#healthy life sty

[cachetsmp01]

All You Need To Know About Scalp Micropigmentation

Have you ever wondered if you can make your hair look fuller without surgery or invasive treatments? Enter scalp micropigmentation (SMP), a revolutionary solution changing the game for people with hair loss. Whether you're experiencing thinning hair, receding hairlines, or bald spots, SMP might be the answer you've been searching for.

What is Scalp Micropigmentation?

Scalp micropigmentation is a non-surgical cosmetic procedure that involves the application of tiny, tattoo-like dots on the scalp. These dots mimic the appearance of hair follicles, creating the illusion of a fuller head of hair. Unlike traditional tattoos, SMP uses specialized pigments that blend seamlessly with your natural hair color, offering a realistic and natural look.

How Does Scalp Micropigmentation Work?

Curious about how scalp micropigmentation works? It's quite fascinating! The process begins with a consultation where a trained SMP practitioner assesses your scalp and discusses your desired look. During the treatment, the practitioner uses a micro-needle to deposit pigment into the upper layers of the scalp. This precise technique ensures that the pigment dots replicate the appearance of natural hair follicles.

The Procedure

Consultation and Planning: Before the procedure, you'll have a detailed consultation to discuss your goals and expectations. The practitioner will map out the treatment area and select the appropriate pigment color.

Pigmentation Sessions: Depending on the extent of the treatment, you might need multiple sessions. Each session lasts a few hours, during which the practitioner applies the pigment in tiny dots across the scalp.

Healing and Touch-Ups: After each session, your scalp will need some time to heal. You'll receive aftercare instructions to ensure optimal results. Touch-up sessions may be necessary to perfect the look and maintain the pigment over time.

Benefits of Scalp Micropigmentation

Why choose scalp micropigmentation over other hair loss solutions? Here are some compelling reasons:

Instant Results: Unlike hair transplants that take months to show results, SMP provides immediate improvement in the appearance of your hair.

Non-Invasive: No need for surgery or long recovery periods. SMP is a minimally invasive procedure with minimal discomfort.

Cost-Effective: SMP is relatively affordable and offers long-lasting results compared to hair transplants and other treatments.

Low Maintenance: Once the procedure is complete, there's little to no maintenance required. Just follow the aftercare instructions and enjoy your new look.

Who Can Benefit from Scalp Micropigmentation?

Scalp micropigmentation is versatile and can benefit a wide range of individuals. If you're dealing with any of the following, SMP might be right for you:

Male Pattern Baldness: Recreate the look of a full head of hair or a closely shaved scalp.

Thinning Hair: Add density to thinning areas, making your hair appear fuller.

Alopecia: Cover bald spots caused by alopecia or other medical conditions.

Scarring: Camouflage scars from previous hair transplants or injuries.

Scalp Micropigmentation vs. Other Hair Loss Treatments

When it comes to hair loss treatments, you have several options. So, how does scalp micropigmentation stack up against the rest?

SMP vs. Hair Transplants

Hair transplants involve surgically moving hair follicles from one part of your scalp to another. While effective, transplants can be expensive and require a lengthy recovery period. Scalp micropigmentation, on the other hand, is non-surgical and provides instant results.

SMP vs. Topical Treatments

Topical treatments like minoxidil can promote hair growth but require continuous use and may not work for everyone. SMP offers a permanent solution without the need for ongoing applications.

SMP vs. Wigs and Hairpieces

Wigs and hairpieces can provide an immediate fix but often come with maintenance challenges and the risk of them slipping or looking unnatural. Scalp micropigmentation offers a more natural, worry-free alternative.

The Procedure: What to Expect

So, what exactly happens during a scalp micropigmentation session? Let's break it down:

Preparation

Before your first session, you'll need to prepare your scalp. This might involve shaving your head, especially if you're aiming for a closely cropped look. Follow any specific instructions provided by your practitioner.

The Treatment

Each session begins with the practitioner mapping out the treatment area. They'll use a micro-needle to apply the pigment in tiny dots across your scalp. The process can take a few hours, depending on the size of the area being treated.

Post-Treatment Care

After each session, you'll need to follow some aftercare guidelines to ensure optimal healing and results. This includes avoiding excessive sweating, direct sunlight, and swimming for a few days. Your practitioner will provide detailed aftercare instructions.

The Importance of Choosing a Skilled Practitioner

When considering scalp micropigmentation, choosing a skilled and experienced practitioner is crucial. Here's why:

Precision: The success of SMP lies in the precision of the pigment application. An experienced practitioner will ensure that the dots are evenly spaced and natural-looking.

Color Matching: A skilled practitioner will expertly match the pigment to your natural hair color, ensuring a seamless blend.

Safety: An experienced practitioner follows strict hygiene protocols, minimizing the risk of infection or complications.

Long-Term Care and Maintenance: One of the best things about scalp micropigmentation is its low maintenance. However, to keep your new look fresh, consider the following tips:

Sun Protection: Prolonged exposure to the sun can fade the pigment. Use sunscreen or wear a hat when spending time outdoors.

Moisturize: Keep your scalp moisturized to prevent dryness and flaking.

Touch-Ups: Over time, you might need touch-up sessions to maintain the vibrancy of the pigment.

The Future of Scalp Micropigmentation

As the popularity of scalp micropigmentation continues to grow, so does the innovation within the field. Advances in pigment technology, application techniques, and equipment make the procedure even more effective and accessible. Staying informed about these developments can help you make the best decision for your hair loss needs.

Conclusion

Scalp micropigmentation is a game-changer for anyone dealing with hair loss. It's a versatile, non-invasive, and cost-effective solution that provides immediate and natural-looking results. Whether you're battling male pattern baldness, thinning hair, or scarring, cachet SMP offers a reliable way to restore confidence and achieve the appearance of fuller hair.

[ghostwise]

Matacuervos, ch. 4 - La joya Hamal and Zevran find a lead in the brothels of Rialto, but will they manage to investigate it in time? Read update on AO3 - Read from the beginning on AO3

“Philanthropists,” the woman said with a flourish, and she snapped her fan shut in distaste.

It was hot in the basement of the brothel, La espina dorsal , and the thick and heavy scent of bodies permeated the room. The heat was making her make-up drip off, which was quite a sight to see amidst a backdrop of entwined lovers.

“Philanderers, more like,” she continued. “They claim it’s all worth it if the babes end up cared for. That a Chantry cloister will protect them better than here.”

“You doubt it?” Zevran asked.

She scoffed.

“Not without reason,” she said. “But… if they are so charitable why not come for the orphans sooner? Why wait years between visits? Why not take every child in need, not just the healthy ones?” Bitterness laced her voice, sending a shiver down Zevran’s spine. “All I know is, the day my friends were taken was the day I decided I was done with the Maker. Perhaps you can ask the Chantry why they don’t help all of us; why a bum leg makes a six year old girl unfit to serve Andraste, but fit enough to stay in this sty.”

Zevran glanced at Hamal, sharing the same grim thought. Rocio’s mangled leg would have been a death sentence for a young Crow recruit. And yet, leaving her behind was no mercy.

Zevran shifted closer, asking his next question with great care.

“It seems your friends were taken around the time frame we are investigating. Do you recall anything else about the day they left?”

A lengthy pause followed. Her eyes briefly seemed to focus elsewhere, before she answered. “No. I’m sorry. They didn’t leave any information. Just said I wouldn’t be a good fit where they were going.”

“Thank you for your time,” Zevran said when they had finished talking. “And your lovely company.”

“Didn’t even do nothing!” Rocio chuckled, taking the money. “But alright. See you ‘round.”

Stepping out of the brothel, Zevran couldn’t help but feel as stifled as he had indoors.

The sun bore down like a dagger. They’d spent all day searching for leads, visiting brothels and orphanages across the city with the same story: that they were tracking down a long-lost relative.

It was not entirely a lie. Zevran felt a genuine kinship with the workers of Rialto’s brothels; they had raised him, after all, and just like anyone else in the city, they sought only to make a living, to raise enough coin to build a life. But they had few protections when things went wrong. A single misfortune—a death, an illness, or an arrest—was all it took. When children were involved, it spelled grim consequences.

They had yet to find any tangible evidence, but many of the brothels had reported curiously similar anecdotes: a generous donor, a charitable organization, or an anonymous do-gooder who arrived to adopt the forgotten children. The offer would come with uncanny timing, often just when it was needed most. And who could argue against one less mouth to feed?

No records, no documentation of where they’d go. It was easy for the city to look the other way, for these were orphans or bastards or both. And so they were taken, no questions asked.

It made Zevran’s blood boil.

He sulked in a bad mood the entire way back to the cheap sawdust inn they’d paid double what the humans paid to lodge at. He persisted in a sour mood through dinner, and even after they went to bed—only to wake Hamal in the small hours of the morning, too angry to sleep.

“I do not think it was the Chantry that came for those children ten years ago,” Zevran hissed. “Or perhaps I don’t want to believe it… and yet, Sister Tristeza spoke of this allegiance between the Crows and the Chantry. How deeply does it run? I am a devout man—even I’ve heard rumours that one bore the other long ago.”

“Which one?” Hamal asked in a sleep-tinged voice, but Zevran continued in frustration.

“Of course a girl with a mangled leg would be found unfit for the Crows. She would have died during training. But would knowing the true fate of her friends change anything? She was abandoned. She needed saving.” Here he paused, for his anger threatened to spill over.

Rocio’s fate felt intertwined with his, separated only by happenstance. Her mangled leg had saved her, but not from everything.

“Could she still need saving?” Hamal asked, and Zevran realized, by the cadence of his words, that he was half-asleep. “Could we?”

The question resonated enough to slow Zevran’s racing thoughts. He couldn’t tell whether Hamal meant could we need saving, also? or could we save her?

It felt self-aggrandizing to think they could save anyone, damned as they already were.

“I don’t fucking know,” he said at last, all too aware of his bitterness leeching out.

Hamal sighed and regarded Zevran for a long moment.

“Someone will put a stop to it,” he said finally. “The people will not allow it to continue once they realize what is happening. They will wonder why they never hear word from the adopted, and they will be wary when the next Crow recruiter comes.”

“With any luck,” Zevran said fiercely, “We’ll find him ourselves first. And put daggers in him until he tells us all we need to know.”

