#but damn is it tiring and I question my strength to be able to get through it

[itzy-bitsy-spidey]

Wash my hair

(Sanji x fem! reader)

Notes: I´m a sucker for interactions such as washing each others hair. Happy valentine day!!!

Cw: None.

The life at sea was great, the wind on your face, freedom on your hands,there was nothing about it that could be regretted. Unless, of course, we were talking hair.

Long hair, short hair, curly or straight. It didn't even matter because the truth was, if you had any hair the ocean air was sure to destroy it.

Or at the very least tangle it and get it super puffy.

Usually you were the one to work through every tangle and undo every knot, but lately you had been feeling rather sick and didn't quite have the strength for doing it yourself. So of course you relied on your crew to help you. Problem was, that everybody seemed to be busy ( or simply plain unfit for the task).

Nami had locked herself on the room earlier that day and had only come out for dinner, so it was safe to say that she could not be bothered. Zoro... Well, he wasn't really all that friendly when it came to making things for others and he seemed rather rough, Luffy was absolutely out of the question (refer to the ending of the earlier paragraph) and poor Usopp was the one to get you the water and warm it up for you, so you would feel guilty to ask him for anything else.

So that left you down to only one more option, probably the most dreaded one as well.

Sanji.

The walk to the kitchen felt as if a train had ran over you from how heavy your body felt, but nonetheless you managed to get to the damned place and sit on one of the stools.

He didn´t even notice you at first, he seemed to be awfully focused on what he was currently doing, he actually seemed rather... peaceful.

His shoulders were not tense as they usually were when he was bickering back and forth with Zoro, and his expression was flat if not for the tiniest of smiles on his lips. It was refreshing not seeing him in his usual swooning-over-every-woman style.

You almost hated the fact that you were going to interrupt him. But it was Sanji, for all you knew as long as you weren´t Zoro (or Luffy trying to steal food) he wouldn´t have any problem.

"Sanji" Sure, it was not the most intricate of sentences, but as soon as his name came out of your lips and he turned around to look at you your words got caught in your throat.

"Well hello there sweetheart, what can I do for you?" He asked, and the tone of his vice held a tired tint to it, not from you, but from the day most likely.

"I need..." Either the words refused to come out or you refused to ask him for his help "I need your help".

"Really!? My help!? Oh, what can I assist you on my beautiful lady?" And there he was once again.

It was nice while it lasted.

"I need you to help me..." you narrowed your eyes at him "With washing my hair".

Unexpectedly nothing happened. For a solid half minute the kitchen was completely silent. And then a thin, almost non visible trail of blood started dripping from his nose, and you rolled your eyes, ready for his gushing about his feelings for women and bla,bla,bla.

Surprisingly though Sanji actually managed to compose himself, and after wipping off the trail of blood he eagerly nodded his head.

"Look Sanji, I... I just want you to help me detangle my hair, I don´t have the strenght to do it myself and you are the only other person avaible on the ship" You explained tiredly as you laid your head over your arms on the counter.

"I´m tired and kind of ill and I need you to agree to do this ONLY if you can promise to not make any comments, or act weird, or anything"

"Well of course my beautiful..."

"That includes calling me beautiful lady, or darling, or sweetheart, or mon amour or pretty much anything except my name" you shushed him by placing your finger on his lips "As a matter of fact I have a bad headache, so if you could just not talk at all, that would be grand".

And so finally, you were able to enter the bathtub (Sanji waiting outside the bathroom of course). The warm water surrounded you, almost a little bit too hot, but just perfect to sting slightly at your skin and relax all your muscles.

You had left on a bikini, that nami had gifted you when you first met and you didn´t have any more clothes than the ones you had had on yourself. You wished you could have been wearing nothing, but with the cook it was better not to risk it.

Once you were relaxed on the tub you called Sanji to let him know that he could enter. You didn´t turn around to see him, but you heard the door opening and closing and you felt when he approached you.

You also heard the sound of bottles touching the ground, but you didn´t bother trying to see what they were. Sanji kneeled on the floor behind you, and for some time all you heard was his and your breathing and the water ripples when you shifted in your place.

Then he grabbed a little cup and used it to pour the warm water over your scalp, and finally, his hands touched your scalp. Oh how you melted, Sanji was a lot of things, both good and bad, but dammit was he good with his hands.

You could completely understand him using only his legs for fighting if what he had to protect was those hands. The way his long fingers glided through your hair, careful not to tug on a strand was simply gorgeous; and then he grabbed one of the bottles he had brought and opened it, the smell of roses filling the room as he poured some of the oil on your hair and started working on the knots.

You swore you could fall asleep to Sanji washing your hair, it was so peaceful even if it was always the same four steps: pour water, pour oil, detangle and massage. Something about having the crew´s cook so close, yet him being so calm, was just... beautiful. The quiet type of beautiful that happens when a lone flower blooms in a winter.

It could have been hours for all you knew, but the bliss that you felt from the treatment Sanji was giving you made it feel as though time didn´t exist anymore.

Eventually it all had to end, sadly, and so from one moment to the other his hands left your head.

"Are you done?" You asked, and all you received was a nod from him.

"Thank you Sanji" another nod in response.

"Is there any reason you aren´t talking to me?" You finally asked.

"You told not to talk at all" He answered back, his voice raspy and low.

"Oh" you had totally forgotten about that.

He didn´t seem mad tough, actually he was smiling kindly at you and seemed strangely relaxed. You didn´t know if it was the sickness or the general ambient that led you to asking the question, but you did it anyway.

"Would you stay while I finish?" you didn´t feel like being alone.

Wordlessly he sat on the ground right next to you and smiled again, a warmer smile this time.

Sometimes sea air wasn´t all that bad after all.

[heartfullofleeches]

Dude I feel so bad for zombie Yan, I tend to be accidentally honest but would totally keep up their delusion. Like, their little half exposed brain can't process their (probably bad) death, how am I supposed to tell them?

Like, "yeah babe lots of humans have half of their brain out, don't worry pookie" "Yeah I know their arm fell off, would you stop being such a dick about it?" "They just drank too much water from the sink, that's why their skin is gray"

"Hey, babe.... Do you still think I'm cute?"

They feel like such a terrible partner - piling stupid questions on top of all the care and attention you've given them since they got sick. You must be so tired of them now, but they needed to hear it from you. The difference between them now and the person you fell in love with were like night and day. They'd lost so much weight in these past few months, their eyes are hollow and empty. Their skin remains the same blotchy gray color no matter how many hours they lay rotting in the sun.

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I, silly?"

"I don't know.... I guesx I just haven't been feeling like myself lately....With that whole dog bite incident and everything that's happened since I feel like a burden to you...."

"Hey, don't think like that. You're just sick - that's all, remember?"

Sick... That's right. They said so themselves. Ugh, it's not fair. How come you still be that same wonderful you that they fell for all that time ago? So understanding and still so, so cute. You just get cuter by the day to them...It makes it so hard for them to control their temper when they see neighbors interacting with you outside. Don't they know you belong to them? Just because they get to be outside with you doesn't mean a damn thing. They hate how buddy buddy everyone gets when their symptoms flare up and they can't leave the house with you. Hate, hate, hate- They just want claw, and stomp, and bite all their dumb, smiling faces into a mangled heap no one would be able to tell apart. It's what they deserve for trying to steal you away.

But they'd never do anything like that - Hurting people would make you cry and if they did that what good were they to you?

"I think it's time for bed."

"Yay!"

Your partner crawls in bed, leaving their ankle hanging off the edge of the mattress for you to shackle to the frame. Once testing the strength of the chain, you climb in right alongside them - loosening the latches of their muzzle by a few notches as you both get comfortable. You kiss the cheek with the lesser amount of decay as they nuzzle up to you - breathing in your intoxicating scent. Deep down you both knew they'd never bite you. You satisfied a different craving and if they ever lost you their hunger for human flesh would swallow them whole.

"I'm sorry we have to do this, but we can't risk you running out while I'm asleep again."

"It's okay. I know you're just trying to help me get better. I actually really like the idea of being chained to you for the rest of my life. I love you so much, baby. Soon as I get better I promise I'll be the one taking care of you."

"Yea.... I'd like that."

[riseatlantisss]

A New Beginning

Pairing : Astarion x gender neutral!reader, short and sweet one-shot

A/N: Minor spoilers for Astarion’s arc in BG3. The first half is from reader’s POV, the second half is from Astar’s POV, hope its not too confusing! Enjoy! Written while listening to this on repeat TW : mentions of abuse, trauma, PTSD, but most importantly : lotsss of cuddles

English isn’t my first language, sorry for any mistakes <3

It’s unlike anything else, the vivid pain of helpless past trauma that radiates through the body like a burn, the horror of it tight as a fist around the throat. Astarion knows it all too well. But in that moment, safe in his bed with the love of his life in his arms, the pain heals.

The room is pitch black as you wake up, except for the dim light of a candle glowing from your nightstand. The air around you feel cold, but the bed is warm and comfy. You don’t feel like getting up just yet. Astarion is laying on his side, facing you, eyes closed. Messy white curls are falling on his forehead and his arm is wrapped around your waist. You smile as you contemplate your so-called scary, blood-thirsty vampire boyfriend’s cute bedhead. He looks pretty damn adorable.

"You realise it's rude to stare, don't you?" Astarion says, voice gravelly and eyes still closed peacefully. "How did you know I was staring?" You ask, almost shocked. "It comes with being a vampire, darling!" He replies before tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you nearer. 

You chuckle and roll on top of him. He pulls you even closer and holds you there for a long, delicious moment. Your fingers clutch on his curly silver hair. Since Astarion made the shattering discovery that physical contact did not necessitate pain, he has been eager to use touch for comfort. Fortunately for you, when it comes to touching him, you can never get enough.

His fangs glimmer like daggers as he brushes them along your skin, devouring you with kisses, drawing his lips lower and lower until they are resting above your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. His skin pale and his eyes red, burning brightly in the near-darkness, sharp and piercing, he glows in the dim light of the room.

The way Astarion feels in your arms—the mixture of fragility and tensile strength—makes the protectiveness surge in your chest. His warmth pierces straight through 200 years of vampiric cold. Sometimes you find yourself thinking about all the horrors he had to endure under Cazador’s control, and you shiver. You know how tough he is. Everyday he gets up to fight the same demons that left him so tired the night before. And that, my love, is bravery. You think, running your fingers through his hair and down his neck as he lets out a long sigh of joy and relief. You are so proud of him. He is free now and that’s what matters most but what’s done is done, and you’ll never be able to protect him from the past.

“Astarion, are – are you happy?” You timidly whisper, a barely noticeable worry in your voice.

Was he happy ? The words resonate in Astarion’s mind. No one ever asked him that. No one ever cared about his feelings. Never. Before you, it used to be simple. Someone else did all the thinking for him. He never had any question to answer. Hunt victims for Cazador, entertain Cazador, push through the pain of his constant abuse, and repeat. So fucking cruel, but so fucking simple. Now it is all so... complicated. Everything is different. Now, he has someone who truly cares for him ? A friend ? A lover ? Gods help him.  

But it's true. You hadn’t done anything but go out of your way to make Astarion happy since the day you’d met him. Even if he thought he was the last person that deserved to be happy. Yet every time he holds you in his arms, he is. He is the best kind of happy, a pure and wonderful happy that lights up his insides and makes his dead heart beat again. He actually didn’t think a vampire could get this happy. Brooding is in the job description. Angst is a part of the daily routine. Nobody can be a vampire without some anger issues and major emotional baggage. But in that moment, safe in his bed, holding the love of his life in his arms, he is nothing but happy. He is home. That is a gift and one he will be eternally grateful for.

Hoping actions would speak louder than words, he decides to keep quiet and pulls you in for a long, sweet kiss, holding you even tighter, never ever wanting to let you go.

“I love you,” he breathes softly after a while, keeping his mouth as close to yours as he can. “I love this. And I want it all.” 

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Okay, so I was reading on some of the old prompts and saw the protective spouse of pregnant farmer wife with some adventures and a kidnapped spouse. :v

So let say farmer who was very close to popping gets kidnapped by Gotoro Empire mages, they with full intent on taking the child due to its potent potential magical abilities its get from both the farmer and spouse (or just the farmer). However farmer fight back and manage to kill them, but due to maybe the stress, labor, wounds, or a mix of all; in the farmer final breather they give birth to their child and send out a final distressed call. Pairing this with our favorite wizards, adventurers, maybe Mr. Qi, and Victor as he knows about the magic in the valley ;-;

Made myself sad just writing this

Daaaaaaamn 😭

Really, one of my favorite types of questions is when someone asks based on a comedy headcanon to write pain and suffering, heh. Of course, dear anon 😊 Thank you so much for your ask! ❤️

⚠️ Warning: death, description of injuries and blood, loss

_________________________________________

Lance:

He had no more strength left, the wound in his side and leg still bleeding, but Lance kept running as fast as he could, never stopping. One second's delay and he might not make it in time. Those damned Gotoro mages, kidnaped Farmer and the baby! If he doesn't make it in time... Lance kept running, to the place where he last felt their aura. Breaking through doors, eliminating more Gotoro mages in his path, he prayed to Yoba that he or one of his friends would make it in time...

