#but it helped shape who i am today and helped form my heart and mind

[thebirdandhersong]

on the bright side:

I'm almost done studying for one of my November midterms, thank God!

my friend introduced me to Penny and Sparrow and I've been listening to them a lot today

am holding Wendy Cope's "The Orange" like an orange in my cardigan pocket

just started Frederick Buechner's Telling the Truth and it is BRILLIANT, my friends

listened to the Field Guide and Lizzy McAlpine cover of Coldplay's Yellow today and I am simply... obsessed

people are trickling back into the dorm after reading week and it is so good to hear more laughter around the table!!

I think efforts toward community cultivating have been super successful, thanks be to God. I set up a prayer wall and people are actually using it! We continue to do Sunday night worship and nightly psalm readings! People are actually taking advantage of the open invitation to come by for tea and a cookie and a chat, which I have been WAITING since last year to happen!

came back from Hadestown on Friday even more convinced that no love is ever wasted, and that was a huge comfort to me.

[starryjiung]

of pleasure and pain

day 16 of piwontober

shower sex / fingering with yoon keeho

NSFW - 18+ MDNI

wc: 1.6k

tags: superhero au, villain!keeho, hero!reader, scars, blood, wounds, weapons, mentions of murder/killing people, fingering, shower sex, pet names, praise, degradation, reader uses she/her pronouns and has a clitoris and vagina, keeho refers to reader as girl

a/n: omg my smut debut look at me go! here is my little thanks to section, because I have to mention @enbyjjunie who has been helping motivate me, brainstorm with me, and beta read!! of course a huge thank you to @sxfterhearts and @kisseobie for managing this whole event, and bringing all of us together. and to all the other amazing writers who are part of the project, I am so excited to be publishing my fic alongside yours ♡

Blood stained the white shower tiles, mixing with the soap bubbles to create intricate shapes as it swirled down the drain. The water rinsed everything off, every bit of blood, sweat, and grime that could be found on your bodies. If anything stuck in the corners, it wasn’t your problem, since this was Keeho’s bathroom. His white tiles, his cleaning headache. Not that you paid it much mind in the moment, with your back up against the cool glass of his shower doors, Keeho’s hands and mouth all over you.

“Fuck, careful where you place your hands,” he mumbled in your ear, shrugging your hand off his shoulder. You glanced over to see a fairly new bruise blossoming right where you had grabbed him, and couldn’t help the smirk that overtook your features.

“Got you good today, didn’t I?” you asked, the amusement short lived as you immediately felt a sharp stabbing pain on your hip in retaliation.

Keeho had pressed down on a fresh slashing wound from your fight earlier, making you yelp and instantly grab onto his arms for support, as your legs wobbled under you. Even though you had ended the night on a high, Keeho having to retreat from the city beaten and bruised, it was not like you had made it out completely unscathed. Keeho was an expert at wielding his signature twin poignard daggers, the many cuts on your body being evidence of this.

“I like it better when you shut up.”

“Someone’s a sore loser,” you mumbled, slowly trailing off as he leaned back into your space, caging you in between his arms against the now steamy glass door. He looked down at you with sharp eyes, and you noticed another bruise forming on his left cheekbone, no doubt the result of you hitting him with the blunt end of your glaive.

You and Keeho were the perfect match, two sides of the same coin in every way possible. The first time you had gone head to head, both of you had been left in awe of the other’s abilities. Not that any of you would ever admit it. Keeho’s teleportation powers and your super speed balanced each other out so well, one was never more than half a step ahead of the other. This resulted in fights purely being decided on combat skills and luck, as you wounded each other at a speed too high for the onlookers to perceive.

You turned your head slightly, pressing your lips firmly to his pretty bruise, making sure he both felt the warmth of the kiss, and was reminded of the earlier impact with your weapon. Your kisses softened as you trailed down the side of his face, your hands leaving his toned upper arms to explore the expanse of his naked upper body.

“I could have killed you today, you really should be nicer to me,” you said in between open mouthed kisses at his jawline.

“Oh yes, imagine those headlines. “Darling hero of Metro City commits murder on open street!” You can never kill me sweetheart, there would be an outrage,” he replied, eyes closed as you worked down his neck. “And your heart is too soft to do it.”

You decided to ignore his statement, not wanting to agree with him, and instead grabbed his hips to push up against. As soon as your front came in contact with his hard cock, Keeho let out a low groan, one you could feel vibrating in his throat as you had your face buried right in the crook of his neck. Not a second later, Keeho’s arms were back around you, holding you close in order to maintain the friction between your bodies.

As you were grinding against each other, you felt a shiver down your spine, the water on your body slowly drying and giving way to the cold air coming in from below. Before you even had time to adjust, Keeho was already pulling you back under the hot stream coming from the showerhead.

Standing even closer together now, in order for both of you to enjoy the warm water, Keeho rested his forehead against your temple, his face only a breath away as his hands travelled down the sides of your body. His hair was dripping down onto his collarbones, where you saw a paper-thin scar, long healed, but no doubt your doing. Most of the scars littering your body were left by him as well, reminders of every fight, every battle, every night spent together afterwards.

“How come you have never killed me?” you thought out loud.

You felt Keeho’s hands stop, just for half a second, before continuing to glide over your skin, his right pointer finger tracing a newly healed gash along your outer thigh, the skin raised and still pink. His doing.

“I mean, you’ve had the chance several times,” you continued, not satisfied with his silence.

For a few seconds, the sound of water hitting skin and tile was the only thing you could hear in the bathroom. Then you felt Keeho smile against your cheek.

“Yeah well, keeping you alive is way more fun, means I get to do this.”

His hand quickly moved from your leg to in between your bodies, his finger finding your clit and beginning to rub small circles without a moment’s hesitation. You immediately grabbed onto his shoulders for stability, all thoughts of the forming bruise there gone for now. A choked moan got stuck in your throat, which made Keeho giggle.

“Look at you, already struggling to stand and I have barely touched you,” he said, lips right next to your ear as his hand kept moving at the pace he knew you liked. “Wonder what the good people of Metro City would think of their precious hero, if they knew she was whimpering like a slut in my shower.”

“Oh fuck you,” you managed to gasp out, throwing your head back to rest against the wet tile behind you. This got a proper laugh out of Keeho, who now had a much better view of your upper body, taking full advantage of your new position.

“Later, maybe. For now I want you to beg for my fingers, can you do that, angel?” he asked.

You did not want to give him the satisfaction of begging, but the way he was rubbing circles on your clit also felt too good to object. Just then, his fingertips went further down, teasing at your entrance and making you inhale sharply.

You were dripping wet, more than one could expect you to be after such a short amount of time with Keeho’s hands on you. But just as he was to blame for most of the scars on your body, Keeho had also become responsible for the vast majority of your orgasms. He knew exactly what to do to have you moaning and begging for him, and in that moment you felt every ounce of pride and composure leave your body. You knew the pleasure he would reward you with was worth so much more.

“Please-” you started your sentence, cutting yourself off with a high pitched whine as Keeho’s fingers moved back up to your clit.

“Sorry could you repeat that sweetheart? I can’t hear you over all that pathetic whimpering,” he said, tilting his head slightly with an amused smile, as he watched you lose yourself to the feeling of his hands on you.

“Please! Please please I want you fingers inside me so bad Keeho, fuck, please,” you cried out, the grip you had on his shoulders becoming so tight, it would surely leave marks for the day after. None of you paid it any mind, however, used to much more permanent reminders of each other.

“That’s my good girl.”

Keeho slipped a single finger inside your wetness, quickly realising that you were turned on enough for him to add a second one immediately. The feeling of him inside of you, slowly stretching your walls, was enough to have you moaning uncontrollably. When he started curling his fingers up towards himself, you could feel how close you were already.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, being so obedient for me. Everyone else sees you fight, but only I know how good you are at giving in to me,” he said, eyes focused on where his fingers were pumping in and out of you.

You could do little more than nod, your breaths coming out as a mix of whines and sharp exhales. Both of you knew you were not going to last much longer.

“I want to feel you cum around my fingers, angel. Cum for me.”

He had barely finished the sentence, before you cried out, your orgasm hitting you as soon as he gave permission. Keeho could feel you clenching around him, coming undone as he continued to curl his fingers inside you. He had seen your face in complete ecstacy like this more times than he could count, and yet he craved it like a drug. The knowledge that he could have this effect on you too, the cuts on your body telling a story so different from the pleasure painting your features in that moment.

As you came down from the high, Keeho slowly removed his fingers again, letting the water rinse away your wetness, just as it had cleaned you off your blood.

Pulling yourself closer to him again, you leaned your face on his shoulder as your breathing returned to normal. Small crescent shaped indentations were left in the reddening bruise, and you found yourself leaving small pecks on each one, as Keeho brought his arms around you under the water.

How were you ever supposed to kill each other, when being alive together felt so good.

[sweetspidergirl]

A Tangled Web (Spider HRT Story)

Chapter 1

“This is stupid. Why am I doing this?”

This question echoed in my head as I sat in the sterile waiting room of the doctor's office, accompanied by the sound of the clock ticking away in the background. Besides me and the receptionist behind the counter, there was no one else in the room. That made sense. With it being a few days before Christmas, who would willingly want to spend any amount of that time in such a depressing location?

A twenty-five year old woman dissatisfied with her life and seeking a new one, apparently.

As I sat there waiting for permission to see the doctor, my mind drifted back to how I got here. It was half a year ago where I first vented frustration over my life to my best friend Elisa, and she mentioned how I might be going through species dysphoria. She then sent me some articles and links and suggested I look into humanity removal therapy, or HRT.

I had been vaguely aware of humanity removal therapy, often referred to as therian HRT, for a few months by that point. It functioned mostly like hormone replacement therapy, only it would gradually change the patient into a human/animal hybrid, or therian. It was a recent development, only having been available to the public for a little over five years, and still had quite a bit of controversy associated with it from various political groups. Despite that, based on the testimonials I read and the various pictures I saw, the people who have gone through therian HRT seemed to be happier now than they ever had as humans. Maybe it would be worth it if I gave the whole thing a shot. Maybe being in another body might help me be happy again.

I glanced down at the blank screen of my phone, looking over myself in annoyance. I noted the long, messy brown hair that I barely made look presentable. I noted the pale skin caused by a lack of social interaction and preferring the light of a screen over the sun. I noted the oval-shaped glasses and casual hoodie and sweatpants that hid as much of me as possible. I was another drop of water in the ocean that was humanity. Even my blue eyes, once bright and full of hope, had started to appear dim and non-descript as of late.

“Taylor Thompson?”

I snapped out of my thoughts as the doctor called my name. Turning my head in his direction, I got a good look at the man who would be deciding my future. He was an older gentleman, probably in his 50s or 60s, with a grey receding hairline and mustache. His thick, round glasses made it hard for me to see his eyes. Grabbing my belongings, I quietly followed the doctor as he guided me to his office. The office was what I expected to see: a small, plain white room with a desk, degrees on the wall, and bookshelves full of books that I would be too dumb to properly understand. On the desk was a small nameplate that read “Dr. T. H. Erian, Species Dysphoria Specialist” in large, clean letters. I set my bag beside me and took my seat, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. I swallowed the lump of anxiety that was forming in my throat. There was no turning back now.

“So, Miss Thompson, what brings you here today?” Dr. Erian asked in a stern voice. One sentence in and I was already having flashbacks to my high school principal. The main difference here, however, was that my answers actually mattered for more than avoiding detention.

“I, um, was hoping to be prescribed therian HRT. Specifically spider HRT.” I answered, trying to remain calm and collected.

“I see… and why a spider, if I may ask?” The doctor questioned as he began writing something on a piece of paper in front of him.

“Well, I think spiders are a lot like me. Most people are scared of them, but in reality they’re mostly just nervous, adorable little beans.” I explained with a bit of blush on my face.

“Any preferred species of spiders?”

“I was hoping to be a tarantula. They're cute and fluffy, and I think I'd look just as good as one.”

“May I ask why you wish to undergo humanity removal therapy?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I've been unhappy with myself lately. My diet's been awful, I rarely go outside and interact, and in general I just hate everything about myself. My best friend, Elisa Andrews, thinks I might be going through species dysphoria. She works with therians and otherkin daily, so I assume she's right.” I explained to Dr. Erian. I then handed him a folder that contained the paperwork Elisa told me I'd need before being prescribed therian HRT: a medical examination, two psychological evaluations, written support from her and my father. I even spiced the folder up with doodles of webs and cartoon spiders in hopes that it would help my case.

Dr. Erian looked through the paperwork I gave him. I was unable to get a good idea of what he was thinking. His flat, emotionless voice was hard to read, and thanks to those glasses I couldn't tell whether he was impressed by work or annoyed at me wasting his time. I was hoping it was the former.