“Exactly.” Hamal fell back onto his pillow, like a log. “Come back to bed, vhenan .”

Zevran shook his head. Sleeplessness had claimed him already—yet he grudgingly climbed under the thin sheets with Hamal.

“I will, but I won’t sleep.”

“Keep watch then,” Hamal said, in a voice drowsy enough to curb any argument. He latched onto Zevran’s arm and then he was out like a light—leaving Zevran in awe of how quickly his husband could sleep, even in these circumstances.

.

Dawn broke over the city and fatigue had tempered Zevran’s anger for the time being. He’d managed to sleep for an hour or two before they began the day’s investigations. Fortunately he was used to running on fumes.

“How many brothels are there in Rialto?”

It was a particularly sunny morning. Hamal had pushed all of his curls into a messy bun, and shoved the whole mess beneath a wide-brimmed sombrero , but Zevran rather suspected he needed more sun protection than that. For now he led him through shaded alleyways, avoiding the crowded main streets and the direct sunlight.

“It’s a very large port city,” he responded.

“So?”

“Lots.” Zevran smiled at him. “About a dozen at least. Ah, if only we were here under better circumstances! A brothel is normally a place of good cheer and relaxation.”

“We will just have to come back when we are not tracking down slavers,” Hamal said with a smile.

“Now there’s an idea,” Zevran said, contemplating it. His thoughts briefly recalled The Pearl in Denerim. “In any case,” he continued, “one of these places is bound to have a lead. Someone, somewhere, knows something. We just need to find the right person to talk to.”

“Perhaps,” Hamal said. “We may have already found her.”

He gestured with a short motion of his head to the cobblestone road behind them. Zevran followed his gaze.

It took him a moment to recognize her without the heavy layers of make-up, and she walked in the company of another woman, but her dark curls were the same as when they’d seen her yesterday, and she carried the same light-weight aluminum cane with her. It caught the light and shone like a mirror as she swung it forward with every step.

She greeted them with the false names they had taken to using in the city. “Amrit! Hirael! My, you two are hard to track down!”

“How did you manage?” Zevran asked.

“Whores talk, you know,” Rocio laughed. “I mentioned your visit to my friend here, and I quickly learned you’d been visiting nearly every brothel this side of town. I said, Maker, he must have an appetite!”

The woman beside her offered her hand. “Elena,” she said, giving Zevran and Hamal’s a hearty shake. “I work at La joya. ”

“A pleasure,” Zevran said.

“It will be,” Rocio said. “Tell them!”

Elena waved her hand excitedly, beckoning Zevran closer, and when he was near enough, she whispered: “A man came to La joya a few days ago,” she said. “He was from some charity in Salle. A trade school for impoverished children. He said his work took him around the country—to brothels, orphanages, hospitals, you know. Places where children often wound up alone. They’d teach them to read and write, and hire them out to factories who would provide for them while they worked. Any child! The elves, the humans, even if they were mage-blooded. Sounds fishy, hm?”

Zevran took a deep breath. This was it; exactly what they’d been looking for.

“Can we find somewhere to talk?” he asked. “You can tell us what you know, and we will tell you a little more about why we are here.”

.

They came to a brick building, covered in flowers that clung to the walls in enticing greenery. La joya lived up to its name. The windows glimmered and the scent of perfume was strong, even outside. Inside, the atmosphere likened more to a spa or a fine bathhouse. This did not escape Zevran, who raised a brow, looking at Hamal.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been here,” he said.

“Can’t say I’ve ever worked here,” Rocio sighed. She rubbed her hip with a grimace as they walked on.

They were greeted by several guests as they went. More than once, Elena kissed a patron on the cheek, shook hands, or embraced them with a cheerful, “Lovely to see you! But it’s my day off, darling. Do come again tomorrow.”

Down a hallway and to the left, they passed a well-stocked kitchen, then exited again to a central courtyard where potted flowers were arranged in clusters along the path. It was quiet, with the bustle of the streets lowered to a dim hum. From there they crossed the way to another building, which rose above the treeline.

“Where are we going?” Hamal asked.

“To speak to the boss,” Elena said. “The apartments are this way.”

“Apartments? Your employer lives where the workers live?” Zevran asked.

It was far from what Zevran was expecting. The building they arrived at was a tenement for the workers—aged, with flaking plaster, small and humble rooms, yet clean and maintained. When Elena knocked on the door, it was like they were visiting anyone on the street. The middle-aged woman who answered looked like any woman at the market.

“Ah, it is you!” she said, and waved everyone inside. “Come on in. I take it you are you the ones tracking down your family?”

Rocio made a beeline to a wood and wicker chair near the woodstove. She sat and hung her cane on a hook on the wall, then procured a small bag of tobacco from a drawer.

“Mind if I smoke?” she asked.

Elena walked into what could barely be termed a living room. She dropped into the lap of a tall light-haired man, who kissed her, gripping her tightly by the shoulders.

“Take that as a yes,” Rocio hummed.

There were a lot of people in the apartment, gathered together with the ease of friends who’d known one another for years. For a moment, Zevran wondered if he’d misunderstood the purpose of the visit, but they were guests, and so, he practiced patience for the time being.

“Thank you for having us,” Zevran said, shifting his bag off his shoulder. “Who is the owner of La joya?”

Rocio stifled a laugh. She grinned, as if she was revealing a grand secret with her answer.

“Everyone!”

It took a bit of explaining.

There were nine people crammed into that tiny apartment, six of them workers at La joya . Besides Elena, there were Damian and Cora—prostitutes. Lara, who had answered the door, managed the washrooms. Jania, an elven bodyguard on her day off. Terrance, a stripper—distinguished from Damian and Cora for his strict no-touch policy, though he assured them, he had no need of touch to leave his audience satisfied.

“I don’t quite understand,” Hamal said in whispered to Zevran in Common. “They explained it too quickly.”

“It is something like what the workers of The Pearl did,” Zevran explained. “But they went a step further—they pooled their money to buy the entire business.”

“We are the Rialto Society of Pleasures,” Elena said with a flourish. “Cooperatives like this exist across the country—but we are the first for workers of brothels and pleasure houses. We keep the money we make, and work together to run things.”

“It works,” Rocio drawled amidst puffs of smoke, “more or less. There is quite a bit of turnover—”

“Because no one is bound to stay,” Lara said. “That is important. No contracts. Just rent, and board, for those who opt to live in the tenement, that sort of thing.”

Zevran took in the information as he did anything else in life; recognizing its immediate impact on him (none) and its objective merit (excellent). He sidled up to the counter in the small kitchen and looked at all the proud and smiling faces around him.

If his mother had wound up in a brothel like this—

But she hadn’t. No use dwelling on it.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said. “Were I not otherwise occupied with my husband I might even consider applying!”

“Really?” Rocio giggled. “Get in line. My application’s been in for months.”

They had good reason to be proud. Not every prostitute was so fortunate. And yet, it had taken years, a lot of work, and a dash of luck to make it happen.

But they had not come here to talk about business; Zevran quickly refocused.

“Now that we understand how things are run here, tell us about this visitor you received. Who exactly spoke to this man?”

“Jania and Damian,” Lara said.

“And so when the stranger came and offered to adopt any orphaned children…”

“We told him we had no unwanted children,” Damian explained. “Some of the workers choose to raise families, yes. And occasionally we take in children when their parents cannot care for them. But it’s never a hardship. So he left empty-handed. That was that.”

“But that was not all,” Hamal observed after a moment, in his careful Antivan. “Or why talk to us?”

A lull passed over the small group. Rocio pulled a deep drag from her cigarette.

“We robbed him,” Jania said.

“Ha!” Hamal’s face lit up; his Antivan was still middling, but he understood her easily.

Damian produced a piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket. He passed it to Cora who passed it to Lara, who handed it to Zevran, who unfolded it.

“These fools are always writing shit down and it is their own undoing,” Hamal observed in Common, as he read over Zevran’s shoulder.

The paper contained a handwritten list of brothels in the city. The majority of them were struck out, along with a tally system beside some of the names. Only a few on the list remained unchecked. El milagro was one of the brothels which had not yet been struck through.

“I didn’t like him,” Damian said. “He gave me a bad feeling. But I didn’t think anything of it until Rocio stopped by, and mentioned your search for information. Could this have anything to do with it?”

Zevran creased the paper slightly, brow furrowed. “These tallies…”

“Whores he slept with, we assumed,” Rocio said.

“No,” Zevran said softly. “Children they’ve taken. I think I must tell you,” he said, looking up at the Rialto Society of Pleasures, “The truth. But it is horrible. And we have little time to act.”

.

Rocio had put out her cigarette. She sat hunched at the table, lost in her thoughts, and she hadn’t spoken since Zevran explained his suspicions and his lived proof. Sometimes the truth was cruel. Even when it was necessary.

The rest of them considered what could be done.

“We should bring the list to the city guard,” Jania suggested.

“What will they do, exactly? A piece of paper is hardly proof of anything. Even if they believed us, something tells me they wouldn’t exactly jump to action,” Elena said.

“Unfortunately, you are correct,” Zevran said. “What I have shared with you is already common knowledge in some circles; I am quite certain the owner of the brothel I grew up in knew exactly where he was sending us off to. But… you deserve to know for yourselves, what has been happening all these years.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“We are going to find them,” Hamal said slowly. “And kill them.”

“His Antivan is not very good,” Zevran added in the silence that followed. “He means, we will tie them up. As in, we will capture them.”

Hamal glanced at him, annoyed.

Zevran held up the note. “You have helped us tremendously with this information alone,” he said. “Thank you. I pray you never have to deal with these slavers again. If we have any success, you won’t.”

“That’s all?” Rocio asked, looking up at him over an ashtray.

“Please! Whatever you are going to do, we want to be a part of it,” Elena insisted. “These are our children targeted.”

Zevran frowned. He strongly felt that it was not wise to get more people involved; too many hands in too delicate of a situation. He had intended to warn rather than invite, to protect rather than endanger, but Hamal set a hand on his shoulder, switching to whispered Common.

“Might be good to have eyes out, Zev. There are a lot of names on this list and we cannot surveil all of them. Let’s do it this way,” he said, gesturing to the paper. “Send them here, and here… At the very least they can carry a warning. Just in case.”

Zevran nodded thoughtfully.