The pink-haired adventurer caught sight of three wizards, his allies and colleagues, just as tired, covered in dirt and blood, with sympathetic expressions on their faces. One was holding a small child, a newborn, who was moving and crying nonstop, and the other two crouched beside-

"No...."

A body covered with an old sheet, only a marble-coloured hand was visible. Lance's hope that it wasn't his spouse shattered into a thousand tiny pieces when he noticed a pure iridium ring with a white stone on the finger of that hand. He'd given them that ring...

Lance fell to his knees, clutching his hands to the head and sobbing quietly.

He was too late...

Victor:

"Please.... Please do something... You're a mage, you can do something! I BEG YOU, PLEASE!"

Victor clutched at Lance's legs, choking on his own sobs and begging the adventurer for help. Lance only sighed heavily and looked at him sympathetically: it was his fate to hand over Farmer's body to Victor and briefly recount the reasons for their death after going missing. What is the worst - the adventurer is not even allowed to say that it was the wizards from Gotoro who were to blame for everything because of the secrecy not to tell ordinary people about the mission. And grief-stricken Victor would hardly want to listen to the details of how Farmer, being pregnant, fought to their last breath, protecting the baby, and died, covered in wounds, surrounded by the corpses of enemies.

"Victor...."

He still hadn't let go of the adventurer.

Standing behind the grieving man was Olivia, holding and comforting the baby, her wrinkled face also all wet with tears.

Lance was able to carefully and as gently as possible pull Victor off his feet, apologize once more and give him his deepest condolences before teleporting off somewhere.

Victor's scream got even louder and he crawled over to Farmer, who was covered in a white cloth with a few bloodstains on it, hugging their dead body. Olivia wanted to make the call and notify the others of the tragedy, but instead sits down on the porch and Victor stood up, slowly walking over to his mother, hugging her and the baby and crying quietly.

Magnus Rasmodius:

Magnus was affectionately called "worthless old man," by the Gothoro mages who tried to prevent him from entering the main hall where Farmer was being held, but they regretted their words, for they had no time to speak before their charred corpses were lying on the floor, filling the hall with the smell of burning flesh. Just because this old wizard hadn't used battle magic in a long time didn't mean he'd forgotten everything. He'd already broken a few of the Ministry's major rules along the way, but Magnus didn't care: his partner's life was at stake, and having received the last signal for help, he wasn't going to hesitate. Camilla, thank the spirits, instead of stopping him had followed him, and was combing the den area with the others. Magnus continued casting fireballs left and right, sparing almost none of the enemies that got in his way.

The main hall, the very place where he had sensed the signal from Farmer.... was already drenched in blood.

"Farmer!" Magnus shouted to them, seeing them lying in a cold sweat, with no signs of life. In their collapsed hand sniffled a baby, its nappies slightly stained with the blood of its fallen parent, but the baby itself was fine.

Rasmodius quickly ran a glowing hand over Farmer's ribcage, trying to find at least a thread of life and pull on it, to bring his love back to the worlds of the living, please Farmer, come back to Magnus, don't leave him, please...

Tears dripped onto Farmer's face. The old wizard's heart shattered in thousands pieces.

Alesia:

"Horus squad, check the area on the right, Seth squad - the left side. Me and the others go to the centre. Move, now!" Alesia gave commands to her charges and rushed off to search all the rooms for Farmer, followed by the loud stomping of her support, covering the sniper's back. At least twenty men under her leadership searched every corner, every room in Gotoro's lair. However, every enemy they found in the den's rooms was... dead. No signs of battle, just the lying bodies of mages in unnatural poses."Powerful magic strike, killed them all," summarised the witch, one of Alesia's team members. The sniper gave the command to keep searching and find the Farmer, or tracks that would help get to Farmer if those scum from Gotoro had moved them somewhere else.

"Alesia, this is the Horua squad. We.... found them." Someone else's voice in the sniper's head made her stop. A telepathic message from the other squad's wizard.

She didn't liked their tone...

"What is it? Come on, speak!" Yoba, please let it not be what she thinks it is....

"A lot of Gotoro mage's corpses, including the main one. All dead. Looks like a heart attack all at the same time. Traces of magic."

"Did you find Farmer?"

Silence was her answer.

"I'M ASKING YOU, DID YOU FIND THEM?"

"....Yes, i did." Replied the wizard in a subdued voice. "Their body lie with others. And... signs of recent labour, just a couple of hours ago. The child is fine, crying loudly, but generally ok.... I'm sorry, Alesia..."

It took her incredible strength to hold back her scream, full of pain and regret. Her partner, whom she had sworn to find alive... A couple of hours, if she'd come a couple of hours earlier... She... She would have...

"Get Farmer and the baby out of this hellhole. We're leaving." Alesia wants to fall to her knees and scream in hopelessness, but has no right to. She needs to keep giving orders.

Camilla:

Camilla hadn't spoken a word the entire time she'd entered the main hall of the Gotoro mages' lair.

She strode leisurely to the center of the room, high heels clacking on the stone floor. The witch walked around or literally stepped over the still warm corpses of slain enemies, ignoring their twisted, frozen grimaces. She did not rush to Farmer's body, drenched in scarlet, still fresh blood, with a frozen smile on their face and a glassy stare.

Camilla had nothing to hurry for. Because taking one step into the building where Farmer was forcibly held, where the last message for help was sent from for help one last time,

no more life was felt.

Except.... for one.

The small newborn who lay cuddled against their parent's side had just woken up and began to cry loudly. The witch, with an emotionless expression on her face, gently picked up the baby and just as slowly walked out of the room. Farmer's body glowed and rose into the air, following the caster...

Already on the way out, Jadu and his backup met Camilla, and immediately realized what had happened. No one dared to break the silence, but Jadu still wanted to ask for further instructions. And before the young mage could open his mouth, Gotoro's lair behind them erupted, completely covered in blue fire.

"Call the council and the Order to the main hall, I'll be there shortly. Go, now." Before Jadu, frightened out of his wits by the voice of the main Witch of the Castle Village, beamed, he saw small trickles flowing from her eyes, a look that was full of rage.

A look that promises inhuman suffering for all those responsible.

Isaac:

Every corner of the den, every room Isaac burst into, was drenched in blood. Like an enraged bear, he chopped absolutely every opponent in half, no hesitation. Those who resisted, those who tried to beg for mercy - all fell from Isaac's sword, while he ran like in a fever from one room to another, looking for Farmer. He didn't hear his colleagues calling for him to stop the massacre, he didn't hear the speeches of the Gotoro mages who had gotten in his way - he heard nothing. Isaac ran, screaming his partner's name, praying they were okay, continuing the slaughter of all those who had kidnapped Farmer and brought hlthem here.

He finally found the main hall, prepared for the decisive battle, and after kicking out with one foot realized...

....that all the culprits were already dead.

Isaac walked carefully through the room and kept his sword at the ready, waiting for an ambush. But just as he reached the center, he saw the familiar features of one of those lying down.

"No... This can't be- No no no no...."

Mutilated by the lacerations, their already dead body was covered head to toe in blood, their own and another's. In their arm, a newborn child sniffled peacefully and quietly, alive and well.

Isaac dropped his sword and fell to his knees, howling like a wounded wolf. Barely containing his sobs, he shook his head from side to side, apologizing that he hadn't had time to save them.

Jadu:

"Let me in! LET ME IN!" Jadu managed to escape the tenacious clutches of a couple of adventurers who were commanded not to let any outsiders into the lair of the Gotoro mages while Camilla and the others look around. The head witch had given orders not to let Jadu in especially, as the young wizard definitely shouldn't see... this. And yet he barges in, how can he not: Farmer is kidnapped by wizards from the enemy continent, he and the others have been searching for his partner for a week, and when Camilla and the others have finally found the lair thanks to a signal sent by Farmer, they didn't let him in! No, Yoba, just don't tell him they're- No, please, no no no...

"Where-" He couldn't finish, for he had already found the answer to his question.

Multiple stab wounds, charred skin from the magical fire, pools of blood.... Their... blood. He stood there for half a minute, eyes widening, his mind refusing to accept reality, this couldn't be.... this couldn't be happening!

He ran towards the body before being stopped by Camilla.

"LET ME GO! FARMER! *sob* FARMER!!!" Camilla guessed that some mages had managed to escape, and she didn't want Jadu to trample the trail, so she hugged the mage tightly, who was sobbing and screaming the name of his dead partner, all merging with the loud crying of his newborn, who was being held by another witch.

Mr. Qi:

Whoever dared to take Mr. Qi's spouse will pay with their life! The scum who had the nerve to trick him, block his magic for a while, and kidnap Farmer would soon be the envy of their dead minions! Qi will rip all the mages from Gotoro to shreds, will enjoy every second of their suffering! All this after he finds Farmer safe and sound, when to make sure his love is okay, that it won't negatively affect their future baby in any way, when-

"!!!!"

Qi finally found Farmer, lying on the cold stone floor. A corpse that hadn't yet had time to cool down, glassy eyes that no longer had life in them, an oodles of blood and a dozen corpses just as fresh.

A crying baby in their arms...

No. No no no no no. Is he too late? He's-

Heh. Hehehe. Hahahaha. Oh, no no no. He won't let a trifle like death take away his partner. Farmer and Qi have been discussing the future together like one big family for so long. So Mr. Qi will gently take his precious child and carefully teleport Farmer's body somewhere. Qi smiled. Such a menacing smile on his face that would give any brave man goosebumps. He knows the one ritual that will help bring Farmer back to the world of the living, and he already knows where he can get, heh, lambs, for the sacrifice, hehehe...

Gotoro Empire is NO MORE! He promises he won't leave these so-called "mages" unpunished. Much to do, much to do...

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fic] With Every Nerve Alive

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 4623 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, brief appearance by Matthew, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, sweat is sexy, so is automotive grease apparently, scent kink, detailed sexual fantasies, Dream of the Endless is intense and unhinged, questionable lube choices, within a fantasy don't worry, no one's really getting fingered with engine grease, sugar daddy-sugar baby fantasies, glass sex toys

Notes: Prequel/bookend to Customer Service. I realized that Hot Mechanic Hob needed Dream's pov to get the full effect, so this happened. Also fills my @dreamlingbingo square C1, 'Sugar Baby', a couple thousand words in. Title taken from Turbo Lover by Judas Priest

Summary: Dream Atelíotes is merely seeking car repairs from a reputable shop; he was not expecting to get punched in the libido by the most beautiful mechanic he could have imagined.

On AO3

~ "Alright, and what're we lookin' at her for?"

"The clutch. Is not operating as expected; I fear I may have damaged it. Somehow."

Dream is grateful that the stout American behind the counter at Matthew's Motor Repairs does not pass any obvious judgement on this damning statement.

"Well, that definitely needs checking, then," he says instead, punching in notes on his computer terminal. "Hob'll be runnin' things for the next couple of weeks, lemme see when he can fit your girl in." He turns toward the half-open door that leads to the garage and yells.

"Hey Hob!"

"Yeah! Just a tic—"

"He'll definitely be able to find the problem and fix you up," the American is saying, but Dream pays him little mind, thinking ahead to schedules and obligations; the Porsche is not his primary means of transportation regardless. It had been a gift from Alex that he'd kept after the breakup, primarily out of spite. He will say, when asked, that he drives it for fun, but truthfully the manual transmission does not come easily to him and the car suffers for it. He is considering selling it, perhaps once the satisfaction of knowing how Alex seethes to see him with it has worn down—

"What's up?"

Dream spares a glance for the man who's just entered through the doorway to the garage, and promptly loses his breath.

—Exquisite—

The man is beautiful, average height and slim sturdy build, dressed in grimy coveralls that are split just enough at the zip to glimpse the collar of a plain white tee beneath. There is a sheen of sweat on his forehead and when he wipes at it, still with a wrench in hand, he leaves a faint smudge of black grease behind. His hair is dark, longish, tied up in a messy bun on the back of his head with wisps straying loose about his face attractively. His eyes and his smile are warm, strong nose and chin, a few days' worth of beard growth giving him a wonderfully soft-rugged cast that sets Dream's mouth to watering.

The coverall sleeves are rolled and twisted up to his elbows; the forearms exposed are liberally covered with dark hair, skin a warm sunkissed golden brown beneath, shapely and corded with the strength that comes of manual labor, of hefting tires and torquing wrenches. Dream considers, quite despite himself, how those hands might fit around his waist, his hips; how easily this man might lift or manhandle him about in bed, and the heat that has risen in his loins stirs approvingly.

"Mr. Atelíotes here's got clutch troubles with his Porsche," the American is saying. "Think you'll have time to check it out?"

"Not right away, I'm afraid. How soon would you be needing her back?" the mechanic asks, directly to Dream, and oh, the full focus of that gaze is divine.

"I am in no hurry," he manages to reply, voice only marginally dipping down toward sultry. He is here to see about car repairs, not to flirt with the hot mechanic in front of an audience. He is an adult. He is well-versed in exercising all manner of self control.

