#and was entirely unprepared to have so many feelings about them

[finngualart]

i hope that when the apocalypse (mushroom or otherwise) comes for us i'll have what they have

[tired-biscuit]

What's bigger I wonder, yuujis heart or dick? Guy's packed and honest to God doesn't even know

Can you imagine having a bf like him? Goal I life 😪

18+ MDNI, fem!reader

now i’m thinking about him worrying and wondering why you’re unable to fully sit on his dick.

he’s got his hands on your hips, is sweating bullets and is just waiting as patiently as he’s able because he doesn’t want to rush you with this entire thing — he’d never! — and you’re just wincing and gritting your teeth and pouting whenever you try to slide down further and take more but the overwhelming fullness keeps you from doing so.

your own hands are holding on for dear life as they cling to his shoulders and you’re both looking down, down at the place where you connect. the sight makes you both kind of shy. you’ve been trying to handle this problem for the last ten minutes at least and your clit is still so far from kissing his pubes... every time you do manage to take more of him, it feels like he’s climbed his way right into your goddamn throat, it’s infuriating!

he praises you for every inch of progress you make, but he’s just so big; the stretch burns slightly despite the amount of lube you’ve used. what makes it even worse is that he’s such a giver when it comes to intimacy that he doesn’t even seem to realize that the main problem is his size, not greed. he feels guilty because he thinks he hasn’t given you enough foreplay and that the supposed lack of it has made you unprepared, but he couldn’t be more wrong.

and he doesn’t know that he’s wrong, that’s what’s funny! he keeps on apologizing in that low, breathless voice that makes him sound like he’s eating his own words right after saying them, and that makes you want to burn up until you’re nothing but ash, even though he technically doesn’t even know what he’s saying sorry for either… come to think of it, he shouldn’t even be saying sorry in the first place!

i mean, it’s not his fault that he’s got a big, fat cock that makes your eyes want to cross whenever he tries to press it into you all the way. but you’ll work this out somehow, you gotta! he looks so pretty when you’re trying to ride him, after all.

you’ll endure it so that you can see the pretty face he makes when he cums inside you, won’t you? either that, or he’s going to have to pull out and rub his sensitive tip between your slick folds like he’s used to. back and forth — slowly at first, then quicker and quicker, with the help of his hand stroking the base of his cock and your drool dripping all over it.

all until he reaches the high he deserves for being such a good boyfriend, and his warm cum splatters all over your belly and thighs just like it did so many times before, because you simply can’t take a good pounding from a man that big.

not yet, at least.

[purinfelix]

hi!! I really love your work! I was wondering if you could do one where Gavi and the reader hate each other, but one day the reader had nobody to turn to so for some reason she found comfort with Gavi if that makes sense

i don't want to talk about anything ₊˚⊹⋆

pairing: (academic rival) gavi x reader w/c: 1.5k a/n: ANON i love this idea and im sorry its been sitting in my inbox for so long - i decided to sort of involve it with the academic rivals fic i wrote, since it made sense to me, hope u don't mind! <3

No matter how many times you blinked, the words of your essay refused to stay still on the laptop in front of you, the feeling of your eyes growing tired only adding to your frustration. According to the irritatingly loud clock on the wall, you had been at the university library for almost five hours now, on top of an entire day of lectures and tutorials. Your head ached, and your mouth was dry ever since you had run out of water an hour ago but had been too engrossed in studying to go get more, and every time you closed your eyes you considered falling asleep right there and then. You hadn't even gone insane before, but you were pretty sure this was as close as you were going to get.

Forcing yourself to stand up you tried your best not to dwell on how unprepared you felt for your upcoming finals, or how many assignments you still had to finish. Even with how tired you were, your brain still managed enough energy to stress you out, even as you definitively shut the textbooks you had brought with you. You were more than aware of how childish this was, having thought you'd outgrown your ridiculous study methods years ago. But something about your recent dip in grade, how frustrated and helpless it made you feel, had spurred you into a frenzy you were too far into to stop. You couldn't recall the last spare hour you hadn't spent studying or the last conversation you had that hadn't been about exams.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder you reluctantly left the desk that had been your home for the majority of the evening. After a struggle, you managed to get the library doors open and were immediately. met with the miserably biting cold of the late winter night - the thought of the long trek back to your dorm room acting as salt in the wound. Your hands are already freezing as they dart into your jacket pocket in search of your phone, and you flick it on to check for any response to the many, many texts you had sent to your friends. Most of them were invited to study with you or questions about lectures, but all you were met with was a pathetically empty inbox, the reflection of your own tired face once it switched off, and the stinging realisation of just how isolated you had become, and how lonely you felt. Perhaps it was this, or the howling wind whipping around you, that caused tears to prick up in your eyes as you bit your lip painfully hard to stop them from falling.

You're overcome with a sudden desperation to get back to your dorm as quickly as possible before anyone can see you crying like an idiot. The added barrier of your own fatigue makes this difficult though, and the immense cold doesn't help. Before you know it though you're already halfway there, passing by the campus football court which is still brightly lit and lively despite how late it's getting - a fact you curse as you make out a familiar figure, and the single last person you want to see right now.

Gavi seems to spot you too and even though you hand your head to prevent any more tears, you can hear his loud footsteps as he leaves his friends and game to jog up to you. He calls out your name and the smug tone in his voice is enough for you to will your legs to move faster. When you don't stop, you hear him pause before running up to match your pace.

"Long day at the library, huh?" he jeers, walking beside you and clearly not taking any notice to the fact that you're not in the mood to entertain his ego. Usually, you would've jumped at the opportunity to flex your work ethic in his lazy face but not now, not with how you're feeling. All you wish is for him to leave you alone before he sees you crying and it gives him another thing to make fun of you for - but just as this entire day has turned out, your wishes are far from granted.

"You know, I did notice you've been slacking a little lately. Even I found the last quiz pretty easy and I could tell you struggled with it."

You scoff loudly at his words but don't offer a response in fear of him being able to tell something's off from the quiver you're bound to have. A small part of you does question why he's been paying so much attention to you lately but has little time to when you feel him reach out to grab your hand, suddenly jerking you back and stopping you in your tracks.

Finally, you crane your neck up without thinking and lock eyes with his, and you hear the next comment he was preparing catch in his throat. It happens so quickly that you almost don't notice it, but his smug expression softens immediately and you can almost make out the concern in his eyes once he sees your tear-stricken face. The contrast from the teasing way he normally looks at you is so stark it almost stops the flow of tears from your eyes, and you almost wish it had because now you're standing here sniffling like an idiot, and he's standing there watching you.

"Hey…" he mumbles, and the pity in his voice is enough to make you want to run away, even as he drops your hand. Still, you can tell he's not enjoying the awkward situation any more than you are but is trying his best.

"I'm fine," you blurt out instinctively, messily wiping the stream of tears from your cheeks before laughing - at what you're not entirely sure, but you're desperate for an opportunity to lighten the mood.

"You don't look it," he sounds so mature that it almost takes you aback.

You hang your head, half in shame and half so that you don't have to look into his eyes when you lie. "I'm just really tired."

It's almost irritating how sudden his movements can be and how easily they can catch you off guard, but his athleticism has never blended itself to subtlety. Still, it's hard not to be shocked when he pulls you once more and before you realise it you're enveloped in his arms, pulled flush against his chest. His body still radiates heat from the exercise he was just doing, a fact that you find comfort in. Before you can stop yourself, you're already sinking into his touch, its catharsis being exactly what you needed, but hadn't realised. You wrap your arms back around him and close your eyes as you rest your head against his chest. The rhythm of his heart is bold and quick as you listen to it, and you chalk this up to the exercise as well - an excuse you're not lucky enough to have for your own quickening heart.