It occurred to him, not for the first time, how much more daunting this journey would be like without Hamal’s counsel and support.

“Very well. Then help us in this,” he said, turning back to the group, “We cannot visit every site on this list tonight. Go to these locations.” He dabbed a gloved finger into the ashtray, and used it to indicate several names, before handing the list back to Elena. “But be discreet; simply warn them that a suspicious person might come, bearing lies. And I beg you— do not mention us, by description or name. You could endanger yourselves more than you realize.”

“Got it,” Elena said, scanning the paper already. “Let’s split up.”

“What do we do if we find the bastard?” Damian asked.

Zevran hesitated. “Stall. Wait for us to arrive.”

“But-”

“We will be there,” Zevran said quickly. “Now, we have a few hours to act; these visits, to my knowledge, happen under cover of night. We must prepare.”

.

Zevran clasped Hamal’s arm and led him away from the building at a frantic pace. That small apartment had begun to feel claustrophobic. He wanted it far behind, and besides, he knew where they were needed next.

“I’m sweating,” Hamal said, walking along hurriedly. “That building was hot. Zevran. What-”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked simply, voice clipped in urgency. Signs and windows rushed past as they half-jogged through the streets.

“Yes! The next place they will try to buy recruits from—that woman at El milagro ,” Hamal said. “She was afraid of you because she was expecting someone. Someone she didn’t want you to meet.”

“Exactly,” Zevran hissed. “He is going there soon, I know it. She wanted us gone, because she knew —she knew who I was and she knew why we were there and—”

“He is definitely going to be at El milagro . But Zevran, slow down—”

Hamal dug his heels in. Exercising a bit of his marital privilege, he scooped Zevran up into his arms, steadying him for a moment.

“Breathe, vhenan,” he said firmly. And quickly set him back down, before Zevran had a chance to complain.

Zevran huffed, glancing up at him then glaring away. “If it is the same man…”

“I know.” Hamal plucked the string of his bow, worn around his chest. “I can handle it.”

Zevran shook his head. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Listen: point at something for me to shoot. Go on. There’s no one around.”

Zevran frowned at the game. He hesitated to waste time when every second seemed necessary, but truly, he was not thinking clearly. He did as he was told. “That water pail,” he said, feeling mischievous and a little mean.

In an instant it was useless, holed up with an arrow from Hamal’s bow.

“Again,” Hamal said. “A challenge.”

Knowing perfectly well what he was capable of, Zevran spied around for a moment. Then he spoke, with an arm outstretched. “That poster on the wall, the red one. Sixty yards down. By the flowers.”

Hamal took a moment to aim, but he loosed an arrow just as easily. Of course, it hit dead center.

They walked together to retrieve the arrows.

“It will be that simple,” Hamal spoke. “You will not need to be strong, fast, or even brave for this, Zevran. Just point at him. If this is hard for you, just tell me where to shoot.”

“Amor, I appreciate that. But this will be difficult,” Zevran explained, pulling his arrow out of the wall it had embedded itself in, “Because we will need this man alive.”

He handed it to Hamal, with a somber look as the Warden took the arrow.

“We will need to take him and question him. We cannot kill him right away. That complicates things. Increases the risk of things going wrong. Think: Can he signal someone? Will he be alone or will he have backup? Will he be armed? Will he have…”

He stopped, unable to say it.

“Children with him,” Hamal concluded with a sigh. He understood, then. “Oh, ma vhenan. There was nothing you could have done for those boys in the church.”

Zevran nodded, avoiding his gaze. More than anything, he worried about what might happen.

“Let’s go,” he said.

[digitalcirce]

What Is the Meaning of This? Originally posted on DeviantArt on April 30 2024 (woman to pig transformation)

The beautiful blonde raged and struggled against her bonds, but fruitlessly. Becoming aware of his presence, she demanded answers. He could only smile. Her indignation sounded so much better with a hint of a squeal mixed in.

She was a typical pretty party girl. Her drink was not difficult to spike. In fact, the hardest part was getting her out of the car and into the barn completely unconscious, her limp body uncooperative. She was surprisingly heavy. Although she’d be getting a lot heavier. “What is the meaning of this? Why did you do this to me?” she demanded, but it was nothing personal. He’d been rejected by girls like her a lot when he was younger, and learned how he could get even. Make them less than human. Then… he became turned on by the transformation itself. It’s what he really enjoyed. Sure, she’s beautiful. But would he really want her in his life? Want to put up with her stuck up, entitled attitude?

And then the glorious moment came; her awareness of what was really happening. Perhaps it was her changed voice; or perhaps she recognized the feeling of a new feature like her squiggly tail whipping above her delectable ass. Regardless, she realized that she was physically transforming into an animal. And that the animal she would soon become was just a lowly pig. A pig like the others she could hear quietly grunting in the darkness.

Yes, this is what he most enjoyed. Transforming a pretty girl into a bloated breeding sow and consigning her to life with the other pigs. About a quarter of the sows in the sty were just like her; haughty invincible-feeling girls at the wrong place or the wrong time who now bred piglets for a living. She would too. Or if not she’d be turned into sausage herself; and he didn’t much care which she chose. But a lot of those former women seemed to like being speared by boar cocks, so maybe she’d come to like being a mother pig in the smelly sty, too.

He watches as her snout stretches, and her dulcet voice is completely lost to squealing. He watches her hooves harden, finally becoming small enough to slip out of her restraints. He watches her many new teats form. He watches her undergarments tear as she fattens, developing the barrel shape of her slow-moving new species. He watches her ears flop and her tail curl and her limbs shrink. He watches her throat swell and her ass widen, revealing a monstrously different vulva and anus, shamelessly presented for his perusal. He watches her healthy round breasts shift into two more teats between her forelegs. He watches her hair fall out and her eyes darken. And he watches as the pig squeals mournfully, aware that her old life is over and her new life has begun. Her life as a pig, and nothing more. Then he hauls her into the pen with a virile male, and watches her snort and squeal under him, her indignant grunts changing to a more primitive and instinctual sound. And after her first powerful orgasm he leaves her there, to adjust to her new home and new reality. What she is and what she has done.

Maybe the other fat sows comfort her in the darkness, rubbing against her fat flanks and letting her know that it’s all right, being a pig. Maybe she cries herself to sleep, and promises herself she’ll never let a boar have his way with her again. Maybe she trots right over to the trough and gorges herself before shamelessly taking a big dump on the floor. He doesn’t really care how she handles it, all things considered. He saw her at her moment of transcendence, and that was enough. It was what her whole life had led up to, the meaning of her life, really, and he had experienced it. What more could he want? The soft sound of pigs grunting echoes through the barn as he goes to sleep, satisfied, another fruitful sow in the sty.

Stock image used available from Depositphotos at https://depositphotos.com/photo/sexy-blonde-woman-in-underwear-kneeling-on-timber-179195114.html

[shinjisjournal]

Entry 1: October 1st 2014

According to most of the students in my class, I have "anger issues", none of them would tell me what it meant except for Sabrina Spellman, she said its when someone has trouble processing their anger in a healthy and reasonable way, I am offended by this! I rarely ever get angry and when I do I process it in the healthiest way possible!

Sabrina then said humans (or Nitches as I like to call them) often process their emotions by writing in a diary or journal, which is a stupid thing to do in my opinion, how does writing down ones bad feelings make them feel any better?

The only reason I'm writing in a diary is because I am documenting my life, afterall when I grow up I'm going to be the most powerful warlock in Witch World, and people will want to write biographies on my life story, so instead of wasting my time lingering around them I'll just give them this book for them to read through as reference.

So the first stories I should tell was the times where I was sent to the Nitch world, so far it has happened to me three times, and I have came to a conclusion.... Nitches are the strangest creatures in all of existence.

The first time it happened was when we had the anual school dance. Before this me and Sabrina had been tested, we had to escape the forest full of werewolves and whoever made it out first won, Sabrina made it out first but I'm about 90% sure she cheated so it doesn't count.

Thats when mother showed up, she's the headmistress of our school, for some reason she wants me and Sabrina to get married, I assume its because we're the two most powerful students in school and Sabrina is a princess so when we marry it'll make us king and queen of Witch World. I don't really care for Sabrina, frankly I find her very annoying, but if mother wants me to marry her so be it, I'm sure I'll find a way to deal with it when we are married.

Anyways she wanted us to go to the school dance together, but apparently Sabrina didn't want to go because she had an event taking place in the Nitch world, Sabrina is half Nitch herself and the portal leading to our world from the Nitch world is literally in her home where she lives with her Aunts.

When the dance started Sabrina had left and it was so boring, mostly because there's only six of us attending the school, plus Sabrina had left. The reason there's only six of us is because most witches and warlocks are taught magic at home by their parents or by special tutors, the only reason the other five is sent here is because their parents don't care about them enough to sit them down and teach them how to levitate things and such, but in my case its because its just easier since mother is headmistress and we live in a part of the school anyways.

(Though I'm sure I would be better off taught privately because I'm just too better at everything compared to the other students in class, I'm not saying this to mean I'm just speaking the truth and I'm sick of being taught things that I already know because everyone else is about 8 levels beneath me)

I keep getting ahead of myself, the only person enjoying the dance was mother, she was dancing with this weird servant she has, I don't even know his name despite him being around her all the time, even she isn't sure what type of creature he is. Everyone else was standing around either talking to each other or doing nothing.

I was sitting at one of the tables while my... Friend? Ambrose stood behind me, he was talking to me about stuff but I wasn't paying attention. I suddenly came up with the idea to go to the Nitch world and bring Sabrina to the dance, when I spoke up about this, Ambrose decided to come along, which surprised me as he is actually Sabrina's cousin.

Anyways we made it to the Nitch world, since the portal to our world is in Sabrina's home we found ourselves in there and it was an absolute dragon sty! We soon found our way to Sabrina's other school, there was also a school dance going on there. At the time I was more focused on finding Sabrina to really think about my surroundings, but looking back the Nitches are really odd.

They all dress really boring, I'm not sure how they're able to do things without magic, they listen to really strange music thats nothing like the music we have in our world, they have strange foods such as "fruit punch" (which is something that was at the dance) and they all talk using what Sabrina calls "slang" why can't they talk properly? Is it a thing that comes along with being human or do they do it on purpose for some reason?