The mechanic smiles, like a ray of sunshine, and Dream's self-control is tested.

"Okay then, I can probably get you looked at and fixed up toward the end of next week, if that works for you? Thursday or Friday, let's say." He slips the wrench that he's still holding into a pocket on his coveralls, drawing Dream's attention to the lower half of his body, how the zipper on the coveralls goes all the way down underneath, and he firmly corrals and muzzles the thoughts that arise. Later. Let him finish his business here before he embarrasses himself.

"Next week is just fine," he agrees.

"Excellent," the mechanic says, beaming brightly, and Dream's mouth goes dry.

He is so unfairly beautiful.

The mechanic is talking now to the American who is entering Dream's work order and Dream drinks in the sight of him greedily, committing every detail to memory—the brush of silver at his temples, the crows' feet blooming at the corners of his eyes with every smile, the dimple in his chin just visible as a darkening of the scruff that adorns his jaw so beautifully. His arm flexes prettily as he points to the screen with a black-stained fingertip and his voice is strong yet soft and warm like honey; Dream sneaks a glance at his backside when he turns to the printer and finds the suggestion of shapeliness beneath the loose fit of the coveralls. Dream imagines, helplessly, buttocks and strong thighs covered in hair to match those exposed forearms, and barely stifles a whimper.

This man is absolutely exquisite, and Dream wants him.

Badly.

"Alright, Mr. Atelíotes, let me get your signature here," the mechanic says cheerfully, oblivious to the tempest he has stirred within Dream as he hands him the printed work order and a pen.

Dream makes certain that their fingers brush as he takes it, noting the smudge of fingerprints left on the paper by the other.

He glances at the mechanic's name on the form as he signs. Hob Gadling. He tucks the name safely into the vault of his mind, hoarding it for later use.

"Give me a call on Thursday next week, we'll see where we're at," Hob Gadling is saying, handing him a business card and leaving another grey-black thumbprint on the corner of the white cardstock. Dream immediately thinks of such fingerprints against the pristine paleness of his own skin and swallows thickly.

"Thursday," he repeats. "I will call then, thank you." It is Monday, currently; a week and a half is quite reasonable for routine car repairs in a reputable shop, he is given to understand, and Matthew's Motor Repairs is consistently rated with four and five stars online. He is confident that he has chosen well, especially when Hob Gadling smiles brightly while bidding him good day.

It is a good day indeed, for having met such a stunningly beautiful man.

~

He takes a cab home to Kensington, trying very hard to put his thoughts in order and focus on the week ahead, on his business meetings and the client proposal he's expecting on Friday. But his mind is full of brown eyes and warm smiles, hairy forearms and grease-stained hands, and his entire body finds these thoughts far more appealing than those of his day-to-day mundanities.

Hob Gadling lingers in his mind persistently, a siren call warming his blood and distracting him at the slightest provocation. Late afternoon finds him abandoning his office and retreating to his rooms, surrendering to the thoughts that have plagued him since his visit to Matthew's Motor Repairs this morning.

Hob Gadling—

He imagines how the smell of the shop might cling to the man, oils and gasoline and the sweat of his labor, intoxicating and inviting should Dream nuzzle in close. He imagines those hands with their black-stained fingertips, their work-roughened texture, sliding over his body. How might they feel against his skin, his chest, his thighs? On his tongue? He imagines the hungry light that might fill Hob Gadling's eyes, if Dream were to take those skilled fingers into his mouth and hold his gaze while sucking on them, tonguing lovingly at every crack and callous. He imagines those fingers dark all over with a thick layer of fresh grease, the mechanic holding them up with a smirk like a promise, turning Dream to lay on the bonnet of his car—or perhaps bending him over a stack of tires there in the garage, yes—and pushing those fingers inside him, deep and insistent and perfect while his other hand holds Dream down at the small of his back. Automotive lubricant is perhaps not sanitary or otherwise suitable for sexual use, but the heat-of-the-moment urgency of the idea appeals all the same.

He groans aloud at the thought of being fingered with the thick warm grease, the slide and drag and the way Hob Gadling's fingers would curve and press exactly right until Dream was shaking apart with pleasure, scrabbling at the rubber tread of the tires he's bent over. He imagines Hob Gadling murmuring complimentary filth above him—"You look so pretty with my fingers up your arse; bet you'd look even prettier speared on my prick"—as he comes and comes and comes.

Of course he wishes to have the mechanic's cock as well. He is certain it is full and glorious, a beautiful specimen that would fill him perfectly, touch every sweet spot within him and set him alight. He wants it in his hands, in his mouth, in his arse; he wants it any way he can have it.

He desperately wants to get fucked by Hob Gadling in his garage amongst his work, by Hob Gadling strong and sweaty and dirty in his element, vigorous and virile.

The car would perhaps be most comfortable for lying on his back, the better to see Hob Gadling's gorgeous face while taking his cock. He himself would be stark naked and the mechanic still in his coveralls, unzipped all the way to let his prick out. Dream imagines him naked beneath the grimy clothing; Dream envisions chest hair to match what was seen on his gorgeous arms. Dream imagines those arms sliding up along the bonnet beside him, bringing his legs with them until Dream is nearly folded double and breathless with the sweet pressure of the mechanic's dick inside him, pistoning deep and perfect.

Would Hob Gadling pick him up, like so much inventory to be moved about the shop? Would Hob Gadling fuck him standing upright, holding him as if he weighed nothing? He fantasizes about the strength in those forearms and biceps, of the way they would flex and hold, Dream's knees hooked in his elbows and those broad hands gripping his hips as the mechanic would bounce Dream up and down on his prick, Dream clinging around his neck and jack-knifed beautifully in his powerful arms.

He comes at the thought, face down on his knees in his bed with a toy vibrating steadily against his prostate as he strokes himself over the edge, and the orgasm is so intense that he loses all sense of space and time for a moment. The toy is still buzzing merrily when he comes back to himself and he fumbles for the remote beside him, turning it off without yet removing it. He rolls over, brings his messy hand to his face and licks. He wonders what difference he might taste between Hob Gadling and himself, imagines that he is licking Hob Gadling's spend from his hand instead of his own, imagines how those dark eyes and that lovely mouth would smile to see him do so, slow and lascivious.

He turns the toy back on.

His fantasies continue as the days progress. He imagines taking Hob Gadling into his mouth, tasting the sweat and the musk of him after working all day in the garage; he imagines lavishing his tongue all over the length of him, sucking and swallowing and milking him dry. He imagines Hob Gadling's work-roughened hands in his hair, combing through it, clenching tight as he spends into Dream's eager mouth.

He imagines Hob Gadling on his back on the low wheeled board that mechanics use for sliding beneath cars—he does not know its proper name, but he imagines opening Hob Gadling's coveralls while he is laid out on this board and riding him like a prize stallion there on the shop floor with the scent of his work and his sweat all around. He imagines the blackened smears Hob Gadling's hands might leave on him, on his hips, his waist, his arse.

He imagines Hob Gadling bending him over the bonnet of his Porsche, fucking him hard and fast and absolutely without mercy until he is screaming his pleasure, until he is so loud that the mechanic will cover his mouth to muffle the noise and simply fuck him harder still. He wants it, aches for it, imagines Hob Gadling's hands planted firm on his arse, squeezing, spreading him open for his pounding cock, leaving dirty smudges on both cheeks as they careen into orgasm together—

Dream comes under the warm cascade of his own rainfall shower, one hand braced against the sleek tiles while the other grips his pulsing cock tightly. He draws great gasping breaths of the humid air, mind barreling on even as his climax peaks and begins to subside. His mechanic in the shower with him after all of that, sudsy and slippery-wet beneath the spray, shedding the grease and grime of his workplace; his mechanic, pulling him in for a kiss, smelling now of soap more than sweat. The idea appeals, on more than one level, and will not be dislodged even as he dries and dresses for bed. He falls asleep at last to the thought of a scrubbed-clean Hob Gadling on his knees beneath the gently-pouring water, freshly-shampooed hair swept sleek and dripping back from his face and his smiling mouth wrapped around Dream's cock.

He wakes to the sun streaming in his window and lies alone in his spacious bed with drowsy thoughts of being kissed awake, of Hob Gadling's stubbled face and warm lips nuzzling against his cheek, of calloused hands with black-stained nailbeds petting down his sides and grasping his hips. Of Hob Gadling's strong shapely arms pulling him close, Hob Gadling's chest hair tickling his nose, Hob Gadling's heartbeat strong and steady beneath his ear.

He thinks of Hob Gadling following him about the kitchen as he fixes breakfast, imagines his mechanic in a borrowed robe that hits him mid-thigh and doesn't quite close over his chest. He does not currently own such a robe, but that does not matter to the fantasy. He imagines Hob Gadling draped warmly over his back in this too-small robe while he cooks, nuzzling kisses into the nape of his neck, purring about how he wants Dream for breakfast while dragging his calloused fingertips up the insides of Dream's bare thighs. Because of course Dream has merely thrown on a long shirt to cook for his lover, and of course his mechanic cannot keep his hands to himself, and of course Dream would like to be fucked over the kitchen worktop before breakfast.

It is a daring fantasy, this stranger in his home, infusing sex and affection into his daily routines, and Dream wants it with an intensity that is frightening.

He spins himself broader fantasies as the days become a week, of showing up to his mother's summer gala with Hob Gadling on his arm, a mere mechanic brought to an Atelíotes event. He dreams of engaging in increasingly indecent public displays with him where all the high society patrons would see, embarassing Mummy Dearest and igniting gossip that would haunt her for years. He would reward Hob Gadling handsomely for his part in the scandal, sexually, financially, both if he should like. Or perhaps he might offer Hob Gadling gifts and incentives without petty family business mixed in, lavish rewards simply for his affections and sexual attentions. The term 'sugar baby' is very much in line with his thoughts, if not entirely accurate; he is only forty himself and his mechanic had appeared to be in his mid-thirties at least. But that feeds into his story; Hob Gadling is well into adulthood and working in trade labor. Perhaps he never had the chance to go to university; perhaps he had grown up poor. Perhaps he might like to undertake a course of study now, if Dream were to offer to pay for such a thing, in thanks for how well-fucked his mechanic would keep him?

Perhaps he might gift Hob Gadling a luxury car like his Porsche, in return for the sexual services he should like to be provided. Perhaps he might buy him tailored suits, expensive clothes in the latest fashions. He is undeniably drawn to the grimy working-class vision that had been branded on his memory when dropping off his car, sweaty and grease-smeared and glowing with life, but he also imagines how stunning his mechanic might look cleaned up and dressed to the nines. Dream would like to wine and dine him at the finest restaurants in London, put him into a limousine after, open his perfectly-tailored trousers and sample his cock on the drive home. To Dream's home, of course, where he would take Hob Gadling to bed and offer up his body for his mechanic's use—which would be delightfully merciless, given how Dream had primed and teased and denied him with his mouth in the car.

Perhaps he might take Hob Gadling away with him on holiday, show him all manner of foreign destinations he would never have seen on his own; at each of them Hob Gadling would fuck him, in sumptuous hotel beds or private beach cabanas or the gleaming toilet stalls of michelin-starred restaurants, with every bit of skill and enthusiasm at his disposal—delighted to be Dream's kept man and eager to show his gratitude for all that Dream could provide.

Dream groans, dragging one hand down across his mouth and arched throat while the other works swiftly over his cock, writhing on his bed with his shirt undone and his trousers open. He is achingly hard, leaking steadily into every rapid stroke; he hasn't even bothered undressing, so caught up in the feverish fantasies of the money and favors he might lavish on this man who consumes his thoughts, of how thoroughly he could expect to be railed and ravished and seen to in return—

Orgasm overtakes him quite suddenly, leaves him gasping and breathless and wrecked, and still he craves more. His fantasies are delectable, but his appetite is insatiable.

He desperately wants the real thing.

~

It is Thursday of the next week at last and Dream, fueled by his fading ability to recall the precise brown of Hob Gadling's eyes or the way his cheeks crease up when he smiles, does not call Matthew's Motor Repairs to check on the status of his Porsche as instructed. Instead, he drives out, excusing the trip to himself by visiting a local bookseller first and picking up several selections to add to his personal library. He does not linger overlong among the shelves, however; today he is consumed with much more pressing distractions.

He must see Hob Gadling again, if only for a moment.

When he enters the shop, there is no one at the counter up front and the door to the garage is ajar, raucous music drifting faintly through. "Hello?" he calls, but receives no reply.

It is a warm day outside and quite warm inside as well; Dream imagines how sweaty Hob Gadling must be, to be performing physical labor under these conditions. Such thoughts do nothing to calm or cool him.

After only a moment's hesitation, he rounds the counter and passes through the doorway, at which point he can hear Hob Gadling's voice singing along—"You don't have a clue/If you did you'd find yourself/Doin' the same thing too!"—beneath the music, passably on-key no less.