“Miss Thompson, before we continue, I'd like to ask an important question.” Dr. Erian spoke as he set the folder down in front of him on the desk. “How much do you know about therians?”

“How much do I know?” I asked curiously. “I mean, my best friend’s a physical therapist that works with therians, and I'm kinda aware of some of the legislature that's been passed recently-”

“That's not what I am referring to.” Dr. Erian interrupted. “I want to know if you understand what therians go through, what the process of going through humanity removal therapy is like and how you'll have to adapt. You are aware that I recommend patients spend some time living as their desired species before I prescribe them HRT, correct?”

“I-I mean… if it helps I have a few spider plushies.” I said sheepishly. I could already feel my luck running out.

Dr. Erian sighed and gently rubbed at his forehead before speaking again. “Miss Thompson, this is a serious life-changing procedure. Once you start therian HRT, your DNA will be rewritten to match your chosen species. You'll never be human again, even if you stop early into your therapy. I cannot prescribe it to just anyone who steps foot into my office.”

I sunk into my seat slightly, bringing my knees just under my chin as I almost curled up to feel safe and protected. “B-but… I was told you can help people with this kind of stuff.”

“I can, and I do. However, not everyone needs HRT. What you may think is species dysphoria could very well just be depression, and what you may need is something far simpler than a complete genetic rewrite.” The doctor explained.

I sat there in silence, barely listening to the doctor's words. He was saying so much when it all boiled down to one word: “no.” No, I couldn't get humanity removal treatment. No, I couldn't have happiness. No, I was doomed to hate myself for the rest of my miserable life. Tears started to creep their way out of my eyes, stinging slightly as they worked their way down my cheeks.

Just as I was about ready to give up and head home, I glanced up and noticed Dr. Erian looking through my papers once more. I was expecting him to scold me again. I hid my face against my knees and closed my eyes, bracing myself for his harsh words to wound my heart further.

“...are you sure becoming a tarantula will make you happy?”

I slowly brought my eyes up to look at Dr. Erian, not fully emerging from my self-made cocoon as I processed his question. What was making him change his mind? Did he believe that I'm suffering from species dysphoria after all, or was he simply taking pity on me? Regardless of the answer, I couldn't let this opportunity slip by my fingers.

“Y-yes… yes it will, doctor.” I responded, almost forcing myself to do so. A tense silence hung in the air for what felt like hours as Dr. Erian stared at me, almost examining me. I gripped the sides of my legs, waiting anxiously for either him to continue lecturing me or for me to have the courage to speak again.

“Well, if that is your answer, then I will approve you for tarantula HRT.” Dr. Erian said, writing on the piece of paper some more. “Considering it's the holiday season, it's likely your pharmacy won't receive your first dosage until after the new year, though.”

My heart almost skipped a beat at the news. I was… actually going to be a tarantula?! “Wait, really? You're… approving me for the HRT?” I asked, nearly jumping out of my seat. “Oh thank you Doc! Thank you very, very much!”

Dr. Erian sighed, writing some more information down on the paper. “As I explained, transitioning to a different species won't be easy. There will be some side effects to expect as your body changes.” He explained, making sure I had calmed down a bit before he continued. “Not all therians will experience the same side effects. Not all side effects will be present at once. Some will show up at different stages of your transition. At the earliest stages of spider HRT, I would primarily expect to see itchy skin as your hair grows in, as well as weight gain to provide material for your additional body parts to develop. Beyond that, you may experience headaches, nausea, dizziness, fatigue, and possible body pain.”

After making sure I understood the side effects I might encounter during my transition, Dr. Erian started digging through a drawer in his desk, and from there pulled out two items. The first was a pamphlet that had “Welcome to your Humanity Removal Therapy” written on the cover, alongside “Species: Spider” and a minimalist illustration of him. “This pamphlet will help guide you through your transition, Miss Thompson. It provides details on a recommended meal plan, the type of environment you should live in, a rough timeline of what changes you should expect and when you should expect them, a full list of potential side effects, and more.” The doctor explained. “I would make sure to give this a thorough read if I were you. I'll also be sending you a digital copy after our meeting. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me and I will provide an answer at the earliest convenience.”

I took the pamphlet in my hands, almost crushing it in excitement. “Of course Doc. I'll definitely give it a read once I get home.”

Just as I was about to get up and leave, Dr. Erian cleared his throat. “There is one other thing I must discuss with you before we conclude here, Miss Thompson.” He said, causing me to sit back down in my seat. “I still disapprove of you not doing any research on therian culture prior to our meeting. So… I'd like for you to interact with other therians while you're taking HRT. It's not mandatory, but I do feel it will not only help you learn about your new lifestyle but also potentially help with your mood.”

As Dr. Erian said that, he handed another item. I took it in my hands and looked it over. Instead of another pamphlet, it was a flyer detailing a therian support group that was close to where I lived. It detailed that it was bi-weekly, and that it was open to those on HRT, regardless of stage, as well as those questioning.

“I'll keep that all in mind. Thank you so much for all of this, Doc.” I said, stuffing the papers in my bag. After discussing insurance and other important information to get my prescription set in stone, I left the office and gave a heavy exhale as soon as I was outside. That was probably the most stressful talk I've ever had, but it was done and over with. While I stood outside and caught my breath, my phone started buzzing. Pulling it out, I saw that I was getting a call from Elisa.

“So, how'd it go?” Elisa asked, sounding exceedingly curious. Looking at the time on my phone, I hadn't realized she had just finished with work by the time I finished my meeting.

“Well, I managed to get the prescription, so that's good. You didn't tell me he was gonna be so scary though.” I answered back with a tiny bit of irritation in my voice.

“Hey I never met the guy personally. Besides, you still got the HRT in the end, so it all worked out.” Elisa answered back. “So how long before you start spinning webs and crawling up walls?”

“Well, my first dosage won't arrive until after the new year. Beyond that, well…” I trailed off a bit, glancing back at my bag and the papers inside of it. “I have some homework to do.”

---

NEXT:

Welcome everyone! This is the start of a (hopefully) long-term project I intend to work on. This is the story of Taylor Thompson, a 25-year-old woman seeking a change in life through humanity removal therapy. In the process of transitioning from human to spider, she'll learn more about the world of therians, as well as learn more about herself and what she wants out of life.

I want to thank @ayviedoesthings, @welldrawnfish, @entroart, @bubbleverseart, @nyxisart, @prettiestplatypus, @deadeyedfae, @kaylasartwork, and anyone else I may have forgotten (there's a lot of people I'm so sorry ><) for creating the world of therian HRT and creating such a community, as well as my fiancé for showing them to me and for inspiring me to give my own version a try. I can't say when the second chapter will be done, so just keep your eyes open, and I hope you all will join me on this long, wild ride.

Thank you so much in advance.

[zer0pm]

Imagine being an undercover agent who once infiltrated Umbrella and grew close to Luis Serra. You were forced to separate from him, never telling him why and broke his heart in the process. When you thought that you have finally moved on, you find him again. Tied up in a sack.

“What’s in Spain?”

“My home. A village, to be exact. And remote. The people there could use people like us to help them. No one would be able to find us there. Not even Umbrella. There, we can disappear.”

“…I’m sorry, Luis. I can’t.”

.

“You seem distracted.”

“What?” you blink, immediately biting your tongue after. But it was too late, you were caught red-handed.

“Case in point,” your partner Leon sighs. “So, what is it? What’s on your mind?”

You reply with a frown, “I’m wondering how deep these tunnels go. Must have something important down here for these… villagers to go through the trouble of trying to lock it up inconspicuously.”

It was such a blatant lie, the blond’s stony expression showed that he wasn’t buying it at all. But Leon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leads on with his gun and flashlight pointing forward in the darkness. You were relieved that he didn’t press further.

But he’s also right. You were distracted and on a mission where a steady, focused mind is imperative at all times. Mulling over the past on things that were best laid forgotten is meaningless and offered no benefit to the task at hand. So why bother even allowing it to weigh so heavily in your thoughts?

Because what are the odds that this is the same place that he mentioned? The one that he wanted to hide away with you within? Given everything you’ve seen so far, with all these monsters roaming about, you sincerely hope not. Surely this is all coincidental and that he is in some other part of Spain.

.

“You mentioned that you grew up in Spain, right? What was it like there?”

“Oh? For once you don’t want to talk about work or whatever ingenius discoveries I’ve made recently? Pero, you actually want to engage in small talk? It must be a sign!”

“Answer the question or I’m requesting a department change.”

“Calma, calma. I only tease. Hmm… The weather can be unforgiving, especially during the rainy season. The people live day-to-day on whatever resources that can grow or be found under the constantly harsh conditions. Sickness often spreads and the treatment is… archaic.”

“This all sounds awful.”

“It wasn’t all bad. Everyone in our small community had someone to support them. I had my grandfather. He helped shape me to be the man I am today. A very handsome man at that, with both brains and brawn. In case, you didn’t notice already.”

“He must be very proud of you.”

“I hope so...”

“You don’t keep in touch?”

“So interested in my life story all of a sudden. And yet I still know so little of yours.”

“What’s there to know? There’s not much to tell.”

“See, that is where you’re wrong, my friend. A key to a great story is time to gather your thoughts. And I wouldn’t mind making time to listen to yours. How does after work sound? There’s an excellent coffee spot around the corner.”

“…You know what? A drink sounds great.”

.

You should have rejected him then and there. The task was only to gather information and find evidence of the production of biochemical weaponry. Forming attachments was not part of the job. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him then, convincing yourself that it was necessary to reinforce your cover. You were seen as just a researcher forging deep interpersonal relationships with your fellow coworker and not at all a spy for the government sent to infiltrate a pharmaceutical giant for secrets that could topple a nation.

No one suspected a thing- not Umbrella, not your handlers, not even him. It worked. But it didn’t make you feel any less guilty about it, especially when you developed real feelings for him and he reciprocated them earnestly and affectionately. At first, you meant to play along with no intention of taking him seriously. The Spanish researcher expressed himself as a man who talks a big game but settles down or folds over for no one. He had a reputation within the labs as a serial flirt after all.

However, the day he casually asked you out, he surprised you. Beneath all the playful, charming remarks and practiced come-hither smirks belied a genuine romantic. He was a man passionate about his work, driven by a real desire to help others. He cared about other people, evident at how intently he listened to you when your shared bits of yourself to him. Granted, much of what you said then was fabricated to uphold your secret identity, but he showed unwavering interest in you and the image you created as if you two were only people in that coffee shop that mattered. After one date came another, then another, then another until you lost count. You fell for him and you fell for him hard. And before you knew it, at his suggestion, the two of you moved in together.

It was a dream. A wonderful dream. You couldn’t remember the last time you lived a normal life, let alone someone to come home to. It was such a domestic feeling. To go wit him to work by day then go home together by night to fall asleep in each other’s arms and do it all over again the following morning. To fall into a routine was strange and something you grew affectionately accustomed to. And it was all because of him. He made you feel safe. He made you feel loved. He made you feel normal. But it was only a dream. And all dreams eventually come to an end.

It got to a point where you dug yourself so deep that by the time you had to shed your identity and leave him, it left scars that neither of you would ever recover from.

.

“¿Qué? What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I can’t go to Spain with you.”

“Is it the location? We can go anywhere you want,l, but we have to make sure we hide our tracks from Umbrella-”

“I mean that I can’t go with you. Anywhere. Period.”

“¿Mande? Why.”

“I want to tell you, I really do.”

“…Tú no me quieres.”

“No! Of course I do.”

“Then why? Why can’t you run away with me? I can protect us, you just have to trust-”

“This isn’t about trust.”

“Then tell me what it is!”

“…This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“L-Lo siento, mi corazon. I didn’t meant to shout. We can work through this-”

“Just please remember that what we had was real.”

“¡Amor!”

“Goodbye, Luis.”

.

That was the last time you saw him. You broke his heart, the pieces of yours shattered away with every step that you took away from him. Revisiting those memories all caused a single tear to fall down your cheek.

You have to move on. It’s been long enough. It was all to protect him, you told yourself countless times. In your line of work, attachments just do not (and cannot) stick. And you stuck with that choice without an ounce of regret. You only hope that wherever Luis is now, he’s happy and safe. That alone kept you going.

When you finally broke yourself out of your daze, you found yourself facing a wall. You quietly berated yourself for your absentmindedness again and were grateful for the darkness. Luckily, your fellow agent didn’t notice you or your inner turmoil, something else catching his attention at the end of the tunnel.

“Over here. I found someone.”

Your head snaps towards Leon’s direction, your heartache momentarily dulled and set aside. “Ashley Graham?”

“Don’t know yet,” Leon replies, crouching down. “Here, hold the light.”

