyoto to begin training under utahime iori immediately after graduating, trying to obtain a grade one rank as a sorcerer. it had been a gruelling two years as utahime, while a mostly a sweetheart, was not an laidback teacher. which, of course was to be expected, i mean as semi grade one sorcerer she could be insanely harsh and uncompromising. this was great for your development for your cursed technique and overall control of cursed energy but not so great for, what had been, something of a blossoming relationship between you and ino.

you had gotten over him, mostly (not at all), but seeing him again, after he had grown out his hair and had a growth spurt and was smiling at you in that cute boyish way that he did back in the day-

MEANT NOTHING! ahem. didn't matter as you weren't here to see him. you were in tokyo on business.

utahime had been called in by some of tokyo's higher ups to deal with a the influx of high grade cursed spirits due to the presence of sukuna's vessel and had had you tag along with her as support.

'not that she needed it,' you thought to yourself looking around at those in the room.

you didn't doubt the current tokyo first and second years would out rank you had they enough field experience. paired with the presence of nanami kento and his 'apprentice', you were sure the tokyo sorcerers could have had this handled but the fact that utahime had chosen to bring you here amongst such high level sorcerers meant you had an opportunity to prove yourself. and you would not let a childhood relationship ruin that.

but ino, on the other hand was absolutely kicking his feet at the chance to see you again. as soon as he heard that utahime was going to be there with 'one of her younger associates' he'd asked (begged) nanami to let him 'assist him'. nanami had been skeptical at the time but he had just assumed that ino had wanted to show off to his underclassmen. but now looking at the two of you together he began to connect the dots.

......

"oh my god, takuma you gotta stop."

"you smell so good."

"fucking creep."

"you love it."

you stiffle a giggle as he works his nose up your neck, behind your ear and takes a deep inhale. fuck he missed you so much you have no idea. you sigh contentedly as his hands snake up the inside of your shirt and he starts leaving light kisses on the skin behind your ear.

ino has you pressed up against, you're not even sure, some wall of some corridor in one of the many halls of the tokyo's jujutsu high school, both of you buzzing with adrenaline after a job well done.

"you gotta stop before one of the students see us."

he closes his eyes as your hand snakes it's way up his back and grips his hair tightly making him whine quietly.

"fuck babe, i don't care, let them."

his kisses grow teeth and he grazes them across the lobe of your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck to hide a groan as you yank on his hair.

"yeah, what if your precious nanami comes by?"

ino lets out a sigh of dissatisfaction before retracting his hands from shirt and taking your hands in his.

"how long are you in town?" he asks you, biting his lip gently, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

you drop his hands, "i'm supposed to go head back after this-"

he starts to pout but before he can say anything else you cup his face with your hands and smile softly at him.

"but for you, i suppose i could stay the night."

big up to myself for always adding unnecessary detail, we love to see it 🙏🏾‼️

lol my first official tumblr drabble dedicated to my underrated king 😏😈

[jessicanjpa]

cottage

An excerpt from this chapter of 2003. The Cullens have just moved to Forks and Edward is exploring the woods behind the house.

I was surprised to find the remnants of an old trail not far from the river. It hadn't been used in a long time; for most of its length, the only sign was a winding track of evergreens that were significantly shorter than their neighbors. A rusted tin can was the only other evidence that a human had ever passed this way. Maybe this path led to an old deer stand or something like that.

I explored here and there, finally taking to the treetops so I could follow the "path" more easily. I was finally rewarded with the sight of a big rectangle so regular that it had to be manmade. It was partially obscured by the overgrowth and the rotted branches that had fallen on it in recent years, but it was definitely a building. I swung back down to the forest floor, surprised to see not a deer stand or a spartan hunting shack, but an adorable little stone cottage.

It was like stepping into a fairy tale. I had landed just far enough away to use the little path of flat stones that led the way home to the front door. The decaying, broken roof was an eyesore, but everything else was perfect... in a crumbling, half-reclaimed-by-nature sort of way. Wild, meandering honeysuckle had completely taken over one wall. Nearly every stone was outlined and softened with moss. The arched door wasn't in the best shape, but it was made of sturdy oak that had easily outlived the roof.

I walked a wide circle around the whole thing. A stone chimney crowned the southern corner, and there was a little door in the back that opened directly into what probably used to be a garden. Now, it was just a little outline of rotted miniature fencing, completely overrun by natural growth. Only a single climbing rose plant had survived to tell the story of the former inhabitants, clinging to the mossy stones as if to escape the encroaching wilderness.

I reached out and gently touched its petals. Stubborn rose, I thought with a smile. It was a good omen; Rosalie and Emmett were going to love it out here. It'd been a while since they'd really needed four walls of their own to knock down as they pleased, but it wasn't every day we found a house that came complete with a fairy tale cottage, either. I was almost jealous.

I carefully inspected the rest of the exterior before easing the door open. Esme would want to know every detail, though of course she would soon be out here to see it for herself. I stretched my gift back toward the main house to her mind abuzz with renovation plans. She might not be able to get to the cottage right away. I grimaced around the tiny living room. The beehive fireplace was in good enough condition, but the wallpaper was an affront to all that was good and holy. Hopefully the smell would get thrown out with it.

The kitchen was little more than a camper's stove and a sink, which was just as well. Two rickety chairs crowded up to a tiny breakfast table that had seen better days. I was far more interested in the old piano that took up the wall across from the fireplace. I didn't expect much, what with the exposure and the humidity it must have suffered over the years, but I still let out a disappointed sigh when the keys refused to be pushed, much less make any sound. I took a peek inside; the strings actually didn't look too bad. I already had the Steinway baby grand anyway, but it would be a shame to send it to a junkyard. Maybe I could find a local piano repair shop that enjoyed restoring hard luck cases.

Just like the main house, the cottage seemed bigger inside than out. I followed a little hallway—it was arched like the front door, as though I had wandered into a tiny castle—and found a generous bedroom matched against two smaller rooms. No signs of plumbing ever having been installed: that would give Esme a pleasant challenge.

The whole thing was perfect. Maybe if Rosalie and Emmett spent enough time out here, they would even agree to switch bedrooms with me. I didn't exactly need a full suite, but I wouldn't say no to my own shower and enough room for all my books to come out of their boxes. They were getting the better deal by far; this place was a jewel. And it felt right, somehow; it had been a shame to see the hunting cottage back at our old Hoquiam place fall into disrepair. Having this little find on our new property seemed to make up for it.

I headed back to the main house, wondering who had lived out at the cottage once upon a time, and why. I supposed it might be as old as the house, or even older; there could have been a whole line of occupants. The cottage had its own little story to tell. Perhaps it had been used as a mother-in-law unit once: a whimsical grandmother with plenty of cats and plenty of time to tend her roses. Then a little honeymoon retreat for a blushing couple who had set up house with a second-hand breakfast table, then a brooding pianist who needed solitude to work on his compositions.

And now it would house a pair of lovesick vampires who would hopefully leave it in one piece and pass it on to continue the story. The older we all got, the more distanced we felt from stories like these, no matter how picturesque the setting or how vivid an imprint our renovations left behind. But I supposed we were just stewards like the rest: here for a day, then nothing more than a fading memory.