He's the first to break the silence. "You're the smartest person I know, you know." He says it barely above a whisper, and he seems to be confessing more to the night sky than to you.

If you had just a little more pride in yourself, you might've met this with one of your usual jabs. Strangely enough though, all signs of the competitive nature you reserve for him have gone missing. Maybe it's because of your surprise that he seems to know exactly what you need to hear, but you're sure it's more because of how tired you are.

"Thank you," is all you can quietly muster up, but given how earnestly it comes out, you hope it'll be enough.

"I don't mean to stress you out, not just now but all the time. I'm sorry for that," he sighs, and you can tell without seeing his face that he really means it.

"It's alright, I appreciate it," you laugh softly, before adding, "sometimes."

He squeezes you a little harder and standing there in his arms, despite how mind-numbingly strange the situation is, you allow yourself to forget about some things for a bit. Forget about how late it is, about all the work you still have to do, about how you're not meant to like him at all, how you're hoping no one you know sees the two of you right now. For just a minute, the two of you share a world you had only gotten teasing glimpses of during your heated conversations in hallways, your quick comparisons after grades get released or quippy comebacks. Only now, not a single word needs to pass between you two - the sound of his beating heart and the strange sense of comfort that falls over you being all you need.

[makingspiritualityreal]

Development of Cancer Sign through Nakshatras

As a Vedic Astrologer who uses Tropical Mula Ayanamsa, I have a unique perspective into the development of Astrological signs, and the subtle differences occurring in the process between the Nakshatras.

It can sometimes be really hard to spot the Nakshatra differences in someone's life, especially if they all belong to the same Rashi. That has become more and more confusing, as Vedic Astrology has become popular and people label celebrities wrong Nakshatras according to the Lahiri Ayanamsa.

However, whenever I see something unique about certain signs and Nakshatras, I publish it, since I believe there is no one else putting it out there.

I have a lot of experience with studying the Cancer Rashi as a side effect of discovering my own Moon Nakshatra. That, however, has extended to understanding of the Nakshatras I'm not personally concerned with. It has also led me to a very important conclusion for all signs.

The key to spotting the Nakshatra ruler in someone's story is observing whether that influence is malefic or benefic. You will see with benefics, over time, a softening, with malefics, a hardening. You will see contrasting approaches to difficult situations, you will see life making its mark on a person's face.

As the first Cancer Nakshatra, Ardra focuses a lot on abandoning naivete, something that was very present in the previous Nakshatra of Mrigashira. Ardra represents the final end to being sheltered, and all the consequences that come with that stage, when there is no more room for unconsciousness. It is the "hardest" of all Cancer expressions, as it moves from one type of hardship to another, between Mars and Rahu.

As a result, we get stories of women that embrace a more rebellious attitude after suffering many betrayals and having their needs taken for granted. Violence, angst or punkish themes are presented in the context of justice, a freeing agent, means to get one what they want. That is a response to struggling so hard to break out in Mrigashira. Sometimes, the stories take a dark turn and Ardra focuses entirely on a painful reality check ending in brutality and enduring oppression.

By the time we move on to Punarvasu, we almost always start with stories of degeneration, how the attitude of going for one's needs at all costs has led to selfishness and internal emptiness, or how the characters become destroyed by the prolonged pain of some form of abuse. When we watch Punarvasu characters, they can actually get quite dark and the theme there is discovering a silver lining, a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the ability to feel good and be good despite having a painful past, more than a fully positive story. The basis is hard, but it develops into a softening.

By the time we move on to Pushya, there is yet again a reduction, as Saturn takes away the hopeful, positive family influence, and even in stories where some positive influences survive, faces the native with issues, that the protection they used to be provided with cannot solve. These women often come from families that had some good in them on an emotional or spiritual level, but were unable to constructively help them face the harsher side of reality, so they face the world unprepared and learn it through difficult experiences. On the way there, they suffer disappointments, but gain self reliance and understanding of their own strength of character and internal, unshakeable positivity. The basis is softer, but the face hardens over time.

[trillscienceofficer]

Really interesting to consider “Collective” in the same continuum of “Survival Instinct”, and how these episodes pan out very differently for two characters (Seven and First) who find themselves suddenly disconnected from the Borg collective and lash out with a similar mixture of fear and anxiety about their lack of control, especially when their fellow drones start to assert an individuality that neither Seven nor First are equipped to deal with. Seven survives, by dooming the rest of her unimatrix; First does not, and with his demise the rest of the Borg kids can board Voyager and be reclaimed from the Collective.

I don't know if the similarity between Seven and First was drawn intentionally by the writing but in my opinion it's pretty evident. As drones in an unfamiliar situation they are unprepared to deal with the discomfort of re-emerging thoughts of a life pre-assimilation, and their reaction is to seek a return to the Collective by whatever means necessary. In addition to that, they can't cope with alone-ness at all, so they ensure the drones who are with them will help them to return to the Collective as well by restoring ‘order’—in the case of First, by establishing a pecking order where he is the indisputable leader, and in Seven's case by assimilating the rest of her unimatrix in a mini-collective. I think Seven only succeeds where First failed because Seven by that point was an adult drone who was entirely capable of assimilation, while First, having emerged from a maturation chamber too early, did not have the ability yet (in “Collective” Icheb mentions that they've all been trying to learn to assimilate but have failed so far). This is a powerful metaphor too—adults have powers of coercion that kids might not have yet developed fully, and it points to latter's better chances of successful reclamation.

Except First pays for his stubborn inexperience dearly, while Seven does not, despite her being much more culpable. I've been wondering how she might feel about the whole encounter, since “Collective” doesn't offer much in this respect. I wonder if, despite First's relentless hostility towards her, Seven was able to recognize her former self in him. I think she might have, given this exchange right at the end:

I also wonder if First's fate was yet another reminder for Seven of the many ways in which she failed both as a drone and as an individual, and especially of the exceptional circumstances of her continuing survival. Other former drones die while facing the same difficulties and obstacles Seven has encountered, but she survives against all odds, often because the people around her have chosen to go above and beyond for her, but also just out of luck. It's a constant in her life, both on Star Trek: Voyager and Star Trek: Picard. I have to imagine it's a weight that keeps becoming heavier as the years pass.

[olderthannetfic]

Re: “So, the world expects women to have and raise kids while men are expected to have little involvement or interest in their kids’ lives (paraphrased)”

Yes, that’s what it’s always been, specifically because men want it to that way. Studies show that women typically raise and socialize their children from infancy, men statistically have little interest in being active fathers, children are usually closer to their maternal relatives, children usually stay with their mothers after divorce or separation for the prior reasons but when men contest custody they usually win. And in cases where men have custody of their children, studies also show the kids are raised by the father’s mother or other female relative. Interestingly, studies also show that men usually only const custody of their kids because of a fear of paying child support.

Maybe it’s because previous anon is a trans man, so he’s had experience being socialized in both binaries, but anon doesn’t have to feel bad about the plight of fathers. They’re perfectly fine with the state of marriage and child rearing because it culturally and socially benefits them more than women. The (cis) men are just fine, don’t worry lol 🤷🏽‍♀️

--

(same anon talking about childrearing, (cis)straight relationships, and the priveleges of men) And of course in a patriarchal society men are encouraged to be husbands but not fathers. Men in relationships, especially marriage, statistically live longer and have more benefits than single men. Women actually receive fewer social benefits from marriage than men (on average). Again, the (cis) men are very happy with this setup. They're fine.