You hurry over to the blond’s side, taking the flashlight from him and directing it towards his finding. A large sack, big enough for a person, was flailing about. The sound of muffled struggling reaches your ears. Leon unties the top of the thick cloth before pulling it down. You almost didn’t believe what, or rather, who you were seeing. But your eyes were blown wide in recognition before Leon rips the tape off of their mouth. There was no mistaking those rugged features, that dark hair, and those grey eyes that you fell in love with helplessly so long ago.

It was him. The man that haunted your every thoughts and dreams. The man that dug his way into your heart and made a home there.

Luis Serra Navarro.

“Oh no, not you.”

The man merely gazes back at you, momentarily stunned before chuckling in that husky voice of his that you thought you’d never hear again.

“I’ve missed you too, mi corazon,” he says. His eyes glide over your form lasciviously, uncaring that you (and your partner) can see him staring shamelessly. He looked and smiled at you as if the years spent apart never happened. “Te ves bien.”

You had so many questions.

.

.

.

A/N: Part Two can be found right here~

[sakkiichi]

FROM ME TO YOU.

Because good things take time and it’s not too late for happy birthdays.

ft. Albedo x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, birthday special, reader is an amateur painter.

this is just something spontaneous that I came up with… I just… kinda gave free reign to whatever flashed through my mind once I was before the blank document, parting from a very vague idea I had haha.

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

Autumn’s cold always arrived early in Dragonspine.

The faraway rays of a molten copper halo fuse with the peaks outlined on the horizon.

Magic is the word you’d use to describe such scenery; seconds that seemed to both be suspended in the helpless passage of time, and slip between your fingers; like golden sand inside an hourglass too small to savor every snapshot brought by the incandescence of crepuscular skies.

On instances like this, you wished your painting skills were better; if only to capture the glow of early dreams threaded through the asters of twilight.

For now, however, this will have to do.

Why did you wait until so late for this, you are unsure.

True, wishing a happy birthday to someone as the clock strikes twelve is not an uncommon occurrence.

And you’re kind of doing just that, more or less.

Except…

Well, it’s usually when the special day starts that calls are made, starlit whispers are uttered between lovers, and secret kisses are exchanged.

So you can’t help but wonder… is it too late?

For this? Or to back out now?

A sigh escapes your chapped lips, into the dimness of dusk, the stillness of frozen peaks, the stars.

Stars.

Your gaze is drawn to the easel you’ve set before you, fingertips delicately trailing over the four-point asteroids decorating a heaven made of brushstrokes.

Gold pinpricks, almost aglow beneath the darkening penombre of sundown, over a backdrop of ultramarines and indigoes, akin to sunlight over the depth of a frozen sea; a mirror image of the sky now hovering over snowy plains.

Looking up, you find a firmament of constellations. Stories, sketched in the silver flames of light years away suns, above an infinity of obscurity.

Those tales, however, had a tendency for lighting up paths that fell victim to the constant fluttering snowflakes.

“Hello, dearest.” A voice, smooth, liquid dawnlight over dewed cecilia petals, greets. “Am I late?”

The sound of crunching snow fills the fire-lit silence, the torches from his camp casting him in tepid hues.

“Albedo!” You call him, turning around.

And when you do, you swear he alone outshines every galaxy you could ever dream of rendering on canvas.

Tendrils of midnight sun and honeycomb seem to meld together in the blonde locks framing the alchemist’s porcelain-like face. Spotless, argent light from distant stars kisses his skin, fading into flecks of sparkling acacia blossoms to halo his gaze.

Summer skies.

That’s the image his eyes always evoked: clear skies, endlessly blue, over meadows to lie on, the low grass soft beneath your forms, as hands entwined and fingers pointed above, determining the shapes of the occasional cottony clouds.

What a paradox, how someone who spent his days surrounded by ice could make sparks ignite in your heart, cheeks heating up like the embers that remained after the coziness of a homey hearth.

“Is there anything you needed my help with, love?” He asks, gloved hand running its thumb over the back of yours.

Your gaze flits from your intertwined hands to his smiling lips, taking in his features in full.

“Not exactly your help.” You offer, your own lips a moon shaped brushstroke of vermillion. “I just… would like you to see something.” Your hand squeezes his, as you swing your linked hands between the both of you. “It’s your special day today, after all, isn’t it?”

Your rhetoric is met by the alchemist’s windened gaze, followed by one of his subtle smiles.

Tugging him along, you guide him to the candle lit spot where your easel is propped up.

Why are you feeling nervous all of a sudden? You internally chide yourself, biting the inside of your cheek.

Relaxing your shoulders, you turn to face your lover, gaze averted when you mumble:

“It’s not much but…” You scuff one of your boots on the dirtied snow. “I just… I remembered your painting, ‘You and I’ and… well… you know… I…” Your lids close, your nose scrunched up in that way he always found utterly endearing. “I wanted to make a painting for you too!” You finally sputter, stepping aside so he can see your masterpiece.

From that moment on, Albedo would forever believe no starry night could ever come close to capture the sheer magic of your art.

Gilded speckles abound in your make-believe heavens, each of them a shade slightly different than the previous one. They rest against a backdrop of cyans, accentuated in baby blue around your handmade constellations, the piece’s finale, a violet horizon. Outlined against it, two figures seem to dance, their happy ending created by them, rather than foretold by the celestial bodies staring in envy at a proximity that doesn’t burn, but warms and completes.

“I know it’s not the best but-“

“It’s perfect.” Is the kreideprinz’s awestruck answer, as his svelte hands hover over the frame. “You’re perfect, [Y/n].” He blurts, still staring at your work.

Then, he meets your eyes again. Your face is in his tender hold, a fleeting frosted kiss landing on your lips.

“I love it.” He assures. ‘I love you.’ His dilated pupils confess.

“‘From me to you’. Its title.” Your hand reaches up, resting on top of his. “You know… I hope you didn’t think I had forgotten about today… I just… kinda wanted this to be your last memory of your day.”

With that, both your gazes fuse in a watercolor of each other’s lips, of the anticipation of feeling them against your own.

“Happy birthday, Bedo.” You utter, before leaning in.

And then, the night, the snow, the starshine, all fade away, in a myriad of rose colored frenzied blazes. Your hands lost in the ash blonde strands at his nape; his, pulling you closer by the waist. Your kiss is a nebula of pulsating light, undimmed by even the most ruthless blizzards, lighting up the ebony of the pines obscuring the moonlight. Frozen air is exhausted in your lungs, but you don’t care right now, not when you’re kissing your prince charming under the lights of an aurora that’s still hours away.

A few moments pass, with the stars orbiting marking the approach of midnight.

A snow-kissed breeze caresses both your faces when you part, causing a shiver to rake through your body.

Your prince’s arms wrap around you.

When you look at him, matching chuckles fill the night air.

Moments like this were worth waiting all day for.

[ingravinoveritas]

regarding the post today about Anna's nasty comments, "jokes" etc about Michael's appearance in the last few years. Do you think there is genuine reason to feel worried about him and what it may be doing to his mental health overall? What I mean is I am starting to worry and then it makes start to spiral a bit and think that if he stays with her longer that the possibility of her "soft bullying" will escalate into actual abuse and I really don't want to think like that but it really makes me worry for him. Please tell me what you think and should I just take a step back and not think on it too hard (am I?) If you agree with me though, what do you think can be done to help him? Like as in a safe way for him to break up with her? I appreciate whatever you can do to help ease my mind at least.

martinsharmony replied to your post "So for those who haven't seen, AL posted a new..."

I have to wonder about Michael's state of mind. He has said he has his own body issues and has struggled with depression etc. The fact that he is "letting" her do this makes me worry about him a little. The fact that he's not standing up for himself and setting a boundary. From my own experience, all of this is okay, until it's not. My heart goes out to Michael. Of course I don't know the real truth. But I see a little of myself there. I recognize it.

(Grouping these two together due to having similar themes.)

First, I am glad that you felt comfortable enough to message me about this and share your thoughts. But I think there are a few things going on here, and it's important that we have some perspective. When I started responding to asks and questions about Anna on my blog four years ago, it was largely as a counter to what many of us were seeing the fans do, which was idealizing Michael and Anna's relationship and making it into some sort of fairy tale romance. Many of us could see things that did not seem to hold true to this narrative, but were afraid to discuss it openly. So the discourse became about open and honest conversations and speculation, and since GO 2 came out, that discourse has only seemingly increased (if the Asks and Anons in my inbox are anything to go by).

To your comments, @martinsharmony, these are some very good points you are raising, and I'm sorry that you see yourself in Michael's shoes. I think there's a chance many of us do, and is part of why we have the strong feelings we do--one way or the other--about this situation. I think a lot of us see Michael's visible unhappiness and are jarred by the sharp contrast between that and the narrative of him and AL being "madly in love."

I do, however, think there is a real risk of taking that line of thinking so far in the opposite direction. That is, if it's not okay for fans to assume that everything is perfect and wonderful and the absolute best with Michael and Anna's relationship, then it is also not okay to assume everything is the absolute worst, because extremes in either direction are not a good thing, and reality often exists somewhere in the middle. Reality and relationships are also infinitely complicated, which means that there often are no easy answers.

Also, because things are not ever truly black-and-white, I think it's important not to conflate being an unpleasant person with being an abuser. There tends to be an assumption that an abuser is mean and nasty all the time, every day, but so many abusers are viewed as "the nicest person you ever met" by everyone but the victim, which is how they are so often able to get away with what they do. Conversely, someone (such as Anna) might be self-absorbed, immature, and annoying, but that does not make them an abuser.

Again, in no way, shape, or form am I saying that it is a bad thing to care about Michael, or to want him to be happy. But what we are ultimately talking about here is Michael's agency--that is, his right to make his own choices, and to deal with and feel whatever he feels about the consequences of those choices. By either romanticizing or catastrophizing his relationship with Anna, we are unintentionally removing that agency. We have to remember that Michael is an adult man who has been in many other relationships in his life, and has navigated those (with varying degrees of success) on his own. So while we can have conversations and engage in discussion here, it is very much not appropriate and not our place to intervene with any of this personally or to try and facilitate the breakup of Michael's relationship.

Remember, too, that Michael has people in his life that he can trust and confide in--his parents (who are still alive and live near him, bless them), his sister, his friends. And he has David, of course, which we know is a beautiful thing. He and David have gotten immeasurably closer over the last four years and it is genuinely heartwarming to know that he can turn to David. The point here is that while we are fans of Michael's, we are not his family nor his friends. But Michael is not alone in this, and has support available to him, and that is something to be grateful for.

Going back to my previous comments about agency, one of the things that I know I love about Michael is that he is always going to do what he wants to do. He has reasons for doing those things, which means that if he is still with Anna, there is a reason for that (even if it is, as many of us believe, due to wanting to be there for the kids). And if/when Michael should decide to break up with her, there will be a reason for that as well. The most important thing, however, is that it's his choice. That if he decides he's made a mistake, it's his mistake to own, and not something for us to save him from.

I hope this has helped to put your mind at ease. I also want to make it clear that I absolutely do not have all the answers, and this (like all my posts) is my own opinion. Taking a step back might still be a good idea, as we can all find ourselves becoming too invested from time to time, and it is good to take a breather on occasion and find perspective. Glad as always for my followers to share their thoughts on this post as well...

[joosbasschick]

🌌Void🌌

A Ricky x Fem!Reader (Angst/Fluff)

Summary: You have been having an extremely hard time for a few weeks, but today was just the one day that topped them all... So Ricky had to step in before he lost you to yourself.

Warnings/Mentions: Depression, Drug usage (prescribed medications), self-deprecation, LOTS OF CRYING, Pet names (Squirt, Honey, Sweetie, Maomao, and Darling), very small amount of violence? 

Hello everyone! I finally have completed my very first ZB1 fanfic and have truly become an official writer of Zumblr! This work has a lot of my emotions or feelings into it and was very self-indulgent when thought of. As many of my previous followers may have noticed, I’ve changed my user to “rickyschicky.” Yes, I’m going to mainly be writing about ZB1 from now on, but no I’ll still write for other groups/idols. But they most likely will be my ult biases or Idols that have a special place in my heart. This fic is coming out a lot later than I originally wanted it to due to a lot of personal things happening in my life. Now that this is released, I’ll be working on a proper pin that has a proper about me, rules for the blog, rules for asks and even an anon list for those who wish to SECRETLY stick around! Im very excited to have my fresh start, so perceive me well, pretty please! Feedback is always appreciated, and if you see mistakes don’t be afraid to send me a DM!

Cup. Pop. Gulp.

     This routine was normal for you, a dreaded ritual if anything. If you didn’t do this every morning and night, you know your life would be in shambles and unlivable. Curling into your favorite (F/C) blanket, you let out a sigh of emptiness as your feet mindlessly kick around in it. 

Managing depression, sucks.