Apparently while all of this had happened, Sabrina had accidentally turned one of her Nitch friends into a werewolf, and this is just one of the many reasons to I am confused she is nearly on the same level on magic as I am if she keeps doing stuff like this!

Ambrose ran off with one of Sabrina's nitch friends while I went off looking for her, thats when I found her trying to contain that werewolf, she was lucky I showed up because I'm sure without me she would've been torn to shreds.

I can't remember exactly what happened but I tried to use magic to send Sabrina back to Witch World but it didn't work for some reason, I was then cornered by the werewolf but then Sabrina came back and got it away from me, while I am a LITTLE BIT thankful Sabrina did this, I would not say she saved me because if she didn't show up I probably would've handled that werewolf myself.

After that Sabrina had the audacity to send ME back to the Witch World! Luckily I was not scared but just very annoyed.

The next day Ambrose got in a lot of trouble with Professor Geist because he had apparently spent the whole night in the Nitch world partying with Sabrina's friends and was late for class.

The second time was when a sickness went around the school, in the Nitch world this is called a "cold" and their the symptoms include sneezing, feeling tired all the time, feeling ache in the throat, and coughing, but in Witch World the symptoms were a bit more extreme.

I remember everyone, including mother, kept sneezing up chickens and weird green spots appeared on their faces, luckily this never happened with me but I think thats because I am the most healthy person at school.

Mother made me and Sabrina go to Nitch world to see what could've caused this, even Sabrina's aunts were starting to get this cold too. We headed to Sabrina's school and I pretended to be a new student there, unlike the previous time I was able to interact more with Sabrina's Nitch friends.

I honestly felt a bit like a black sheep, while everyone was dressed in those regular boring Nitch clothes (including Sabrina) I was dressed in my favourite warlock robes, and I think I was the only one with dark blue and spiky hair.

I met two of Sabrina's friend, the first one being Jim, I couldn't really tell what his personality was, he seemed really bland in my opinion I don't get why Sabrina likes being friends with him. The second friend of hers was Amy, who was more interesting than Jim but she made me extremely uncomfortable, she pulled Sabrina aside and whispered to her, except she whispered so loudly I could hear her.

She said something like "Your friend is kind of cute...". What?! This was really strange, she had only just met me, we had barely spoken many words and she thought I was cute?! Plus I am not cute, I am handsome! The word cute should be used to describe things like Sabrina's pet cat Salem, not me!,

Long story short we found the cause of the cold was Sabrina's dirty nitch school locker because of course it was, Sabrina's aunts used it to make a tea that cured the cold (it actually tasted really nice) and we gave it to everyone at school, hooray the day is saved, whatever.

And the third and final time was when my classmate Veralupa accidentally turned me into Sabrina's broomstick (which turns into a pink scooter in the nitch world), this was because Veralupa's wand was backwards but she was too stupid to realise this before Sabrina said "Sorry but I'm in a hurry" and road me back to the nitch world where I then turned into the pink scooter, despite the fact she knew I had been turned into it!

According to Sabrina, delivering food from her aunts bakery to other nitches is more important than my wellbeing.... Well she never said that but she implied it!

After a while I decided to run away (well I suppose drive away, because scooters can't really run) but that "city" Sabrina lives in is so big I couldn't find my way back to the portal, thats when I drove into a woman who works at Sabrina's school.

I don't know her name but what I do know is that she is suspicious of Sabrina, I don't think she knows she is a witch but she definitely knows there's something off about her, again I don't get why Sabrina is so high up in magic levels when she's so careless as to nitches being suspicious of her and turning her nitch friends into big hairy monsters!

I think me talking despite being a scooter just added to the fuel of this woman being suspicious of Sabrina, I sort of regret talking to her because suddenly she was riding on top of me where she took me to Sabrina's school, she was sort of taunting Sabrina because I was her "proof" that something was off with Sabrina, but since I decided to not speak again everyone around her thought she was crazy.

Thats when finally! Sabrina took me back to the portal and we made it back to Witch World where that fool Veralupa finally figured out her wand was working weirdly because it was backwards, she turned me back to my normal self, she had also turned Ambrose into a hairy creature while I was gone

(Seriously, what is with my classmates and turning their friends into hairy creatures?!)

I had originally planned to tell my mother about this incident so Sabrina would get into trouble, but by the end of it I just wanted to forget it ever happened, I'm only writing it down here because I want this told in my future biographies so everyone knows how silly Sabrina and my other classmates are.

Using these three experiences, I have come to the conclusion that nitches are very very strange, they wear such boring clothing, they whisper things loudly so people they don't want to hear it can hear it, the schools they go to have about a billion students and the school buildings are often times small, some of them are super bland and despite this people like them, they think people are "cute" despite meeting them then and there, some of them are aware or at the very least coming close to being aware of the Witch World but most other humans think those types are crazy, and they make their "cities" so big and complicated to navigate.

I have no idea why Sabrina enjoys it there and I can certainly see why mother wants her to live in the Witch World permanently, not only will it make our marriage easier but also I think it'll just be better for her wellbeing considering she has to go to the school in that world and the school in this world. If I was Sabrina I'd only ever go to the Nitch world to visit my aunts and I'd only ever stay in their bakery.

Soon I need to go to sleep, so I will leave this first entry here. And I promise to write more meaningful things in the future.

[urfavmercurial444]

My "Quick" Fixes in Wellness

Your health, and your overall wellness journey, isn't something that can be expedited like it's an Amazon Prime package. There are no quick fixes, or shortcuts, to get your health where you want it to be. More efficient plans and life hacks, yes. But no shortcuts.

However, there are a few practices that I do myself to keep me on track with my health goals when I'm busy or maybe just having a low day. They are short and simple, which helps when I'm feeling overwhelmed or tired.

I'd recommend these quick fixes as an introduction to improved healthy habits, getting back on track after falling out of routine, or maybe you're hoping to take care of yourself in a time you know you will be stressed in.

"Quick" Fixes in Wellness:

Drink Water:

I know, I know. It's a cliché but that's only because it works!! So, get up and go fix yourself a glass of water. Try to drink

Ideally, you should be aiming to drink half your body weight in water. This is the end goal, of course, so you should ease into drinking water. Start with a bottle a day, then a bottle in the morning and at night, and add more bottles into your daily routine where they can fit.

Go on a walk:

Not only does going on a walk get you in the sun, but it provides a quiet time for you to just reflect. Think about your life, your goals, how you can better improve yourself, etc. Without any noise from your phone, from friends, from family, and every other disturbance in quiet thinking time you may have.

Going on walks increases your serotonin, which is a mood stabilizer, and can help you return to a default way of functioning. It's great for your body and your mind, so...go do it.

If walk are not accessible to you because of environment or physical capability, I recommend completing another mood-stabilizing activity. Such as meditating, getting sunlight, or praying.

Journaling:

I don't want to hear absolutely any excuses from anyone about not being able to do this quick-fix. "I don't know what to write!" Journaling prompts are on Pinterest, Google, Tiktok, YouTube, and even Teenage Girl Today. That's right babe, I've got you covered. So, start journaling. Now. Walk away from your device, and get to journaling. Chop, chop.

But wait, "I'm scared someone's going to read my journal!" Babe. Get a journal app and hide it on your phone. Use the Apple Notes app and lock the note. Text yourself your journal entries if that's the most protected way.

Stop making excuses for not journaling!! There are ways around it and you know it. Take action against your fears and anxiety!! It's the best way to rid yourself of them.

Clean your environment:

Girl, I already know. Clean your room and you will find yourself feeling SO much better about yourself and your life. But let me guess, you live in a pig sty? Well here's how you're going to clean your room:

Clear your nightstand, put things where they need to go and throw out all those old drinks.

Clean your bathroom counter, put things where they need to go and throw out the trash from that new mascara you got like a week ago.

Pick up drinks you see on the top of surfaces. e.g. the top of your dresser, your desk, maybe an arm chair or something.

Take all your dirty clothes and put them in a pile in the corner of your room. I'm not asking for you to wash them yet, but put them in a pile.

Make your bed. Clear it off, put sheets on or blankets if that's your thing. Fold all the extra blankets because it will look neater afterwards.

Wipe down your doorknobs, sweep/vacuum the floor, and grab any kitchenware in your room. Take it to the kitchen.

Put everything that's left into piles. Shoes goes with shoes, books with books, etc. This will make your tasks clearer to you and can be very effective for deciding what to do next.

Change your clothes + Wash your face:

Sometimes, you're not actually upset with your life. You're just overstimulated. Change into some clothes that are non-stimulating and comfortable for you. And wash your face.

I've found that if my face is greasy, I can get overwhelmed with the feeling of my own skin. On these days, I come home and splash my face with water. Sometimes that's not a deep enough cleansing and I'll use facial cleanser. I make sure to wash my face of the oily feeling. My mood can improve after that, even if it's just a little bit.

Conclusion

If you're ever needing a pick me up, these few "quick" fixes could help you out of a funk you've fallen into on your wellness journey. Amend them to your liking! Do one or all, but give it as much effort as you can. Help yourself feel better and make your life easier!

[mydepressionisnotinvalid]

Went through the few post I have in this account and this was the first one. It’s been years since this. Yes, that cousin is still an ass. Very “holier than thou” in attitude and believes she knows best about everything.

Life is worse now than it was then though. I was happy there for a moment. September of 2022 was good. We weren’t struggling super bad financially, I was in my first semester of college. I was doing good in my classes, loved going to class instead of feeding it like high school. My dad died beginning of October. For the first time in my life I felt like I couldn’t really identify with some of the depressing songs I used to listen to in middle school, and now I’m further back than where I started.

Kind of feels like a cosmic joke. The one time I remember feeling content and happy in my life, and it gets taken away in a few hours. Even as a kid I don’t remember feeling content. I didn’t have any actual friends till middle school, and I switched elementary schools a lot.

I felt anxious about school work back then too. I wouldn’t ever get my social studies homework done, and once I forgot to do a whole water cycle project. Middle school I felt anxious over grades all the time. I finally had friends but stressing over school and grades that felt like they should of been higher made me feel like a failure. Went to therapy over self harm in 7th grade.

All this to say, I was happy for about 2 weeks. Truly happy and content. Looked forward to the day ahead, hopeful about the future. Finally understood what it was like to wake up and not already feel done with the day. To wake up happy and excited. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that again to be honest.