[moorishflower]

Go west?

Yeah! go west, young man is a concept I'm tooling around with for The Terror! Combining two of my favorite things: depressed and repressed Victorians and the mid to late 1800s American wild west! In which James Fitzjames marries Sophia Cracroft 'to honor Sir John's memory,' Francis Crozier resigns from the British Navy and flees to the United States to avoid being confronted with losing both James and Sophia, and I attempt to fix everything with polyamory.

~~~

In all his years of sailing, James had only had occasion to visit the United States once. He had been fifteen at the time, serving aboard Pyramus with Captain Sartorius, and had been rather more concerned with maintaining his precarious position aboard the ship as opposed to gawking at the strangenesses of the former colonies. Pyramus had docked in New York, attending to some diplomatic function which James had not been privy to the specifics of; his primary memory of the journey now is that New York had seemed very much like London, in that it had been large and busy and crowded, and had clamored with a thousand different voices and accents along the docks, and the smell of rotting fish and seaweed and salt had permeated the air just the same as any other harbor. In that way, it had made him terribly and fretfully homesick, not only for London, which he had grown with and which had grown upon him in turn, but also for a more nebulous concept of home-ness, which had oft been denied him for much of his childhood.

He is not surprised to find that New York has not changed significantly in the years between 1828 and 1850. It has grown wider, yes, and taller, and louder and more offensive to the senses, but these are all things that have occurred in London as well, the only difference being that he was present in London for many of its changes, and he views the same growth here with eyes unadorned with the spectacles of familiarity.

Sophia, on the contrary, is possessed of no such fondness; he flatters himself that he has come to know her expressions well over the last year, and in particular the ones indicating disdain: here, the wrinkled nose, just barely, to mark her displeasure at the smell of the harbor; and just there, a tightness at the corner of her mouth that tells him she is struggling not to frown. He watches her retrieve a handkerchief from her handbag, which she holds delicately over the lower half of her face. It serves the dual purpose of both masking the scent of the docks and hiding her expression from him.

Perhaps another man might take offense at this. Perhaps a better husband might seek to remedy her ire.

James has never fashioned himself as a husband of any sort, let alone a decent one.

Matrimony need not be a requisite for gentlemanly behavior, he chides himself. He is too tired to do more than think it, but makes the effort to extend his hand in order to assist Sophia in disembarking. She demurs -- had that not been a constant source of argument, in the beginning? Her independence, her willfulness, her habit of grim sullenness? -- and gathers up her skirts as they move along with the flowing tide of the other passengers. The rank smell of fish and salt surrounds them all sides.

"I shall be frightfully pleased when we are quit of sea travel," she says. He nearly misses it. James had not expected her to speak to him at all…at the very least, not until they had reached their lodgings for the evening. He clears his throat. His head is throbbing, but this is nothing new. He has found that crowds and loud noises induce in him an ache behind the left eye so fierce that sometimes it takes all of his willpower to keep himself from screaming.

"We shall not be rid of it just yet, I'm afraid," he says. He makes an attempt to sound apologetic. For all that Sophia had accompanied Sir John and Lady Jane on many of their voyages, she is no Navy sailor. "We must charter a packet ship to take us down the coast, to…" He struggles to remember his geography; he has the absurd and sudden thought that, perhaps, if he were to remove his eye, functionally deficit as it is, perhaps the pain would stop. He rubs his temple instead. "…a river," he finishes, lamely. Sophia turns her head towards him. She is still holding the handkerchief to her mouth and nose, and between it and her bonnet it gives her the look of an odalisque, not unlike the women he had seen in the Ottoman Empire. The difference, of course, being that no girl there had ever looked at him with such open and fiery contempt.

"The Mississippi River," she says slowly, as if speaking to a child. James pinches the bridge of his nose, but this provides no relief. "I am aware of our travel itinerary."

Are you? he wants to ask. Demand. Are you, truly? If you were, then you would know we are not enemies. We go to find the same salvation, you and I.

He does not speak it. What use? Sophia Cracroft had determined to hate him the moment she had said 'I do.'

[riverofinkofficial]

Painting Your Own Path

I previously submitted this short story to a competition that Reedsy.com hosted. I hope you enjoy it here as well!

SUMMARY: A young artist moves out of her childhood home to travel and paint only to return home when her unforgiving mother falls ill. Join her in her journey of self-growth and forgiveness.

Word Count: 1,617

It is always the cold winter night, when frost overtakes the town and snow buries our favorite memories. It is when the clouds dominate the sky and so our universe seems to disappear. Or is it that my family only fights on christmas then cries and pleads with one another as they leave the gathering. No, I think it is when the sun rises but no light is strong enough to break through; that is how I know that the winter has been cursed.

Well, I stopped going to family gatherings, in fact I have not seen any of my family in three years! Practically the moment I turned eighteen I was out the door and riding a one-way ticket to anywhere I could manage. That ended up being a two-and-a-half-hour drive from my hometown to Albuquerque and a four-hour flight from there to New York City. Only to discover that big cities are definitely not my cup of tea. I sold some of my watercolor paintings to buy a taxi to Boston. I traveled around like that for the first couple of years. I would stay in one place for two weeks or at times a month. My watercolor paintings (or as my mom put it “a waste of gods good colors”) sold relatively well wherever I went. In some cities I set up an easel in the street and sold people’s portraits! I was in Chicago painting the snowy landscapes of the city when I got the call.

“Maggie, where are you? Your mother has been worried sick! I only found you cause  of those silly photos on the Photogram! You can’t go running off without a word in the middle of the night!” What a lovely reminder of why I left. I threatened to hang up, there is no room in my life for my family’s chaotic energy. But then she shook my world.

“She’s in the hospital Maggie, the doctors are doing what they can but she ain’t looking too good.” That was not the surprising part, her health has been deteriorating for the past few years. She says it is the stress of having a failure for a daughter that causes it but everyone knows it is the alcohol that will do her in one day. It sounds to me that the day has come. “Maggie? Are you there, don't you have anything to say?” 

The truth is, I do not know what to say. What do you say when the person who beat you, dehumanized and hated you is on their deathbed? What are you supposed to feel when you get to see someone receive their karma for the harm they did to you? If you feel relieved, does that make you a bad person? If you feel pain, does that mean you are still under their spell? Or maybe you feel nothing, does that free you from the responsibility of responding or even acknowledging them at all? All of these feelings rush through me with the wind, the town square I had been painting rocks in its place on the easel. Someone picks up a canvas from my little ground display then pushes some money into my hand as they walk off with it.

“Maggie?” What should I do?

A great gust of wind howls through, my easel rocks and some canvas I have on display fall over. A painting of Lady Liberty topples over into the snow, I can almost smell the embers of her fire turning to smoke. Behind her was an old painting of a statue in the Taos Plaza. I painted it while I was feeling homesick in Ohio last summer. That must be some sort of sign. I told my aunt that I would get a flight home and hang up before she could say another word. Man, the winter really is haunted, isn’t it?