IDK about that. I think plenty of cis men are not fine with the current state of affairs, but they're not always prepared for the practical realities of changing things, both all the little social things they were never taught and the career penalties they'll incur.

It's the same deal as with chores and supporting a partner: a ton of cis men want to be an equal and to make a female partner's life easier. But lacking the experience of just how much fucking work basic household management is, they end up feeling like they're being imposed upon when they're actually doing like 5% of the work, and they feel like they're being asked to be mind readers when they fail to notice things many female partners have been socialized to pick up on instantly.

Yes, my lived experience is that the majority of cis men are selfish dicks who need a boot up the ass, but I don't think the problem is coming from bad intent in most cases. I, a cis woman, was also woefully unprepared to run a household when I first got out of school, and it was entirely from being raised too upper middle class by parents who were too busy to teach me basic adult skills that weren't about career or school. Many guys start even further behind.

I'm not saying we should let deadbeat dads off the hook, but a lot of cis dudes do actually want to participate but don't get how hard it's going to be or how much they're going to have to give up.

[vro0m]

As usual I don't read your F1 post but as usual when I see a word coming often enough in my peripheral vision I get curious. What is Antonelli

Oh god. Okay. (Also why do you still follow my F1 account babe it's flooding your dash with posts you don't have an interest in 😭)

This is Antonelli

As you can tell he's a baby. He turned 18 like 5 seconds ago.

Anyway, he's gonna start F1 next year in Mercedes.

Why does it cause so much discourse that even you have to ask what's going on?

Somewhat long post :

So Mercedes has a free seat because 7 time world champion and overall GOAT of the sport Lewis Hamilton decided to leave for Ferrari in 2025. Now this caused an f1blr meltdown in February because no one saw it coming as he's been with them for over a decade and they've won so many world titles together and he spent the previous year saying he wouldn't leave, but since 2021 Mercedes hasn't been doing so good.

There was a lot of discussion as to who could join Mercedes next but the rumours rapidly pointed to Antonelli.

What's crazy is Antonelli is 1) very young 2) very inexperienced. Usually, drivers will do local competitions (F4) then F3 then F2 then maybe F1. If they are thought to be good enough for F1 while they are in F2 they tend to be hired as "reserve drivers" for F1 teams meaning they work closely with the team, train on the simulator, take part in test drives sometimes, overall learn the ropes, and if a driver is for some reason unable to take part in a race, they will replace him.

But Antonelli has only done F4, entirely bypassed F3, was brought into F2 this year and is now gonna join F1 after just one season there. He's not been a reserve driver. He's done his first session in a normal F1 race weekend alongside other F1 driver this weekend and it went like this : lap 1 he's the fastest of them all, lap 2 he crashes in a wall at high speed, end of his session.

So why choose him? Well Toto Wolff the Mercedes team principal has been very annoyed that he let another such very young very unprepared rookie slip his fingers ten years ago : current 3 time world champion, racing prodigy Max Verstappen. Max joined before he was even old enough to have a normal driving license. He too had skipped some steps to F1 although not as many as Antonelli. And although he had a bit of a rocky first few season clearly due to his inexperience, he turned out to be one of the best drivers we have ever seen so far. Some have the feeling that Toto Wolff is trying to forcefully recreate the phenomenon. Even though Max Verstappen is a clear outlier, an exception to the rule rather than an example that bringing young drivers in very fast is a good idea.

Note that Antonelli is said to be extremely talented and that's also why he's been fasttracked to F1 this way. BUT he's underprepared, again very young and facing a huge amount of pressure.

First of all rookies who join F1 are always under pressure because they have very little time to show that they are up to the challenge even though they have barely any experience driving in F1 with cars that are very different from F2 or anything else they've driven up until then. This week, another young driver, Logan Sargeant, was fired mid season in only his second year in F1 because he didn't progress enough. It's over for him and he'll never be back even though those who raced with him in previous formulas say he had more potential than what he was able to show. Many such cases.

Second of all people have been mounting this narrative around Antonelli. Toto wolff, but also journalists. They're acting like he's the next champion. They're calling him Lewis Hamilton's heir for some reason. He has driven 1.5 laps in the current cars so far. It's insane. A generally well respected f1 journalist said yesterday that he hasn't seen f1 this excited about a rookie since fucking Michael Schumacher himself.

So yeah. That's the narrative : the best driver in history leaves his historic team after an unprecedented successful partnership by surprise. The team principal decides he needs another prodigy to replace him and bring his somewhat struggling team back to his former title winning glory. Can't persuade the current prodigy Max Verstappen to leave his own title winning team to join them. Not now, not 10 years ago. Decides to pluck a baby from his cradle to become the next shiny thing. Everybody holds their breath while they wait to see if he'll sink or swim.

[dira333]

When the Love of your Life has a twin - Osamu x Reader (Angst)

A/N: Hurt, no comfort.

Life played a cruel joke on you when it decided to make the love of your life a twin.

You didn’t know it then, when you met him, when you got to know him. 

You know it now.

-

Osamu is the calmer of the two, but not to be underestimated. 

Your friends don’t approve of him. 

“He doesn’t talk much. I couldn’t even hold a conversation with him.” One acquaintance points out and you wonder if she might have gotten them mixed up.

Did she really meet Osamu? Your Osamu, who never shuts up when around you? Who you’ve spent hours talking on the phone, your conversations spanning so many topics you forget half of them when you try to remember the next morning.

How was your childhood? Do you wanna get married someday? Are you afraid of dying? What’s your favorite food?

You’ve met Atsumu once, in passing, have shaken his hand and introduced you, but that was then and this is now.

You don’t know what he thinks of you, what he knows of you. 

Has Osamu spoken about you before? Has he mentioned you like he mentioned his brother?

“You sound just like my brother… You’re as crazy as Tsumu!... Oh, I know what you mean, Tsumu’s like that too.”

You’d always taken it as a compliment, because you’ve seen and heard and felt how close they are. And all you wanted was to be just as close to him.

-

You need to breathe. Sort out your feelings.

Imagine an empty room, enough space to put all your thoughts in order.

Because here’s the truth, as simple as it’s painful.

You’ve never been more to Osamu than a friend.

Just a friend. 

It had taken you less than six months to fall in love with him. To understand that this was the kind of person you wanted to spend your life with. Someone you could hold entire conversations with via text, just because he liked to ask questions, liked to know what you were thinking. Someone you spent nights with - pretending to work, but getting distracted by your conversations until it was much too late to be still awake like this.

Less than six months before he pulled the rug from under your feet for the first time.

“I cannot offer you a relationship right now. I’m too busy with work. I cannot see myself in a relationship right now. I’m sorry.”

-

It has taken you more than two years to realize that you cannot be friends with him.

Because you will always want to be more.

Because he never says no when you text him, never stops you when you just want to talk.

And your traitorous heart cannot understand that all he wants to be is friends when you talk through the night. 

Your friends have long grown tired of this topic.

Just move on, they say. You’ll find someone better.

But you don’t want to find someone better.

You want to find him. You want him to be the right person, want him to want it too.

But your traitorous heart won’t stop bleeding and your traitorous mind won’t stop thinking of him.

So you take a step away. And another. And another.

Until there’s enough space between the two of you that you can have days go by without thinking of him. A week. An entire month.

You change jobs and don’t tell him about it. You help organize a party for a joined friend and ask someone else to send him an invite. He does not show up.

You still haven’t deleted his number. He has yet to change his profile picture. 

In less than a week you will probably meet his twin.

And you’re as unprepared for that as you’ll ever be.

-

Tonight, you’ll try to sleep.

Try not to think about tomorrow or the day after, even less of what will be in less than five days.

You’ll cling to the only hope you’ve left.