This is very ranty, but this account was made to do that. Not that I’ve really ever done that here. Maybe this would do better if r/confessions or r/offmychest. It’s just after 11 now. I have classes tomorrow I need to go to. Though I haven’t been sleeping well since he died, so I haven’t been going to sleep till after 1 am pretty much every night. I have an infection in my eye, I think it’s called a sty. I’ve been wearing an eye patch. I just now remembered I didn’t take my antibiotic when I ate. Guess I’ll take it now and hope for the best.

Im tired. Im always tired. And scared . My mom has always been the one with health issues, my dad was the healthy one. He didn’t have any health issues or family history, yet dead in mid fourties’ from a heart attack. I don’t know if I could handle something happening to my mom. I’m always scarred of something happening to her or my sister. Or Ouse pets for that matter. I’m just scared all the time.

I’m tired

I thought since it’s summer and school was out I wouldn’t fall into another depressive mood. But pf course not. My cousin justhad to start up a conversation about how much her life sucks and mine is ‘amazing’. Just because your life is worse doesn’t mean my depression is invalid. It reminded me of a picture I saw once. It had a wolf and a rabbit. The wolf had a lot of arrows in its back while the rabbit only had one. There was a quote above them, something like what hurts you might kill someone else. But of couse when I mentioned it to her she just said “That’s bullshit” and proceeded to say that the only real reason to have depression is if you had something tramatic happen or have terrible parents. Oh, and death isn’t a good reason for depression because it happens to everyone. I know that. But it effects people different ways. And people don’t 'get over’ someones death, they learn to live with it. I can’t wait to get away from her.

[kiko-the-gay-writer]

♡More Ship incorrect Quotes for RDR♡

------

♡John Marston x Javier Escuella♡

---

John : I love you.

Javier , not paying attention: What was that?

John : I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

--

John : My hands are cold.

Javier : Here, let me hold them.

John : My lips are cold too.

Javier : *covers John 's mouth with their hand*

--

Javier : Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt.

John : Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit.

--

Javier : *fast-forwards all the way through the movie*

John : You can't just skip to the happy ending!

Javier : I don't have time for their problems.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

♡Arthur Morgan x Charles Smith♡

---

Arthur: I think it’s time I get my life in order.

Charles , narrating: But they did not get their life in order. In fact, they got drunk last night and fought a raccoon.

--

Arthur : I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Charles: But, Arthur, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Arthur : O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Charles: Is it working?

--

Charles: You have to apologize to them Arthur .

Arthur : Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

--

Arthur : Hey, random question, what are your favorite flowers?

Charles: Peonies, why?

Arthur :

Charles: Were you going to get me flowers?

Arthur :

Charles:

Arthur : ᶦᵗ’ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇᶦˡᶦᵗʸ

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

♡Dutch Van Der Linde x Hosea Matthews♡

---

Hosea: I can't imagine what Dutch is planning. But I can tell you two things. We won't like it and it won't be legal.

--

Dutch: You're right.

Hosea: That's... That's an unusual phrase for you. Did you just learn it?

--

Kidnapper: We have your child

Hosea: I don’t have a child?

Kidnapper: Then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwich?

Hosea: Oh god, you have Dutch.

--

Hosea: That's not funny.

Dutch : I thought it was funny.

Hosea: You don't count. You started laughing in the middle of a funeral because you started thinking of a meme you saw on Facebook.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

♡Sean Maguire x Lenny Summers♡

---

Lenny: Hey, can I get a sip of that water?

Sean: It’s not water.

Lenny: Vodka! I like your sty-

Sean: It’s vinegar.

Lenny: …What?

Sean: It's vinegar, PUSSY.

--

Lenny: Ew. What kind of tea is this?

Sean: I boiled gatorade.

--

Sean: I’m in love with you.

Lenny: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork.

Sean: I know.

Lenny: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

--

Lenny: Are you ready to commit?

Sean: Like, a crime or a relationship?

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

♡Kieran Duffy x Bill Williamson♡

---

Bill : The first time Keiran opened a box of Cheerios and looked inside they yelled, "OH WOW! DONUT SEEDS!"

--

Bill : Are you a masochist or a sadist?

Kieran , deadpan: I’m a Taurus.

--

Bill : I never tell people off the bat that I'm gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like "you know I'm gay right?" and watch the look of terror on their face.

Keiran :

Keiran : I like you.

--

Bill : *closes a cabinet*

*a crash is heard behind the cabinet door*

Kieran : What was that?

Bill : The sound of someone else's problem.

[justyouraverageanonbloghere]

Survival of the Fittest 2

I gotta say, I knew my brother wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed but the fact he didn't suspect a thing from me was honestly mind blowing. I've yet to learn to access Devin's memories so I was in the dark the rest of the time at the bar. And to act like I understood an iota of football rules was nothing short of an extreme sport. But sure enough, the alcohol that Anthony was downing helped me get through it. The only other obstacle- if you'd call it that- was playfully flirting with the male bartender throughout the night. Not audibly of course. Just through subtle and discreet actions.

He'd wink and I'd bounce my pecs.

He'd grind his half hard reaction and I'd nonchalantly adjust my half hard cock.

Needless to say when Anthony went to the bathroom he slid me his number.

To do all of this in the body of a former homophobe was nothing short from a power high.

To keep up appearances, I helped sober Anthony up and take him to his car until I got to mine. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and attach my psyche to Devin's. Within seconds I was gripping my head as information flooded into me while my body accepted 24 years of memories into a new vessel. This felt like hours as I grit my teeth to endure this agonizing pressure until it just ceased. Just like that.

"Motherfuck-" I groan only for Devin's voice to come out. I blink and give a quick test. Yep. Still in control. Which means. "Now I have all your memories, asshole!" I laugh triumphantly and crack my neck. "But I like my voice coming out more. It's a better reminder of who owns this body now." I chuckle with my voice coming out instead.

To better show I have control, I peel off my shirt and toss it in the back and bring the car to life once the key was turned into the ignition. "Now let's see what kind of place I live in now."

The drive went by smoothly if you don't take into account that everytime I'd wait at a red light I'd be groping my neglected dick through my shorts. Can't be helped after all that's transpired today. Once I made it back to the apartment complex that Devin lived in, I wanted to gag once I entered his home.

Talk about a fucking pig sty! Beer cans in the kitchen sink, a dead houseplant with cigarette butts overflowing from the pot, crusty dishes piling on the three stove burners while the other one had stacked pizza boxes on it. I was going to relax but I guess that will have to wait.

Needless to say I was cleaning until the early hours of the morning only to be awaken by the sound of angry pounding on my door. Checking my phone I saw I only slept for a good three hours.

Groaning, I threw on a clean shirt and trudged to the door. I opened it to see the landlord looking at me incredibly pissed.

"I have HAD it with you, Devin! Everyone complains about the parties, the smoking, and the smell, but the neighbors are FURIOUS of the constant in and out you were doing last night."

"Ma'am, I can explain."

"No! No more explaining! I refuse to allow pigs to live in my complex!"

I knew words weren't going to get her to listen so I just stepped out the way and opened the door wide to show her. "I've been cleaning all night. I guess you can say something came over me and I realized I couldn't keep living like that. So I'm sorry. I assure you things will be different."

She was stunned, jaw to the floor. So much to the point where she let herself in to inspect the whole apartment. "I-I don't understand-"

"You don't need to, ma'am. Like I said I had a revelation yesterday and I'm trying to be a better me. Here, I'll make us some coffee."

Oh yeah, when I was cleaning I was buying groceries afterwards. Healthy shit mostly to keep my body in shape, but I always had a love for caffeine. The landlady agreed and had a seat, taking in every major difference within the apartment. Once the pot was ready, she was getting ready to stand up until I shook my head.

"Please, have a seat. I'll serve you myself." I got her a mug and poured her a cup in front of her before serving myself afterwards and sitting opposite from her at the table. Even then she stared at me like I grew a second head.

"I have to say, I never expected this from someone like you. I know people can change but it's like you're a completely different person."

I couldn't help but laugh out of how accurate she was at that statement. "Sorry for laughing. I can't help but feel proud over how stunned you are. But I promise you this Devin is here to stay." I grin before taking another sip.

We ended up chatting for a bit before I bade her farewell and closed the door. Finally. Now to catch up on some sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I awoke sometime after 2 in the afternoon feeling more refreshed. Though waking up to see two mounds of muscle rising and falling with each breath made me grin. I walked over to the bathroom to take it all in again.

"See that, Devin? Even your landlord prefers me over you." I gloat as I take a pic of me flexing my biceps. Fuck I looked hot. I'd then remove my shirt to now get better acquainted with my new body.

"Such power in these muscles." I hiss as I slowly move my hands along my abs, taking in each deep groove and incline of muscle as I slowly cupped my pecs. "I could easily pummel Anthony with my newfound strength." I laugh while licking and kissing each mound of muscle that lined my arms before pinching my nipples and jolting in response.

"You may have been physically stronger than me, Devin, but I am stronger in mind, soul, and will. And soon I will use your own hands to punish your best friend for partaking in my death!" I laugh hysterically before reaching for my phone and going on Instagram to find one person in particular. My former boyfriend, Sven. He was built due to his family having him do heavy lifting at their company. I can only imagine how he's been after my death. I was about to rub one out but I had to enact phase one of my plan.

To get Sven back.

[dasha-through-the-snow]

Honestly, I feel like putting my thoughts down in the open like that is just gonna be healthy for me period.

I don't promise these updates every day, because I'm terrible at promises. The only one I've kept is not killing myself, which is at least some kind of a victory.

Hi, my name is Dasha and I'm a goddamn mess.

Five years ago my already weird and complicated life completely fell apart and I've been buried under the rubble ever since, slowly getting myself out piece by piece.

Over those five years I've completely destroyed my relationship with food, lost all social connections, got alcoholism and allowed myself to live in a total pig sty while neglecting basic grooming.

The sad part is, nobody is going to get me out of this mess but me.

Usually when I try to start my life fresh, I try to do everything at once and overwork myself, leading to an inevitable burnout a few months in.

That needs to change.

I don't have a concrete game plan yet, because I really need to get some sleep and sort things out in my head, but I do feel like I have a better chance at this whole thing than before.