I pack up my canvases and tools, make one last sell on a hyper-realistic DuSable Bridge painting, then I hail a taxi. There are no tickets available to fly to Albuquerque so I wait in the gate lounge only half hoping someone does not show up so I can get their seat. The woman coordinating passengers comes out to announce two empty seats for sale at a reduced price. I hurried over and secure my seat at 9A and rushed on board the plane. My thumb traces the colorful heart on the corner of the ticket in anticipation. 

“Good evening, ladies and gents, this is your captain Henry speaking!” The captain runs through safety precautions, sprinkling in his own friendly jabs. “...we will be landing in Albuquerque, New Mexico at about nine-thirty PM. Please enjoy your flight and remember, no skydiving without me!” There are a few chuckles, most people are already asleep or deep into conversations. As we took off, I noticed a small boy, perhaps merely five years old, staring at me from the neighboring aisle. The rhinoceros doll he is clutching seems to be staring too. When we are permitted to use our devices, I pop in my wired earbuds and open my Photogram. I posted a goofy photo of me on the plane, captioned with Where do you think I’ll end up this time?! It does not take long for people to start seeing it, comments and likes begin rolling in. For a street painter I have made quite a name for myself in so few years. Maybe I could really do something with my talent, like my mom always said I never would. The little boy from before interrupts my thoughts, he stands in front of me with his doll hugged tight against his chest.

“Miss?” I try to smile though I am uncomfortable, whose kid is this anyway? “I don’t like planes, Stan doesn’t like ‘em either.” He hugs the stuffed animal tighter so it must be the one called Stan. 

“Do you want to play games on my phone for a while?” His eyes light up and he nods eagerly. I set him up with some puzzle games I have on my phone and he returned to his seat humming happily. 

The rest of the flight was undisturbed, the boy gave me the phone back, I shook Stan’s plush hoof and waved bye as he ran to his grandma. Now as I walk down to the bus stop, I begin feeling tight and far away from everything. I do not truly see the bright blue bus as I step into it nor do I see the people around me as we bob down the highway. It was not until we reached the bus stop in front of the courthouse that the world came back to me. Now I am standing in the frozen wasteland which I once called home wondering how I have gone so far only to end up back here. I begin my march through memory lane. It really is not a long walk to the house on Gusdorf street but it felt like hours, every possible scenario runs through my head, my mixed emotions war with each other. The front door of my childhood home flies open, my tear-soaked aunt bursting out the door.

“She’s barely holding on, Maggie. We have to go now!” She embraced me for the first time since I was a young child. A sweet cherry aroma emanates from her flawless cardigan. She had always blamed me for my dad leaving which sent my mom into depression and alcoholism. I suppose desperation helps us find forgiveness when we otherwise would not. I do not know if my mom would feel the same way, when we got to the hospital the doctor greeted us solemnly. I must have looked more shook than I felt because my aunt took me by the arm and softly sat me in a chair.  As he explains their efforts and pushes us to understand the severity of her condition, I only stare at the nameplate on his clean desk. Dr. Eric R. Foreman. The man who failed my mother.

I cannot say it was heartbreaking when I saw her in the hospital bed. It was more like it just was not happening. Even now at her funeral I cannot name the feeling. It is the kind of detachment that grows a very particular sort of pain deep inside. Maybe it just has not hit me yet but somehow, I know I will keep moving on as I always have.

How do you learn to judge yourself without tearing apart your soul to do it? How do I make moving on okay, shed my guilt and live my life despite her absence? I tell myself she was never present in the first place. I know better though, because even after I left, I kept her in the foreground of my mind. I know that I was the one who ultimately set fire to our bridge. Regret? No, I don’t think I do. It is necessary for my survival to move on… though I will hold my inevitable love for her in my heart forever. If there is regret to be had it is only that I don’t know if she ever would have come to love me the same. I stuff my journal into my side bag and stare up into the great blue sky. A bright young couple walks up to request a portrait. I move my sketch of the Space Needle aside and get started.

Just one painting at a time will take me on my journey to wherever I am meant to be, I have never felt so alive!

[macchiatosdumptruck]

High School AU! Terri has been in love with adorable cheerleader Dani for two years now, but she's going steady with John, Terri's best, and much cooler friend, and also Captain of the football team. Dani and John seem happy, but with John graduating and off to join the army, that means Dani's free for the summer, and all alone while he's at boot camp. Terri doesn't want to hurt John, but she's wanted Dani for so long that she's sick of hurting herself...

it's interesting to think of Terri as something other than the cool, mature woman she is. but I suppose if she shared a similar backstory as our Terry in the show, it would make sense that she went through an awkward phase.

maybe it's just after a growth spurt, and she was already tall, but now she's all limbs in what feels like the wrong way. she hasn't yet gotten used to her new frame.

Dani had never wanted to be popular, she ended up on the cheerleading team because she thought it was fun and it kept her busy. and when she moved up into high school she ended up becoming very good at it. she was small and flexible and easy to throw, making her the top of the pyramid.

John got into football as a way to vent his anger, introduced to it by a teacher when he was going through a hard time. he was big and firm and good at it as well. he was a junior when Dani was a freshman. at first he thought maybe he just wanted to watch over her. after all she's so tiny, and too good fr the world. she could be easily taken advantage of. but then he started to notice how cute she could be. he shrugged the attraction off at first since he thought she was a little too young, but by the next year his friends had convinced him to ask her out. after all, he was a football player and Dani was a cheerleader, that was what was supposed to happen.

all this time Terri had been a grade in between them. she entered school not knowing anyone, but well off due to her family's money. she was too smart for the kids around her. too driven. it wasn't becoming of her. she was a drama kid and a mathlete. it's not necessarily that she was unpopular, but she was standoffish, always on her own.

Terri and John met by chance when Dani was still in 8th grade and have been friends ever since, even if they don't belong to the same social circles. at first, when Terri started noticing the girl she repressed it. but when John kept mentioning her in passing, saying how he might actually ask her out she felt curiously jealous. which was strange, she didn't have any romantic feelings towards John.

it's only when Dani agrees to go with John to homecoming, her sophomore and his senior, respectively, that she realizes.

Dani would look far better on her arm. she doesn't like feeling negatively towards Jiohn, he was her only friend. but something dark inside of her was growing teeth.

the thing was that they were good together. John was genuinely kind and protective of the girl. almost smitten. Dani, with her cute, upturned nose and petite athlete's body, wide eyes, and dark hair. she looked good with John. John who had strong features, wide shoulders, and a wholesome smile.

when John tells Terri he's joining the army she calls him a reckless fool. she tells him the country won't give a damn about his service, that he's fighting for nothing.

She hides her anxious, sick fear under anger and indignation, appalled at the thought of losing the only friend she has.

but every bad situation has a silver lining. Dani, loyal, lovely Dani, will now be free to do what she wishes. she'll be lonely and hurting as well, and the only person able to properly commiserate with her would be Terri.

Terri asks the girl what she's planning to do before John leaves. she acts like a cool, older friend, (at this point she has started growing into her shoulders and hands, putting on lean muscle. she's learned how to walk in heels and went up half a cupsize last summer. Dani is in awe of her nd slightly afraid) when she asks if Dani and John have... you know...