That Atsumu will not recognize you.

Because if he does, if he knows, would he be kind enough to stay polite?

After all, Osamu always said you were quite alike.

If there’s anything left to hope for it’s that.

That Atsumu might read in your eyes that you never wanted it to be like this.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll respond in kind.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

What if….. The reason Aemond and his niece got arranged to be married, is cuz the niece manipulated it

They were very much in love, but secretly

It started when they were young

Especially after he lost his eye

His niece felt so guilty. Even though she didn’t strike the blow. And he was in such pain, physically and emotionally. He tried pushing her away. But he needed someone to hold onto. And she really was so kind

Things changed the more he grew. They changed. But she still tried to protect him, care for him as she always did. Until one night, alone in his chambers. With only the fire to light the room. Aemond spoke to her

He spoke words of devotion. Of pain. Of desire. He couldn’t bear being apart from her. She was in his soul. Tormenting him. And he can’t still be a frightened boy in her eyes. He’s a man grown. She’s a woman. And they aren’t just so simple anymore

She’s frightened. Not by Aemond. But by the reality. Their mothers are more tense than ever. But she does give in. Just for a moment. Kissed him passionately and desperately. His fingers in her hair. Her arms around him.

FHowever she breaks away when reality returns. They are both duty bound. If they cross this line, it will inevitably end in heartbreak. It takes all her strength to say no, to look away. It weighs on her

Every step is pain. And it echos pain in Aemond

In the coming days they can barely look at each other. It’s too much. That is until she is sent away. Just a simple assignment. To check on old alliances. However it quickly goes awry. And a conflict breaks out. Bad enough that she can’t return home

Aemond waits for no permission. He mounts Vhagar and is halfway to her before anyone can even say a word. He’ll fight the entire way to her, however he can. And he does. Desperately. Anything to reach her

But he can only reach her. And battered, and exhausted they can only prepare for the coming fight. A fight his niece doesn’t believe they can win. Her and her dragon are exhausted. Aemond is unprepared. What can be done now?

And so, at that late hour, in the dimly lit cave that they fled to, she gives in. Confesses her love for Aemond. He is surprised. She said this would bring about the end of them. But she tells him that she fears an end coming regardless of what they feel now. So she will not have it come without him knowing the truth. Her deep, undying, painful affection for him.

He wanted to be seen as a man. She now wants to love him as one.

In the moonlight, in what they’re so sure will be their last moments, she gives herself to him. For just that night, they are no prince or princess. Just lovers. Desperate, passionate lovers.

She sheds her clothing completely and stands before him. And before he enters her, she removes his eyepatch. Touching his face gently. So she can see it in their last moments

He takes her as if no consequences exist. Again and again, kissing her aggressively, holding her body tight. But completely enamored and deeply in love. And she responds in kind. Begging for him and looking to him in the ways he always wished she would. For hours they lie together, even after completely exhausting themselves they stay with their bodies close. Just until the dawn breaks.

Perhaps the gods were forgiving. That dawn comes lucky. It comes with reinforcements. And before the sun is set, it brings victory and a swift end to a potential disaster.

Perhaps it was forgiveness. The lovers return. And breathe not a word of the moment they shared. It is only late at night do they remember it. And repeat it. Over and over and over do they reminisce EXACTLY what happened in those caves. The only witness being them and the night itself

That is what protects them when the princess misses her blood. Before Aemond even knows, before anyone, she’s making plans. She’s much more clever than many know. She knows who to talk to. Who to give the subtle idea of a betrothal to. If her grandsire favors the idea…. It’s essentially half done

And when it gets to him, he does. No protests then will stop him from talking of how good it would be for the family. The plans already essentially made. And her and Aemond using every ounce of control they’ve ever learned to avoid kissing each other in absolute glee when it’s announced.

Their mothers are hesitant. Very hesitant. But with encouragement they both TRY to be on their best behavior. For the sake of their children. At least for one day

On that day Alicent will straighten her son’s cloak and give a small smile of approval. On that day Rhaenyra will pin a lovely jewel in her daughter’s hair and give a nod. A blessing. The best she can give

On that day Aemond will use the last of his composure not to run to his niece and sweep her into his arms before the ceremony is even finished. Instead they will smile. Say every word they rehearsed. They will bow their heads when they must, wave when they must. Walk perfectly. The picture of poise and duty.

When they dance, that is when they can let something slip. When they move close together, her hand in his. That’s when Rhaenyra sees it. She recognizes the way they dance. She danced that way once. That is when she wonders….. was this Union truly one of duty? And did it truly begin on the day it was arranged…..?

But before the night is over, the bride and groom are gone.

Disappeared into the night.

They will return a day or so later perhaps. And they will be greeted with several lectures that neither listens to, before returning to their now shared chambers.

For it was while the people still danced, that Aemond’s wife pulled him away. Quietly, unseen. And once again, secrets are shared. With only the night as witness, Aemond learns that he will be a father. Only the lovers know what was said then. And how they snuck off to the Dragonpit, mounted, and flew away. Spending their wedding night and perhaps a little longer, with only themselves. Once again, letting their true feelings slip in only each other’s presence

There is reality they will have to face perhaps.

But that is another day

And reality can be flexible. If you know what to do at least

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[allsadnshit]

Yesterday right on the new moon my job had a staff meeting and afterwards my bosses held me back to have a discussion and sprung a demotion on me and it's really blown up my entire peace for this chapter. They were vague about what I wasn't doing as a bar lead (I train new hires, make drink specials that sell super well, etc) and it was such a smack in the face to be told I wasn't meeting the expectations when they also acknowledged they didn't make the expectations and job responsibilities clear when I asked them to write a job description for me so this sort of thing wouldn't happen + they could have told me it wasn't working and tried to fix it with me rather than just deciding to demote me and drop my pay after I JUST introduced the drink special ideas I had for the next season at the whole staff meeting prior

Immediately after being demoted they gave me a bag of gluten free baked goods they got for me as the "good news" and it was so jarring and threw me off even further since I was already totally unprepared to process what has JUST happened and it just sort of turned into me thanking them and saying I understood or whatever and wanted things to work somehow and then walked home feeling like someone hit me with a fucking bus

Like so much weird shit was said and it was sprung on me without any warning like they didn't even tell me I'd be asked to stay after the all staff meeting for a discussion so I didn't have time to prepare any of my own things I needed from them or like wasn't given the chance to think about how I felt at all I just had to scramble and try and respond in the moment

It's been such a huge blow and I've just been rotting in bed all day waiting for therapy this afternoon and feeling totally defeated even though I also think being pushed to the edge is sometimes necessary to make big leaps. I haven't taken a bar lead position in YEARS after the trauma of my last time doing one when I was 21 and that was such a horrible ego death so for this to be the first time in so many years to have trusted enough again to try and know even if things don't work out I could expect to be treated respectfully is so disappointing. I'll never forget that months after I was demoted at my old job and they had to have 2 different upper management people try to fill my position and get totally overwhelmed, fail then quit....I got these apologies and offers to take my old job back and I didn't but it was so validating after being told I wasn't doing it well enough when turns out the position just wasn't fair in general and I still rocked at it.

I'm not sure if I want to just quit and be jobless and float for a while working more on my art stuff and just take the financial hit or WHAT but honestly this is just gonna be so hard no matter what I end up choosing

[cuubism]

part 2 of Hob Accidentally Yeets Dream from Baby Jail with the Ruby

“There are… many weapons on your person,” Dream observed with a frown. Just with a quick glance, he could count two knives, three throwing stars, what looked like a short sword, and a handgun.