Or at least I want to believe in it. Let's not discard the power of belief completely.

I filled one garbage bag with trash from around my room and while that made a sizeable dent, there's still enough trash for a bag or two. That's something I'm going to do tomorrow first thing in the morning.

I'm good at honesty for better and for worse. Let's see how far this takes me.

[rainyfestivalsweets]

9/29/22

Traveling day.

Made pretty good choices. Cleaned and ate before I left, watching Gotham. So hopefully I won't be going home to a pig sty.

I have continued to think about possible hangup and how to move past this plateau. 🤔

When I was in the 230's and 240's before, the [sic] love of my life started cheating on me with an 18 year old gastric bypass patient. It was hella traumatic. I lost everything. My heart was beyond broken. I ended up selling my house to her and leaving, basically losing the family I had fought so hard for.

I have felt untethered since then.

I did eventually remarry, so someone who basically loved me more than anything ever ( & got me fatter than ever) until they didn't--and some 21 year old puppy wannabe came along.

Got divorced. It was all chronicled on a blog that tumblr deleted. So again, thanks for that. I should have written it somewhere safe, because this wasn't and there was so so so much shit you guys.

So what was my takeaway from that? That my person will leave me if I become successful at weight loss??

How is that stopping me? My gf and I are not super serious. We don't have sex. We live separately. We actually seem better over the phone than in person. I struggle with their affection signals. [Sigh]

So why am I hung up here? How is that previous experience applicable to this situation?

It doesn't matter if she breaks up with me. Granted, I will be sad and lonely.... but it won't be fucking tragic.

So I am working on doing some mind reconditioning to change my inner language. Trying to redirect myself whenever I think bad thoughts. Honestly, I am just touch starved and body lonely. I can barely have an orgasm anymore, because I often start crying during, which probably doesn't fucking help.

It is safe for me to continue losing weight. I still have a large amount of fat. I will reconsider after dropping under 200 to see where I am with muscle mass. But I still have a rather large spare tire right now. So I know it isn't because I am in a physical danger zone. Mid 240s is still high for a female almost regardless of muscle mass.

So other wins: I am trying to concentrate on foods with lots of veggies, low calorie noodles, and protein.

So back to today- mostly good choices with the exception of breakfast. Which was a snickers and an apple while I cleaned my car. I had lunch before I left- which was veggies & gravy leftover from the other night, and a vegan harvest bowl. I gave the steak to mom to lower the cals for me. The bowl thing I bought a bunch of while they were on clearance and I wanted to try it. Small bowl of chickpeas and lentils in like a curry seasoning. 360 cals. So perfect to have with a veggie.

Road snacks. Drinks-- A pink Starburst crystal light thing, dt coke, cherry coke zero, and a pumpkin apple chai with fiber. Snacks-- Sweet c jelly, snow peas, carrot chips. Hard boiled eggs.

When I got to the hotel, I just got ready right away. Played in my phone a bit. Decided to wait to eat.

Went to an awesome show! It was great. No drinking, had a bottle of water.

Walked to the grocery store after. Bought 2 bananas, a pack of pickled green beans, and a cauli pizza bowl.

Ate a banana 🍌 right out of the store. Ate the pickled beans on the way back to the hotel.

Got back to the hotel, ate a salad first- but without most of the dressing.

Then ate my pizza bowl.

Took a bath and had 3 "moments."

Out of all the ways I could have undercut my healthy diet today, I think I won. No fast food. No drinking. Healthy food. Good choices all around except for the snickers. My workout was cleaning. I was sweating during but I wanted to be able to come home to a semi clean house.

[artmakerproductions]

“Billy & Sarah”: Jeph Varney 

Jeph Willhelma Varney is a redneck, through and through. He lives out on his own in the swampy area of Oak River away from the crowd raising pigs and chickens. Inherited the land from his mother's side. It being in his family bloodline from all the way back in the final days of the ol' west. As a boy, Jeph was told of the many strange things that lived out in the swampy lands their home was in, that he should always watch out and be prepared. He took these words to heart. One night, during his childhood, he was awakened in the middle of the night by the distress of their pigs. He quickly got out of bed, grabbed his shotgun, and rushed outside to see what was causing the trouble - it was none other than the (then smaller and younger) Snake Monster of Foggy Bog. Without hesitation he took aim and fired. Skidding the side of the serpentine beast and causing her to wail in pain and quickly flee, abandoning the hunt. Years passed, and the two would regularly butt heads, as from time to time the serpent would attempt to gat at Jeph's chickens and pigs. Despite her incredible intelligence and knowing that basic firearms and humans in general are of no threat to her, she still has that internal fear of this specific person and his firearm. Her having a case of PTSD. She'll immediately bail on a hunt if she sees or even hears him nearby. Though this fear has lessened in the passing years, it still remains in the back of her mind. Every now and again she'd be able get a burst of courage and stand her ground, but not for long. Jeph will often cuss her out to "git!" and "scram!". Has knocked over the fencing of Jeph's pig sty out of pettiness just to get him mad. 

One of Jeph's other duties is dealing w/ the walking dead that rise up every now and again from deep w/in the swamp. He thinks that some leftover toxic barrels from government testing in a nearby hidden facility were dumped in the swamp ages ago, which is what causes the dead to rise. Billy and Sarah are somewhat skeptics of this at first, but find out later that such a facility does exist. Hardly ever eats city foods, as he either goes out to hunt (rabbit or deer) or just kills one of his pigs or chickens to provide that evening's meal. An excellent marksman and proud owner of a fine knife collection. Is in ownership of an old red truck. Jeph regularly makes stops into town to restock his supplies and sell his pigs/chickens. Uses this to pick up and drop off supplies for Okkou, who is essentially his one and only neighbour in the swamp. As a returning of the favour for the older man's services, Okkou does health check-ups on his animals and gives serums/potions to help keep his livestock nice and healthy (and give their meat an extra bit of flavouring when cooked, thus allowing Jeph to sell at a higher price for the quality meat). Seems to have a thing for his grandmother (reincarnated as a hornbill) who also seems to share these feelings. An elderly version of puppy love in a way. Much to the annoyance of Okkou. 

As to how Billy and Sarah met him? Simple. It was good timing, as they were being chased down by a few of the undead when Jeph opened fire on the reanimated corpses.Thankful, they greeted each other and exchanged names. This being how they met Jeph. He's always telling stories of his life and time growing up in the bog to Billy and Sarah whenever they visit. Even singing some oldies and originals too. Will even invite them over for dinner if they do. Is a gruff voiced (but sweet) sort of grandparent once you get to know him. Incredibly friendly. 

Viewable on DeviantArt too: https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/BaS-271-880261088

"Billy & Sarah" belongs to me, (ArtMakerProductions). 

[digitalcirce]

Nature Walk (woman to pig transformation)

When Cassie stared her relaxing nature walk, she was a normal girl. But then she started to smell something… intoxicating. Truffles, as it turned out - buried delicacies that smelled like virile, ready boars. And while her mind didn't understand the smells, her body did. She followed the olfactory trail eagerly. And so slowly, starting with her womb, she started to change. She transformed to fulfill her deepest, unexamined, unknown desires. Every moment of her walk has left her less a normal girl, and more a sow. Her insides are quite advanced - she now boasts the heart, stomach, bowels, and ovaries of a healthy pig. Even her brain has started to change. But her outward features are changing too, revealing her for what she is. How far will it go? Will the gorgeous, buxom, sable-haired beauty really join a herd of pigs, waddling on all fours like any other? Will her tail wiggle as a boar ruts her, filling her full of piglets to love? Cassie had never contemplated being a pig; having any life other than human. But tomorrow, she may well not contemplate any life other than that of a satisfied sow. It's hard to imagine a woman as refined and beautiful as Cassie being content eating with her face, pooping on the ground, mating with boars, whelping piglets, and socializing only with other swine. But she will be. She'll find life as a fat smelly breeding sow enchanting, mesmerizing - a senses-overload. The end of her nature walk will lead into a sty full of other hogs, and then the gate will shut behind her. Of course, the plump sow will always remember her human life, but she won't miss it. Not when there's another boar willing to mount her!

This is the one hundred and thirty-first of my photomanipulations to debut first on Tumblr.

[renee-writer]

Accidentally Roomies Chapter 35

AO3

“What now?” Her stunned eyes meet theirs. Her mind starts to twirl, her thoughts chasing each other. She has a baby sister. A sick baby sister. But, the only reason she is meeting her “ parents “ and learning about her, is because they need something from her.

“Her name is Faith. We were finally ready to be parents. She was born healthy. At a year she started coming up with unexplained bruises. Her energy level was dropping. After a series of tests… “ Julia trails off.

“The diagnosis was a shock. We were both tested right away. Others were. A stranger had a close match and she went into remission. But now… They say only a near perfect match can save her. A sibling is as close as..”

“So, you recalled you had another daughter. Nice. “

“We always meet to..”

“To what “dad”? Let me know I have a sister! You didn’t seek me out when she first got sick. Why? Did you think I wouldn’t have helped? What type of person do you think you sired? Fek? She is bloody suffering for your cowardness and pride. I will help, for Faith. Papers will be drawn up showing that I have the right to sty in her life.”

“Do you really think that we would prevent that?” Henry asks.

“In honesty, I don’t trust you. This will be for my sister, not you or your wife. I don’t need parents, not now. She needs me and I will be a part of her life. That’s the deal.”

“We agree.” Julia sadly says. What did she expect? Claire thinks, to be welcomed with open arms?

“Good. Do you have a picture of her?”

She stands and hands her a picture. Claire looks down at it. The little girl is gorgeous. With chubby cheeks and thick curls. She sees herself in the lines of her face and her eyes. Yes, she will do all she can to help her. But for their mutual parents, she will just deal with them for her.

“Would you like to meet her?” Henry asks.

“Yes. Jamie, Uncle Lamb and, I will follow you.” She takes the picture and goes to find them.

[minaofmayhem]

IMAGINE #45 - Life always finds a path (2)

Here’s the second part of this little imagine about Randall. The first part talked about the last moments of Nadine. This second part is about the children that she was carrying. I decided to split it into two little parts. Otherwise, you’d have wait too much longer! I hope you’ll like it anon ! Maybe some medical explanations here are impossible ahah but I needed them for the story 😃 Feel free to tell me what you think about this. Enjoy! ❤️

Summary : What if Randall and Nadine’s baby survived ? This is the story of a daughter with an extraordinary destiny...