Dani blushes at the question, not expecting the older girl to be so brash. she tells Terri that they haven't, that when Dani was sitting on his lap and they were cuddling, occasionally John's hands would wander, and she would let him pet her over her panties before getting shy.

he never pushed for more, always happy just to be with the girl. Terri asks her if she plans to sleep with him before he leaves and Dani admits that she would like to, but she's nervous because she's afraid she won't know how to do it right.

Terri, who is no virgin offers to help her. how? well, she can teach Dani about her body. she would teach her how to please herself and others sexually. she would do it as a favor to the girl, and it wouldn't even have to mean anything.

Dani barely says yes before Terri's hands are holding Dani's knees apart, sliding up her thigh, feeling the other girl's knees clench around her forearm as Terri slips her fingers up under her skirt and into her panties.

she's sure John would understand. maybe even thank her in time. she can't bring herself to feel bad about the fling she takes up with the girl once he leaves. he made his choice.

[dannyphantom-sabbath]

Sabbath - Act 01, Part 01: Chapter 02 Sneak Peek

Another sneak peek, and this time of chapter two!

----

"Going out to patrol again?" Jazz responded, crossing her arms before walking forward, closing the distance between them, something, he figured, would make it easier for the two of them talk (since they were bordering on regular speaking volume, and from the shift in sounds from the other room, as if they were trying to wake up, probably wasn't in his best interest), and even more, reduce the chance that they might wake up their parents.  

Something he definitely appreciated.

"Yeah. Gonna meet up with Sam and Tucker to get some headway before class. You know the drill." The halfa chimed, and in response, Jazz hummed softly as if to acknowledge what he'd said, though he didn't need to guess what her following silence was meant to indicate. It wasn't exactly a secret that she didn't exactly....approve it this, not that that was really any surprise, see, as she didn't usually approve of, well, much, but even with her knowing about the entire ghost situation...it didn't help her anxiety knowing about...last year's incident.

Also not helped by the fact that he'd sort of been out of commission for a bit, too.

He didn't need to smell the sweat permeating her pores, or the thrum of her soft, if panicked, heartbeat to know that him going out and looking for trouble wasn't something she was really ready to get behind, but that was just it; he wasn't looking for trouble.

He just...wanted to make sure there weren't any ghosts to be found. That things were fine and safe; what was so bad about that? It wasn't as if this was his first time out; sure, things have changed, but the foundation was the same in essence.

There was still a job to do. 

"Listen, Danny - " Before she could get a word in, he rushed to stop her.

He really wasn't in the mood to hear a lecture about this.

Again.

He'd had enough of that over the summer. 

"Look, Jazz, I know. The GIW have got it covered, but that doesn't mean I just sit by and wait for things to be taken care of by them, especially since they might miss something. I don't want to fight you on this, you know where I stand." He declared sharply, standing at his full height, towering over her easily as he stared down at her, unyielding. His parents thought it miraculous, but they likened him to a week when they began to notice his spontaneous...growth. Sure, he wasn't a giant, but there was a noticeable difference from last year to now, enough that he was starting to have a hard time fitting into any of his old clothes anymore, and enough that shopping for him happened far more often than it used to. He guessed it had something to do with his ghost-half making him grow faster or something, for some reason, but he didn't really know, and he'd be damned if he asked Vlad anything about it.

It was a matter of principle, after all. 

Regardless of the reason, he did know it made easy for him to make her look small by comparison, something, he thought, would never get old, and their apparent difference only made her more annoyed as she looked up into his eyes. For a moment, they didn't move, each unwilling to back down, but after a few seconds, Jazz sighed, appearing to relent. He could see it, the piercing strike of concern that was only complimented by the steady, if quick, pulse that thrummed through her veins, marked by her careful, outstretched hand that ran up the length of his arm as she appeared deep in thought. Beneath her finger tips was an a long,  deep, scar, running the length of his forearm as it snaked around his wrists and along the appendage until it disappeared beneath his sleeve, mirroring his opposite arm. His eyes flickered over to her hand, remarking her touch with a stroke of anxiety and buried fear he thought he'd long since quashed, and just as quickly, a shimmer of annoyance with himself followed suit. 

He was over it. It didn't effect him.

This little reminder shouldn't have been enough to make him...scared.

Because he wasn't scared. 

Not anymore. 

----

Like what you see? I hope so because this was just a glimpse; check out the rest of the fic for more angst like this ^^

[spidercrusadersworld]

I guess we have plot line now, WHO ELSE IS READY FOR MORE

summary: Maya moves in with the Parker's, but feels like leaving the bus, would be leaving Jade. trauma resurfaces, and tears are cried.

tagging @i-put-the-wit-in-dimwit

After a week of being with the Parker's, I know that I want to stay, but I'm not sure if i'm ready to leave. for the past week I've been sleeping in the spare bedroom. It's walls are a pale shade of blue and the bed is made with plain, flat colors. the mixture of grays, and off-whites made to please every guest that will enter. it's far from the cluttered, colorful bus that I had called home for all those years.

The question of "are you okay?" derails my train of thought. The unexpected noise makes me jump. I look over at the open doorway and Peter is there looking concerned.

"Sorry!" He says quickly "I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that!".

"oh it's totally fine!" I ensure him "I'm just not used to having other people around, that's all!" I tell him. the last thing I want to do is to be a bother to anyone. not after they'd been so kind to me.

"Well that explains the aimless wondering and inaudible muttering." he says. "I walked past and in the corner of my eyes I saw you staring at the wall!".

I realize that I am indeed in the middle of the room aimlessly pacing around.

"So, are you okay? Is the room not working out for you?".

"NO!" I blurt out a little louder than I should have. "I mean no!" I repeat myself more calmly "The room is great! It's just, different from what I'm used to back... well I guess not back home. this technically is home now, but..." I feel like I'm talking to much, why am I complaining? God I'm so ungrateful-

"You're not being Ungrateful kid!" Peter blurts out. "Hell last night when I said good night you responded with 'I'm sorry'!".

"Oh." I respond nervously. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did" peter says chuckling. "So what I'm getting from this is you like more of a hotel guest than a household member, am I correct?"

I nod quietly.

"So why don't you go bring your stuff here? I'm sure that would make it feel more homey!" He says cheerfully.

Then it all clicks.

"That's it!" I say ,"that"s exactly it!" For a second I feel myself about to run up and hug him, but I stop myself, and desperately pray he didn't notice.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After collecting boxes, bins, and other helpful tools. I step through the portal and take in the familiar sent of the forest. The sage bushes, the royal blue pine needles, the cozy smell of the mist. I didn't realize how much I missed it until now. The city smells of cigarettes and street food and whatever else the citizens of New York bring around the city, so to be back here calms my soul.

Suddenly I realize why I have trouble sleeping too. A calm, isolated forest and the busy streets of New York are definitely two drastically different environments. And, well, blasting car horns are not what I would exactly call relaxing or soothing noises to drift asleep to.

I put all the clutter in boxes, and fold up the bedding, that I haven't used in months.