“Oh, yes,” Hob agreed, tucking said gun into his belt. “This is far too high stakes to go in unprepared.”

Dream refrained from mentioning that he was already unprepared, having no idea of any of the context of this situation. On the other hand, maybe context didn’t matter. If someone got in their way, Hob would, evidently, cut them down. Perhaps it didn’t have to be more complicated than that.

The thought caused a funny feeling in his core. It had been a long time since Dream had felt anything other than anger or despair, so the new feeling was tricky to identify.

He thought it might be… tenderness.

Tenderness for Hob, who’d apparently decided he was going to ride with Dream wherever this expedition took them. And tenderness from Hob – his careful questions, the tea he pushed into Dream’s hands, the fierceness with which he said, I’m going with you.

The way he tucked the blanket around Dream’s shoulders.

It was a feeling Dream instinctively wanted to shy away from, but he’d been locked away for some time and his defenses against such things weren’t as strong as they once were.

“It is unlikely that you will have to fight someone,” he told Hob. “I will take care of them.”

“I believe you, but just in case.”

Dream looked out the car windshield at the Burgess mansion across the way. He had never seen the place from the outside, and it looked far more normal than one would expect the prison of an Endless to be. He found that, however much he was craving vengeance, he was not particularly looking forward to going back inside.

Hob made to reach across the center console, as if to straighten the lapel of Dream’s coat, but let his hand fall halfway. “Hey. You okay?”

Dream nodded. “Let us go.”

------

Every single light in the manor was on, and chaos rang out through the windows. Dream was sure everyone had awoken in an uproar the moment he’d disappeared from his glass prison.

“Guess they’ve noticed you’re gone,” said Hob, as they stood half-hidden in the shadows by the front door.

“The guards would have seen it,” said Dream absently. If only he still had his sand, he could have so easily blinked into the basement, accomplished his task, and disappeared again before anyone could react. It was possible he could manage it as he was, but testing the boundaries of his power while it was still bound by the circle might be… unwise.

“Guards?” repeated Hob, and swore colorfully. Dream couldn’t help a small smile in response. He hadn’t heard some of those curses for a few centuries.

“I guess our one saving grace is they can’t exactly call the police for help with their escaped eldritch being,” Hob continued.

Dream raised an eyebrow at him. “Eldritch being?”

“Hey, if you aren’t gonna tell me what you are I’m just gonna have to start making it up.”

This was said teasingly, but Dream thought about it. “I do believe… you may have earned that information.”

Hob looked at him, surprised. “Seriously? I wasn’t fishing for details, you know. I’ve long since come to respect that you have your reasons for your secrets.”

“Perhaps, but from what I have heard, there should not be so many secrets between—” Dream hesitated over the unfamiliar shape of the word— “friends.”

He would not have been surprised to receive some irritation in response to this long-belated admission, but instead Hob looked – delighted didn’t begin to cover it. He grinned so wide.

“As friends, then,” he said, and managed to tug a smile from Dream with the determination in the words, “shall we go set you free?”

Dream simply nodded in response, and went about his task of bringing the house’s occupants to sleep.

The summoning circle limited his power more than he'd anticipated. In his usual state, he could have put the entire house to sleep with a snap of his fingers. As it was, even with the ruby bolstering him, he wasn’t quite sure he managed it, or how long their sleep would last.

Hob watched him with a concern that rankled as the clamor inside the manor died down to a sudden silence. Dream yanked open the front door and stepped inside.

The grand foyer was like a tomb, but eerily flooded in bright lights. Everything was still on, lit, abuzz, but everything human had dropped to the floor. Or to couches, chairs, slumped against walls. Dream didn’t recognize anyone; they must have been house staff. No guards. No Alex Burgess, the boy – now man – who had once held such promise but let him down so utterly.

Hob sucked in a breath through his teeth, but otherwise didn’t make a sound. Dream, likewise, stayed silent; until his full power was restored, there was no telling how easy it might be to wake them.

Dream stared at one of the sleeping, unrecognized bodies for a long moment. More disconcerting than not knowing how long they had was the fact that these people’s identities still hadn’t come to him. Normally, Dream knew, instantly, who he was looking at, knew it from their dreams.

But he hadn’t touched the Dreaming in a long time. That knowledge was apart from him, right now. And half of these people… they were young enough to have been born after Dream was captured. He had never touched their dreams at all.

He tore his attention away. That would all be remedied shortly.

It was easy enough to pull the house’s layout from a sleeping mind. Dream quickly found the basement staircase, Hob at his heels, moving soundless as an ex-soldier could be expected to. They crept, two shadows, down into the basement, where Dream abruptly ran up against two feelings that were equally discomfiting.

The first was unease, a crawling sense that would have set his hair standing on end, if he were human. Dream didn’t even have to look at his glass prison to feel it; it crept up his arms and the back of his neck, prickled at his hair. It was like staring into a dark bedroom and finding two eyes staring back.

Rather like how a dreamer encountering one of his nightmares might feel, Dream thought.

The second was relief. Relief at having Hob at his side, at his back. Relief at having a human, a… friend, as if he wasn’t Endless, as if he wasn’t more powerful than all of this.

“Christ Almighty,” Hob hissed, gaze moving from the glass orb, to the circle and moat binding it, to the company they’d stumbled upon. “Jesus— what the fuck.”

Because here, of course, were the guards missing from upstairs, sleeping now on the cold stones. One had slipped into the moat; Dream didn’t bother pulling him out, and neither did Hob, though Dream saw his gaze glance over and catalogue it.

Here, too, were Paul and Alex Burgess, close to Dream’s prison, clearly in the middle of examining it for his means of escape when they’d been knocked unconscious.

“You were…” Hob whispered, and swore again.

Dream stepped towards the circle, weaving around fallen bodies. It felt like a sick game – make it across the room without waking anyone up, and you might be able to win your freedom.

“It was the only way to hold my physical form,” Dream murmured in response to Hob’s unasked question. He knelt beside the circle, a hair’s breadth from Alex’s prone body.

He stared down at the painted runes. Such a small thing, this, to cause so much torment. And so easily undone, had anyone considered it worth the effort.

Dream smeared his coat sleeve through the circle.

Hob sounded vicious as he repeated, “The only way to—”

Dream’s power exploded back into him before he could finish.

White light burst around them. Wind swirled in terrible gusts, blowing detritus around the basement; a howling rose in pitch until it became a scream. Power burned through Dream’s body, painful, ecstatic, euphoric.

Then it died, all at once. And Dream felt… normal again, for the first time in nearly forty years. He still needed to find his sand, his helm, but he could touch the dreams, the Dreaming. All the familiar voices swirled around him in a rising, chaotic chorus. He felt like himself.

Unfortunately, the interruption in Dream’s power meant that everybody else in the house felt like themselves, too.

Dream, momentarily lost in the swell of his returned senses, did not catch onto this immediately.

Hob, fortunately, did.

Two gunshots. Dream felt the disturbance in the air as they whizzed past before he heard them. In slow motion, he turned to watch a guard who’d been rushing for him go down, then spun back to face Hob. Hob’s gun was raised, brow set in determination, and as Dream watched, still frozen, he shot down another guard who’d leapt to his feet to rush at Dream. There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation in any of it.

Dream was not made for this world, the waking world. He rarely felt substantial here, rarely felt that he belonged, and his powers, though still considerable, were nowhere near as absolute as in the Dreaming. But this— this was reminding him that while he may not be made for this world, Hob very much was.