Pairing : Randall Flagg x daughter (inspired by Elizabeth Debicki as asked by anon). 

Warnings : mentions of death. Let’s say that nothing is impossible in “The Stand” so Randall’s child survived to Nadine’s death 😁 

Tag list : @katerka88 ; @bonnieelizabethparker ; @ateliefloresdaprimavera ; @anangelwhodidntfall ; @fawnbrrry​ ; @flowers-in-your-hayr ; @grandpa-sweaters​

"(X/Y). Your sister is calling you. She'd like you to help her set up the tablecloth on the big table in the backyard" Frannie shouted to her oldest daughter from the kitchen where she was busy putting the finishing touches on her cherry pie.  

"Coming!" a female voice behind her replied. (X/Y) walked past her and out the door to the garden. Through the window, Fran saw her happily approaching her two sisters to get everything ready for the little party. "Sisters." This made her smile. They often used that adjective, although in reality, they weren't. (X/Y) was three days older than her second sister, but she didn't know that.

(X/Y) was born in an unnatural way, on a stormy and apocalyptic evening. It was sixteen years ago. Frannie still remembered it. At the time, they were living a nightmare with this post-super flu era where Randall Flagg ruled Las Vegas like the Devil over Hell. Larry, Stu, Glen were out to get him. They came back safe and sound (except Glen who lost his life) and accompanied by a strange little being...

"What the?", Fran had said when she saw them arrive the day after their return with a baby in their arms. "You'll think it's crazy, but it's Nadine and Flagg's baby" Larry explained. It's a good thing she was still in her hospital bed (she'd just given birth four days ago) or Fran probably would have collapsed.

"Larry!" interjected Sty, slightly angry, seeing the effect he had caused on his wife. "No Stu, don't get mad. I'm fine," Fran reassured him, "I just want to understand and know how you managed to get that child back. Where is Nadine?". So they explained the whole story to her...

When he fled the MGM Hotel in haste on the night the nuclear reactor brought by Trashcan Man exploded, Larry passed through the great hall again when he suddenly heard screams. Despite the chaos, he could hear the heartbreaking cries of a newborn baby. A baby was near Nadine's body...

What to do? Larry thought quickly and decided to take this little girl who hadn't asked anyone for anything. He also felt guilty, seeing Nadine. If he had listened earlier to what she wanted to tell him, he could have saved her...

The decision had not been easy to make. Who would take care of this child? The doctor had examined her and at first glance she was healthy. Her birth was also a miracle because of what had happened to her mother. But knowing Flagg's supernatural powers, they figured the supernatural probably had something to do with it. 

So, for her safety and theirs, they decided to say that Frannie had finally given birth to another child, a twin, that no one had noticed on the ultrasound. After all, that was possible with the aftermath of the super flu. No one had to know who she really was. For they were not sure that Flagg had definitely disappeared from the face of the earth...

So for the past sixteen years, (X/Y) had been living with Fran and Stu, his two parents, along with his two sisters. Life had resumed, so many years after the last events. Society had evolved and the people who were coming together were determined not to make the same mistakes as in the past.

Today was a special day. It was Stu's birthday, and for the occasion, Larry, Tom and old friends from Boulder were making the trip. The girls were just as excited as their father. (X/Y) who couldn’t wait to see Larry. He was her godfather, a choice of Stu and Frannie, because she owed him her life. He had become her protector. 

He was also her mentor. Several times she had expressed her concerns to him. Especially one. Since a few months, just after her sixteenth birthday, she had started having strange dreams that had become recurrent...

"What do you see in these dreams?" he had asked her one afternoon when she had called him, worried that the same dream was repeating itself.

"I don't know," she had replied with a trembling voice, "it's...it looks like a nightmare but...I'm not scared. I'm on a beach or in a jungle and...I'm walking slowly until a wolf finds me. But he doesn't want to hurt me. And it's even strange, I feel good when I'm in his presence". 

Larry had shivered on the other end of the phone. Remembering that they had all had such dreams in the past...But how to explain the exact meaning to him? He couldn't afford to tell her the truth. It would have been against the oath they had all taken together.

*

Larry was hoping that the strange dreams of (X/Y) would have faded with time. But it was not the case. Worried, he decided to talk to Fran and Stu about it later that night. He didn't want to panic them, but he didn't want anything to happen either. After all, no one knew if Flagg was really dead.

"If she talks to you about it again, then we'll do something" Stu decided when the three of them were quietly gathered in the kitchen. Everyone was outside and no one suspected what they were talking about. 

But sitting in the backyard, (X/Y) suspected what was going on in the kitchen. For some reason, she knew that Larry had told his parents about his dreams. He hadn't told her, she just knew. Like some kind of intuition. 

"(X/Y), have you seen your little sister" one of the guests asked her. (X/Y) looked away from her point of attention and immediately noticed her worried look. She told him that his nine-year-old sister had disappeared, that she was not in the garden as expected. Immediately, (X/Y) got up and looked for her in the crowd but there was no sign of her. Several people also began to look for her, imitating them. 

Suddenly, (X/Y) had a strange feeling. A feeling that something was about to happen. A kind of uneasiness that made her go out of the garden, near the entrance of the house. Some people followed her, thinking that the front of the house could be a very good lead.

And she finally saw it. She was crouched in the middle of the street, watching something on the ground. (X/Y)'s blood rushed through her veins and she knew at that moment that something dramatic was about to happen. She saw the headlights coming in the distance; she called to her little sister who did not see the danger coming. 

She got up and just as she was about to be hit by this car that had not noticed anything, (X/Y) felt a strong shock running through her nerves that made her throw her arm forward. A lightning bolt came out of his palm and landed in the right place, throwing his little sister backwards, on the other sidewalk, just before the car passed. She was safe and sound. Scared, the few guests who had witnessed the scene, rushed to the little girl to see if she was all right. 

(X/Y), on the other hand, had lost consciousness....

[they-callme-ami]

Reverse Hareem I watched in 7th grade that are actually amazing and cute:

The Wallflower aka "Rejection does not equal Disgusting" the anime.

Main girl enjoys creepy, scary, gorey and bloody things

Her aunt sends her to live with 4 boys--as a way to help improve her self image and make her a 'lady' (idk why, go with it)

Lives with 4 boys but none of them try to harass her and even try to make her comfortable when they think she went through a bad experience with men.

All 4 boys embody tropes but they're all still unique and fresh

There are 2 other girls in the anime (one not shown up there) that befriend our main lady and never try to make her feel worthless for what she enjoys or belittle her

Each boy has some screentime with her, and despite the narritive pointing to 1 specific boy the others are contendors

In the end, we get to learn about her family life--which surprise surprise-- is actually very healthy and supportive of her.

My only gripe is in the 2nd episode, there's this group of really tan-brownish girls, big pink lips, seen as agressive and rude and dumb....so, uh, yeah. Take that as you may.

Kamisama Kiss aka "HOLY SHIT FIGHT SCENES, OVERARCHING STORY AND GODS" the anime.

Main girl loses her home and is kicked out at 17 because her father gambled money--sty with me it gets better

After she saves a mysterious man from a dog, he grants her a place to stay--and she becomes a shrine God.

Her familiar (the fox-boy) is an a-hole but really cares about her.

The other boys have different personalities, motivations, etc. And slowly shape into good people thanks to her kindness

2 seasons, and a story that spans over both seasons and OVA's as well.

Shows a protagonist who is a *bit* of a Mary Sue, but I see it as a girl who despite everything never gives up and still believes in humanity as a whole and tries to help people the best she can.

You already know what it is y'all.

Do I REALLY need to explain? I will.

Main character/leading lady is not at all like the normal building-block lead protagonist.

Haruhi doesn't define herself with gender labels and judges people based on their character

The Host Club give her a chance to pay back her debt since she doesn't have the money, and have her become a host

Each episode showcases different tropes/ways they entertain ladies

Everyone drinks their Respect Woman Juice everyday.

Each has an episode (besides Mori, still pissed about that) about why they joined the Host Club, their troubled family life, etc.

LGBT rep, Haruhi's father is very much bisexual and crossdresses (albeit for his job mostly) and even when his wife died, he said he'd never love another woman. Haruhi doesn't seem to mind romancing girls all day and even Tamaki was open to hosting Haruhi when he thought she was a boy.

Emphasizes how despite Haruhi always being independent, it's okay for her to depend on others whether it's the Host club at school or at home with her father.

[spinchip]

ooo if you're taking prompts maybe something with amara? i'd love to see her and zane talk about seer stuff and goof off together

A/N: This got out of hand. 2500 words, it’s some Zane and Amara bonding, then Zane gets a scary vision and Amara and Alma help him through it. Warning for Zanes vision: blood, gore, body horror. no main characters or ocs are hurt!

Amara hit the training mat with a grunt, rolling across the soft of it with the force of the throw, letting her arms flop uselessly as she splayed out on her back. She heaves out a breath, sweat slick on her forehead and frizzing the edges of her hair.

“I think i’m starting to get it!” She announces, breathless, and Zane grins behind his hand. Amara may have an affinity for things to do with psychics and visions, but martial arts was a bit out of her skill level.

Lloyd smiles apologetically, hands on his knees as he leans over her, “I’ll try coming in a little easier and give you a chance to practice the counter in slow motion.”

“You know, that sounds good and all, but i think i might sit this next little bit out. Gonna let the lesson sink in a little, you know? Sleep on it and all.” She nods to herself, folding her hands over her stomach as if she’s totally meant to be laying in the middle of the training ground.

“Sounds good.” Lloyd laughs and lets her off easy, offering his hand to pull her up.

After working together to get her off the ground, Amara presses a hand to the stitch in her side and hobbles her way over to the others, who’d been watching the impromptu training session with amused eyes, “That’s the last time I watch you train.” She mutters when she gets within hearing range, giving Zane a teasing stink eye.

Cole takes her spot, running a few drills with Lloyd in a much smoother and confident way than Amara had. She seems unbothered, stretching out her tense muscles.

“You did very well for your first time.” Zane offers, moving into a simple yoga pose that he motions for Amara to imitate.