one of the last things I pack up are my clothes. the fashion in Peters universe, is, well different. for one, it's weird for men to wear dresses there. In my universe, Earth #1252008 It's normal for tailors to regularly make custom tailored dress for anyone. I look at the dresses in my very spacious, but hidden, out of the way closet. I haven't worn any of them since she... since the accident.

I haven't had the need to, plus, they probably don't fit anymore. after I got bit, i got a huge growth spurt and got a much more muscular build. i couldn't wear half of my wardrobe. next to my old dresses is my suit, I haven't worn it since I proposed, here in these same woods.

I look out the window, that shows her... memorial. I realize now how strange it'll be not seeing it first thing every morning. sometimes, when I wake up and open my eyes for the first time that day, for a split second, I can see her standing by mine. and then before you can blink, shes gone.

"She's gone". I say to myself, "stay focused".

something forces me to leave the formal wear here. I take whatever is left in the closet and close it firmly. To distract myself I take the decor off the walls. the last things I want to take. their mostly from shows I would force jade to watch with me. She-ra, The Owl house, and hours worth of movies with convoluted, over extended universes. after they are all taken down, I look at the empty walls, and the bare bus.

it feels wrong.

why does It feel wrong?

then a thought hits me. What If I forget all of this? what happens when our home becomes nothing but an empty abandoned bus?

What if I, by doing this, I lose her all over again. what we did. what I couldn't protect.

I look around the bus and I realize, that there's still most of the things inside. all of which are covered in thick layers of dust.

their Jades.

as I look at all her things, the memories attached to them come flooding back to me. the things that made her laugh, cry, happy, mad.

It's to much.

my breath gets hitched in my throat, tears come cascading down without warning. I run out of the bus away from the memories. she was here. she laughed here. she loved here. she cried here. those things meant something to her. and they still wait to mean something again. I back away from the bus until I bump into something behind me.

I turn around to see her name etched into a stone.

If I do this, does that mean that I leave her again, I leave behind the husk of our life, collecting dust on a shelf?

I look at the pictures on her grave. we look so young and happy. she deserved to see another day, to survive, to live.

But she didn't.

I did.

but I never lived after that, I survived.

is this my chance to live again?

I look up from her name, and i see her, in the bus.

she nods to me.

and I live.

[bangtanhoneys]

Bangtan Sonyeondan: WINGS 

Release date: October 10, 2016

Lead singles: Blood, Sweat & Tears

It’s generally agreed this began the change for BTS for they reached new heights with WINGS, exploring toxic love though they explored individual musical ideas while keeping in with the theme of the album - all the research had been done between Grace and Namjoon. It was influenced by the coming-of-age novel, Demian, with the concept thematically dealing with temptation and growth which leads onto the second involvement of Grace.

It was early on agreed that in the music videos and in general that the temptation would be Grace herself, causing her to go through a complete transformation with her stylists, Hobi and Taehyung. No longer was the soft looking girl, with blonde hair, always hidden away at the back. Now she was forefront, dark red hair with hints of black, sexy clothes and now dancing in the centre. Her vocals would also play heavily in the likes of Intro: Boy Meets Evil, Blood, Sweat & Tears, Lie, BTS Cypher 4, 21st Century Girl and her own solo song: Dangerous Woman, which fit with the narrative that they had written with the album

The short film that came after Seokjin’s and before the comeback trailer, featured Grace sitting in front of seven screens that played their short films over and over again while the instrumental for Dangerous Woman played in the background. Finally, the lyrics began half way through the five-minute long video with Grace’s hair and outfit fully changing into what would become a big internet sensation: trousers that were tight fitting around her thighs and waist, highlighting the curves that had been hidden, with a dark coloured blouse and silk jacket. All paired with a pair of bright red high heels and bright red lipstick. The ending of the video allowed the opening of the comeback trailer for J-Hope to flow easily.

Jewelery was expensive looking with collars and flashy diamond rings and she began to dance in high heels, something she would continue to do throughout the rest of her career with BTS. Finally she was allowed to be the twenty-six year old woman, doing the sexy choreography without any worry of it being wrong though they still didn’t like to give her hip thrusting moves. 

FACT:

When they won their second daesang of Artist of the Year at MAMA, she was one of the few who didn’t cry in front of the cameras and was one of the first who hugged Namjoon as well as Yoongi. However, it was revealed during the Wings Tour, that when she got to her own room she burst into tears. She also revealed how the weight of being the only woman in BTS and being kept hidden, as it were, had dragged her down until this album fully allowed her to explore herself as an artist. 

BANGTAN BOMB shows Grace fully rapping Suga’s part of Cypher 4 without losing her breath, causing them to release a version with her on Soundcloud. Whenever Suga couldn’t appear, Grace would be the one to sometimes take over his part. 

She did the original guide to Blood, Sweat and Tears when it was at its first original version and draft. She also wrote two full songs on her own that did not make the final cut. 

[recaffeine]

11/6/2024

The jaw surgery was a level of the season finale of 2024. With it came a lot. It marked a higher level of closeness again for the Foodie Four. It also was the end of the Victoria arc for quite some time. During 2023, I have to admit, I was doing my best to prevent with what the world was giving me. I was trying hard to protect the ones that I love and cherish.

What I've learned this year is that life must take its natural course. Like the waves of the ocean, it will ebb and flow; leaving me with little control over the final product. To be present and to be content means acceptance of whatever changes will happen in the future. That is what it means to grow. Growth is uncomfortable and rightfully scary.

Timeline of the jaw surgery:

24 hours before: I am able to sleep decently knowing that Alec, Anh, Tom and Julie will be there to help me get through it.

1 hour before the surgery: I remember being calm and the fear isn't there anymore. I'm ready to do this.

48 hours post surgery: I am pumped up with antibiotics, anti inflammatory medication, and pain medication. I appreciate that I chose Anh to be my life partner because she stays with me the first full 24 hours. She didn't eat much and having her there made me feel safe. On Day 2, she leaves the hospital for a few hours to eat and shower. I'm alone for just a few moments and I realize how absolutely terrifying it would have been without her.

Day 3: I check out. I was told that only 10% of Dr. Alfi's patients stay two nights at the hospital. Most choose to leave on the first day. My first meal of choice is pho broth from Pho Binh. It is a restaurant that Justin and his family used to take me growing up. It brings a lot of comfort to me.

Day 4-5: These are the most difficult days. I struggle stomach pain which could be from the inflammatory medication taking its toll on my stomach lining. I always had issue with my left jaw joint before the surgery and it starts to be extremely painful when I apply any form of pressure to my left side. I am only able to sleep on my right side at the moment. I try to ration my narcotic medication. There are only 10 tablets. I try to only take half doses every 6 hours.

Day 6-7: Recovery is going really well. I am able to be outside the entire day Saturday hunting pokemon cards at Collect-a-con. The event gives me a reason to move around. Day 7, we leave Houston and the ride back is not easy but it wasn't excruciating either.

Anh is the MVP of all of this.

Food/water: The training I obtain from the braces in the first year and a half allow me to transition quite easily into liquid diet. I am mostly drinking pho broths, egg drop soup, crab and asparagus soup, and wonton soup. We try using the immersion blender but it is quite messy and the consistency is not thin enough to use an oral syringe.