     Mindlessly watching whatever was playing on the tv, the heart inside of your chest sunk deeper and deeper. Yet anything you put on couldn’t entertain you, not even rewatching your favorite shows. You can’t decide what’s worse; not remembering how many days it’s been since this started, not eating or hydrating enough, or the fact that you have shut all your friends out with your boyfriend being the very next one. You hear your best friend’s custom ringtone blare though your phone speakers at least twice a day, but you couldn’t help but sigh and say, “not today, (F/N)”. Everything from blaring sounds to the soft fabric currently on your fingertips felt like it was hardly there. Your body feels like over-used putty, numb and worn out from so much usage. It’s impossible though, it has felt like you haven’t moved from this spot in months. Who knows the actual time you even were here on the couch of you and your lover’s shared house.

     It’s pitiful how you couldn’t even jump from surprise when Ricky touches your head softly, “I’m home, squirt. I’m sorry I was out late, I wanted to finish getting a certain verse right.’ Only humming in response, you sit up and turn the tv down in an attempt to listen to him. By all means it wasn’t because you weren’t interested, it's far from that. It’s just hard to control your fuzzy mind and have it focus on something emotional at this moment in time. He didn’t like the lack-of response he received, gracefully walking over and sitting next to your cocooned form.

     “(Y/N), honey. Please look at me.” You tear your gaze from the random spot you decided to zone out on and look into his gentle, cat shaped eyes. They were full of concern and distress. You almost hated how he could easily read you like an open book just by the way you act or look. 

     “Sweetie don’t start crying, I am far from mad at you. I just want you to talk to me, tell me what you feel.” Ricky takes no time in using his large thumb to brush away the tears that unknowingly fell from your lash line. He lets his long arms wrap around your figure, pulling you into his comforting lap. 

     The first thought you could even think of through the numerous tears was ‘why am I like this?’. Feeling disgusted with yourself, you choke out a sob harder and limply lay your head on his shoulder. You take your medicine day and night as prescribed, so why are you still feeling like a hollow doll that’s incapable of nothing? Even in the love of your life’s arms, you couldn’t feel an ounce of happiness.

     Ricky sensed this, pulling your chin up and bringing you into a sweet and gentle kiss as he whispers soft praises of how strong you are. “Hey hey hey, don’t work yourself up too much (Y/N). We both know we will feel like shit, and I’ll call Hanbin to let him know I can’t come in to practice because you are just sooo sad.” He gives a cute pout, tickling your sides in mockery. Through your tears, you let out a huff that quickly turns into a squeal. You quickly throw your fists up and start lightly punching him in his wide shoulders and chest in an attempt to get his fingers away from your sensitive sides.

     “The last thing I need is for you yelled at by mother, Shen Ricky.” You scold, feeling a breath of life flow through your veins. It was hard to be upset when he acts silly or in this case: say something utterly stupid and cute. He chuckles, noticing how you were starting to change right before his eyes. He knew he had to continue before you slip back. 

     “Well, I can always bring you to practice?” 

     “Ricky, WakeOne literally won’t let me, even if you beg.”

     You sit in silence before just snorting at his antics. You shimmy out of the blanket and take care to put it around you and him, straddling his lap so you can lay your head on his collarbone right under his chin. Soon your body melts as you go limp once more. Ricky quickly accepted this new position by wrapping his arms around your lower back snugly, giving many annoying kisses to your temples and forehead. He felt you changing again and wanted to halt the process. Deciding this was too annoying right now, you attempt to pull the blanket above your head. Not liking this, your boyfriend quickly grabs the blanket with his teeth and starts tugging on it playfully, tickling your sides ferociously.  

     “What are you, a dog?” 

     “Actually, I’m a cat.”

     You don’t waste a second to jab your hand in his side, hearing him whimper for you to let up and be gentle. He sighs, giving up and letting you hide under the soft fabric, rocking your curled up form that was on his lap. After being together for a while, he knew your limits and when to stop. You just wanted someone to physically be there for you today, so that’s what he will do. Slowly moving the blanket off the top of your head, he gently clears his throat to sing for you in his mother tongue. You voiced to him before you loved hearing him sing so comfortably in his first language and even encouraged him to teach you a few songs in Chinese. 

     Not soon after you were about to pull the blanket over your head, you heard his deep, breathy voice fill your ears. Stopping your current action, you tuck your hair behind your ears so you could hear him clearly (even if you couldn’t understand a single thing coming from his lips), and let your head lay heavy on his shoulder. Sure, Ricky could be a total annoying brat when he wanted to be, but times like this are when you are the most thankful for him. You felt at one of your lowest points and instead of running or simply saying, ‘suck it up’, he stuck around and tried to learn how to take care of you and cheer you up. He took his time learning your needs, favorite activities and foods, and even points of his personality you enjoyed the most. You were his rose, freshly bloomed and bright red with an addicting scent. His romance, the one that made his heart fall in his stomach and bounce of his rib cage with a simple stare and gentle laugh. If he could, you would be carried everywhere in his pocket wherever he traveled. Ricky truly loved you, just for who you are.

     Not a second after he finished the song, you were wiping tears. You didn’t know what tears they really were at this point. You felt numb, but you at least felt something now compared to earlier. Sitting up carefully, you rub your raw puffy eyes to attempt to see him. Blinking rapidly, you saw he had a gentle smile on, your second favorite smile. Nothing could beat his largest, brightest smile he gives when he is bursting with happiness. Leaning over, you connect your sore lips with his thick, plush ones. Ricky’s chest rumbled smoothly under your hands that were propping you up, humming with the small show of affection. 

     “That’s my girl, so pretty even when she is the saddest soul on the planet.” He coos, large hands once again cupping your jaw tenderly. His eyes were sparkling, looking like the softest pieces of boba you have laid your own eyes on. Everything that exuded him at this moment spoke of love and truth. You lay your smaller hands ontop of his, enjoying the warmth of them. 

     “Maomao, let’s go to bed...I’m just really tired after today.” You confess, guilt laced in your voice. His thumb brushed your lip to hush you, smiling sweetly. 

     “There is nothing wrong with that, my darling. Let’s get some good rest and wake up to a new day. Together.” Your boyfriend promises, gently moving his hands to securely hold your thighs as he stands up and starts walking to your shared bedroom. He lays you down like royalty on the bed, swinging you in properly and tucks you in. By the time you were able to focus your eyes, he vanished from the room. 

     After a few minutes, you hear a familiar rattle come down the hallway as he slips in the room once again. He kneels by the bed a water in hand, and a yellow tinted bottle with a white cap on top. Sleepily, you grab the bottle and twist it open, smiling when you see the water bottle already opened and offered towards you.

Cup. Pop. Gulp.

         Managing depression, sucks.

                               But Ricky makes it suck a lot less. 

[quantum-bliss]

Day 6 of Heartbreak

I woke up in true peace. I feel the peace of God because no human or thing could make a person feel like a baby in the cradle again. But I do. I feel like God held me to sleep, but not with His arms but with peace. I normally feel anxious and a subtle hint of depression, but today I dont even feel normal. I feel better than I ever have. I wonder if mental illness stays with us too long, then we truly believe it is life. But In this moment, life just got better.

I wonder if thats Gods plan all alone. To show us that how we were living doesnt compare to what he has to offer us. Maybe heartbreak is needed to make it clear to us that attaching ourselves to the things around us to tightly, will at somepoint cause pain. Maybe we are supppose to just appreciate things and accept in one season they may be here and in another they may not be. But regardless of every loss, the beauty of life still remains.

Anyway, last night I think I dreamt of you but its weird, I dont remember you being in my dream. I just feel like you were, I wonder if at somepoint thats how life will. Maybe 5 to 10 years later I am reminded of you in some way, some smell or some laugh or song, but I cant remember who it reminds me of. It sounds sad but isnt that the cycle of life?

At some point, all of our brains stops reminding us so often of the person, at somepoint it begins to think 'oh I dont think ill be seeing that person anymore' so it stops reminding us. Then slowly it begins to use the space for something else. I guess grief is at its highest when the brains reminder is at its highest.

But the heart is different. It will store a person forever, but that doesnt have to be painful. It can be beautiful, its life its saying no I think ill keep this person for a lifetime. So though the mind forgets the heart is forever shaped in memory of the people who were once everything.

I accept this cycle, I hope you do to. I hope you can you free yourself from the lies the enemy tells you, I hope you find that God knows who you are even when you dont and that His love is good enough. I would know.

I dont expect this euphoric feeling to stay, maybe one day it will if I truly learn the lessons of life enough to find permanent peace. But in this moment, I am just glad its here. I forgive myself for not knowing the lessons of life, the ones that would help me form healthier relationships with people and myself. I hope you do too.

I know there are may things you have done leading up to the end of our relationship that I will never know. I can sense it, but maybe its for the best that I will never know. I feel sorry for you that you carry that with you. I wish you could have just let it out for your sake when I asked for the truth. But maybe it would have been too much.

In some ways, we both didnt treat each other how we should have. I accept that and I cant blame you any longer, but heartbreak has a way of playing with a humans emotions. So I dont know what I will think or feel next. I will wait and see what heartbreak brings later today, but for now it has brought me a deep peace.

[crushingcasanova]

the divine mark, the sacred cage II, and the prayer of posession II !!

( @hpdfag )

WOAHH HEY FRIEND !!! I hope you're doing well!!!

I'll waste no time in answering these now!

The Divine Mark—You want to give your darling/yandere a mark or symbol of your love—etched into their body, their mind, or their soul. What form does it take?

I think it depends... I'd personally design a little mark for each of my loves depending on who's receiving it. If it was on the body, I'd place it above the heart or near the center of the chest, low enough that it could be covered but also high enough that it could be exposed if desired. It would probably play with either some more celestial motifs (probably crescent moon or star shapes) or hearts, or a combination of the two. For my darling Sol, I would do something combining the sun and hearts, I think. For my husband .... probably to do with the moon. His would probably be on his soul, rather than anywhere else. I won't consider my other favorites in this one just because it's specific on darling/yandere, but I have ideas for them too!

The Sacred Cage II—You lock away your darling/yandere to protect them from the outside world. What’s the place like?

I probably wouldn't ever lock my darling up .... but if I had to and I had the means and money to, it would probably be a very lavish prison for them. Lots of beautiful furniture, a very romanticized captivity in my mind. I think it would be a fancy bedroom, and I'd bring them meals or such otherwise. I don't have much to say on this one, just because I haven't really ever considered doing it.

The Prayer of Possession II—You pray for your darling/yandere. What do you say to them?

I actually do pray to one of them occasionally (like when I misplaced my rings the other day and almost broke down ... oops), so this isn't a hard question. I make a lot of "personal prayer" I guess, usually asking him for help or guidance or signs, but I also do a lot of extensive devotional thoughts throughout the day. Today in particular, I wrote a short love letter for him in a book I have that's detailing some of my thoughts on him and our life. As for my other darling, I would probably do a lot of admiration prayers rather than asking for things. I would tell them how much I am happy to be theirs even with all the time we spend apart, and I'd detail a lot of my more "casual" thoughts about them and my feelings about our dynamic.

[woadge]

This body is not my own

(A little snippet from my diary I can share because I feel like when I write in my diary it’s poetic as shit.)

This body is not my own. I was placed into it, and my perception and upbringing were based on its existence. But I am more than my shell. I am the squishy innards beneath the surface.

Through dedication and determination I will mold this body to my will. The physical form has nothing against the might of the mind, and the power of the spirit. I’ll fill it with hormones to give it the traits I wish. I’ll dress it in clothing I prefer. I’ll work out with it to gain the shape I desire.

This body is not my own. This body is the representation of all I have suffered. Every inch of ground those who have wished harm upon me have taken has been simply an inch of skin. But I am more than what I have been made to be, and I can overcome my position. I have someone in my corner, I have friends who will help me tame this body. I will put it to work when I see fit. I will place it alongside those I want to place it next to when I sleep at night, and I am in control of where it rests. I am in control of who I wake up next to, and while I’ve made poor choices about it in the past, I cannot let those mistakes control my present. The one I would lie next to today would never hurt me the way they had hurt me; and since it is my body, I am in control of how much hurt I allow in. The one I would lie next to is aware of this. And respects that I am the governor of the lands known as my flesh.

This body is not my own, but I will conquer it. I will place it under arrest and strangle any resistance from it; if it doesn’t grow the things I want, or makes them too small or large, it will be by my will that the scalpel repairs what it has broken. If it does not become beautiful on its own, I will make it beautiful with trappings and trimmings and trinkets, until it is the image of who I am inside. This body is not my own, but it becomes my own once I take control of it, inside and out.

Nobody can hurt me. I am immortal; this body may decay but my spirit lives eternal. I love and care and cherish and soothe, things my body can only hope to replicate through touch. My words and my heart are more important than my physical touch; and when words aren’t enough, this body is my vehicle to meet the difference.