“Thanks.” She sighs deeply, rolling her shoulders, “I try to keep myself in alright shape, but this was a bit more advanced than jogging or lifting weights.” She mutters, shifting into the tree pose, letting her body cool down from the heavy workout, “Grandma works out too. Keeping your body active helps keep your mind active, most seers try and hold a healthy routine.”

“Physical exercise helps with visions?”

Amara shrugs, “Exercise, eating right, meditation, all that. Your body is a temple or something. These abilities we have cost you, the toll they take can be rough if you’re not prepared, though I suppose you’d have an advantage on the physical effects. A heart attack wouldn’t affect you.” She hums, mulling that over as they break pose. They run through a few more together until Lloyd signals they should clean up. “Thanks for the yoga, hopefully that will help my sore muscles.”

“Would have worked better if you had not talked through most of it.” He jokes.

“Everything I had to say was very important.”

Lloyd claps his hands, “Alright, I think we can call it for today. Great work everybody.”

“Cool, I could use a shower.” Kai sighs dreamily at the thought of it as they all gather their water bottles and towels.

Nya wrinkles her nose, “You can say that again!”

It’s not really all that funny, but the others laugh anyway, and Zane smiles along with them. It’d been a good day, he’d made some great stride that morning with Geand Seer Mirai in getting more comfortable using his seer abilities, and Amara had come to watch them train- and even agreed, at his insistence, to do some defensive training as well. He was worried about her being caught up with the Ninja when she couldn’t properly defend himself. They’d gotten a lot done that day, and he felt good.

He sighs, feeling the cool breeze on his face for just a moment longer, and then he turns to follow his friends insi-

Water sloshes around his ankles and he stumbles at the thickness of it, kicking liquid everywhere as he tries to catch himself. he blinks, disoriented- the horizon yawns around him, red water stretching endlessly across the skyline- the monasteries courtyard has vanished, open sky swallowing everything he can see. The sky is a hellish orange, boundless and never ending, the sun a suffocating weight in the sky and spots dance in his eyes when he glances too close, the heat threatening to hold him too tightly, wringing the strength from his body with it’s burn. The air is heavy and thick and dragging across his shoulders, the smell of rot and decay sitting slick and cloying on his tongue, filling his head until he gags with it.

The liquid soaking into his pants is not water.

There’s so much blood it pulls at his ankles, so much gore it spills across even the farthest point in the horizon. There’s no sign of land, no point he can get to to save himself, his gi is turning crimson and tacky where it clings to metal. He can feel it inside his mechanics. He scrambles back, stumbling over unseen lumps below the surface. His shoes slide on something slippery and wet and he trips backwards, blood sloshing around him as he hits the surface, and it sinks and stains his clothes, his hair, his skin. He’s frantic, scrambling to his knees to try and push himself back to his feet when he realizes what he’d slid on.

Skin, hair, teeth, bone.

Bodies rise to the surface, all in different states of decay, all of their rib cages torn out- a bloody, gaping hole where their hearts should be, blood pouring from the wounds as if they were fresh. Mouths hang open, eyes roll back to expose the whites, hands curled and twisted in on themselves.

Confusion and panic paralyze him, where is he? Where are his friends? He’s alone. He’s alone! What is he supposed to do?

The blood ripples, Hands surge up and up, the bodies undulating and moving to grasp at him. Sightless eyes and broken jaws and torn flesh moving and searching and hunting. Their fingers dig into his clothes, lock around his wrists- The pool beneath him heaves, yanking him down and he sinks to his chin before his processor kickstarts back to life and he struggles against the pull. His head’s tipped back, gasping against the blood that threatens to fill his mouth, straining against their strength in panicked, wheezing breaths.

They yank again and raw pain flares up his joints as if they were attempting to pull his arms off with the force of it. The dead wail, and it’s an ugly, nails-on-chalkboard thing- a cacophony of noise, and endless screaming, until they all coordinate enough to say, “YOU HAVE TO COME IN.” a thousand voices overlapping in pain and anger and fear, the jaws of the dead moving lifelessly, “GO UNDER.” they scream and whisper all around him.

The next tug is too strong, and the blood floods his senses, swallowing him up beneath the horror of it all. Once they drag him under, the hands vanish and he kicks out with his legs and surges upwards- but the surface is gone, nothing but endless red that begins to move, a current, dragging at his clothes and his eyes and his hair. He doesn’t need to breathe but he holds his breath on instinct alone, swept alongside bodies that don’t grab at him until he spots a black hole opening up before them, swallowing down everything, consuming all in it’s path. Panic seizes him again, the hole is- it’s nothing, there is nothing there, there is nothing past there, and when he passes through it he’ll be nothing too. He cant fight it, it’s getting closer and closer- he’s dying he’s dying he’s so so hungry-

Hands on his face, bright light, he’s sitting on the ground- wasn’t he just floating? he’s trembling all over, someone is running soothing hands over his face, the sun is warm and familiar above him. Was he alive?

“Where am I?” his words run together so badly he’s not sure anyone understands him, the black hole is gone, the bodies are gone.

He grabs at his shirt frantically, yanking on it- white. No blood. The blood is gone. It felt so real. Is any of this real?

“Shhh,” hands on his face, not grasping, not forceful, not pulling him under, running over his cheek bones, his forehead, petting at him gently. Her voice is filtering through the unreality he’s stuck in, “Shhh…y… t… yo… hom… sty... Zane.”

“I am Zane.” He grasps that, he knows that, it’s real. He’s Zane. He’s a ninja. Shouldn’t the metal he’s made of be stained red? There was so much of it. He digs his fingers into the surface he’s sitting on, grit beneath his artificial nails.

“You had a vision,” Her voice breaks through as a whisper, his eyes obey and start to focus- the sky is blue, the sun is warm but not sharp, there’s dirt under his hands. He feels so far away from it all, like his head is full of cotton, like he’s looking at the girl in front of him from a set of eyes just behind his own. “You had a vision, it was scary. What you're seeing right now is real, Zane. You’re in the monastery courtyard. We were training, do you remember training with me?”

The memories are foggy and hard to grasp, “Amara.”

She leans forward and presses their foreheads together, the pink of her eyes something he can focus on, the contact bringing him back to earth, “You can get through this, Zane.” She presses closer, the comfort of the contact making the panic wane.

Grounding. he needs to ground. He focuses on the way the fabric of his clothes feel against his metal skin, bringing his hands back up to twist in the fabric of his gi. He traces the near imperceptible freckles on the bridge of her nose with his eyes, he lets her hands on his face draw the last dregs of panic from him.

He blinks, the world overexposed and bright, so much more comforting than the glaring orange from before. He’s in the monastery courtyard, Amara is here. He was just training with his friends, before he was in the river of blood. No- that was a vision? It wasn’t real. This is real.

“Come back. I’m right here.” She coaxes him gently, guiding the floating edges of his consciousness back home.

He unclenches his hands where they’ve twisted up his shirt and latches onto her, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, clinging to her. Sweat and vanilla floods his senses, not unpleasant only because of her arms around him. She caresses the back of his head soothingly, her fingernails catching in the short scruff at the base of his neck. He knows he’s crying, he can’t help it.

He doesn’t know how long they sit like that, but when the sobs subside and he finally pulls away, Grand Seer Mirai is crouched at his side. Amara sits back in his lap, smiling softly and running a hand in soothing circles over his shoulders, “Hey.” She whispers.

“Hey.” His voice modulator is rough, he doesn't bother correcting it.

“Glad to see you’re back with us, Honey.” Mirai says quietly. She takes his cheek gently and turns his head toward her, wiping at his face with a warm washcloth, thin layers of ice cracking and flaking off, “How are you feeling?”

Dread crawls up his throat and before he can think better of it he tells her, too honestly, “I’m really scared.”

Amara reaches out and holds his hand reassuringly, shuffling closer where she’s tangled up in his legs. Mirai keeps cleaning his face, “It’s okay to be afraid. Visions are disorienting, frightening things- they’re simpler when you sleep, the line between dreams and reality much easier to find- visions in broad daylight are harder. You are doing great, Honey.”

She sits back, “Why don’t we go inside? I can make you some tea, and we can talk about what happened. Your friends are worried about you.”

Zane nods, and Amara crawls out of his lap, lacing their fingers together so she can help him to his feet. He sways dangerously when they first stand and she presses close to his side, a long moment passes before he feels confident attempting to move and she’s with him every step of the way, “I’m here to help.” She says, her support at his side stabilizing him.

The cool of the monastery is welcome, the heat of the sun vanishing off his shoulders. Mirai guides them into the living room and Amara sits on the couch, patting the cushion next to her. Zane practically collapses onto it, and she throws her legs over his lap, leaning over to wrap her arms around him. Normally, the contact would be too much, but with the horror and disconnect from his vision still sticky on his skin, the touch helps. Time passes fuzzy and disorienting, he’s not sure how long he’s sitting there before Mirai hands him a cup of tea.

Amara accepts hers from her grandmother eagerly, wrapping her hands around the hot cup with a contented sigh. Zane realizes only after he tries to drink his why she’s huddling over her cup. His is frozen solid- she’s cold. He’s making her cold.

He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut and squashing the swell of power that has been trapped in the bubble of terror still caught in his chest. Amara straightens up next to him in surprise, the chill she’d been dealing with vanishing from the air.

When he opens his eyes again, he feels more in control than before. He still feels awful and mixed up and a little disoriented, but he can control his powers again, and that gives him another anchor to focus on. Mirai smiles from where she’s sitting on the floor next to them, and reaches over to the coffee table to prepare him another cup of tea. The lights are off, sunlight from the far window enough to see by. There’s a blanket draped over his shoulders he doesn’t remember being given. The Grand Seer has a tea set prepared on a tray, tea, sugar, honey- everything you could need.

She hands him another cup, taking his previous, and he is quietly proud when he doesn't instantly freeze it.

“How are you feeling?” Amara asks once he’s taken his first sip.

“Better.” He admits, “Are you alright? My powers…” He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, losing his words.

She gets it anyway, “I’m fine,” She reassures him, “You never got cold enough to hurt me.”

“That took a lot of strength,” Mirai praises him quietly, “You were gone in a vision, yet you still had the power to control yourself.”

Amara hands her grandmother her empty cup, smiling at Zane, “We’re really proud of you.”

He smiles weakly and doesn’t feel strong at all.