Yet another appealing feature to this man; it is simply unfair. Dream draws himself up, heart beating harder, and ventures around the large sink and cleanup station until he can see his Porsche, up on ramps, and—

And legs sticking out from beneath the side of it on one of those rolling boards, Hob Gadling's legs no doubt, spread wide like an invitation.

Dream stops abruptly, heat pouring into his belly; he takes a deep breath of the warm stuffy air, the machine-and-metal smell of the garage doing nothing to calm his libido. He stares, helplessly, at the work boots and coveralls, at where they stretch across Hob Gadling's crotch, affording frustratingly little suggestion of what lies beneath. And just above that, he can see that the coveralls are unzipped, not quite far enough to expose underwear but enough that Dream is treated to a glimpse of warm golden-brown belly and the dip of his navel, the dark sweep of hair above and below it.

—Mouthwatering—

It is with tremendous effort that Dream corrals his thoughts, steps forward again, closes the space between them and clears his throat to announce his presence. He nudges one booted foot with his own, not entirely meaning to do so but somehow unable to resist.

"Bloody—" The mechanic scoots out from beneath the car and Dream's knees go weak; he is grateful they do not give out altogether.

Hob Gadling is indeed shirtless beneath his open coveralls, displaying a chest far more gloriously hairy than Dream had imagined, a pelt thick and dark and alluring. He wants to touch, to comb his fingers through and rub his face against it, to lick the trail of hair that leads down to where the parted zipper comes back together. There is a visible sheen of sweat on his skin and Dream would lick that off as well; Hob is smudged with grease in various smears across his torso and forearms and Dream can hardly think for the rushing of blood in his ears, the swelling of want in the pit of his stomach. He drags his eyes back up to Hob's face, trying to school the ravenous hunger from his own gaze; he does not think he is overly successful in that regard but there is discernible heat in the warm brown eyes that meet him, and it is difficult to care about dignity, propriety, with reality unfolding so near to the fantasies that have carried him through the last ten days.

He stutters through some explanation for his presence, barely aware of his own words, barely registering the rundown he is given in return, watching hungrily as Hob climbs to his feet. His car will be finished tomorrow. He will have reason to see Hob again tomorrow. But right now he is unraveling, his self control a tenuous and threadbare thing barely within his grasp. He is watching Hob's mouth as he speaks, captivated, obsessed with the warm color of it flashing among the dark scruff of Hob's beard, and Dream wants to taste. His mouth, his skin, his cock, which is surely as magnificent as the rest of him—Dream cannot bear the thought of leaving without confirming his certainties, but it is one thing to revel in fantasy alone in his bed and quite another to actually act on it when faced with the man before him—

"Is there something else I can do for you today, Mr. Atelíotes?"

Hob Gadling is looking at him, hip cocked and coveralls alluringly open, smile just this side of invitational; there is the strong suggestion of interest and an implied offer in that warm tone and Dream's resolve, such as it is, crumbles.

He reaches. He touches. He speaks his want and follows with a flirtatious tease to mitigate his intensity, is met by teasing agreement in return, but when his mechanic mentions cleaning up first he absolutely cannot agree.

"No. As you are now, please." He steps closer, directly into Hob's space, a week and a half of fantasies clamoring in his mind as the scent of the man wafts into his nose—oil and grease, warm metal, sweat and a faint trace of citrus and a hint of some pleasantly masculine deodorant; Dream's mouth waters, and his prick throbs.

His mechanic hesitates. "I'm kind of filthy though?"

There is a tinge of shame beneath the words, and Dream. Will not have it.

"I am aware, yes," he purrs, seizing the open lapels of the grimy coveralls, and kisses Hob Gadling with ten days' worth of anticipation and want.

~

Dream is coasting on an adrenaline and endorphin high as he drives home, afterwards. He acted. He spoke directly of what he wanted. And he got it. He had spent ten days nursing fantasy and now he has experienced a delightful sliver of the reality of Hob Gadling.

And tomorrow, he will experience more.

Sleep does not come easily that night, keyed up and aroused as he is, but he manages at last. He wakes later than usual the next morning; he eats a light brunch, the excitement in his stomach counterproductive to the task, and makes sure to drink more water than usual. Thoughts of Hob fill his mind, arousing, distracting, enticing; he recalls with a sharp thrill the taste of Hob's pleasure on his tongue, and he is eager to be on his way to their appointment.

But there are things he must do to prepare, first.

He takes an enema, then shaves and showers, lathering everywhere with his sweetest-smelling soap, determined to be the polar opposite of what he lusts for in Hob. He strives for the cleanest prettiest and freshest he can get, the better to be taken and sullied and dirtied by his mechanic; Hob had seemed quite pleased with that dynamic yesterday and Dream is eager to repeat it with Hob's cock in his arse this time.

To that end, he employs a favorite dildo once he is clean and dry, lubing himself carefully and working himself open on the toy, mind blazing with thoughts of Hob all the while. He knows, now, the size and the shape (and the taste!) of Hob's prick, and he is giddy with the anticipation of having it inside him. He is salivating over how Hob compares to the dildo, how Hob will fill him just that much better, what filthy things Hob might say while taking his time over long slow thrusts, how good it will feel when Hob finally rails him without mercy—

He must force himself to stop, hard and panting as he withdraws the toy from his body. He sorts through his glass plugs quickly, finding the one he wants and fitting it carefully inside himself. It's broad enough to stretch him just a little more, perfectly flared to fit just right inside and out, short enough that he can bend and sit without discomfort. It's a beautiful tease, as a matter of fact, keeping him keyed up and aroused as he dresses himself, making him squirm just a little with every step as he gathers his condoms and his pocket-sized bottle of lube and his phone wallet and water, and leaves the house.

He composes himself over the two blocks he walks to the busier streets where he can hail a cab, steeling himself to normalcy in both movement and appearance while pleasure sings in his veins with every subtle shift of the toy within him. He is half-hard, hidden well enough by the loose cut of his slacks, and works to keep his thoughts from heating any further until he has reached his destination.

The cab drops him outside of Matthew's Motor Repairs and he pays, distracted and breathless with anticipation. Hob is there, inside, and Dream is certain that Hob is just as eager as he is for their rendezvous.

He hopes that Hob is just as eager.

Closed for walk-ins due to special circumstances, reads the hand-written sign taped to the glass of the shop door. Ring if you have an appointment.

Dream's heart plummets for half a second, until he remembers their parting conversation yesterday about appointments and showing up and fitting in. This sign is for him, surely, a blatant invitation.

He takes a breath to calm the excited pounding of his heart, squirms surreptitiously on the toy inside him, and rings the bell.

= Started: 5/15/24 Drafted: 7/27/24 Posted: 7/29/24

[lysistratawrites]

the last storm

maybe she is being kept alive for a reason.

Pairing: Argella Durrandon x Orys Baratheon (one-sided)

A/n: mentions of violence and suicide.

Rating: Mature (+16)

She has never felt alone, not truly. Despite the corpses of her dead siblings, in her heart she has never felt alone with the children in Storm’s End. She used to play with them, study the maester’s lessons with them, eat with them. There were Androw and Robert in one hand, whom she loved as much as would have done with her own brothers, and also this Trant Girl, Rowan, who had been a confident to her childish secrets.

Now they are gone.

The soldier next to her doesn’t seem to stop talking, but her thoughts are far from that tent. Rowan had been the first to betray her, that is why her bile boils with the mere thought of that damned red-headed. When she needed them the most, nobody could be found inside the castle, and she still regrets it. Androw and Robert were fighting with her father outside, and she did not notice it until it was too late.

Her mind brings her to reality, and it hurts like the deepest of hells.

“Soon a maester will come to take care of your wounds, my lady.”

She is too tired to lift her gaze from the floor. Her eyes, once bright like a sunny sky, only are able to spot the ground beneath her feet and the heavy boots of the man who had killed her father, the fool of a man. Beneath her trembling hands rests a goblet, half empty, and the cold draining weight of the chains and the cloak stained with Stormlander blood had been replaced by a blanket, worn but warm, draped over her shoulders. She finds herself thirsty, her throat parched beyond reason. He seems to notice with a mere look, because he soon pours wine for her to drink.

She wonders about the reason behind that much interest. Easily he can subdue her, but instead, he chooses oddly gentle gestures. Her suspicion is an ever-present shadow, lingering behind every careful move he makes. He could easily make her a prize for his best soldiers to take, sell her to a pillow house —at least she would meet her sweet Alys again, or even claim her to himself and easily take her to death with his own bare hands , but he does none of these things. Instead, he studies her with a mix of curiosity and something that resembles respect.

Respect.

Does the commander of that bunch of beasts have more brains than the rest of the world?

The thought both unsettles and intrigues her.

With steady but careful hands he leads her to the nearest place to sit down, offering her his arm to lean into when her own knees seem to fall apart and highly disappoint her, making herself be seen more than vulnerable, if it is even possible. As she reluctantly leans on him, she feels the strength beneath his robes, and her fear mixes with confusion.

Once she manages to sit on a wooden trunk, feeling the lock against her naked calf, her eyes subtly go to the entrance of the tent, her mind racing with the possibilities of her future. She would try to escape, but that man would easily hinder any possible attempt.

“Nobody will bother you, there is no need to worry.”

The pain in her chest is replaced by a hole. A hole where hope used to reside, now filled with questions and uncertainty. She wants to ask for her friends, for the only ones that have not sold her to the invaders, to the man by her side who carefully tends to any of her needs while a maester makes his way towards the tent, but what terrifies her is the answer she can get.

A thunderclap echoes in the distance, and the light coming from outside tells her that, if they are lucky, the storm will stay by the Shipbreaker Bay.

How delightful would it be to succumb by a lightning in that precise moment.

“Rest now, gather your strength," his voice tinged with an unexpected softness.

“Commander” she tilts her head to look at him in the eye, for a moment getting lost in the blue of his eyes and the quiet intensity they hold. “If you are to kill me, I beg you to do it quickly.”

[jeweled-blue-eyes]

Wondering what Lleu would've thought had he known Medraut's inner dialogue of "loving all the wrong things"

Would he assume Medraut thinks he's a "wrong thing?" Or would he think his beloved big brother loving him was a wrong thing? Would he break down? Cry and scream? Would he be frustrated? Sorrowful? Just tired? Exhausted and angry that Medraut dragged him to this mess?

Would he ask him, "what will take for you to love me?" Like LP Athy? You ever think Medruat asked Artos that as well? Did Medraut's son ever ask him that exact thing too? Their family is destined to experience the horrors again and again.

What would've happened if Lleu was there for his nephew too? Would he be able to break the cycle? The youngest sibling is the family's salvation it seems...

(Anyways thank you for coming to my Ted talk and mental break down, I can't believe these brothers have affected me so damn much. God damn I am hungry it is past my bed time and I have school tommorow)

Everything you said in exactly that order. I don't think he would ask Medraut "What will it take for you to love me?", because deep down he knows his brother loves him. It's just that this kind of love is tangled with envy, hatred, obsession and lust. He struggles to remove Medraut's hatred for him from his love and desire for him, because he doesn't exactly know what caused these feelings and when it started to go wrong. The only answer to that question is to die and hope they will be both reborn as Artos' legitimate sons in their next life. Lleu doesn't doubt Medraut's love for him, he fears that the love that exists won't be enough and that Medraut is going to make a big mistake. What Lleu fears is that Medraut loves Morgause more than him. That Medraut's envy, ambition and loyality towards his mother will win over his love for his little brother.

I feel like Lleu asked "Have you ever loved anything?" to gauge Medraut's reaction but also to remind him that there is still someone out there who loves him and who he wouldn't want to disappoint with his actions. If you consider the sa theory, which I do, then this was Lleu wondering if Medraut was even capable to love anything in a pure way. He knows Medraut had sex with his mother and has threatened to rape him, so he wonders if his brother could love in a way that was not incestuous and self-destructive. Has Medraut ever loved Lleu normally? Is there still a chance he can be saved or were they doomed from the start?

I think Medraut was very close to breaking that night when he revealed the poisoning!

"Does that mean, my father, that I can expect no protection or aid of you, that I must give and give of my loyalty and strength and never receive anything in return?"

That scene reminded me a bit of lp Athy begging Claude for his love. I half-expected Medraut to fall on his knees and feel a sting of tears in his eyes that he won't allow himself to shed.

I haven't gotten that far into the sequels but the wiki states that Telemakos wishes his parents would love Athena more, which makes me guess that Telemakos is Medraut's favourite child, possibly because of his resemblance to his brother. I read somewhere that Telemakos eventually gets called "the bright one". Medraut blames Athena for causing something that hurt Telemakos. I'm surprised that Medraut would play favourites with his children when he himself had been in the position of the unwanted child once.

[learningsanctum]

October 04, 2024

Studying constitucional law.

Back in February I had started this blog with the intentions of sharing my progress on the new and variated faculty subjects I was going to undertake in this new year. After all, I was finally at the higher education and things had to be different now, right? I wouldn't be barely passing subjects just like I did back in high school, would I?

Well, yes. The first semester was a fiasco of me barely passing and I had to retake most of my exams so I could score just enough not to have to take the subject again. It was disappointing but I didn't think much of it because in my heart and mind I had this hope and idea of doing things differently at the higher education system. I was going to make it right.