Mental health: I have spent the last 4 years fortifying my mental health. I believe because of my fiery spirit that I'm able to really power through this surgery without a hiccup in my mood.

Power up: If being a pharmacist was the mark of me becoming a super saiyan, my therapy/healing/knowledge journey of the last 4 years being super saiyan 2, this jaw surgery would propel to be ultimate gohan. My energy levels are out of this world and I'm able to make it through without any caffeine and adderall to make it through the day. I believe that this will be integral towards my dream of writing a successful book that will help others.

I have to admit that this year, I've spent a lot of it taking care of myself. I try to be there for others but it's not at the level that I'm normally accustomed to. I'm hoping that after my jaw surgery healing is complete, that I'm able to work towards my goal to help others with my writing.

Until next time.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages: Day 736,

Hard to believe it’s been over two years now.  I know I just said all that a week ago on the actual anniversary of my arrival, but with the merging of celebrating that with the solstice get-togethers we’re doing this evening and tomorrow it’s on my mind all over again.  And it’s still true.

Even harder to believe that this time last year I was, well, I still don’t know.  But what I do believe is that my friends gathering on this day a year ago was the start of my finding my way back.

I shouldn’t go on too long with this though.  Not with three different family gatherings I’ve somehow managed to commit myself to at least making an appearance at.  Not that I’m complaining.  Being part of multiple families beats not being a part of any.

Hmmm… wonder if I should pop in at Carmen’s and drop off those notes on the crystal growth experiments I meant to get her yesterday?  No, best just leave it for another day or two.  Sounds like she’s made her switch from shepherd to crystal collector permanent enough that she’ll still be around for the dry season.  To think that I might have let that whole line of inquiry fall by the wayside if Vernon hadn’t introduced us last equinox…  As always, he’s good like that.

Ran into the nature sprite for the first time since the eclipse, and the first time I’ve seen it while lucid since it brought me back from wherever I went last year.  I’d say I was surprised at how happy I was to see it again, but that would be a lie.  It was no surprise at all, really.  Complicated as things are with it, maybe I shouldn’t have been so happy, but when I saw it there watching me from the side of the road it felt for all the world like a reunion with an old friend.

I spent a long while leaning against a tree and talking with it.  Well, talking to it.  My sprite remains as enigmatically nonverbal as ever.  But it did truly seem to listen as I told it of all that it missed this past year.

I told it of my days spent recovering, physically and mentally, from my disappearance.  Of days spent thanking everyone that looked for me while I was gone.  Of the strange stares and whispered rumors incited by my return to the Village and the library and of how those soon faded into acceptance of the whole ordeal being simply another case of outsider weirdness.  

I told it of plans drawn up with friends.  Of interviews with the Village’s woodcutters on how they select trees and - more importantly - how they pay their respects to the ecosystem and the nature sprites when they do their cutting.  Of a week spent camping on the northern half of the island with Maiko as a guide.  Of finding and felling a great tree.  Of mimicking customs that few other than the Village’s woodcutters know.  Of noting surprisingly few rings for the tree’s size.  Of days spent splitting and carving  and hollowing the log with metal and flame.  Of paddling our new boat around the coast back down to the cove near the house.  Of another trip up and down the coast and out to the island of fruit and lizards, this time with additional passengers to test the boat’s capacity.

I told it of changes.  Of Cass’s gradual transferral of apprenticeship to Lin.  Of Lin coming to spend as many nights in the lighthouse as in her father’s home.  Of Maiko finding a dry season balance between odd jobs around the Village and periods of seclusion in the woods.  Of an equinox that saw Cass’s reunion with her now-once-again best friend Xia and Vernon’s deepened relationship with his coworker Tiaho.  Of Maiko’s spending the rainy season helping teach the Village’s children.  Of the strange new forms that my mist night dreams have taken.  Of missing not being haunted.

I told it of joys.  Of returning to the lake of stars, this time with Maiko in tow.  Of stormy eyed dances in the rain.  Of birthday party tellings.  Of recommending books to youths who had been my students a year ago but now had moved full time from the outskirts into the Village proper for apprenticeships and found the archive comfortingly familiar.  Of making a conscious effort to regularly carve out time in my week for walks, tea, and stories with Pat.  Of tellings performed at birthdays, at the crowded inn on stormy nights, and at the dinner tables of friends and their families.  Of sweet fruits and savory fish.  Of rides in the back of the family wagon.  Of finally being fully present for the last class of a rainy season.  Of once again working with Vernon to find archival precedent for a tricky mediation case.  Of other mediators being sent my way.  Of evenings spent with Maiko constructing a board game and writing down rules based on her memories of the game her mother played with her.  Of making a cloak out of the mantle of fur I woke up in upon my return.  Of new islands visited on the way to check up on Iole.  Of loud equinoxes and quiet solstices, both joyous in their own way.  Of the night of the lunar eclipse and the morning after.

I told it of sorrows and fears.  Of yet another rainy season with an elder fading away.  Of a rainy season without one but which  in these past weeks has been marred by the tragic accidental death of a young man I knew only passing but now know all too well.  Of the ill-conceived plan to see what sort of waking visions I would get from staying up through a mist night now that my dreams have changed.  Of the gnawing worries of how Vernon’s new relationship might crowd out our friendship despite Lin and Maiko’s relationship not having done the same.  Of the intrusive thoughts about having been an inadequate role model and mentor for Cass being the reason for her change in apprenticeship.  Of blinking myself out of a daze after slipping on that white-furred mantle and finding myself standing barefoot on the shore with the sunrise at my back while I stare out to where I know that island with its sirensong and dark forest lies.  Of the secondhand pain upon learning the circumstances of Maiko’s parentage within Cloud Tower.  Of wishing it were with me.

I told it of new adventures.  Of the mind-numbing vastness of Cloud tower when seen up close and the alien strangeness inside.  Of an island whose surrounding waters are full of curious eels that will harmlessly coil around one’s limbs.  Of another whose trees are full of beetles the size of my hand rather than birds.  Of attempts to use waking dreams to translate the chants that fill the ruined cathedral when it rains.  Of Lin and I making a daytime retracing of last year’s spontaneous nocturnal expedition to the gates of the old castle.  Of talks about making a lengthier expedition next dry season.  Of a long evening spent on a whim going back through Priscilla's notes and charts of floating island patterns.  Of not-entirely-hypothetical discussions and research into what it might take to renovate her old house on the floating island into a home that can keep shades out on mist nights.  Of writing new stories for equinox tellings.  Of Vernon introducing me to Carmen as an old childhood friend of his who had grown tired of the shepherd’s life and was looking for something new.  Of long talks on philosophy, both natural and metaphysical.  Of comparing my microscope examinations of crystals to Carmen’s attempts to grow her own to the glowing liquid circuits that light the inside of Cloud Tower.  Of a rain-and-mud-filled trek through the jungle to examine the crystal cave and collect some small samples without the official crystal collectors around.  Of the carefully-monitored, water-filled tank in the archive’s hidden nook that has just begun to sprout its first growths.