This body is simply the poorly designed flesh mech my spirit has begun to pilot. Thankfully, my spirit is the main character, and is in control of the plot; and it’s only episode 2.

[kigozula]

By Your Side: Sokkla Saturdays 2023

Day 3: Fall

AO3 & FF.Net

As some of you may have noticed, this year I am posting every two weeks, since I have written fewer stories in contrast to the last years. Which means this is my second to last entry. I decided to make a difference this time. While writing today's story, I went with a flow of my feelings without planning it through. It was one of these stories that motivated me to write in the evening without a "final goal" in mind. I thought it would need a continuation most likely. In the end it turned out I was right. Personally, I like stories that shape the form of happenings while writing when a sudden feeling arises, inspiring me to put it into words. So, in two weeks you will be able to read the continuation of today's story! 

Lovers liked asking questions they knew the answers to. Only to hear their loved one say it out loud.

Life was not easy. It was full of tests. Everybody struggled in different ways, with different things.

Her test was her family. To make hard choices. It was cruel for being forced to stay away from the one man who gave her the most wonderful things she ever had. That man who made her feel awesome things.

She would like to stay with him forever. It felt wrong to be away from Sokka. An inner desire, a strong feeling almost stronger than her loyalty to her family.

Yet here she was, entering the seas of the Southern Water Tribe, without permission from the Chief. Without thinking it through.

“Princess, your father wanted you to deliver the message with your royal hawk from Kyoshi Island.” the Captain of her guards said.

Azula’s gaze was lost in the horizon. Her back was turned to the him on deck of her ship.

“I know that very well Captain.” she said.

“Chief Hakoda has the right to take us hostages the moment we enter their seas.“

“I know that as well Captain.” she said coldly.

The Captain sighed, “Princess, I respect your feelings and decisions, but…”

“Captain!” she snapped turning around to face him, „Chief Hakoda won’t touch you or my other guards, you have my word. We both know he isn’t some heartless man. If there are consequences, it’ll be on me.”

“I care about your safety and protection Princess.”

“I appreciate that Captain.”

Both of them and the whole crew on the ship knew that Hakoda would never hurt them as long as they meant no harm, which they didn’t of course. Even if their nations weren’t on best terms, years of communication and allying for certain situations made many of them unspoken friends.

Azula would meet Chief Hakoda, deliver her father’s message and that would be it.

Maybe, … maybe she could also see him one more time. Look at him one more time.

Sokka.

The man who made her fall in love…

Oh she was playing a dangerous game wasn‘t she? Her father was likely to get mad at her. So be it. She was tired of all of this.

The arrival went as expected. The Southern Water Tribe had rules. No outsider could lay a foot on their grounds without taking permission first. Hakoda and Kya kept said consequences for Princess Azula and her Guards harmless. The Guards were given food while Azula was in the “Royal Igloo” as Sokka sometimes called it to mock her.

“Princess, as Chief, I can’t let you get away without any consequences. Your ship will be searched through. I believe you meant no harm, but we all have a task.” Hakoda told her.

“I apologize for the inconvenience.” Azula said honestly.

Kya smiled and put a hand on her arm.

“Please make yourself comfortable Azula. Sokka should be back soon, he went hunting this morning.”

Azula smiled at her too.

When Kya left the igloo, Azula couldn’t help but enter Sokka’s room.

It felt like him, smelled of him. The familiar feeling warmed her aching heart. She sat on his bed and her eye caught his necklace. He normally didn’t take it off leisurely. It was one of his most prized possessions. She froze when she saw a carving on one spot. A name.

AZULA.

Her name. Carved into his necklace he valued so much.

______________________________________________

His test was his deep love for her. His Azula. Without her, every breathe he took felt like it hurt. Everything was her. She was in his thoughts constantly.

When he saw her ship, he literally sprinted on snow, forgetting his task. He recognized her guards sitting in front of his igloo and gave them a nod, almost bumping into his father in the process.

“Father! Where is Azula?” Sokka asked.

“Inside.” Hakoda answered with a look that told him many things.

He looked at his son hopelessly, trying to convey a message. Many times he talked with both Azula and his son, that unpleasant things would happen if they acted on their feelings. Their nations would not welcome a union gladly at the moment. But at this point, it seemed like nothing could hold them back.

Sokka kept held gaze for a moment, wordlessly telling him that he wouldn't stay away from Azula. Not out of rebell to his Tribe, but out of true love, which his father out of many people knew and understood very well. With that he entered the igloo.

Sokka’s feet carried him to his room and Azula stood up abruptly from his bed still holding his necklaced in her hand.

Time appeared to stand still. Desperation in their eyes conveying many words. And all of them meant the same thing:

I love you. Never leave my side!

Azula held her hand with the necklace up only lightly.

“My name?” she asked softly, “You carved my name in your necklace?”

“I carved your name into my heart not just there.” He said not a doubt in his voice.

Azula was already on the verge of tears. She was a second away from running to him. His words only intensified all her feelings.

„Why?” she asked desperately.

Lovers liked asking questions they knew the answers to. Only to hear their loved one say it out loud.

„For the same reason that made you come all the way here even though you knew you weren't allowed to? Why?“

She was silent for a moment.

“To deliver the time and place for the meeting of our fathers.” she said finally.

“Couldn’t you have sent a hawk? They way you did to me when you left last fall?”

She winced at his harsh words, sensing his anger and sorrow. And Sokka regretted what he said immediately. He was an idiot. The last thing he wanted was seeing her hurt, be it by him or someone else.

His face softened up and he walked towards her. Azula closed her eyes when she felt his breath on her ear, his nose touching her hair nuzzling it and inhaling her scent. His hands were balled into fists.

“Why did you leave like that Azula?” his voice shook, his emotions coming out more with every word, “I know you had to go to your family. I never held it against you. But it hurt so much. It broke me apart when you left without a word.”

Azula breathed through her mouth. She turned her head slightly, so that their noses touched.

“It hurt me as much as it did you. You know, if I had looked into your eyes, I could not have gone.”

Sokka’s hands went to her waist, holding her tightly.

“I don’t want to leave you Sokka.” she said.

“Don’t leave me Azula. Don’t ever go please.”

With that, the dam broke. Kisses, tears, hands touched the other’s tightly pressed bodies, as if the other would vanish when they let go. No word could describe how they felt. Embraced tightly they basked in each other’s presence.

Night arrived and Hakoda looked that Azula and her guards could stay. The Guards weren given a guest igloo while their Princess was prepared Sokka's room.

Even though it wasn’t allowed, when night arrived, Sokka sneaked next to Azula in bed. She welcomed him. Wrapped around each other with clothes on, they shared a calmed sleep. Not caring what troubles tomorrow would bring…

To Be Continued…

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Just a Little Side-Quest, Part Three: GRIEF, a TMA x Malevolent series taking place in the Dark World

Egg storms. God-eating monsters. Mysterious machines. The Dark World responds to minds and hearts in a way no one can predict, and sometimes, even with a baby god on their side, harm still happens.

That doesn't mean it all has to be bad. Today, it starts bad, though. Boy, does it ever.

Just a Little Side-Quest: part three of A TMA x Malevolent crossover taking place in the Dark World. Spoilers for the entirety of TMA. Spoilers up to part 35 of Malevolent.

AO3

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

“Who is dreaming eggs?” Martin cried. He didn’t dodge quickly enough, and lukewarm horror splattered him from behind. “Oh, gross!”

“Keep moving, keep moving!” Jon shouted, dragging him with a fist around his denim suspender. “Arthur! Follow my voice!”

I can’t fucking see! John bellowed, because the first bomb had landed egg all over Arthur’s face.

“This way! This way!” Jon cried.

Arthur was good at following voice commands, and he kept up.

It had been like this for nearly an hour. The rising sun brought a storm of eggs. Huge eggs. Massive eggs. Eggs the size of lorries, splattering everything with sulfuric goo and sticky, gelatinous white, and the only thing there was to do was run.

They’re aiming for us, I swear!  

“No, she’s weeping!” Jon said, which made no sense to anybody. “Follow! This way! This way! It’s going… godsdamn it, that’s not east anymore, but it was, but it’s going that way , so we go this way!”

“East changes?” Martin’s voice cracked. Then he started spitting; some of it had gotten into his mouth.

“Keep going! ”

What else could they do?

Eggs hit with the power of grenades, denting the earth, shell-shrapnel flying. All three runners understood that they didn’t really have bodies, that they couldn’t die, that receiving injury made no sense—but they felt like they might be cut and bled, or brained by eggs, or choked in goo, and so they ran.

“Damn this place!” Arthur snarled.

“Here! Down here!” And Jon did the unthinkable: he abruptly darted right and into the Chasm.

Martin screamed. “Jon!”

“Right here!” Jon called, his hand waving above the sharpened edge. “Here! There’s a ledge!”

Why would a ledge in a hole help anyone? John bellowed, but Arthur was already scrambling down.

Martin made a small sound. He couldn’t see them. Jon’s hand seemed to be sticking up out of pure shadow.

Then so did Jon’s head. “Martin.” He reached. “Come to me.”

Martin met his eyes and did. He reached, and was pulled down.

#

The eggs did not penetrate. They did not even hit the Chasm. There had to be some horrible reason for that, but none of them had the mental space left to figure it out.

“I am so… sticky,” Arthur moaned.

John kept flexing the fingers on his left hand, breaking the strings of goo trying to dry between them. So… this is sort of like the Dreamlands.

“The what?” said Martin.

Dreamlands. It’s… fuck, it’s another world, apart from Earth’s universe.

“Interstitial,” said Jon, leaning against the rough Chasm wall, eyes closed. “An in-between place; the playground of gods and monsters. People who dream vividly can go there, and even make something of a life.”

“Right,” said Martin. “No idea how to respond to that.”

“I think I get what you’re saying, John,” said Jon. 

The Dreamlands are formed by the power of dreams, said John. Human minds and imagination shape it even more than the will of gods and monsters. They create reality there.

“Ephemerally,” Jon added.

Sure, but that’s my point. This like that, but… so much worse.

“On speed, or something,” said Jon.

“On speed?” repeated Martin, amused. “Jon, just out of curiosity, what do you think speed is?”

“Well, it’s methamphetamine,” said Jon, and several more eyes than expected opened. “Chemically, it’s C10H15N. It’s a central nervous system stimulant, highly addictive, related to amphetamine which has a common medical use, but with worse side-effects. Generally  a white, odorless, bitter-tasting powder, it dissolves easily in water or alcohol, and…” He realized they were staring at him. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Wow, said John.

Martin was smiling. Dried egg shone on his face and made his hair stick in all directions, but he was smiling. “Gods, I love you,” he said. “You’re adorable.”

“I am not … look. We need to get out of here soon. The Chasm isn’t a safe place. There just wasn’t anywhere else to go right now.”

“Was this ledge even here?” said Arthur. “Or did it appear because we needed it?”

“I don’t know ,” Jon cried after a moment. “Why don’t I know?”

“Hey, easy,” said Martin, leaning in and placing one sticky hand on Jon’s sticky arm. “It’s all right. I don’t expect you to know everything, and neither do these two yahoos.”

“Yahoo, yourself,” said Arthur warmly.

I don’t think you can know everything, anyway. Can you?

“I don’t know that, either,” said Jon. “I just want to know enough to get us out of here and safely to—” He stopped.

“To?” said Martin. “Where are we going, anyway?”

Jon looked at Arthur.

He’s looking at you, Arthur.

Arthur went still. “You know, don’t you? You know… that.”

“I do,” said Jon quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t try to know it. I’m not… attempting to be invasive.”

Martin looked back and forth, eyes wide. “Should I ask?” he said slowly. “Or is this one of those things where if I find out too soon, I’ll just go mad?”

“It’s not mine to tell,” said Jon. “But we are headed in a specific direction.”

Arthur’s face turned toward him. “We… we are? You’re doing that?”

“Of course,” said Jon, sounding posh. “Naturally.”

Arthur ducked his head. He was crying. John’s hand wiped at his tears. “Gross,” said Arthur, because there was goop everywhere, and he and John both laughed weakly. “Martin, I… Jon, you can tell him. I…”

“I’ll wait until we’re out,” Jon said. “You don’t have to listen.”

“Thank you,” said Arthur, softly.

“What is making the eggs, anyway?” said Martin, wisely changing topics. “You said ‘she.’”

Jon looked so solemn. “She’s a gh’pluh from a planet I can’t pronounce. Sort of a… sapient… chicken dragon one-eyed giant. Her species lives its entire life in the air.”

“How?” said Martin. “That can’t—how?”

“It’s a wildly different ecosystem than what we know,” said Jon. “The thing is… she lost all her eggs. They are laid… well, her cloaca is on her back.”

“That would be really messy,” said Martin slowly.