Then the new semester started and I was still not studying and sleeping on my free time, tired from working from 07am to 02pm and then going to classes from 07pm to 10pm. Still, I have a gap between 02pm and 07pm I could have been using and had planned various time to use it... only to end up sleeping the whole afternoon.

Please, do understand, I'm not the most health person in the world, much on the contrary, going to the GYM is a habit I have been postponing with the same excuse I had to studying "I have so little time and I am so exhausted", but I realized I had to start creating new habits if I wanted to become a healthy person.

A word to the wise I'd like to share before anyone thinks I suddenly came up with strength and studied all my subjects at once, I didn't. I started therapy about three months ago and you wouldn't believe how the mere fact of knowing I have one hour at week just to talk about myself to someone is relieving. Specially since I'm a very introverted person on general and really dislike bothering my friends with my problems. Therapy helped me to rescue myself from the dangerous trap I was setting up around myself; I was able to identify and actually think about me be going about life and days in a survival mode. I was so deep into surviving and not thinking that somewhere amongst the trenches I lost the sense of what I really wanted in life.

What do I want? That's what I had to stop to ponder about. Did I even remember? It was surprising to see that yes, I definitely remembered what I wanted.

My biggest dream was to go to study abroad. I wanted Cambridge and Oxford. Books, libraries, coffees and burying myself in study for hours a day.

Then came the next, most terrifying question: how could I achieve it? I used to be a golden child, know-it-all, teacher's pet and a goddamn academic weapon! And I had long fallen from grace. I started slacking at seventh grade when I swapped the private hard and thriven education system for the basic public one. I was a star in the public system because everything they were learning I had learnt already in primary. it, of course, came to bite my ass in high school since I assumed I didn't need to study anymore. And I know damn well that if I want a Russell Group university I will have to gain an scholarship. My country's money is worth nothing near the big European pounds.

All things considered I started searching about going to Oxford. Months of research and weeks trying and asking even AI about scholarships available for me to pass to university. Turns out only "Reach Oxford" is available in my country. And tons of people made sure to throw it at my face and say Brazilian acceptance rates in this scholarship were almost inexistent. I didn't give up. I have become set on my goals already.

Then I did what all girls wanting to bounce back into academic life do: I made a mood board, applied to a higher position then the one that I was (I passed!) and started to change my mindset. Day by day. Month by month. A long and torturous process that took a tool on me but was necessary. I had lots of setbacks and just this week I discovered the process to enter Nottingham university through foundation year is easy (if I get the desired grades) since it's an automatic progression pathway, but I have to pay a money that I don't have and believe in my current situation I won't be able to make anytime soon. Still I haven't given up.

Today, at my lunch at work - and it's important to me to talk about my work because while some people have the privilege to sit and study eight hours per day, here in my country, most low class people have to work to study and this ends up in a destructive exhaustion since classes are at night and work usually takes up all the morning and afternoon leaving almost no time to study - I had time to research more and I decided to prepare myself to study once I got home.

I though that since today I didn't have any classes because it's an election day and my faculty will serve as voting spot I would study the much I could for the subject I supposedly should be having today. I decided that even if I can't take IGCSEs and A-levels now because I'm very short on money then I would start studying for what I have in hands, which is my law faculty at my hometown. it's all I have so I might as well be my hometown's good before I become Oxford good.

All of this to say that I am happy to inform that today I studied one whole hour the subject of constitutional law and am able to answer few - even though more simple - questions about the subject. It means my therapy is paying off and it means that my hard work in changing my mindset is giving me the expected result, not only accepting that I might not have what I want now but also motivating myself to use the resources I have to make the best out of my situation. This might as well prepare me for when I finally am able to sit through hours at a library at Oxford to write a paper, no? ;)

And from this, if you have read this far, I would like to say that yeah... maybe you can't study like that one girl from the internet who doesn't do anything but studying... but sometimes half an hour is all you need to keep yourself motivated and to... honestly? Change your whole damn mindset.

[seiya-starsniper]

20 questions for fic writers!

TRIPLE TAG THREAT from my faves @arialerendeair @bazzybelle and @honeyteacakes, I love you guys so so so much!!!!! 💖💖💖

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 36 in total published, a whole bunch more in drafts!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

167,076 which is crazy when you consider 146,736 are just from THIS YEAR

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Sandman, currently! I have a couple of WIPs for other fandoms but I just haven't gotten around to them.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Dreams for a Dozen Cats - 527 kudos A Dream for a Viscount - 513 kudos and if I get burned, at least we were electrified - 504 kudos Wake Up & Smell The Flowers - 457 kudos Let's conspire to ignite - 397 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I've been bad about it lately, but I love responding because I absolutely adore the dynamic of being able to communicate with my readers. It's just a tiring exercise and I have to be really in the mood to do it! But I absolutely love and adore every comment I receive 💖💖💖

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

A sweet dream - it's the only one where I've used the tag Main Character Death! The ending is quite hopeful, but the death is in fact permanent, take care if you choose to read it!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hnnnnnnngh I have absolutely no fucking idea because they almost all have really happy endings! That's like asking me to pick a favorite child. Honestly though, if you want sappy and sexy romance throughout an entire fic with literally zero conflict, then my happiest ending is probably A Dream for a Viscount. If you want ANGST ANGST ANGST with a massive payoff and a lot of hurt/comfort leading up to a soft ending, my happiest ending is the one in and if I get burned, at least we were electrified

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not on AO3! In my ff.net days though, whew lordy the salt was strong whenever I wrote somebody's NOTP and dared to publish it. Those were some interesting days.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Well, seeing as I am a mod for @monsterfucktoberbingo....I think you can probably guess what type of smut I write LMAO. I do write quite a bit of omegaverse too just to spice things up 😄

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have! Back in my ff.net days, my teenage self LIVED on the high school fandom crossover fic. I shall never return to those days ever again, but I had a good time. I also recently wrote this Dreamling/SnowBaz crossover for my beloved @bazzybelle💖💖💖

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge! I never really participated in fandoms where fic stealing was common thankfully.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! I have absolutely no idea what site it ended up on, but I've had my fics translated into Russian and Chinese.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not in a really long time! When I was a teen, I used to RP characters with my friends as a writing exercise, and then that would turn into a fic! I also absolutely LOVED the round robin fic culture back in the old livejournal days. (can you tell I'm dating myself heavily lmao)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

00Q hands down. I'm still reading old favorites to this day. Although, I will admit Dreamling is a pretty damn close second considering *gestures vaguely(

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh lord, I have quite a few, published and unpublished. Most of my published unfinished WIPs are just rotting on ff.net and I've made my peace with them. Unpublished WIPs...I have quite a few SamBucky fics that never made it out of drafts and I'm really sad about that because I really loved that ship at one point :(

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have a few I'm pretty proud of: - Succinctness: I can tell a whole story in under 10k words. One-shots are my bread and butter. - Angst: Do you want to cry? I'll make you cry and wring your soul out with no regrets. - Fluff: On the opposite end of the spectrum, if you want to feel soft and like you're snuggling with a cloud, I can do that for you too. Fluff is such a delight to write, because I like to feel good, and I love making others feel good too 💖 - Dialogue: I love writing dialogue. It's such a delight to try and figure what a character would say when placed in ~situations~

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Whew lordy, here we goooooooooooo: - Longfic/Multichapter fics: I can and have written longer fics, but it's highly demotivating for me. I am struggling so hard to finish my multi-chapter fics right now, it's a nightmare. I'll get there, but... - Descriptions: I AM SO BAD AT MAKING SETTINGS AND DESCRIBING HOW PEOPLE LOOK. I'm sure some people will disagree with me, but I some days I truly hate my inability to describe things the way I want to, or the way I've seen other people be able to. It is a thing I am working on, for sure, I know it's just a matter of practice. - WIP hell: I start and stop things at the drop of a hat. Rest in pieces to all my ideas stuck in partially written states - Plot Summaries: I can write a whole thing and be utterly unable to give you a plot summary. Save me hahahahaha

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I LOVE IT. It's not for me since I only speak English, but I love coming across it in fic.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Yu-Gi-Oh!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

...heh. I thought this was gonna be harder but it's definitely and if I get burned, at least we were electrified. This fic dragged me out of lurking in fandom to full on writing and participating again. It's my most canon-adjacent fic. It's got angst and action and feelings. It has tentacle sex. It has the Corinthian being indulged within an inch of his life. This fic is a love letter to myself, it the reason I am here, in sandman fandom, writing as much as I am. Is it my best written story out of all my fics? No, it was my first fic after a long writing hiatus and while I consider it a well written piece, I also like to think my writing quality has increased since I first wrote it. But it is my favorite fic, for all the reasons above, and for the sheer joy it brought into my life then, and in the subsequent months after.

Tagging: @valiantstarlights @five-and-dimes @chaosheadspace @ironwoman359 @silver-dream89 @rosaren2498 @bruce-wayne-simp @acedragontype and whoever else wants to do it!

[crisispider]

@oceansfirst the boys are being soft. [ cont. ]

GOD HE DOESN'T DESERVE HIM...

Peter knows it. Deep in his whole body and if he had any damn sense in his brain he would let Clint go.. let him go before he fucks this all up. (.. and his body ends up never found missing, never to see the light of day again. Was the black widow involved? WHO KNEW?? If it wasn't here it could be so many OTHER people who would come for vengeance.. rightfully so... what was he suppose to be doing again? RIGHT! CLINT! )

"m'sorry.." a muffled apology was really his only response to the ruining of book reading.

Today had been a HORRIBLE day, he was beyond exhausted.. every last muscle and bone ached in that EXCRUCIATING sort of way. (He was entirely sure he won't be able to move his back in a couple of hours, he's pretty sure it got fractured again.) Most of his smaller scrapes and bruises were starting to SLOWLY heal, and the rest would heal with time.. it was just the PROCESS that sucked.

Honestly if he really thought about it, his PAIN THRESHOLD at this point had to be something at least a little impressive, because he was entirely sure if he had been a squishy regular human.. he would have been DEAD. A fact that he... considers on whether or not he should tell Clint.

But before he really could even FULLY manage it, Clint was looking down at him with those BRIGHT BLUE EYES, and his thumb was running of his lips-

'hi pete'

Oh. Oh he can't breathe?? How the hell was he suppose to THINK if he couldn't even manage to BREATHE? He had been asked a question, and Clint was still talking, he was suppose to be paying attention. (He definitely wasn't.)

His mind was just CONSUMED with WHATEVER this feeling (It's love. he knows it is, he just can't say it.) that made his entire body ACHE in a way he had honestly never thought he would feel again. (and even then it was different then MJ, Clint is different... but it's that same INTENSE and TERRIFYING feeling that made him know he was in too deep all the same.)

FOCUS PARKER

What had felt like MINUTES had only been a matter of seconds, and the last bits he had missed finally REGISTERED in his tired brain. Peter was a little too eager to lift his head up (with Clint's aid) to kiss him, ignoring the EXCRUCIATING pain that shot out from his spine. (Had his small little intake of breath help to deepen the kiss that he was absolutely MELTING into? Possibly.)

There was only the smallest of whines when Clint finally pulled away, out of his reach. (His back was reaching the worst of it, his adrenaline all but gone and all that remained was the pain.. which should be more pressing but who could think about a FRACTURED spine when he had Clint?) He had just been getting ready to protest the loss of contact, but Clint had beaten him to it.

'How can I take care of you?'

There it is again. Shit. Oh he was definitely in way too deep, and there was no going back. But that was just the thing.. he didn't want to. Peter wanted to be here with Clint. He was at his most vulnerable and instead of going to his shitty little apartment to ride out the pain as it healed, but instead he had used the last bit of his strength to come HOME. (When had it become a PERSON again? why was he always the last to know?)

Peter was never good at being VULNERABLE.. but with Clint? oh it almost felt easy.. WEIRD. He was suppose to be answering the question, hew knew that but instead he found himself just staring up at Clint as if he was Peter's ENTIRE UNIVERSE, (Which arguably? He was half of it, the other belonging to Mayday.) and the urge to drag him down for another kiss had almost won out.

But Peter wanted to answer.. something told him that this was important. (they were often alike in so many ways.. and if he had been the one to ask.. well it would have been important to him.) So he managed a few breaths. (Mostly just trying to manage the pain that was REALLY determined to KILL the mood.)

"I.. um.. my spine, I think I fractured it and I just.. I was hoping I could lay with you here while it healed?" This was UNCHARTED TERRITORY for Peter, and he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it, but he was.. trying, god was he trying.

"You can keep reading if you want, I just.. wanna be with you.. if that's okay?" Okay, so maybe he couldn't fight off ALL of his insecurities, but he was making progress and that had to count for something right?

[a-crash-in-time-collection]

Chapter 63: The Beast

Everything was falling into place for Ezra, even if it was still slow. It took Vanessa awhile to get the hang of the magic knowledge they had gained from the tower of ice, but it paid off. Vanessa could shoot spikes of ice from the ground that Ezra could set ablaze, the ice projected from the fire's warth and therefore the fire avoiding being melted. It allowed them to plot different ways to capture the Moonjumper. Whether it was by brute force or lowering his guard. Soon the Moonjumper would be in their hands...