As he watched, Hob pulled one of his knives and threw it at a guard who’d gotten too close for his gun’s range; it landed true and dropped the man to the floor. For all that Dream was fairly certain it had been quite some time since Hob had been actively soldiering – and humans weren’t really using knives anymore, were they? At least not in the last war Dream had seen, though he hadn’t actually seen how that one had ended, now that he thought about it – he didn’t seem to have lost any of the skills. He fought with a vicious efficiency that was so transfixing Dream forgot he was standing right in the middle of a gunfight.

“Get down!” Hob yelled at him, and Dream came back to himself. Hob’s attention was already shifting to another potential threat – this time it was Alex, lurching to his feet at Dream’s side, a stolen gun clasped in his shaky hand. His eyes were lit with terror, matched only by that of Hob over his shoulder as he realized that he now had no clear line of fire, that he could so easily hit Dream instead, should he shoot.

But this boy… this boy, who Dream had once felt compassion for, who he had once hoped could deliver them both to something better. This boy – man – who had become a more fervent jailer than Dream’s original captor…

…he was no threat to Dream now.

Dream touched his forehead and the gun fell from Alex’s limp grasp. “No….” Alex whimpered, and Dream could see, now, his nightmares over the years, how he had dreamt in terror of Dream himself, in the form that Alex supposed might make up his true power; how he’d spent decades fearing horrible revenge, dreaming of it over and over. Ironic that, in the end, he had visited it upon himself by his inaction. Dream would have shown mercy, once. No longer.

“Don’t kill me,” Alex whispered, eyes growing hazy under Dream’s power.

“It is not in my prerogative to kill humans.” Dream’s voice was a breath expanding to fill all of the chamber, all of Alex’s head, a gust of icy wind. “And I need not. I can make you suffer far worse than that.”

Alex’s eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the floor, already deep in the claws of nightmares. Looking around, Dream found everybody else either dead, or unconscious – knocked asleep as an afterthought as he unleashed his powers on Alex.

Everybody except, of course, Hob, who was staring at him, slack-jawed. Dream met his gaze, which only seemed to aggravate whatever had him stunned.

“Your…” he murmured. “Your eyes.”

Ah. Dream blinked, and his eyes returned to their more human appearance.

Hob, too, shook himself back into focus. “We should get out of here; everybody upstairs will have heard the gunshots.”

“Asleep,” Dream told him. “I can be sure of it now.”

“Alright, then.” Hob took in a deep breath, let it out, and finally tucked his gun back into his waistband. He stepped over to one of the bodies, yanked his knife out, and stashed that away, too. Dream watched this, the bloody human mechanics of it, so far divorced from the ways he usually found himself fighting, when he had to.

Finished, Hob looked around at the scattered bodies. “Am I going to hell if this felt kind of good?”

“You are not going to hell regardless,” Dream said automatically. “I would not allow it.”

Hob squinted at him. “Thought you weren’t the devil?”

“I am not.”

“Cryptic,” Hob muttered. “Alright. Onwards, my friend. I am very ready to get out of this wretched basement, and I’m sure you are more so.”

This was undoubtedly true.

Hob shepherded him up the stairs, a hand hovering over his lower back. It was strange, this. To be shepherded as if he could possibly need protecting when he’d just put the entire house to sleep with a thought.

Still, Dream allowed it. And didn’t look back.

[msweebyness]

Times the Akuma Class Had Each Other’s Backs

Hey, folks! These are some old prompts for the Akuma Class that were in my notes! They were originally supposed to be shorts, but who knows? Maybe I’ll do some one day! Enjoy! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

It should come as no surprise to you all that the akuma class absolutely despises Gabriel. For one thing, he’s a neglectful father who rarely gives his son the time of day, and for another, he’s an asshat who forced his son into a career that he doesn’t want. There have been so many breakouts from Adrien’s bedroom to take him to do something fun, or just trolling the heck out of Gabe in any way they possibly can. They plan to torment him until he gives up custody to The Gorilla.

It’s the sad truth that not all teachers have their students’ best interests at heart, and this was sadly the case with Kim and DuPont’s (now former) math teacher for their grade. He would constantly cruelly berate the young athlete and tell him he was an imbecile and would never leave middle school once the other students had left. He gave Kim extra work he wasn’t equipped to understand, and offered no kind of assistance. And when the other kids were there, he would constantly single Kim out, calling on him when he knew he was unprepared. Eventually though, the rest of the class caught on and all began taking notes and recording what they were witnessing. After a week or two, they reported their findings to the school board, and the teacher lost his employment. And when Kim’s parents were called in…the entire school could hear Mai screaming in furious Vietnamese.

It’s not rocket science that having your work stolen really hurts, and Max knows this firsthand. He worked for weeks on a new software format that would speed up processing to an insane degree, and was going to present it to a prestigious tech institution. Only for the program to get stolen by some jerks from another class who wanted the position for themselves. Thankfully, the akuma class is always prepared and had proven records of Max working on the program, such as photos and video, showing that it was his. They’ve done the same thing with jerks who’ve tried to steal or trace Nath’s art.

Whenever Rose can’t come to class because she’s having an episode of her condition, her classmates set up tablet with a video call and place it in her seat next to Juleka so she can feel like she’s in class with them. They also take extra notes just in case the connection goes out and she misses something.

Juleka’s first professional modeling gig was a joyous occasion…and one that warranted a whole boatload of stress. Juleka nearly worked herself into an anxiety attack on the day the shoot was scheduled…until she saw the boatload of encouraging messages from her classmates and the rest of the Girl Squad there to accompany her. The class does the same thing when Mylene is nervous about speaking for one of her charities or going on stage.

Marinette was overjoyed when she was nominated to take part in a prestigious fashion competition…only to be consumed by anxiety when she discovered she would be up against professional designers who had entire teams at their disposal! Thankfully, she has a squad of dedicated friends who were willing to learn how to put dresses together, no matter how many times they pricked themselves or had to redo their work. They absolutely kicked ass and all the other designers were embarrassed they were beat by a group of teens.

(Here’s the big one!) We all know teens can be stupid little shits, and this was certainly the case with some of Ivan’s neighbors. The three assholes, like a bunch of dickheads, decided to entertain themselves by throwing rocks from their mom’s garden to scare a group of little kids who were playing in the nextdoor yard. Well, this was the Bruel’s house and Sasha happened to be among those kids…and one of the rocks hit her in the side of the head. Hearing his little sister sobbing from inside the house while he’d been helping Mylene (who was over at the time) make the kids something for lunch, Ivan came back out to see what was going on…and completely lost it. After Mylene took Sasha inside and called an ambulance because her head was bleeding, Ivan blew up at the three boys, demanding to know what the hell was wrong with them. Of course, they decided to use this outburst to claim he had been threatening them. Of course the parents believed them, despite the testimonies from the other children (Kiran and the Cesaire twins) of what had happened, and actually threatened to sue and posted a warning on the neighborhood Twitter that the people next door had a ‘very aggressive son’… only to be forced to take it down and apologize when the akuma class (as well as the other three classes in the grade) all left comments saying that was total bullshit…and Max got ahold of security footage from the neighbors behind the Bruels, permitting Sabrina to get her dad involved. Sasha ended up having to stay in the hospital for a day or two, getting stitches and making sure there were no internal injuries to her head. (Thankfully, she was clear) But when she got home, the entire akuma class had made a ‘Get Well Soon’ card for her with personal messages from each of them! Marinette even made her a cute Sulley Mini Plushy, (Monsters Inc is her favorite movie) and Nath drew a picture of her as a princess superhero (what she says she wants to be when she grows up!) And don’t worry, those three idiots got in HUGE trouble. Let’s just say, Galina and Iosif were NOT happy with them…or their parents for that matter. (And it turns out the rest of the class had gone around talking to the neighbors and it turns out these kids had a history of problem behavior that their parents never did anything about!)