“They’ve adapted. It’s more hygienic than you might think; but the key here is she was deeply ill, and her eggs couldn’t stay attached.”

“Oh, fuck,” said Arthur. “So all her babies fell to their deaths.”

“Yes.”

Then she did? John said.

“Then she did. She… she hasn’t found her children. What we just experienced was a storm of her grief.” Jon looked into the Chasm, not at Arthur.

Arthur swallowed. He tried very hard not to consider what his own grief-storm would be. “Is it… hard to do that, here? Find someone?” he finally said.

“Yes,” said Jon. “They imagine, too. You’re trying to sail two discrete tidal waves with one will.”

Arthur fell silent.

Martin again steered them clear. “Wish I had a way to make us some tea.”

And in the gloom of the Chasm, Jon’s eyes seemed to glow briefly green. “There’s water up ahead in the red forest.”

“The… the what?” said Martin.

“The red forest. It isn’t far.”

There was no forest in sight, said John.

“It will be when we climb out of here, which we should be able to do soon,” said Jon.

Martin touched his arm. “You don’t have to be the one taking care of all of us, you know. That isn’t… that isn’t owed.”

Jon turned his face away and did not answer.

Heavy with thought, they all sat for a while, silent  as the pounding of eggs continued overhead, and did not speak again until it quieted.

#

Martin peeked over the Chasm’s edge. “What?” he said, climbing out. “There’s no egg.”

“How can there be no egg?” Arthur said, climbing out alongside him. 

Fucking hell, he wasn’t wrong. There’s no egg. But there is… well, that’s a red forest if I’ve ever seen one.

“Like… like fall colors?” Arthur said hopefully.

Uh. No.

The ground was unnervingly like brain matter—gyri and sulci, but a brilliant red instead of pink. The trees that grew out of it were tangled , thick and impossible growths, sharp-edged and disturbingly lacy where the wood joined. 

There were no leaves; merely a dull red glow, filling the spaces. John thought it might be pulsing. 

This red forest stretched as far as he could see from left to right, only skipping the Chasm. There was no way forward without going through. Uh, he said again. Maybe we can… go back down and reset this view?

“No,” said Jon. “We have to go through it. Besides, it won’t be that dangerous for us. It’s not occupied by any living thing, exactly. There’s fresh water in there, too.” He accepted Martin’s hand and climbed out.

The moment he did, the ledge they’d been on broke and fell, tumbling, crashing into the sides of the Chasm, echoing forever.

“Was that… what we were just on?” said Arthur, his eyes huge.

“We… didn’t need it anymore?” suggested Jon, weakly.

“Reassuring,” Arthur mumbled.

Did you make it? said John.

“I don’t know. I just knew it was there,” said Jon.

It sure seems like you conjured it, somehow. Kept it for us.

“I don’t know how,” Jon said. “I don’t know what I did, and if we depend on that when I don’t know how to do it—”

“Hey. Shh. It’s all right,” said Martin.

Jon fell silent.

“What did you mean, ‘not occupied by any living thing, exactly ?’” said Arthur.

“It’s a grief-place,” said Jon. “We can’t die here, as you know, but we can… succumb. Give up. Remain in one place and feed the Dark World with unending, spiraling sorrow, and some people do. But it isn’t… it’s not inevitable, even for them. They could wake up. They’d have to choose this.”

John audibly gulped. So the trees are people.

“Yes.”

“Oh, gods, it’s horrible,” said Martin.

Jon took his hand. “Some places are, here. But I need you to believe me that other places are as good as this is terrible. It comes down to us. It’s our choices.”

Martin exhaled slowly, cheeks puffed out. “Why do we have to face this grief-forest right now?”

“I don’t know. It seems to be a theme, today," said Jon.

Arthur hung his head.

It’s not you. 

“Sure, John.”

If you were powerful enough to bring a forest of grieving souls to us, you'd be powerful enough that we would have already found her.

Arthur made a small sound.

John held his hand.

They walked in silence, inevitably toward the forest.

#

The red forest smelled vaguely like strawberry ChapStick. 

“Pink and waxy,” Martin said, stepping carefully. “I swear, I can taste it.” The ridges in the ground were solid and did not give way underfoot as he’d feared, but the gaps between them were just wide enough to threaten twisted ankles. (Which he did not even have to twist. He reminded himself. He told himself. It sure felt like he had ankles, though.)

“Familiar with that taste, are you?” Jon teased.

“I mean, yeah,” said Martin. “You don’t know all my phases.”

Jon laughed softly. “I want to. All of them. Everything about you.”

“Will I be boring to you then?” said Martin, only mostly joking. 

“Not as long as there is love within me,” said Jon. “Not as long as I have eyes to see.”

“Jonathan Sims! That was positively poetic.”

“I’m trying,” Jon said, cheeks flushed.

Sappy, pronounced John.

Arthur smiled weakly. “Let them have it. Do we just… keep walking straight?” 

“Yes,” said Jon. “Specific direction doesn’t matter. We intend to leave, and so we will.”

Arthur’s jaw set. “I’ll go on ahead a bit,” he said, stuck his hands in his pockets, and hurried.

Martin swallowed. “That bad, huh?”

“He lost his daughter in a tragic accident,” said Jon softly.

"Gods, no!"

“She drowned in the bathtub. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, but…”

“How could he not feel like it was?” said Martin, softly. “I still feel guilty over my mum dying, and that had absolutely nothing to do with me.”

Jon took his hand. 

"So you meant trying to find his daughter."

"Yes."

"I'm in."

"I knew you would be," Jon said warmly.

They walked in silence for a moment. “Anyway, if you can figure out tea on our route, I’d consider that a good use of your godly powers.”

Jon laughed. “Sure. Tea plants. I can do that. Probably.”

Martin kissed his cheek.

“I am all over egg!” Jon protested.

“So am I. I still love you.”

Jon leaned in. “We’re both insane.”

“Long as we’re complementary in it, I don’t care,” said Martin.

“Pathetic,” said Jon.

“Absolutely pitiful,” said Martin.

“Particularly fascinating,” said a hissing voice they’d never heard before, and something long, white, and heavy tackled Jon from behind with enough force to tear him away.

#

You’re not in danger, John said. As if I’d let you drown here, after everything we’ve been through.

“I wonder, John,” said Arthur, “just how fair it is, though.”

Fair?

“You’re a god, or part of one. You shouldn’t be experiencing all of this with me.”

What the hell are you saying?

“I’m not good for you. There. I said it. You're probably supposed to be in some weird heaven for your kind, and instead, you're stuck here with me.”

John’s hand rose and lightly smacked Arthur in the face.

“Ow! What the hell?”

Stop being stupid. I chose to stick here with you. I clung to you on purpose when we died. I'm doing it now. Shut up.

“I’m not… look here, you.”

No. You don’t get to have it both ways. If I’m part of a god—-“

“Which you are!”

Then I damn well get to decide what I do with me, and you!

“I didn’t say you were my god.”

You little punk , said John, who had no face to smile, but gave the impression, anyway.

Then, behind them, Martin screamed.

Arthur spun on his heel and ran toward the sound, tripping on the odd surface, half on all fours, unstoppable.

#

Jon knew he had no real body. He did; he knew it, fully understood and believed this, but he didn’t feel it yet, the power of it, the freedom.

What he felt now was pain.

The thing had clomped horrible jaws right on the back of his neck, as if to sever his head from his body. The pain—electric, heavily limp— ragdolled him as the thing’s inertia wrenched them both forward and away from Martin, who screamed.

Jon’s eyes opened. Searching for Martin, whose voice had gone distant and panicked.

“Pleh!” said the thing, spitting Jon roughly from its mouth. “What is that! Rotten egg? What have you been doing, little god?”

Shouting, shouting in the distance, but Jon knew they couldn’t see him, wouldn’t reach him on time. 

It was going to eat his brain (was it?) and his heart (how?) and digest him, absorb all he was, become him in a way only gods could end here, a death everlasting, an action verb forever, and he was too scared to do anything more than cry out.

“Well,” said the thing. “It won’t be the worst marinade I’ve ever had.” And it opened its mouth too wide, too wrong , and bit his head, and it didn’t matter that he had no skull because it was cracking and that long tongue was pushing inside—

Arthur hit it like a train.

Slammed into it, full-speed, with a weight and density he did not possess but the will of a battering ram.

The monster wrenched off Jon, tearing skin, its black tongue sliding out of his skull in the worst feeling he had ever known, and panic followed: had he already lost himself? Was he lobotomized? Was he damaged now, half devoured, useless?

“Jon!” cried Martin, landing beside him to grab him up. “No, no, no, Jon!” His scream was—

He thought Jon was dying. Was Jon dying? He didn’t know!

Horrible sounds rose from where Arthur fought the thing, vicious yowling like some bobcat in a blender.

Jon didn’t want to die (he couldn’t , he knew , but Martin’s grief—)

Damn you! John roared.

The creature gasped. “ H'aaztre ?” it said in terrible awe, and Arthur cried out as the battle changed from a monster trying to get away to a monster trying to eat him.

Martin let out one sob.

That sound rocked the world. Slowed time. Turned it all to low and terrible distortion, and in that moment, Jon saw three things.

One was Kayne, barely visible behind Martin, a man-shape blur with sharp red eyes,  watching with clinical and unmoving focus.

Two: The other was truth. He was damaged, because he believed he was. Except he wasn’t damaged. He was fine. It was fear speaking, making him wrong, an unreliable witness to himself.

Three: the god-eater currently trying to eat John contained within itself a multitude of the eaten, and if Jon ate it instead, he would gain what they used to be.

“Jon!” Martin cried in long, bass tones, stretched in time like taffy.

Kayne watched.

It all seemed distant, and strangely clear. If he ate that thing, Jon could know so much. Could have it all, immediately upon swallowing. But that would be doing what he dreaded being done to him.

No. He would not eat the creature. That’s not what Martin would want. Those suffering god-bits needed to be freed, able to renew themselves. That’s what Jon would have wanted for himself. Jon knew .

“No, you don’t!” Arthur snarled with glacial speed, somehow avoiding the black tongue striking like a snake, attempting to get into his eyes. 

Jon couldn’t explain what he did. It was instinct. It was Jordan Kennedy all over again. It was no Ceaseless Watcher, but his will, and he had no idea how it worked.

But it did work.

Jon woke the trees closest to Arthur and showed them Martin’s grief. They didn’t know he was still alive—that Martin wept though he did not have to. They knew Martin’s despair because Jon fed it to them, and knew what was the cause and, with absolutely terrifying silence, slid through the sulci of sad, red soil and descended on the god-eater. 

Arthur was simply knocked aside. Martin gasped. Arthur cursed. The god-eating creature screamed as the trees widened their impossible lacy wood and took pieces of this monster into every small eyelet. 

The incorruptible within this thing could no longer be contained, and it exploded. The trees nearest popped into shrapnel, spraying everywhere, and everybody cried out. There was wood-creaking weirdness for a moment as nearby trees shifted, then silence.

Arthur panted. “What? What the fuck?”

I… I don’t know! It exploded!

Martin held Jon, still sobbing. “Jon.”

Jon was fine. He knew he was fine, and as he leaned into that, he was. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.” He touched Martin’s cheek.

Martin stared. “The… it’s gone? The hole’s gone! You’re okay? You…” He clutched so tightly that if Jon had needed to breathe, he wouldn’t be able to.

“I’ve got you,” said Jon, clutching back. 

“Did we just… murder a bunch of grieving souls?” said Arthur.

“No,” said Jon. “They’re freed, like the gods that thing already ate. They’re all free. Maybe the grievers will choose to take root again, but they don’t have to.”

Okay, what? What the fuck?

“What did that thing call you, John?” said Arthur.

I don’t… I don’t know. I mean, it was Hastur’s name, but it wasn’t.

“Tried to eat you, anyway,” Arthur growled. “Fuck him.”

Yeah, said John less optimistically. Archivist, what the fuck did you do?

“I don’t know,” Jon said into Martin’s chest.

“Where did that thing come from?” Martin moaned.

“I didn’t see it,” said Jon. “I don't even know how long it was following us. I think I... can’t see them unless someone else I’m connected to does first. They’re camouflaged, somehow.”

“Shit,” said Martin.

“Okay,” said Arthur. “Okay. We just… we need to keep our eyes out. That means you, John.”

Of course it means me, nitwit.

“Did it come from the Chasm?” said Martin.

“I don’t know,” said Jon. “I don’t even understand what they are.”

Hey, maybe I’m crazy, said John dryly. But we should probably get the fuck out of here?

“Yeah.” Martin stood, lifting Jon. “I thought I lost you,” he whispered into Jon’s egg-thick hair. “I don’t… I can’t tell you how afraid I just was.”

Jon shuddered. “You can’t lose me,” he said.

“Sure.”