At least that was the goal. While Ezra was more than convinced the practical side of all this would work, the main thing that was holding him back from starting the search was the knowledge he tried to shake from his head. That the Moonjumper was more powerful than the two of them. Even if they outplayed all of Moonjumper's attacks and tricks, it takes them not reacting in time on one spell for it all to go down. Ezra couldn't risk that. He couldn't lose. He didn't want to know what the punishment for being an escaped damned soul would be.

They had to tire out the Moonjumper first. Right now he seemed to be barely using his magic. The most they saw him do was unknowingly open the tower entrance for the both of them. Besides that, whenever Ezra would cast a spell to get a rough idea on what the Moonjumper was doing, he would find the deity just... sitting around. No doubt saving his strength for when Ezra and Vanessa decided to attack. As much as Ezra would want to get the Moonjumper's powers while they were at full strength, that was too much of a risk.

He sighed as he looked down at the books he had laid out on the table. He started looking into more general spells after solving the 'fire and ice' issue, trapping spells, distraction spells. Anything that would be of use. If only there was a spell in here about just tiring someone out. Then he wouldn't have to worry. In fact, he would be able to pounce the second they had casted such a spell! If they had such a spell, which they did not. Because life couldn't just be simple for them.

Ezra groaned as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arm into the air. He didn't know how long he was sitting there for, looking at the same repeating text in many different words. Maybe he needed a break, but he couldn't just give up now. He already spent who knows how long on this. There had to be something of use. Anything that could force the Moonjumper to use his power. He rubbed his eyes with a groan as he looked back down at the book, flipping a few pages ahead after failing to find his place.

"I still don't understand, do we need to tire him that much?" Vanessa's voice came from behind his shoulder. He'd gotten used to her sudden appearances by now, barely flinched at them. Shouldn't she be double checking she knew everything about the spells from the Ice Tower? Her hand darted past his shoulder, pointing to a section. "What's that?"

"Careful, you might ruin the page!" Ezra said as he pushed her hand away, but paused when he took a second glance at the page. It seemed to be about to one spell, at least that was what he could tell from what few words were still clear. It seemed to be some sort of 'unlocking' spell, but not for doors or locks. For magical seals, often used to keep creatures who had no other means of defeat away. "Huh. That might be useful, if I can get it to work." He stood up, garbing the book.

"How is releasing a monster useful, it could harm my prince!" Vanessa questioned, Ezra stepping out into the yard for more space. He placed the book down and began to concentrate on the words. He could feel his magic coursing through him like blood, him reaching his hand out as a spear began to form. Similar to the spells he used to spy on the Moonjumper but bigger... its reach felt wider. "Don't start making stuff spin from the spell, I just cleaned up the yard today."

"Doesn't look like it." He mumbled as he began to focus on the spear in front of him, trying to scan for any seals with anything of use behind them. He was already starting to sweat, and it grew as he went further and further from Subcon, until he paused at an island. "Is that?" He mumbled as he went to scan the caverns under the island, and smirked once he saw the monstrous silhouette in the dark. "Oh yea. The beast from the event that made the Moonjumper a legend in the first place."

"That's that island town, right. I only vaguely heard of it before." Vanessa stated in cautious curiosity as he saw the silhouette of the monster walk around its prison of stone. The beast would bump into something, and in rage slammed its antlers into the wall. Even with the spell keeping it from escaping, damage was left to it. "You aren't thinking what I believe you might be thinking, are you Ezra?"

"Well, it would make capturing your prince in the future easier." Ezra stated as he reached forward to try and undo the seal. His hand was garbed by Vanessa, her applying a small coat of ice around his arm before she let go. He blinked, reaching to warm up the ice so it would melt, only to pause once he took note of the ice resisting his flame. He should've seen a drawback like this coming. "The original Moonjumper was able to defeat it with no experience, your prince surely would be able to do the same."

"My prince is a fool when it comes to the most basic things, how can I trust he will survive a monster?" Vanessa stated, watching Ezra get up and walk to the wall, beginning to knock his arm against it to try and break the ice off. She crossed her arms as she watched, although she found herself looking to the side. If her prince had a fraction of the power Moonjumper was said to have, what hope did they really have in capturing him safely. "...I already lost him once, Ezra, I can't again..."

"Oh, I heard that." Ezra said as he turned to see Vanessa reach for her eye. "Please don't cry, your highness. He will be fine, I promise." He spoke.

"I want to believe that, I really do..." She looked to the side. Ezra slammed his arm against the wall again, finally cracking the ice enough to where he could scrape the ice off. He didn't like how unpredictable Vanessa was. She could be the most clever and perfect partner one moment and nothing more than a liability then next. He should try and find some way to contain that. Vanessa would look at the spear. "The beast... We can trap it again if he can't handle it, right?" She would ask.

Ezra quickly picked the book back up, pretending to scan through its words. "I believe we can, it will just take a lot of energy." Ezra stated, before mumbling "Like freeing it wasn't going to take enough." He walked back up to the spear and began to stretch out his hand again for the spell, pausing about half way. He turned to Vanessa, who looked down at her shadow, kicking at the ground as if it was torn. "I wouldn't harm your prince on purpose, you know that Vanessa. I want nothing but the best for both of you." He offered her the gentlest smile he could muster.

Vanessa was quiet, she studied the demon's movement. She didn't fully believe his claim, he wanted something for himself after all. But he did make a point about how if AJ understood a fraction of Moonjumper's power, he could stay away from her... "Just be ready to send it back." She told Ezra as she stepped back, looking at the silhouette of the beast as it laid down to rest. "It had years of doing nothing, surely it must be weaker than when the original fought it. He might be able to win."

"Oh, I'm sure the chances are higher than both of us think." Ezra smirked before he took a breath, reaching for the spear as his hand was set ablaze in magic. The area around the beast began to glow, the beast letting out a small roar as it covered its eyes from the sudden invasion of the burning light. Ezra's vision would blur as he finished the spell, almost falling onto his knees as the spear faded. He put a hand to his head to study it as he looked around, his mind feeling slower.

"I can see what it means by taking a lot out of someone." Vanessa placed a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you head in and rest?"

Ezra glanced up at her. "Just have something for me to eat after I wake up."

Vanessa rolled her eyes faintly but gave a simple nod. The demon needed to eat anyway, she was sure of it. Besides, he couldn't serve her if he couldn't get up from a lack of... anything.

The two would walk away from the spot, the forest being peaceful at the moment. While terror was set to unleash far from where they were...

-------

It had been ten days since the last time Mu went purposely searching for the Mafia to stop them. She would still stop them if she ran into them while they were harassing or fighting someone, but the fire for her to do so had just... died out. This place wasn't really her home anymore. It was never going to be again. She spent most of her childhood fighting for something that was never coming back... She still had her sense of justice but, she just felt too tired to act on it now...

Maybe she was scared of what she would do if she just gave it all up. She wouldn't really be able to stay in Mafia Town. The only person who even tolerated her was Cooking Cat. And she didn't know how to start anew anywhere else on this planet... She just groaned as she wiped her mouth. At least for now Cooking Cat was letting her stay warm inside the restaurant. They hadn't had as much business lately so Cooking Cat insisted Mu would stop in for something to warm her up. It was nice, she supposed.

She didn't know what she was going to do. Even with her fire the cave was getting colder each night. And who knew how long until Mafia Boss tried to banish her again.

"If you're considering moving, maybe you could look into Alpine?" Adalyn suggested. There were only two other tables taken in the restaurant, both who had their meals being worked on, so she had more time to stop and chat as she went around the building. Mu gave her a faint glare as she drinked some of her soup, not caring if she looked like a mess doing so. "Sure there's a lot of crime but there's a lot of fresh air, and you could help the Nomads out! You like helping people, right?"

"At this point, I'm not sure if I ever did." Mu sighed as she grabbed a napkin and wiped her face, trying to get it clear off so it wouldn't freeze more the second she stepped outside. She didn't know if that would be a good idea. It was an easy place to fall to your- her thought was cut off as the ground below began to shake. "What the-" She said as she sat up. "Did someone turn on the lava faucets again? Or is that the guyser?"

Cooking Cat rushed out from the kitchen. "Oh, is everyone ok!" She called, Adalyn looking over and giving a quick nod. Mu adjusted her hood before heading over to the exit. "Mustache Girl, wait! You don't know what's going on outside!" Cooking Cat called out to her, but she had to see. If it was an earthquake or some other disaster, she needed to spring into action as soon as possible. Maybe then they would see. Maybe then she would see. Maybe it would make all her doubts go away.

"Everyone stay calm!" Mu shouted as she got out of the restaurant, only to pause. The ground shook again, but it didn't feel like the shaking was coming from right under them. It felt like it was coming from under... and to the side. It didn't make any sense at first, until she took a step in one direction, the feeling getting stronger... and realized that direction was around the center of the island. "Oh no." She mumbled as she began to race over to the doors to the cavern.

Once she got there, as usual two Mafia were placed there as guard. "Hold it!" One demanded as she got closed. "Mafia cannot allow anyone into center of island, especially Red-"

"There may not be an island soon if you don't let me in!" Mu shouted as she tried to brute force herself past the Mafia Goons. But her attempts were in vain as she was knocked back, struggling to get back up. The Mafia Goons have a small bit of chuckling, before the ground below them started to shake more. They glanced at it, one of the Mafia's punching at the ground. "You think that's going to stop it!?" She shouted as she tried to make her way to the door. Only to back once she saw cracks.

"What does Red Hooded Girl think she is doing-" One of the goons began to say, before suddenly antlers that looked like they were made out of obsidian burst through the door, narrowly missing the goon's arm. The men shouted as Mu backed up. She quickly brought out her timepiece but paused... There was no way she would have enough in order to go far enough back to stop this. "What is that!?" The Goon called as the beast that was once trapped broke through the door, pulling its way out.

"The beast from the tapestry. Did Moonjumper's magic fade?!" Mu looked behind her. "Go, don't try fighting it! It isn't worth it!"

"Mafia doesn't need to be told twice!" The Mafia Goon called as they both scattered away like scared mice. The Beast began to pull itself through the exit, roaring in both pain and rage as it forced itself though. Mu took some steps back as the Mafia and Cities around her screamed and panicked, trying to get to the nearest hiding spot. Mu had to at least try to do something, right? But the rational part of her brain was telling her to take her own advice and just go. Run. Becoming Mafia Town's hero wasn't worth her life.

She took a breath and spoke up. "Hey, get back down or else you're gonna regret it!" Mu called out, holding up her fist as she backed up. The beast took one look at her, and lunged its head forward, jaw's outstretched for a bite. She jumped back and threw a nearby barrel into the beast mouth, it swallowing it before it let out a roar, its anger only growing. Before she could do more, she felt her hand being grabbed and being pulled forward. "Adalyn?!" She asked when her vision only met air. "What are you doing, we need to take care of that thing!"

"You're gonna get yourself killed if you take care of it with brute force!" Adalyn called out as she opened the door, appearing in view as she pulled Mu back inside of the restaurant. More people were in now, trying to find shelter before the beast got itself freed. Cooking Cat was by the stand, and quickly gestured the girls over, Adalyn taking a breath once she was. "What is that? Is that the monster from the founding myth of this island?!" Adalyn asked, her hairs raised as she looked around in alarm. A rare sight.

"I think it is! I was just calling the others about it." Cooking Cat said as she briefly gestured to her phone, showing a number Mu faintly recognized as Hat Girl's. She thought she heard her voice among the commotion when she first was pulled into the restaurant but thought she was going crazy. The ground shook again, more violent as the beast slammed one hand against the ground. Mu quickly took the phone. "Mu, you could have asked-" The ground shook again, cutting her off. "Just, don't come here, Hat Girl, if you need anything. It's too dangerous!"

"Like that's going to stop me, I can't let you get hurt!" Hat Girl's voice would call from the phone. Mu could already hear the quick shuffling of the alien trying to locate items that may be of use.

Mu didn't want her to come, she didn't want her to get hurt... But then she remembered the old tapestry she and Mr. Macbeth had found. The one that showed the Moonjumper stopping the beast from destroying the island so long ago. "Hat Girl!" Mu said. "You have that Randy guy, right? Find him and bring him over!"

"What-"

"The last Moonjumper was able to defeat this monster, surely Randy could at least give us an advantage-" She was cut off as the ground shook below them again, the floor she was on starting to crack from the consent, repeating force. "Just hurry! Otherwise this beast might drag the island into the sea!"

She could almost hear Hattie's determined nod from the other end of the phone. "Just keep sheltered til we get there!" She called before hanging up. Mu handed the phone back to Cooking Cat, looking out the nearby window as the beast began to free its second hand. It wasn't like they had much of a choice right now, was it? They all just had to hope Hat Girl and her family would pull through once again.