Family sticks together! (The Sasha one is based a little on personal frustration, because stuff like this happens, sadly more than once where I live. As someone who loves and works with young children, I HATE that the idiots who do that kind of stuff GET AWAY WITH IT. The last ended how I wish these situations would most of the time!) Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

[laurark]

2023 Wrap Up

A strange year that was both long and short. The main lesson to learn from 2023 is the same lesson I have been learning every year since I was 6 years old: Things happen if you try!

 I spent a lot of time this year hitting my head against a wall, or rather healing from an RSI that caused making art to become really fraught. I could bear the wrist pain in order to do my favorite thing (drawing!!!) but then the pain stuck around after I had clocked out for the day and was making dinner. It would go like this: I want to make pasta sauce using canned tomatoes, but using a can opener is so painful now that maybe I should just do something else. The onions and garlic are already cooking in the pan though, what can I pivot that to? I felt like the biggest dunce in the world. I worked my way into being cursed, I deserved it.

I have this craving to just commit to a big art project, like a graphic novel, and keep my head down working on it. Having all my time devoted to work feels a bit like doing penance, like earning my bread. But I look at the world and I know I cannot draw my way out of this. I can’t write my way out of this. I can’t post my way out of this. I am unprepared for what I need to do to earn a better tomorrow. But I am prepared to learn.

I changed up my desk ergonomics and my wrist healed. Thank you to the huge desk easel that I stole from my parents’ house. It’s ugly, heavy, stained, and I keep banging my elbows on its sharp corners. It sucks but it saved my life. Do not resist making your workspace uglier if it might help you! 

Making The Influence and participating in the ShortBox Comics Fair was a huge work highlight this year. I’m so grateful I can make a work with dark themes and have it be understood and appreciated. The encouraging response to The Influence did a lot to kill the bad faith reviewer in my mind. Things are possible if you try!

I started painting again and I really love it. I’m trying to just follow the image-making. Painting is play to me and I want it to remain so. I feel myself itch to turn it into some kind of profitable thing, to make it palatable, but I’m trying to resist so it remains a place of experimentation. 

I also wrote a short novel. It’s awful. I just re-read it and it’s so bad, but reading it makes me happy. It needs serious reworking to be a proper novel, but I did technically cross the finish line and write the whole story. It was very refreshing and informative to branch out like this, even if I don’t think this particular example is fit for human consumption. Earlier in my life I was so stubborn about ONLY working in comics but now I’d like to pursue whatever path I can to have a creative career. If you try!

I had a great time tabling at Short Run this year. Two different people came to my table and told me they came to the show specifically to see my table. One person said Bug Boys was responsible for facilitating “many special moments” with them and their niece. I don’t want to forget about moments like this. It means a lot to me. 

It occurs to me as I type out this year’s accomplishments, they’re mostly things I did at home alone. I haven’t rejoined the world after COVID in a meaningful way, the way I hoped I would during lockdown. It comes naturally to me to make up excuses to stay home, keep my head down, watch how things play out before joining in. That attitude does me a disservice. It isolates me. When other people are only in the screen, they become hypothetical. It’s not right to live this way, but it’s comfortable to me. It feels “safe” after COVID, even though it’s not safe. I know I need to change this. 

It feels sick and strange to be blogging in my safe little apartment during a time of bloodshed. To flip through my planner and think of my future while others starve is obscene. My entire life was obscene in this fashion. It’s my responsibility to sit with this feeling and do something with it.

Here’s to a better 2024. We can do it, we can try. 

In love and solidarity, 

Laura K.

[hopepunk-humanity]

I love your account but sometimes it makes me sad because I really struggle with making beep friendships and a lot of what you talk about is about human connection and friendship. Do you have any advice how to make friends?

I have struggled with friendship my entire life, which I think is a big reason why I emphasize it so much here. I know how precious it is and how difficult a lack of it can be.

I think the biggest piece of advice I can give is, you have to be open to it, and you can't be afraid to make the first move. Some of my best friends I have right now I made because I accepted a dinner invitation, or a casual walk, even though I'd been tired or unprepared for that--be open to it. I made my high school best friend because we'd been assigned alphabetical seating, and I cracked a joke to her when she was still a complete stranger to me--don't be afraid to make the first move (it can really be as simple as a joke).

That being said, even if you're friendless (I've been there many times), you can still enjoy connection. Little things like helping an old lady reach the top shelf in a grocery aisle, or getting a compliment on your outfit, can really sustain you through those times if you allow them to. It reminds you that though you may feel lonely, you're still a part of the human fabric.

[evolutionsvoid]

I know I have said before that oceans get all the clout and legends when it comes to water bodies, with maybe swamps coming in at second place. There are many obvious reasons for that, but I want to remind folk that there can be fascinating and dangerous things lurking in any water body! Lakes were brought up in some previous entries, with mentions of the Glutwort and Berberoka being terrors found within. I mean, it could be said that lakes and ponds are just mini, salt-free oceans, and that the largest of these types can net the same horror stories and tales of mystery as the sea. But what about rivers? Certainly they deserve some mention as well! There are some neat things found in their depths and rapids! However, I feel the most I see on rivers and streams is them blocking paths and sweeping away fools who dare cross unprepared. The river is an obstacle, and less so a place of intrigue and discovery. What incredible legends are told about these water bodies? What tales of adventure and monsters are centered around such a location? None! None at all, and it is an absolute shame! (Bold claim for someone who doesn't read anything besides dusty tomes and research papers. Maybe one day you could stomach the idea of enjoying some different literature.) There is plenty to be found in these serpentine roads of water! Don't think the sea is the only one that has the monsters people crave! I know some folk in a certain region would happily inform you that the river can, indeed, harbor frightening beasts.

Below the white water and churning current, waiting in the dark muddy depths, is a great pale serpent. Its body can reach over three meters long, and its width is like that of a tree trunk. It has two powerful teeth that it uses as deadly weapons, dooming all it sinks them into. Now it may sound like a vicious viper, a truly monstrous water snake! However, this is no reptile! The beast I am describing is the Indus Worm, which is....well, a worm! And one of impressive size! The description I gave to you earlier was no lie, it is truly that big and it is a pale thing that lives in rivers. The two teeth I mentioned, which you probably envisioned as "fangs," are actually much thicker and broader. Like sharpened boards or a hefty beak, these nasty teeth are not known for venom but sheer strength. A single chomp can punch a hole through your body with ease, and bone turns to pathetic shards when met with this force. What a set of chompers! Wonder what they use those for?

In their early years, these hefty teeth are not really used for carnage. Their diet is mainly algae scrapped from rocks, eventually growing big enough to start gnawing on mussels and hard-shelled foods. At a small size, the teeth also serve as tools for carving holes and grooves into stone, which serve as a good place to hide from the current and predators. Though not big at devouring flesh at these stages, they are still capable of a nasty bite when threatened. Fishermen who haul one up from an accidental snag are sure to keep their fingers clear of their snapping jaws, lest they lose them. When the Indus Worm becomes an adult, that is when the diet gets more meaty. They are ambush hunters, slithering through the mud and murky water in search of prey. Shellfish are still on the menu, and help keep the belly full til something nice and big comes by for a drink. When a large animal stalks close to the water's edge, the Indus attacks. It bursts from the water and seeks to sink its massive teeth into the flesh of its victim. Unless the prey is quick to react and fast in movement, if the bite lands then it is typically over in an instant. Skulls are crushed, organs are punctured, and an entire limb may go missing if the assault misses its mark. Losing limbs and chunks of meat are the "lucky" option if you are able to move vitals out of range in time. Yes, dodging the bite entirely is preferable, but if you are being ambushed at such close range, you don't really get a say if that happens or not.