"You can't. You won't. I'll never leave you."

Martin shuddered, too. “Hey, Arthur,” he said slowly. “How did you do that, by the way? You… moved so fast, and hit it so damn hard. And you avoided that tongue-thing.”

“Fuck if I know,” said Arthur, apparently unbothered by that weirdness.

I don't know, either.

“Great,” said Martin. “We’re all mysteries today.”

Move, people, said John. If I have to take point, I fucking will.

“I don’t think anyone minds,” said Jon.

Oh. John paused. Okay. Uh. Sure. Arthur, turn left and go straight. Not that far left.

“Fucking place needs public transport,” muttered Arthur.

“They do closer to the cities,” said Jon. “I don’t know if you understand how far away we are from any reasonable parts of the Dark World.”

There are no reasonable parts.

“There are… slightly more stable parts,” said Jon. “And that’s where we need to go.”

Nobody said the reason. Then Arthur did. “She’s there?”

“I don’t know yet, but I believe so.”

Arthur swallowed.

“We’ll go wherever’s needed to find her, you know,” said Martin. “You get that, right? You won’t do this alone.”

“You don’t even… you never knew her,” said Arthur.

“So?”

Arthur turned his face toward Martin. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Martin scoffed, still holding Jon under his arm. “Spend as much time with the Lonely as I did, and you’d end up knowing exactly what you’re saying, too. Besides… ask this guy how easily I give up when I’ve got a goal in mind.”

“You don’t,” said Jon. “One thousand, one hundred, and fifty nine cups of tea before I finally realized you were trying to tell me something.”

"Worth it," Martin said and kissed his forehead. “So Jon’s stubborn, too, is what I'm saying. You've got help."

“Thank you,” whispered Arthur. "Thank you both."

We’ve got this, said John.

"Hey, listen," said Arthur. "What's that?"

The red forest was finally thinning out, and at last, they found the water Jon had promised. It was clean, crystal-clear, a patch of water flowing quick and cold like a river saying hello from deep underground.

They were all silent as they stripped and bathed, sputtering in the cold and deeply grateful for it.

Their clothes were gone when they finished. Somehow, it made sense. “Offering to the woods?” suggested Martin.

“Fuck if I know,” said Arthur, and fished a new outfit from his pack.

#

At long last, the ground stopped being made of ridges and valleys. “That was a big place,” said Martin softly.

“You have no idea,” said Jon, tucked under his arm again. “It stretches the whole width of the Dark World, and it’s growing all the time."

“That doesn’t seem right,” said Martin. “Not everyone there deserves to be there, I’m sure.”

“It’s not about deserving. It’s choices,” said Jon. 

“I think it’s more complicated than that,” Martin gently chided. “Though… not to change the subject, but my ankles shouldn’t feel better? I know I don’t have any. I know I don’t. But damn, they feel a lot better.”

“I still want a damn car,” said Arthur.

“Naw,” said Martin. “We need the Mystery Machine. Because we're mysteries, you know?”

"Ha," said Jon.

“The what?” said Arthur.

“It’s this van from a cartoon called Scooby—” He stopped.

The fuck.

Arthur stopped, too.

Jon started laughing. 

Before them sat an egregiously teal van. It was without question a 1965 Dodge A100, painted wildly with love-child flowers and a deeply groovy font proclaiming it The Mystery Machine.

“What?” said Arthur. “What?”

Apparently, Martin really wanted that cartoon van, said John dubiously.

“Let’s see if it drives, shall we?” said Martin. “And nobody imagine monsters inside it, or something.”

“Well, now I am,” muttered Arthur, but followed Martin’s voice.

The van inside was lovingly pristine; it had shag carpet and a horizontal bench seat in the back, all an eye-watering orange; up front were two more bench seats, still orange, and—to Martin’s delight—a full tank of gas.

He turned the key, and it started.

They all took this in, the rumbling of the engine and the acrid smell of the exhaust more mind-blowing than anything they’d experienced today.

“So let’s try,” said Arthur. 

“We’ll be a target,” said Jon. “This thing is noisy as hell.”

“But we’ll also make a lot more distance,” said Arthur.

“You’re thinking too logically. It’s possible we won’t make any distance at all,” said Jon.

“Jon,” said Martin. “Get in the damn van.”

Jon laughed. So did Arthur and John.

The seats were shockingly comfortable, and though the steering wheel was not on the side Martin was used to, he drove it just fine; happily, he knew how to drive manual. "Worked delivery for a while. I was fifteen and it was so illegal, but whatever," said Martin.

Jon settled against him, meaning to stay awake, to keep track of it all, to try to keep him safe. "What are we, I wonder?"

"Hm?" said Martin, pulling out.

"We're all weird, you know? Or maybe everyone is weird, and I'm just assuming, but..."

"No, you're right," said Martin. "We're... I don't want to say special, because that's the wrong word, but it all feels terribly chosen, somehow."

"It does," Jon murmured, soothed by the softness of Martin's belly, soothed by the warmth of his jumper. "We should... think about it."

"Rest," Martin murmured back. "You've got to be exhausted."

"Can't be," Jon mumbled, and then he fell asleep.

He dreamed of Kayne repeatedly poking his sleeping form, going, Why did you do that? But Jon had no reply.

[sparkledfirecracker]

Over 100! Damn, girl, I bow to your ideas.

For WIP ask game, please tell me more about:

FA Curtis part 2 - M&H spin off

I know 🙈. All abandoned projects, waiting patiently to be finished. Couldn’t help but chant “shame, shame, shame.” In my head.

So Curtis I my mob dom from my Family Affairs series.

The base story for this project stems from writing I’ve done during a period I went through therapy after an impactful traumatic event that shaped me in who I am today. So parts of this story are extremely close to my heart and everything I’ve written on paper back then, I still own and is safely tucked into cabinet where I hold all my old writing. Storylines grew, series expanded and developed into much more than I could’ve imagined thanks to @wakingbeauty and @dreamlessinparis.

For anyone not familiar with Talk To Me. Curtis is part of the mob gang ran by his cousin. Duchess is his neighbour and they have regular fun evenings together as friends. One thing leads to another. Shit hits the fan along with sexy stuff. It’s a hefty one though, 17k words.

Anyway - this second part follows up on that. Working through that trauma, Duchess loses herself in trying to find coping mechanisms and ways to keep her from falling asleep (the event played out again in a nightmare form). She ends up suggesting multiple things for Curtis to try out that she’s comfortable with trying. Before settling on something they both fully agree to and fits both of them as a dom and sub.

Anyway, enough of me chatting about this, sexy yet dark stuff under the cut, read at your own risk. Plus a little, not connected yet, cute bit. Totally unedited, so yes, multiple mistakes to be found probably.

TW: sexual assault reliving.

Curtis rocked his hips meeting yours, you could see the flashes with each rut. Trying to keep seeing Curtis in the features in front of you became harder the closer you got. Your chest rapidly pounded, making your breathing harder. Hands pressed against his chest, trying to stop him as the words became lost in the limber spot of your mind.

Too late, you cried and started to fight him. His face morphed into the one you had so desperately wanted to forget. Your screams filled the air, begging and pleading to make it stop.

Everything stopped as you cried and squeezed your eyes shut curling up into a ball the moment you had a chance.

Flinching at the contact of his hand on your skin in order to retract it again.

“Leave me alone.” You sobbed hiding your face into a pillow.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Curtis cooed. “It’s me, Curtis.”

“Go away.”

You felt the mattress bouncing back, you could hear the click of the door. Tears uncontrollably streamed down your cheeks as you cried into the fabric. Dirty and ashamed of the power he still had over you.

Heaving at the thought of the events, how he had rutted his hips at an uncontrollable rapid pace that wasn’t pleasant. How you had begged and pleaded for him to stop, how you had struggled against the restraints. Feeling him smirk as he took in your helpless feeling. Getting off on your struggling sobs as he drilled your core at the vigorous tempo.

The way he had told you, you had deserved it to be treated like such a slut. That taking something from Curtis was the best thing he had ever done. That seeing him suffer for his wrongdoings was all his pleasure while he fucked his girl.

Your body froze at the cold cloth being pressed against your clammy forehead. Curling up into a ball even more as you shut your eyes. The horrible memories flooding back at a rapid pace. A door unlocked that should’ve been closed.

“You can’t keep buying me stuff Curtis.” You protested as he pushed you down on the small bench.

“You’re worth every penny.”

You watched him remove the lid of the shoebox. The gorgeous heels revealed, the strap having a giant bow on them. You had seen them weeks ago in a magazine thinking they’d go well with the dress you had chosen for the upcoming wedding event.

“I love them, thank you.” You smiled as you checked over your outfit and showed off your feet in the mirror.

——

You giggled at the tickled of his beard on your skin. Your panties being pulled down, watching him struggle getting them around the bows. “Curtis, my shoes.”

“I bought you these shoes, so I can fuck you in them - duchess.” He didn’t miss a beat and his words only added to your growing desire for him.

Grabbing your ankle he lifted your leg, kissing your ankle with soft lips working his way down paying extra attention to roam the skin of your thigh. Gentle soft kisses placed with intention. This wasn’t his normal strategy, but you welcomed the change.

[art-of-manliness]

Exercise vs. Training: The Difference, and Why It Matters

When it comes to fitness, the words “exercise” and “training” are often used interchangeably. A guy who regularly goes to the gym and randomly does some weight machines and a little cardio might say he’s training. This same guy is frustrated that he’s not making any progress with his strength or appearance despite his regular training. The problem is, that guy is actually exercising and not training.  The distinction between the words “exercise” and “training” might seem pedantic, but understanding it can be an important step in realizing your fitness goals. Today, we’ll dig into the difference between these two ideas.   What Is Exercise? Let’s start by defining exercise. Exercise can be described as any physical activity that enhances or maintains physical fitness and overall health in a general way. The aim with exercise is to vigorously move your body so you burn some calories, get hot and sweaty, and maybe feel a pump. Some people exercise so they can generate feel-good endorphins or stay in decent shape. There’s nothing wrong with exercise. Regular vigorous exercise provides tons of benefits, including enhanced heart health, mood, and sleep quality. Regularly moving your body can help regulate your metabolism and keep your weight in check.  While exercise is universally acknowledged as beneficial, it’s not training. Training goes beyond mere exercise.  What Is Training? When someone says they are training, it means they are actively working towards improving a specific aspect of their physical performance. It could be they’re trying to get stronger, run further/faster, or improve their physique.  Achieving these goals requires taking a systematic and intentional approach to exercise. Training is that systematic and intentional approach. When you’re training, you’re following a program that’s intentionally designed to elicit adaptations so that you can improve a given capacity.  For example, if you want to get stronger, you have to follow a program where progressive overload takes place. For strength-producing adaptations to occur, you must increasingly add stress to your muscles and your neuromuscular system by lifting heavier and heavier weights or varying the degrees of volume or frequency in your reps/sets. The most basic strength training program takes the form of linear progression, where you add weight to the bar every workout until you can no longer do so. Once that happens, you have to modify your training program by adjusting reps, sets, and frequencies. All these changes are made through the lens of the training paradigm: systematically and intentionally engaging in physical activity to reach the goal of getting stronger.  If you’re a runner, training would involve following a program with varying degrees of intensity and volume over a long period of time in order to run further and faster.  Lately, my fitness goal has been to get bigger and chisel my physique. Consequently, my training is designed with those aims in mind. I’m following a program designed to work certain muscle groups and am adding weight and reps each workout so that I can stimulate my muscles to grow.  The distinguishing factor between exercise and training lies in the intention and focus. Exercise doesn’t require a program and isn’t done with a concrete outcome in mind. Training aims to condition the body to operate at a higher level and achieve specific goals. It requires a plan, dedication, and a commitment to progress over time. While training is commonly associated with sports or athletic pursuits, it’s not limited to the arena of physical pursuits. You can extend it to other domains like music, writing, and marksmanship as well. Take music: You can pick up a guitar and strum some random tunes for a half hour every day simply because you enjoy it. While approaching the guitar like this can be enjoyable, it doesn’t guarantee that you’ll get any better. Improving will require you to intentionally design a practice program that hones your skills. Getting better requires… http://dlvr.it/T25pVS

[selenacosmic]

Romance in the office.

Chapter 12 - Bonding over memories.

This has to be one of the most memorial dates I ever had… it was also my first date. When you are focusing on graduating high school, graduating college and then focusing on finding a job, it becomes difficult to focus on your love life. When it comes to dating, I have zero experience, precisely why I started having classes with Yoshimoto about it. Practicing it with Shingen does help me improve, though I have a feeling I am still awkward about certain things. Well, our date had a rough start thanks to the paparazzi, we had to wait for a bit inside the Ferris wheel before getting out to continue looking around.