-------

It had to be Ezra. That was the single thought on the group's mind as they dashed across the ocean, Randy's magic and Right's speed at full blast to make sure they got there in time. They had questioned Badge before they left and he told them that even if the magic had faded, Moonjumper's seal should have been there, meaning someone had to have removed it. And the only people who knew about the beast's existence were the pieces, those who had seen the tapestry, and Ezra. Why he would release a beast far away from where 'Moonjumper' was a question they didn't have time to answer.

Randy had to make sure this worked. He had been training, practicing, getting better. This was his first real test. He had to take this thing down. Ideally without collapsing from the use of the magic he had been 'blessed' with in his reincarnation. Otherwise he wouldn't stand a chance against Ezra and Vanessa.

The second the island came into view, it was clear the scale of the threat. They could see the silhouette of the beast as it walked around, smashing its hands into the ground as if in a mindless rage.

"Randy, ya sure ya got t'is?" Right Hand Man would ask as Randy adjusted himself to dash away once they were close enough. "Yer still new to all t'is, and I dunno if we'll be able to get to ya in time if somethin' happens."

"I got to try. Just focus on helping the residents. Only throw out attacks if you're absolutely sure you're safe." He said as he eyed Macbeth and Hat Girl, the latter already having a handful of explosive cash ready to go. Macbeth just nodded quietly, although Randy could see the silent screams in his eyes. To be careful, that he couldn't lose him again.

The beast's roar would shake the ground and water as they approached, Randy taking a breath before he pushed himself free from the boat, dashing to his location. He reached his hand out and sent out a beam of light to dash across the monster's face, the beast pausing its current destruction to turn his way. Its scarlet eyes would narrow at the sight of him, before lunging itself forward.

God, Randy was really doing this, wasn't he?

The beast would roar as it began to race over to him. The wind around it seemed to burn from the speed of the creature's movements. Like the energy from inside it was pouring into the air.

It swung its claw into the air, Randy barely getting hit as he tried to dodge. The side of his outfit got torn and he began to bleed, but that was tame compared to the destruction around.

He allowed himself to flinch, but locked eyes with the monster... from there he wasn't sure how to describe it. It felt like he was a wild animal running off of pure instinct. He would fire a spell, dodge an attack, fire another. Occasionally he would need to stop a building from collapsing or pause to push someone out of the way, but with the crew on the ground handling most of the recuse work... It actually felt for the first time he might be the deity the body he now wore showed.

Hat Girl and Right would rush one of the tourists on the island near Cooking Cat's for shelter. "Don't make some comment about the irony of t'is, Hattie." Right would say as he stopped on the ground, his boosters started to overheat from the amount of use. Suddenly the door swung open, Mu going to rush out before Right reached over and grabbed her by her hood. "W'ot on earth do ya think yer-"

"I have to help!" Mu stammered out as she turned back to him with a glare. Right didn't think he’d seen someone lie to themselves so much. He could tell it from the look in her eyes. She had to know whatever she was thinking wasn't true. "I-I'm the hero, I-"

"You can help, but be careful, please." Hat Girl said as she passed her some of the explosive cash from her 'Brew Mask'. "I don't think you're experienced in this."

"...No, I'm not." Mu would begin to dash away. But her head was hung low, her steps shakey.

She would go up one of her hidden pathways to the top of the tower, hiding behind the bell as Randy and the beast came close.

Randy would notice from the corner of his eyes, and grab the beast with his magical strings. "Take this!"

Mu would toss the exploding cash into the beast's eyes, the beast letting out a roar of pain before it went to swing at the tower. Randy was able to grab the beast's arms with his strings and started to pull the creature into the direction of the ocean, trying his best to cause minimal damage along the way.

The beast pulled and fought against the strings, and it started to feel like it was tearing at Randy's flesh to keep the beast in each. It swung its head around. Growling, roaring. But Randy was safely able to pull it into the shallow waters outside the town. All eyes on him.

The beast would let out a roar as it lunged at Randy again, but Randy would pull away. He couldn't just seal the beast again, he needed to do something else... He began to recite a spell inside of his mind. One he only faintly remembered from the books. He glared at the beast as his eyes began to glow gray, the creatures eyes following in turn. Gray cracks would form in the strings as the magic coursed its way through them, before ending up at the beast, which shouted as the cracks quickly spread.

"Stay still." Randy commanded, his voice having a faint echo that seemed to shift the air around him. The spell would quickly spread over the monster's figure, its movements slowing until it stopped... the light fading to reveal nothing but stone.

Randy would pull back on the strings, letting them retract. He watched as the statue began to fall into the sea. A bit of guilt filled him... but it needed to be done. He couldn't let it go free when all it wanted to do was destroy...

He would float back to the shore, allowing himself to be pulled down by gravity once he was close enough to not have any wounds. "Horizon..." He mumbled as he reached for his head, looking up to see Macbeth rush up to him. "Hey, I'm ok." He said as he met his son's worried eyes. He glanced down at his hand. "For a battle... that went oddly smooth... I stopped thinking for half of it, I just... did."

"That drained a lot from you, I can tell." Java said as he sat beside Randy, quickly putting a hand to where his wound was, mumbling something under his breath as he cast a healing spell. Randy gave a small nod... Now that the addreline was fading, he did feel tired, really tired. His head was lighter than it should be and the edges of his vision were blurry.

"Randy!" Hat girl called as she rushed over with the others, looking him over. "Are you going to be fine?"

"I will, kid... I just need to rest a bit first." He sighed as he rubbed his head, Java backing away once he did what he could with his magic. Randy pulled himself into sitting up, wiping some of the sand off his arms. "...Defeating Ezra won't be that easy. The only reason I had an advantage was because the monster was just keen to destroy. No other thought in those eyes..." He paused as he noticed Mu come over. "Good work up there, kid. I don't know if I would have thought of that."

Mu just blinked. "Did it really do anything in the end?" She mumbled as she glanced to the side. Before the others could start asking their questions, she looked over. "Let Randy grab something from Cooking Cat's before you head back. Should help keep him awake." She said before she began to walk off.

Hat Girl watched her for a moment, before turning to the others. "I'm going to follow her." She said, before she dash ahead, still being sure to keep her distance from Mu to avoid being spotted.

It almost felt like when they first met when they were kids. Lifda following the girl with faint hesitation, but she needed any lead she could get at the time. She needed to get home after all, even if in the end the effort would all be in vain, in a way...

She was taken out of those thoughts when she found herself a few steps back from where she was before. Mu used the timepiece... but why? The fight was already over?

Hat Girl paused as they got to where Mu's cave was supposed to be. It might still be there, but the area around it had collapsed, rocks and building parts all lined up perfectly to block the entrance. If there was still a cave behind that... Hat Girl slowly walked up to Mu and saw a few faint tears running down her face. Her body was as still as a statue but her eyes shook slightly. Hat Girl couldn't even place all the emotions she saw running through them... She took a step back and gave a fake cough.

Mu didn't turn to her, just lowered her head a bit. "I don't know what to do." She said, "This was the only place I could go. And I doubt the Mafia will let me move into the beast's old cavern..." It sounded like she wanted to chuckle, but it came out as more of a hiccup. "They probably are gonna say I freed it somehow, aren't they? It seems like something I would do."

Hat Girl couldn't deny what Mu was saying, even if she wanted to. They both knew how the Mafia were, and it wouldn't have been the only time Mu put Mafia Town in danger for the goal of protecting it...

The Mafia Boss wanted her gone. This was the perfect excuse.

Hat Girl began to walk over to try and remove some of the boulders, but Mu placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking her head once she turned around. "Don't bother wasting your strength on it. It was doomed to collapse one day anyway..."

"It's not fair." Hat Girl mumbled, before she stood up, looking at Mu. "Mustache Girl, I wouldn't be offering this if I didn't think you needed it." She said as she step closer to her, Mu's eyes just turning to face the ocean. "Please, just come stay with the Toppats, at least until it's time for us to go. I know you hate 'Bad Guys' and criminals, but…it's better than freezing and starving."

A part of Mu wanted to fight her on that. She really did... But... She couldn't. She couldn't afford to anymore. And even if she didn't want to admit it, she wanted this, at least for a little. The toppats treated her well enough. "Alright." She mumbled, defeated. "I'll try not to be an annoyance."

Hat Girl would have reassured her in that moment, but she knew this wasn't the time. She just took her hand and gently began to lead her in the direction of Cooking Cat’s. Maybe they could at least garb something on the way home...

-------

Ezra’s jaw dropped once he was able to cast a spell to replay the battle. Sure, it worked, by the end the Moonjumper was a mess that would need days to recover his energy and body. But he was shocked by how quick it was, how well it went. The only reason the town was currently a mess was because it took them a while to get there.

Sure, the Moonjumper had help from those humans that came with him, the attack on the monster's eyes by the red-hooded teen being an especially good attack that pulled the ties in his favor, can't do anything while your eyes are burning after all. But he did most of the heavy lifting, the most damage. And he was the one who defeated it. Even doing so in a way where it couldn't be freed again, unless by him.

At least the beast didn't seem to have a single thought go through its head other than destruction, if it was even still awake. Ezra couldn't imagine the hell on earth being stuck as a statue for eternity would be. He pitied the beast for a moment, before his mind was filled with anger.

How was the Moonjumper always fifty steps ahead of whatever Ezra had planned? By the time Ezra would be ready to try and steal his power, surely the Moonjumper would have regained his strength! It was too easy for him. It always was. Even when he successfully killed Moonjumper the first time, the moon deity had the last laugh. Ezra just wanted his magic and Subcon to himself, was that so wrong? He'd run the whole world better then how it was doing now if he had the magic.

The only reason he was damned was Moonjumper's death, and that wasn't even by his own hands when you think about it. It was his creations. They had the final say... He groaned as he grabbed his head, trying to soothe the headache that started.

"No matter." He said to himself, looking at a painting of what Subcon used to look like. He smirked as an idea came to mind. "I'd just have to get the upper hand another way..."

[levinea-yuuki]

Warning: Heartfelt Ramble.

Listen I know it's a dangerous place to live, but I desperately wish that if I was reborn I would end up in the One Piece universe.

No one ever tells you that you're too much by having an emotional bond with somebody. The super rich and powerful that are taking advantage of the innocent are wiped out by vigilantes. Mythical creatures and magical lands exist.

Freedom that this planet could never demonstrate, at least not anymore. Magic, sure in the shape of fruit that gives you powers but it's still magic, and even if you don't have a devil fruit in your system there's still the potential to get stronger with incredible plants, machines, creatures, techniques, plain old dedication... It's like that world doesn't have a restriction of the human body.

You know, what I honestly and desperately wish for (instead of the One Piece universe even though that's really great) is a place where people will take you seriously for the things you say but not judge you for misconceptions. Where it's okay to stand up for yourself instead of being called problematic. Where there's a chance to fight the higher power instead of the dread that we can't really do anything because they've already got the power....

I would also love to live in a place where I could decompress without being interrupted and to come out refreshed and ready to face any bullcrap thrown at me; a place where I can just lock the door and do my own thing for more than 15 minutes without being called upon to do the hard tasks that nobody else wants to do, and when I come out ready for it, appreciated for my effort. Because life right now is way too hard, and embarrassing, and restrictive, and exhausting.

I'm tired of being judged negatively for being asexual like it's their life, like it's their business, whether or not I am f****** somebody. I'm tired of being judged for having the genetic code that makes me more plump than the average supermodel because my Irish blood is trying to keep me from starving by packing on the backup weight. I work out, I do 16-hour shifts, I hardly eat, I have lost weight a little bit but it's still there. Why can't I just enjoy having my fluffy body without it being sexualized?

Why do we have to work so hard to have a place safe from the weather outside where we can eat more than scraps? Why do we have to rely on foods that have preservatives, which I honestly think are starting to preserve youth in humans to an unnatural degree, and the hormones that grow our livestock are making us have our periods earlier than we used to and grow taller faster, and technology stunting mental growth (iPad kids), and school systems that suppress critical thinking skills... Are they breeding super soldiers that follow orders with no question? Growing constituents that will vote based on rumor?

People are starting to deteriorate at a younger age because I'm 27 and I feel like I'm 50, because they only need you to be able-bodied and young long enough to stay in the work force at prime, peak production ability, and then once you lose your strength to profit them without faltering you lose all value. We hardly have a voice unless we are extremely useful, either in the workforce or sexually. Hardly anybody is just valued for being a person.

I just want the potential to be valued as a person. I want to be seen. I'm exhausted I'm so damn lonely.

I totally understand those folks who just want a cabin in the woods where they can grow their own vegetables and livestock and keep away from the rest of society and their judgmental attitudes, to avoid all the bull that people come up with and scuffle about, and fight, and guns, and drugs, and violence, and rumors, and politics, and all this bull crap I'm so fucking tired leave me alone--no come back and talk to me, let's have a conversation, a real conversation.

[icherishyou]

mon, 11 dec 2023

unbelievable!!! I haven't been journaling for 5 days.

I had to go to KDR on Friday and MDR-SBY on Sunday. somehow, I'm so tired right now. a lot to write but zero energy.