When the teeth latch on, prey is either dead or mortally wounded. From there, the Indus Worm drags them back into the river with it, where it may dine. With such powerful jaws, the Indus eats everything it can, gorging quickly before scavengers and unwanted guests show up for a free meal. If you are caught by an Indus Worm, just know that there will be nothing left to bury. Unless in your struggle it happens to lop off an arm and leave that behind at the scene. Due to bodies being reduced to paste in their jaws, some wonder how many disappearances near the river are from being washed away versus being taken by a worm. Honestly sounds like a scary story for the saplings already! Stay away from that river or else the worm will get ya! But in this case, the tale isn't a fictional one that conjures a boogeyman to be a stand-in for real life dangers. Seriously, don't go near the river because there actually is a worm!

Their presence makes these water bodies dangerous to those who live nearby, as any muddy shore could be hiding an Indus. They not only attack people, but are perfectly capable of dragging down camels and cows. So when your livestock or beasts of burden stop by for a drink, you have to be on your toes! You fail to secure the area and you could be losing an animal, or yourself! So to avoid this fate, folk will carry ropes with large hooks on the end, and throw them into the waters they wish to use. The movement may trigger an attack, or the barbs being pulled back to shore may snare a hiding worm. In most cases, the thrower will not have the strength to haul in such a catch, and merely cut the line to let the angered worm go. Its writhing and rage will spoil the hunt and make it leave, while also giving a brief window of safety for this section of water. It certainly isn't a perfect system, but I suppose it is the best they got at the moment. Nets are occasionally used, but that way is pretty costly as they are always torn to ribbons in the struggle. Some advice suggests seeking very shallow and clear waters, as it makes the worm easier to spot.

Now it may seem like people want nothing to do with these giant worms, avoiding them entirely. However, Indus Worms are actually hunted pretty frequently, as they fetch a high price! While the huge teeth may make fine trophies or carving material, what people actually want is their oil. What oil you ask? Well, you see, the Indus Worm is a pretty squishy soft thing, which makes it vulnerable to sharp rocks, toothy predators and parasites. So to protect itself, they possess bulbous glands running alongside their body that secretes an oil that coats their form. This oil easily survives water, is pretty bitter and is thick enough to ward off jagged points and hungry parasites. The coating is great for protection, but there is one detail that really gets people's attention: it is flammable.

Indus oil burns intensely, creating a potent flame that sears through anything caught in it. Due to the oily nature, it clings to people, armor and siege weapons, and is even capable of surviving water! The flames cannot be doused with water, they must be smothered, making them very hard to snuff out during battle or chaotic situations. This makes it a highly prized substance for war, sabotage and arson. Indus Worms are caught, killed and strung up above clay vessels, so that they can catch every drop of oil that falls from their sliced bodies. The demand and difficulty in obtaining this oil makes it very expensive, said to only be affordable for royalty and nobles. This oil also gives the Indus Worm a fatal weakness: stick it with flame and the whole beast will go up like dry tinder! However, this obviously consumes the oil, which renders the whole hunt pointless. With how much hypothetical money goes up in smoke when you burn one of these worms, I think folk may throw you in the river with the dying serpent in anger if you choose this method.

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

jensen and bryces public perception

in terms of their individual reputations and how it plays into their perception as a couple

tagging a few who were interested :) @peonyblossom @intwds @choicesmc

Jensen has a reputation for being remarkable. A machine of a person—a beast of a person. Something to be observed but not touched.

He plows through diagnostics like he does through life, completely disconnected until it all comes crashing down. He’s taken breaks when he shouldn’t have, and he’s stayed when he shouldn’t have, but he always pushes through because he always has. Stopping was, and isn’t, an option when his only concomitant of consequence—of the end—is a dire fate. That’s what happens when he fights for himself, so he doesn’t.

And then there’s Bryce. Equally remarkable, but with a confidence and ease that makes it seem like a joke. He makes it look easy, and you want to ask him why, but the second he starts talking you remember why you shouldn't have. He’s as cocky as he is remarkable, whereas Jensen never speaks about himself: skills, life, or otherwise.

But Jensen is still this bright burning mass of passion and sharp-witted devotion, so willing and ready and waiting to make it to a rank where he has credibility in the eyes of the world. He’d fight for anyone that needs it because he can’t see those consequences when it’s not for himself, and they’re worth it anyway.

Yet, he is the one often reduced to an image of a heartless and soulless mold of a person. People that know him know what he stands for, know how hard he pushes himself to do everything right for everyone but himself, but too many steps away makes it hard to see that. There’s a plane of frosted glass in the shape of someone who doesn’t smile, doesn’t do small talk, and doesn’t make friends unless they like exactly what he likes.

But then there’s Bryce, who people treat like the sun. He’s the image of bright shining success, an ease and kindness that has always made people like him, but never love him. 

He is loathed by people too close to him. Loathed for the tsunami that is his ego, skill, and sunny demeanor that feels all too patronizing when he beats those around him with such ease. Those too close to him know nothing of significance because he keeps it so tightly locked up that they’d never be let in. He’d never give them that reward, and he pushes them away before they know they want it.

And for both of their conflicting views—what those close to them see and what those far away from them see—it doesn’t make sense for them to work. Someone so heartless shouldn’t be with someone so perfect, and someone so selflessly bold shouldn’t be with someone so egotistically selfish. One is only worried about others and the other is only worried for himself.

But isn’t there always something to learn?

Jensen was only taught to survive. Do what you can, do what you need, and anything else is a luxury he was never taught to handle. When he was given a voice that people listened to, he knew he’d be using it to help others in the same situations he had been in his entire life. He was going to do everything for everyone else no matter how hard it was and no matter how little he reflected on himself. 

It’s the only thing he knows how to do.

And Bryce has never been given a lesson on survival. Life was always a little too easy until the day it all fell apart, and he was completely unprepared. Left stranded on a fucking raft in the middle of the ocean. 

So he coped. He faked it until he made it with smiles and laughs as strong as Fort Knox, until he was right where he needed to be. Everything up to the present has been a game of never knowing if he’d make it through to the other side, and the only thing he had to rely on was himself—and they have that in common. 

With all of this, they perfectly fill the gaps of the other. On some other plane of understanding, the two of them mesh like a great clash of oceans, incredible forces in their own respects but so calm and overlapping together in a way that fades to blurred lines and a perfect harmony of edges and curves.

And people don’t get it. They only see one view or another and while, on some level, it puts them at incredible status—two of the most accomplished individuals of a generation hand in hand—but it becomes enigmatic the more you factor in their conflicting public perceptions.

But at the roots of their reputations, they are both annoyingly good. Bryce doesn’t break a sweat under the most intense pressure, and Jensen moves through the hardest cases without a flicker of emotion. Bryce is undermined by his ego and his unwillingness to let anyone within a close proximity, and Jensen is undermined by his observational silence and critical nature. 

They are both untouchable, and they make their relationship the same way. It is always going to be full of misinterpretations—just like they are. Their reputations are on a who-says-what basis, and no matter how many you collect, they are never the same. It’s convoluted; neither of them are willing to make it clear. Their public perceptions are nothing and everything and putting them together only stirs the pot. 

As much as it could mean—a power duo ready to take over the world, or two utterly fucked up people doomed to love one another—they don’t need it to. They let people think right and wrong (a skill Bryce has perfected, and one Jensen had to learn from him), and use the support from the other to keep pushing through any assumptions to reach their biggest goals (a skill Jensen has perfected, and one Bryce had to learn from him).