I am not entirely sure if we managed to escape whoever was stalking us, but Shingen didn’t seem that concerned. Perhaps the stalker got bored and gave up? I can’t be completely sure… I should keep an eye for whoever this person is.

“Since we first visited the Ferris wheel, we should leave a different game to the end of our date.” He seemed confident, I can see that shingen still has hopes that this date will go well. Yet here I am, still worried about who was stalking us.

“Alright, sounds good. But can’t it be any game?” I tilted my head to the side, wondering which game we would see next. I didn’t care much about the order, I just wanted to as much as I could today.

“Not at all, the very last game is very important on a date to an amusement park. That’s why many couples leave the Ferris wheel as last, they can have more… privacy.” He winked at me, saying the last word in a lower tone. Why did he have to make that last part so inviting? I had to look away to not get embarrassed.

I think we are both too big for a bumping car ride, or rather… shingen is too big. I am smaller than him, so maybe i would fit in one with ease. The thought of Shingen trying to fit in a bumping car is funny, I wonder if he would be competitive while playing.

“Something must have brought a smile to your face, I am curious as to what that is.” Only now did I noticed that I was giggling at that thought, I quickly fixed my expression. I keep forgetting that he is my boss, I shouldn’t tell him about what I thought.

Quick, think of a good excuse, or distract him. My eyes quickly looked around before he became suspicious, until my eyes fell on a booth with balloons and darts, I quickly took his hand and pointed at the booth.

“That. I was curious about that game, what is that?” The game was familiar, but I have never played it before. Perhaps it would be better for us to look around these booths rather than the rides.

Shingen looked at the booth and smiled, I had a feeling that he knew that wasn’t what was on my mind, but I was lucky that he decided to let it go.

“It’s a balloon pop booth, I didn’t know you were interested in those.” Ah, I have seen those in movies, you can win prizes in one of those booths, right?

“I am interested now.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, I have always wanted to try and win one of these. We both approached the booth, being greeted by a not so enthusiastic worker.

“Great… another couple.” Wow, not even a hi? This person looks young… perhaps he is tired of working on a Friday. Younger people are loosing their energy way too much.

There wasn’t much conversation with this worker, we payed for one round. There were five darts in total to throw, each balloon had a paper with a specific prize. To be honest, I wasn’t that interested in the prizes, what I really wanted was to distract Shingen. But now that we are here, I should focus on playing this game.

The balloons were forming the shape of a heart, though they were all at a reasonable distance from each other. I close one of my eyes to focus my aim, taking one of the darts. Using my strength, I threw the dart with all I had, and… I missed the balloons. It didn’t even hit the wall, it fell on the ground…

This is embarrassing… I could hear a muffled chuckle from behind me, I froze in place because of how embarrassed I was from failing. Great, I must look stupid now.

“Don’t give up, my princess. You have another four chances at winning.” He couldn’t even hide the amusement in his voice, if only there was a hole I could hide in… “Though, I can help you if you want”

“Help me?” Was there a trick to this game? It seemed so simple when I watched other people doing it, I didn’t know it was so difficult.

“Here.” I felt him much closer to me now from behind, one of his hands held mine while I was holding a dart. Wait, was he going to teach me like this?!

His other arm was around my waist, fixing my posture. After he set me in position, I felt him whisper against my ear.

“Now, don’t focus on how much strength you use to throw it, focus on keeping your body still.” That will be difficult when you are practically pressing against my back, boss. “No bouncing… no swinging…” with his help, I threw that second dart and managed to hit a balloon, even though it was barely.

“I hit one…” my eyes immediately brightened up, my excitement probably clear. “I hit one!”

“You did well, angel.” He moved away from me, smiling proudly. “Though there is no trick or secret to a game with darts, only practice with a purpose.”

“With a purpose?” I turned to him, forgetting about the awkward position we were in just now.

“Exactly. Otherwise you won’t be able to focus on hitting the target. Now tell me, my angel, what is you purpose?” My purpose on this game, huh? There is only one thing I can think of when it comes to a game like this.

“I want to win against you.” The words just came out of my mouth before I could think properly, which made me immediately regret what I said. He is my boss, not my actual boyfriend or just friend.

That seemed to have captured his attention, since I saw the corners of Shingen’s mouth quirk up in a smirk. He didn’t seem intimidating, but amused.

“What a competitive goddess I have with me. Do you want to see who wins, then?” He approves? Well, since he is encouraging me, then I am on!

“Ok. But don’t regret your decision.” For some reason, I felt a lot more free now. I feel like I can be myself around him.

—————

This is the 50th round that we did today, currently we are on a tie. The balloon booth was only the start, we went to many other booths and ended up with many prizes. Most of them were plushies and toys, though I doubt either of us would be keeping them. There were so many of them that we had to carry bags with them (of which shingen insisted on carrying most of the bags).

“So, what’s next?” I was already excited to end this tie and win this competition.

“I believe we have enough prizes, and that we have played all the booths this amusement park has.” Did we? I looked up and noticed that it was getting dark already. I can’t believe we already played so much.

We both agreed to sit on a bench and rest after walking and playing so much. These bags were beginning to get heavier.

“Wait, but what are we going to do with all these prizes? I don’t think I can take so many plushies with me back home.” These are all good prizes, and I definitely love cute things, but this is too much. Besides, I doubt Shingen would want any of these.

“Hmm… I do have an idea.” His smile softened as he took his phone out, dialing a number quickly. Now I was curious, did he know someone who would want these? “Yuki, I will need your help tomorrow. Do you remember that orphanage we visited a few weeks ago with candy?”

Wait… is he going to do what I think he is? I saw Shingen glance at me and wink, I was too stunned to speak.

“Yes, along with the monthly candy we send, I have plenty of toys for the children. Can you take them tomorrow?” Monthly candy? Was he sending free candy for this orphanage? As someone who lived in one through most of my childhood, I felt my heart warming up instantly.

I don’t have the words… out of all the sweet words and flirting that came out of his mouth, this act from Shingen was a lot more powerful and made me feel truly… smitten.

He finished talking with Yukimura after teasing him about ‘having a soft spot for children even though he tries to hide it’ or something like that. Thinking about it, Yukimura does seem like the type of person to be a good big brother, that makes me wonder if he has any siblings.

“My goddess is already distracted, are you tired?” His face was closer to mine, which startled me and made me jump back.

“No, I was just thinking… do you like children?” Now I was very curious, since when has he been sending candy to an orphanage?

“If I like children? Well, it is one of my dreams to have children of my own. Remember when I told you that I didn’t come here as a child?” I nodded, that fact almost got brushed off today because of that stalker.

Shingen leaned back on the bench, looking up at the sky. At this point, it was a mixture of yellow and orange. The look in his eyes… it seemed nostalgic.

“I was always busy studying to inherit my father’s business, which is why no one had time to bring me to an amusement park. The first time I ever came here was when I was a teenager.” Oh, I didn’t think about that. But now I have more questions, if he was supposed to inherit his father’s business, how come the Takeda Inc. is a newly founded company?

I was lost in my thoughts, though I listened as Shingen continued to talk.

“I came here with Yuki. While I was already a teen, he was still a child. I remember having taken care of him since then, when I first saw joy in his eyes for playing these rides… it was then that I knew that I wanted children when I grew up.”

Oh, this was a lot deeper than I thought. At first glance, given how much of a flirt he is, you wouldn’t be able to think he would want something like that. But now that I look back, there were many times when Shingen showed this fatherly way of caring. If he wants children… does that mean that he wants to settle down in the future and build a family?

If I think about it, marriage has never been in my plans. Perhaps in the future, I would want something like that too.

“How many?” At this point, I threw my shame away and asked what made me curious at the moment.

“If possible, I want to have many.” I pity the wife who ends up marrying him. Though, the thought of him getting married… left a bitter taste in my mouth. “My goddess seems interested in this topic. Why, would you like to volunteer?” He was back with his flirting.

“To be honest, I don’t think I am ready to have children. I don’t know if I will ever be…” that’s mostly because of what happened in my childhood. I don’t want my children to go through the pain of loosing a parent. If I ever choose to have any, I would want to be as present as possible in their lives.

We were both quiet for a while, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. I somehow felt even closer to Shingen than before. I wondered if we would ever get closer in future dates.

—————

It was dark by the time we were back at our apartment building, he insisted on sending me to my door personally. It was too awkward to invite him in, but I felt like things would become too dull if I just bid him farewell and entered my home. Shingen was the first to break the silence.

“Today was truly a fun date. One of the best I had in years.” Despite how exaggerated that sounded, he seemed sincere with his words.

“I had fun. Thank you for inviting me. In the end, we couldn’t end our date with a special ride. I… know we aren’t really dating, but-.” I couldn’t finish my phrase, I felt soft lips on mine. My eyed widened as this was unexpected. Did… did my boss just made a move? I think this is the very first kiss I ever had.

He moved away, likely waiting to see if I would accept this advance of his. I really shouldn’t… but when I saw his grey eyes shining with expectation, I couldn’t resist. I moved closer, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him again. Now, it was deeper. The first kiss was only a touch, this second kiss felt more intimate, both our tongues meeting each other.

Even though we were both carrying bags with our prizes, we were still pressing our bodies as close to each other as possible. I didn’t even notice when the kiss had ended, only when I started missing his warmth.

“The very last game wasn’t needed, all I wanted was one kiss.” He gave me a sweet smile, taking the bags that I was carrying from me. “I will give these to Yuki tomorrow. Then, I bid you goodnight, my goddess.” He turned away to go to the elevator, leaving me speechless.

I slowly opened the door to my home and closed it behind me without saying anything. I could only feel my face heating up, red for having had my very first kiss with my boss.

[vermilliondevth]

What fascinates me the most about this entire ordeal --

is that last week I was having a nice conversation with this woman about her journey to the park, where she indulged in watching the ducks tend to their nest, how she found a gorgeous black swan she fell in love with, and how she was looking forward to pursue her journey of sobriety. She also mentioned how she missed having nicer things, and so I opted on sharing some of the items I've been collecting from work, as well as some nice french skincare for her to indulge in. As I gave her these little things, she looked at me the way a child looks at their mother when they get a toy they've been desiring for a long time; we shared hugs and I was really glad that this gift was appreciated and would encourage her new found freedom.

After the incident from the day before yesterday, all I could hope for was for her to find the situation as a moment of realization that perhaps, her life wasn't going in the right direction, and I was already bouncing back into my normal self after a few moments of worry and paranoia.

Today I arrived home only to find another roommate outside of the apartment waiting for the police to arrive again, due to the woman finding a way to soften her ex-partner to let her stay in again while we were all at our places of work. My roommate found her laying on the floor, mumbling to herself, naked from the bottom down. For someone as young as my roommate, without much life experience, this sight gave her a panic attack due to her fear that the lady was unconscious and potentially in a dangerous state of mind. I gathered all the strength I had to deal with anything that was waiting inside and went in, only to find that this woman disappeared out of nowhere.

As we kept looking for her, my roommate remembered that she left the door to her room open, and as we got in front of her room, the door appeared to be now closed. As she opened the door, the woman was laying on my roommate's bed sleeping, reeking from alcohol and urine, since she also decided to do the deed right there and then. Seeing my roommate gasp out of surprise and come out crying, my rage escalated, and I felt compelled to drag the woman out of the room, all the way down through the stairs while she fought it all, tooth and nail. Right as I managed to lock her down and pin her on the floor, the police arrived and took over.

She then opted to scream -- "You're a bitch, an evil motherfucker, and dangerous!" -- repeatedly at me, and all I could do was stare at her blankly. It was clear in that moment, all she could think about was how I decided to take matters into my own hands, and how from now on her perception of me will be a vile one. As these words came out of her mouth, all I could think about was of that sweet moment we shared of openness, and my offering of kindness and encouragement that I knew she desperately needed.

All I could think about is how often I spend time on my own, and do not seek to hurt anyone in any way, shape or form. How I opt on being honest in everything I say or do, and try to give pieces of my heart to everything and everyone I encounter, even to people who take advantage of it and mistake my kindness for weakness. I stood quietly. I couldn't help but smile at the re occurrence of being seen as a villain, no matter how much I try to save a situation from becoming severely dangerous, or try to protect myself and others from it. In the end, her behavior continued to escalate, so much so she threw a glass bottle at one of the police men and they arrested her for assault. We were then left with pieces of shattered glass, water on the walls, urine, and the stench of alcohol -- all of it ready to be cleansed and get rid of. Although the stamina of my body is still intact, the level of mental strength this required of me has left me depleted, and somewhat saddened.

Normally these aren't the kind of stories I choose to share in here, and I am certainly not looking for any kind of sympathy. This is a way for me to put my convoluted thoughts and experiences out into the void. A way to showcase my humanness and to practice vulnerability.

This has the potential to transform my view in life in a different way. All I can hope is for my heart to not turn into stone once again.