I told it of my happiness at seeing it again.  Of how I never got to properly thank it for taking care of me when I was at my lowest point.  Of how I hope to continue seeing it once more.

Of course, telling it all this meant that I wound up terribly late to my other commitments for the day.

When I finally made to leave, I felt the urge to embrace the nature sprite as I would any other old friend at meeting and parting, but could not quite bring myself to.  Perhaps it sensed this, for it embraced me.  An embrace that was just shy of painful.  An embrace that lifted me until my toes just brushed the ground.  An embrace that went on just long enough for me to fear I was about to be abducted before the wooden-ball-in-a-hollow purr-that-isn’t-a-purr calmed me.  And then it unceremoniously dropped me and vanished into a flurry of laughter and blown leaves.

If you’re reading this unseen over my shoulder once again, then thank you.  It was good to see you again.

But as I said, this left me late to the three other solstice gatherings I had committed myself to attending.  I suddenly found myself less disappointed that it wasn’t four, as fascinating as a night of remembrance spent with Pat and Theo sounds.  At this point I think I’ve mostly settled on being happy the old man isn’t routinely alone for solstice like I feared rather than hurt at my offer to spend it with him being politely declined.

But yet again, I digress.  I blame the lateness of the hour.

The first, of course, was with Cass’s family.  Good natured ribbing about the gall of me to skip out on a goodly portion of the meal preparations when I knew they were already going to be shorthanded with Norman and Marva at her family’s this solstice quickly gave way to concern when I explained my tardiness as being sprite-induced.  Concerns that I allayed well enough to be promptly set to work with the remaining cooking and table-setting.  Between the comfortable sense of belonging and twinge of guilt over being late, I wound up staying later than I planned; far past the initial tasting of stew and into the settling down for tale telling.  Somehow I suspect that any disappointment Cass might have felt over my excusing myself just before it was her turn to tell was outweighed by the knowledge that she’s going to be able to hold this one over me for weeks.

And thus was a basket containing a small, blanket-covered pot of stew and a bag of tea herbs shoved into my hands on the way out the door and down the road.

The sun had set and the meal had already begun when I knocked on the door of Vernon’s house where his parents were visiting him for once rather than the other way around.  I sheepishly offered up my pot of stew in apology for my late arrival, although I know I would have been nearly equally welcome without it.

Tiaho was there as well.  A mild surprise, given that unlike me she has her own family to spend solstice with.  I’ll confess to having felt a twinge of something that I’ll deny is jealously at the implication of closeness.  That twinge was softened by how happy and at ease the two of them seemed together.  Apparently, for all the gossip that I’ve heard about Vernon’s reputation for flirtatiousness, he’s never had a partner long enough to invite to family solstice dinner without it being scandalous.  So goes the least embarrassing thing his parents decided to share about him.  I like to think watching him squirm under the weight of one less-than-flattering childhood anecdote after the other was a bonding experience for Tiaho and I.  It’s an entertaining divergence from his usual demeanor to see him so flustered, especially when the ones causing the flustering are doing so from a place of love.

Of course, not all the talk was embarrassing.  They are, of course, proud of him and his work as a mediator.  Not to mention they’re just as stimulating conversationalists as he is.  It was as pleasant a meal as any I’ve had in that house, and I lost track of time until Vernon himself pointed out the late hour while retrieving the confections he and his mother had made from the fruit Maiko and I gifted him after our recent visit to the lizard island.

And thus was a pot of stew swapped for a tray of confections as I bid my farewells for the night and set off toward my final gathering of the solstice.

Thankfully, it was Lin who answered the door rather than her father.  I’m not sure why, but it seems that I’ll never be on that man’s good side, and showing up when the evening was just winding down did little to improve his view of me, even with my explanation of being waylaid by the nature sprite and offering of dessert.  Some people just aren’t compatible I suppose, and that’s fine.  Civility and politeness we can still manage.

Lin and Maiko were happy enough to see me though, and I them.  I’ve come to gather that solstice is a more somber time in that household than most.  Later, after dishes had been washed, her father had retired for the night, and the gift of Antigone’s tea had been boiled and steeped, Lin called my arrival a much needed breath of fresh air.

Not once while I was present this evening did anyone comment on the extra place set in front of an empty seat at the table.

Once we’d all thoroughly dosed ourselves on the tea, we made the thoroughly untraditional move of relocating from that house to Maiko’s tiny room at the top of the lighthouse where we made a second dinner (or perhaps fourth for me) out of snacks and desserts while we chatted into the small hours of the night.  Chatted… and perhaps had an arguably irresponsible amount of fun with rapidly swapping out crystals of different colors in the lighthouse’s focusing mirror dish.  We tried to time it as best we could with Lin’s singing, but I doubt anyone who happened to be looking outside could have identified the song by the clumsy rhythm of the color-shifting beacon.  The fun and games lasted until Lin and Maiko began giving one another dreamy looks that I took as my cue to wish them well and give them their privacy for the night.

I truly am glad they’ve found what they have in eachother.

And thus I found myself crossing paths with Theo upon a starlit street, with only wordless nods exchanged by way of acknowledgment.

And thus I now find myself within my little archive nook, pleasantly exhausted as the last effects of the tea wear off.  There’s a temptation to go upstairs and stay awake a while longer to watch the sunrise, but no, not with the plans for tomorrow (today really, if I’m being honest with myself) and the day-after-solstice tradition our little family of friends has made.  The best thing to do right now is go to bed and be thankful that the sun can’t reach me down here among my the books.

And so turns another season marked by the gathering of loved ones.

I found myself picking up an old journal volume and flipping through it instead of going to bed like I should have.  On its last written page, I found myself revisiting the message I left to my future self after my return from my disappearance a year ago.  It got me thinking.  Crying a little bit too, but mostly thinking.

I want to believe that the optimism held by my past self in that moment was well founded.  Despite the handful of travails this past year has held, I feel I’ve largely lived up to those aspirations.  I hope that the future me can continue to do so.  

Moreover, it got me thinking about these journals.  So often I’ve called them the proof of my existence, but lately, I’ve started to wonder if I still need that proof in order to believe in my own being.  The compulsion to write is more and more simply a strong habit these days, so perhaps that is some evidence as well.  Do I still need to write to make sense of myself and the world?  I’m not sure that I do.  Or at least, not on a daily basis.

But then again, I’ve made these journal entries every day of my life for literally as long as I can remember.  They are a part of me and who I am.  And yet… our past selves and histories are part of us for all that they remain firmly in the past.

Or maybe I’m once again grown maudlin with the late (early) hour.  Time will tell, I suppose, and we shall see if I once again set ink to paper on the morrow.  Or on the day after.  Or the day after that.  And should I stop for a time, there is nothing to say I won’t resume once again one day.

There is ever tomorrow.

All the same, I feel inspired to write a little something commemorative, on this wonderful solstice, halfway between the anniversaries of my arrival and my return.  Call it a reminder of how I feel in this moment and why I may have begun to outgrow the need for these journals that I so dearly love and define myself by.