I have an interesting thing I found on Instagram this morning, related to my last question about why Allah put me in a condition where I have to deal with a guy who really wants me physically, mentally, and sexually (who calls me soft). on the other hand, my crush (who calls me weak) is in a relationship with someone else which still breaks my heart. then this certain post woke me up about how I was supposed to behave as a Muslimah.

I almost surrender towards #1 guy affection, but I'm falling into a condition where everything I see is a fine line where I don't get the edge between the good and bad ones. I really want to enjoy and explore everything while I'm young and free, as long as I don't break the core of the moral code I hold. but across to the side, my religious ass knows exactly that there is no such thing as 'not breaking moral code' while hanging out with a boy alone is already inappropriate in Islam. I have to choose, or sadly I wouldn't be able to choose because I'm just too naive.

sometimes I was just thinking maybe I'm just lonely, as what Hailey say in her song "we are not lover, we are just stranger, with the same damn hunger, to be touched, to be loved, to feel anything at all", which affects my ability to choose something that obviously wrong, and blur me towards something that perfectly a sin. then I realized, is this how Allah put me on the right track, by giving me a 'study case' and letting me conclude by myself? will I lose my sanity and give up all of my religious side if I'm dating too soon?

for many people out there, my post would sound so silly because how couldn't I recognize any compromising act of service from a guy who exactly likes me since the beginning? trust me, just thank Allah if you can see anything so easy between the light and dark. because even though my brain can, my heart will deny. sounds like I need purification oh Allah... and since I realize this, I insert a small phrase to my dua, asking Allah to always put me in His track only, and to give me strength for staying in my religious side.

[theramblinghockeydude]

Quest to be the best me I can be

I have had a lot of time over the past few years to replay moments of life in my head where I could have done better. What areas in life do I need to be better and make a change to be a more well rounded human being. As a Christian I am not somebody who is going to force my beliefs and ways down your throat as I am a firm believer in letting your actions and life choices show that to others, and quite honestly I feel like more often than not I fail in that area. Do others see my faith through my actions and words? That is a question roaming around in my head a lot these days and in every instance of life the goal is to have that answer be a resounding...yes. Here are some things I do not like about myself that I am working on.

I have touched on this in other posts, so I won't go into detail much here other than to point out that it is something I don't like about myself and am working on. Being 100% honest and up front with people when I am struggling in life, whether that struggle is physical or mental in nature. I need to stop running away and hiding and just be honest with people. Something I really wish I had figured out much earlier in life, would have saved me a lot of grief and maybe even a couple of broken friendships that I would love to be able to mend.

Captain Obvious is now going to join this post as the next thing I am trying to work on more...well, really just continue to work on and maybe figure out how to make changes that stick, is this damn weight thing. It has been a struggle of mine for as long as I can remember in life. Growing up and all through High School and College it bothered me because I wasn't lazy and I wasn't somebody that ate a ton, not any more than others I knew who could stay slim. I was active in those years, couldn't really stand being still and not doing something. I get the weight gain after college as I was less active, not from being lazy (can you tell that I really got tired of hearing that?) as I was as active as I could be, but it was harder because the friends that kept you active had, for the most part, moved away and so finding ways to keep active became harder. I won't lie, when I got out on my own my eating habits were not the best in the sense that I didn't eat the best foods and there were a lot of late night pizza deliveries, so I got the weight gain at that point, didn't like it, but got it. This is about the time when my handy little way of dealing with stress and unhappiness became using food as a comfort. Horrible habit to develop and one that I wish I had seen back then and could have taken it head on before it came the default response. I did make some changes back in 2010/2011 that worked great and I had lost about 50-60 lbs in a years time. Eating better, no more late night pizza delivery, a lot less soda and getting out and enjoying photography and rock hounding. All was going so well until my knees started to give out on me and I got out less and less and started to rely on fast foods more. So, here I am not, at a point where I know that if I lost some weight it would help with my mobility, wouldn't solve my issues, but make things a bit easier for me. So, now I am trying to eat better and snack less and trying to find other ways to deal with anxiety and stress. Finding ways to be active with my current situation is quite a challenge, but we are trying a little day by day to get strength built up to hopefully make that easier as well. I often wonder to myself...what would life be like to not think every single day of your life about losing weight? I will probably never know that feeling as this has been a life long thing and I just don't see it going away, but I have to do what I can at this point to lessen the impact it has on me.

I am working on not having negative thoughts or saying bad things in situations where I am not in agreement with somebody or don't share their views or in situations where you just have those people that are not your cup of tea for whatever reason. What it really comes down to for me is, why? What do I gain in these situations? Nothing, I actually end up feeling bad later on and wishing I had just kept my mouth shut. There are so many instances in life where we could/should just walk away from a situation without comment, but for some reason simply don't. If somebody is not my cup of tea, oh well, that is life and just move on, no need to harbor bad thoughts about the person. Judgement is not mine. Follow the words of Elsa and just let it go, move on.

I am working on being there for others when they are in need. I feel like my current situation affords me a ton of time and energy to give to others, and I have always been somebody who likes to help others. I by no means have all the answers to life, but one thing I feel like I am good at is simply listening with a compassionate and empathetic heart. This world can definitely leave us feeling anxious, stressed, alone and unsure and I feel that we need to stick together and help one another through and be there for each other, no matter what. I feel like too often we are hesitant to reach out to somebody who may need help because 1) we feel like maybe they are just looking for attention and we don't want to be made a fool and 2) they may be somebody who we disagree with on certain things in life or they may not have the same views as we do. I don't want either of these to ever stop me from reaching out and helping a fellow human, because, at the end of the day, we are in this together whether we like it or not and we need each other to get by in this crazy world. The only true thing that should stop you from helping another is if they cheer for the Bizon, then all bets are off...run for the hills. Sorry, couldn't resist tossing that in there and it just felt like a good place. I still love all my Bizon lovers out there, just as I love those that think Trump is a good dude and actually cares about them. I can differ with somebody on that opinion, but still at the end of the day be there for them if they need, that is my point, don't let petty things keep you from one another.

The thing I probably like about myself least is that I easily get caught up in negative talk. I can be in a conversation and somebody might be talking poorly about somebody that I have absolutely no beef with or ill thoughts about at all, but suddenly I find myself joining in only to feel sick about it later and wish I had just kept my mouth shut and simply left the conversation. I will say that I have made great strides in this area once I realized that it was something I was susceptible to, but I every great now and again it creeps it's way back in.

A constant work in progress, that is what I am. The goal it to be a little bit better today than I was yesterday and to live life without judgement and ill feelings towards others. Those feelings take up too much valuable space in our minds, space that could be used for so many better things. I think for each of us, the hard part is doing the inventory of our thoughts and actions to see where improvement is needed as it is hard to admit when you are being a crappy human being, good news is that it is never too late to change.

[tntky]

At the end of the day, we are only universe dust.

Yo ! 

It’s been a while, I know. And it is probably due to the fact that I am on my period and therefore my monthly mental breakdown guided by the masochism of this patriarchal society is scheduled for right now! Oh, oh, someone is one getting worse over the years...

Hi everyone from the little imaginary world inside my head, hello to the hidden camera audience watching my illusory daily life! What’s new? Well, we survived so far. Tomorrow, I have a shitty exam that I have as a resit and it’s  driving me crazy because I’m already picturing the stupidly simple questions that requires logical answers with some technical terms that I could have handled perfectly last year if I didn’t miss the whole point of it back then due to lack of focus.

My unhealthy state of mind  is still relevant to last year though, it is just that there are days when it gets the best of me and others when it is manageable. This feeling of seeing yourself from other's point of view like you’re just a failure to society is horrible. The glue stick, the nobody. And when you try to get your shit back together, you try to regain control of how you manage to spend your time, how to get better at expressing your emotions etc. That’s usually when the worst thing finds a way to come back into your life. Begging you to go through the unhealed trauma all other again.

This feels like you’re literally pealing yourself like a banana, except you’re tearing off your borderline skin, to get back on the right track. I need to learn to fix my fucking boundaries. I am so fucking tired of not being independent of my own self. Anyway, for now we will still have to hold on for a few more months in order to finish our damn exams... and then we will at least be free to no longer work in this same shitty society and stick to those awful school routines that are boring.

I have to learn to listen to myself, I have to learn to listen to my  body, to do what makes me happy, even if it means to be ridiculous to others. I need to take back the control of my emotions, to release my  thinking brain stuck in driving mode. I am not a machine, I am a human being with emotions, and I must not let things that could possibly harm me happen. I have to take care of little me and picture her with a smile on her lips and her four teeth who is still full of joy and innocence and ask myself, what would she think of you? And what about of all the dreams she had. There is nothing stupid about having ambitions such as just going for a run alone, being able to take the car and go for a ride, sit down in public and eat something near a waterfront while listening to music - without having sweating hands or shaking my whole body. I am not going to get stuck on the same speeches year after year, come on.

We are getting started. We’re going it, now. Whatever scares us, it’ll do and, we will do it when we decide to do it, you know, for it's useless to force yourself on days where you feel really low. But believe in you as your own safe place. You don’t need others to encourage you or  give you the strength, to tell you it's going to be fine or that what you do is okay. Fuck that, you know your worth and if you want something, and your body feels right about it, then do it. At the end of the day, we are only universe dust.

You are not in competition with anyone but yourself. SO, TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND ACTION. 

[swizzcheese]

The more she spoke, the more it was becoming clear to Sterling that this time was different. Every word she said was pointed and honest, and he found it hard to breathe though the guilt that swelled in his chest, sprouting and winding like ivy around his ribcage. His lips only parted to seal themselves shut again, knowing damn well he couldn't deny it, any of it. She could part water for him and he would still find reasons to blow it all up, to run away, to hurt her again and again. This was something he already knew, and something he knew, deep down, she would grow tired of eventually. But she was the only person. She was the only one that had stayed. Throughout all of it, all of his bullshit and their petty arguments and the back and forth. It was a hard concept for him to grasp, the thought that she was done with him too. That the one person that refused to give up on him... had given up.

"Wait, what do you mean? Carmen, what do you mean?" The questions were spilling out on their own, the toe of his boot coming out to stop the door before she could close it. "Wait," he pleaded, wishing she would meet his eyes. It was strange. He'd hit 150 flying down the road, he'd put any unknown substance he could get his hands on into his body, he'd thrown fists with men that could stomp him into the ground, he'd drank so much he couldn't remember his own name and none of it... none of it filled him with the fear that he felt now. The fear of losing her for good.

He had always been able to smooth it over before. Say something sweet, pour a little bit of his heart out, give her just enough to keep hanging on. Pull her into a kiss to distract her from any concerns she voiced. But something told him they were beyond that. Their time apart, time that had only made him miss her more, had given her the strength she needed to close their chapter. "It's not my top priority, it's..." His mouth felt too dry to continue. Was it not? What was his top priority? He'd lost sight of it along the way. He'd had a future, possibilities, and now it seemed so bleak. Now his life was nothing more than getting out of bed, getting wasted enough he didn't have to think for more than even an hour awake, getting through the day until he could finally crash into black nothingness. The only place that felt welcoming anymore.

"Don't do this." The words came out in a whisper, realizing only as the vision of her before him blurred that there were tears in his eyes. "I can... do better, I can..." He had never begged before, he had always just let her go. But he had always known she was coming back. His hands reached out again, reached for her for half a second before falling limp to his sides. "Please, Carmen. Please don't do this."

"Mhphm, deserved is more of an understatement." carmen mumbled in return. agitation edging her tone, crossing her arms over her chest as if she was creating a barrier between them. Usually she'd interject but she wanted to hear his reasoning--his excuse. sterling had let her down many times over the course of their friendship and not setting boundaries caused this riff in their relationship. she allowed herself to be a walking doormat and swizz happily wiped his feet upon entry anytime he needed a quick fix. her pupils widened at his words, almost blotting away the mahogany in her eyes. 'I just... miss you, Carm.' her attention shifted towards the floor after that because she knew deep down, what was true all along. he was never going to change.

knowing what she had to do it didn't change the fact that his words stung, knowing she could just as easily fall back into step with him like always. gods, she was so fucking stupid. carmen kept her gaze focused onto the floor until he was finished. letting a small silence ruminate between them before lifting her chin and meeting his gaze.

"Swizz, I'd give anything for us to just be. I don't think you truly understand how far I'd go or what I'd do to have that with you. The simple fact is that I love you, but I can't keep tearing myself apart for an ounce of your attention. Waiting for you to show up on my doorstep only when you need me. We want different things, and its clear partying, strangers, and substances are your top priority. We could just be, but your possessiveness would get in the way, MY jealousy gets in the way. You won't stop drinking just because I tell you too. I love you too much to see you put yourself or me through any more torment. I think it would be the best for both of us to let each other go."

Tears were streaming now, and she was finding it hard to make eye contact with him. She knew one look from him and she'd fall back into his arms, and she wouldn't allow it this time. carmen started backing up until her apartment door was between them. with her hand on the doorknob she found that same spot on the ground again to stare at. "i think you should leave sterling."