For at last I know…

I exist.

I am me.

I am loved.

I am home.

[tressashaw]

fabula:: Therese "Tressa" Shaw

Name: Tressa Shaw Occupation:Assistant Forensic Medical Examiner Age: 27 Sexuality: Pansexual Species: Human Hometown: Port Leiry Relationship Status: Single

Persona:

Tressa’s a weird girl. In school, she was the sort to try to be everyone’s friend, but who largely wound up just being everyone’s perennially annoying if occasionally fun to be around acquaintance. This led to her being a largely forgotten quantity once she skipped Port Leiry for college looking like a depressed hipster with a distressing knowledge of beard oils and returned looking like a brunette vamp queen, imparting unto her an up-until-then unheard of measure of self confidence that began to snowball into full-blown cocky arrogance that dovetailed nicely with a burgeoning sense of resentment and spitefulness. She’s still weird. But now she only cares about if she’s making herself laugh - everyone else will get the joke eventually. She’s obsessive, as well. When she finds a new hobby, or a new show, or a new book, she does it to death until suddenly she doesn’t; her house is full of half-finished craft projects. Her computer’s full of half-finished fan-fic and a dozen accounts online where she argues up and down the merits and plot-points and facts of a million different things, fiction and fact alike. Ultimately, despite her sometimes churlish and socially tactless arrogance towards Port Leiry as a whole, past Traumas drew her to her carer path, wanting to help give closure to people that she feels largely robbed of - perhaps her only altruistic trait.

Historia: [tw; death, alcoholism]

They say you can’t go home again, but that’s just because they fetishize this whole growth and empowerment thing so they can sell you a ticket into the grindset. Tressa Shaw saw as much of the world as she really thought she ought to when she left for school two states over, fucked around with forbidden alchemy, and wound up realizing that she very much could go home and be quite content. Port Leiry was quiet, it was pretty. It was more varied in its places and personages than its rural roots and out-of-the-way nature might lend one to think. Sure there’s places she wants to go, but nowhere she really feels like she’d rather live. But a rewind is in order;

When Tressa was very young, her father took a fall and died. She was the one who found him and, very young, didn’t know what to do, and so she just sat with him there on the steps until her mother got home. It wasn’t until much later in life that she realized she might have been able to save him, or get him help - that he might be here on the Earth if she hadn’t locked up and sat down. Mom did not handle the grief well, and spun out hard - cirrhosis got her in just a few short years, and by the time Tressa was sitting by her bedside holding her hand and watching her go, she’d been living with her grandmother for a few years. All this took place in private - at school Tressa would be ever smiling, ever joking, ever pleasant, reaping small rewards like fringe inclusions in pretty much any school activity she could - she was an A+, AP student and she graduated top of her class and got into a good school. pre-med, and, after a brief dalliance with a doctor, decided to go the other direction, navigating college into a split path that covered medical forensics and pathology. But the Big Big City was Big Big Pricey, and when her grandmother took ill, it looked like you absolutely could go home again. So Tressa goes back to Port Leiry, but nobody knows her by that name. Of course, she’s not hiding anything; she tells the people its appropriate to tell when it comes up. Bu it’s like a re-do. She buries her grandmother, moves into her pretty nice house, and gets work at the county morgue working the late shift. Tressa takes her time. She’s in no rush to make friends, she’s doing fine. Except she is hiding something. Okay, one more rewind, but last one, promise. It’s three days before her sixth birthday. She’s sitting on the steps, staring at her dad sprawled and broken over the landing. The policeman is asking her what happened, and she just cries muted tears and says he tripped while they were playing hide and seek. She doesn’t mention the knock at the door. The man she invites in. She doesn’t mention the all-too-brief tangle, or the snap that came from her father’s neck well before the man tossed him like a ragdoll down the steps. And she definitely, definitely doesn’t mention the man telling her to sit there, to cry for her dead daddy, and never speak of it to a soul. But dead men tell no tales, so she works at the perfect confessional.

[aresmarked]

The moment you mentioned those trust rank titles I wanted to face palm myself lol. How could I forget?! I looked up the trust rank titles just to see what else I might have glossed over and remembered a few ones I’ve been interested in ever since seeing them. Shizuku and Mafuyu is definitely one I want to raise someday, but beyond that, Mizuki and Mafuyu’s has stood out to me. It’s been hinted at throughout multiple stories that they’re both very observant people (Keen Eye if you will), so I’ve been wondering if Mafuyu will be the first to really ask Mizuki, you know? I think it was mentioned somewhere that she knows Mizuki sometimes comes to the Sekai very late alone? Insert a meme with me explaining why their deliberate choice to have them cover Villain together is significant-

Shizuku has a b-day line for Mafuyu about showing her appreciation, and it's not exaggeration to say the archery event contextualises it massively. they also have some cute moments in a number of cards... and a 'hahahahooo that's Loaded' when maf starts calling shizuku motherly, stops, and says instead she's really acts like a big sister. yea. i'm so excited for the end of the year for en server, and when theyre gonna follow up on the results of that event.

adds on an essay on the evidence board about how in the lower 2dmv, the line distribution for mizumafu is meant to highlight their similarities-

i'm also inclined to think that mafuyu will be instrumental in that, for sure. mizuki is very careful about what they show ena, being so aware of people's thoughts and perceptions, but, so to speak, with the mask facing ena, mafuyu sees some things from the side. mafuyu wasn't yet, mm, aware enough to mark those behaviours as odd enough to bring up, or worrisome, but at some point there's going to be a bit of behaviour from mizuki that prods those memories up, or even just that memory floating up and mafuyu is going to be like hey. what was that about? possibly casually and directly to mizuki's face which would be v fun seeing them Caught like that. like yea you said these things when mafuyu didn't realise they're a big deal. surprise! time and growth has made her realise :)

for example, in the footprints event, mafuyu's card (2nd half) has her and mizuki talking, mizuki asking isn't she scared of how it'll be painful, like the doll exhibit. maf ends up wondering why she's asking. isn't able to ask, and she kinda just 'oh well's it, not realising the significance at the time.

the thing that binds niigo, literally, is that they've all known the want to disappear, it's why they they ended up in what was initially just mafuyu's sekai. but while ena and kanade are, i think we can say, at their cores past that desire... while saying mizuki wants to still isn't quite right, i think, i do think that part of them holds they will have to, with the fear of how niigo will react when that truth about them comes out.

i see mafuyu's reaction mizuki following potentially two broad primary paths, when mizuki's story comes around to being central again for niigo. the first way, she gives it straight to mizuki, in that very 'im gonna say what i wanna say' way she has had with niigo for awhile. give a lot of practical, logical statements that reassure because of the fact saying things just to make someone feel better isn't something she does when she's acting as her self.

the other way is mafuyu genuinely getting emotional at the thought of, mizuki being afraid of them, of her, when mizuki's done so much for her? the thought of losing any member of their circle? we know how much being with niigo helps mafuyu, and how much she relies on their presence even if she can't really put it into words.

chances are good it'll be some mix of thes paths along with whatever else colopale decides to snipe us with? showing us maf is being Real, Affected, and more in tune with her emotions as her and her group move forward, and I'm so looking forward to the new arcs.