#i thought that i would grow out of it that it lessen and I'd be able to exist without being in a constant state of panic

[learn-and-accept]

I so badly want to have more people in my life, but holy shit I'm so fucking bad at building relationships

[blackberreh-art]

I got an ask on retrospring asking after a lil headcanon I have (about AfO having an eating disorder) so I thought i'd share the answer here!

Anon asked: Previously, you mentioned that you headcanon that AFO has an eating disorder, can you expand on that a little more? It’s such a unique hc and as someone obsessed with his character I’m interested in your thoughts, especially since I’ve never heard of that idea before

My answer:

I wanted to wait on this because I wanted to think it through when my head was a little clearer but it's been ages so 😭forgive me for my lack of proper thought. Growing up on the streets as a kid i bet food was scarce and you had to eat what you could, and the more afo grew the more he needed to eat. He went long stretches of time without eating, to eating all he could get his hands on when food is found. When he's older I imagine he tends to go long stretches of time without eating out of habit (he's superhuman why would he need to eat) and then when it catches up he binges. Many times he couldn't keep it down. It lessens as he grows older and isn't so affected by canon time, until his fight with All Might.

In old man yaoi AU I utilize this backstory thing, having it flare up in the wake of the HPSC's torture, where they very much starved him a majority of the time

[luxexhomines]

christmas shopping

Alright, so I know Christmas passed and all, but I thought I'd share this old work anyway to serve as both posting writing and also as a mini-announcement here!

I received two requests already, so thank you for your support, even though it's been a long time! I'm working on the first one already, although it's looking really rough, ahaha. I won't close requests yet since there's only two.

This work is actually from November 2020, if you can believe it, but I never posted it because a.) it felt unfinished and b.) I had actually intended to write it as a birthday present for Solar @\solarwhisper. But I never finished it and felt sorry about it, so it was never sent or posted... Anyway, this is a Kokichi x Reader (PG) short one-shot!

“Wake up! Wake up!” 

You feel an overbearing pressure on your midriff as you try to get your bearings, still half-asleep and wanting to go back to sleep, wrapped in fluffy blankets. Your eyes slowly peel open a crack, and a familiar silhouette comes into view. 

“...Kokichi?” You mumble and shut your eyes again. “What are you doing?” 

You can almost see his grin as he laughs and shakes you ruthlessly. You’re not sure when you last became close enough with Kokichi to be shaken as he sits on you or when Kokichi even managed to get into your room, but you’re not too concerned. It’s Kokichi, after all. Now, if only you could get back to sleep… 

“No, no going back to sleep!” Small, not to mention cold, hands pat your cheeks repeatedly. “It’s time to wake up! Come on, lazybones. It’s already 10 am. We have places to go, things to do, people to see!” 

You grumble discontentedly and unsuccessfully attempt to roll over on your bed. Kokichi is too heavy for you to do so, even if he’s a tiny boy. All you end up achieving is turning your face to the side. 

“Leave me alone. I didn’t make any plans with you. I need my sleep. I was up late doing work…” 

Then, you hear him sniff quietly. Uh-oh. Disaster number one was about to head your way. In a flash, you shoot upright and slap a hand over his open mouth just as he’s preparing to let loose a piercing wail that you were sure your neighbors would hear. You glare at him as his purple eyes stare back, seemingly smug despite how firmly your hand was clapped over his mouth. That mouth could do horrible, horrible things, and it wasn’t restricted to only telling lies and emitting sonic cries. You weren’t keen on finding out what else it could do. 

“Enough! I’m awake. What do you want, Kokichi?” 

You let your hand fall from his mouth and instead cover your own as you yawn sleepily. Kokichi huffs as he sits with his legs resting over yours. The bedding does nothing to lessen the impact of him weighing on you, and you reach over, gracelessly pushing him off of you. 

“Using brute force this early in the morning?” he pouts, but he looks positively delighted as his purple eyes sparkle brightly. “Anyway, now that you’re awake, don’t tell me you forgot all about the promise we made to go Christmas shopping together for gifts!” 

You frown, yawning yet again. 

“I didn’t make any promise to go Christmas shopping with you.” 

Kokichi’s eyes grow big and wet, and he purses his lips indignantly. 

“You forgot! We promised, we really did. You said you’d help me look for Christmas gifts this season because I can never find good gifts. I’m usually too busy carrying out my Ultimate Supreme Leader duties, after all,” he asserts. 

You shake your head adamantly. 

“I didn’t promise you anything.” 

He knocks himself on the head with a fist, making a silly expression with a wink and sticking out his tongue. 

“Whoopsie! I mean, maybe that was a little white lie but…” He suddenly has his arm hooked around yours. “Now we have a promise! Go Christmas shopping with me today, alright?” He points at your calendar, which is chaotically hanging askew on a tiny hook on the right wall of your room. “You don’t have anything today! You’re free all day,” he sings triumphantly. 

You have the urge to promptly kick him out, but instead you pinch the bridge of your nose to mitigate your incoming headache. 

“It’s like that because I planned today to rest,” you emphasize the last word, hoping to get through to him. “I need this day to be free, or I won't survive the rest of the week.” 

But he doesn’t give in. 

“Going Christmas shopping with me is like being free,” he claims proudly without a shred of guilt, a barefaced lie. “You’ll have so much fun you’ll forget all about all your worries and stress. Come on,” he begs with shining eyes.

How did his eyes sparkle like that? Did god sprinkle glitter in Kokichi’s eyes when he made Kokichi? You brush away your thoughts and try to get back to the topic at hand.

“Yeah… No.” You send him a disapproving look. “I know you’ll drag me to every store and tire me out before lunch, and then make me carry all your bags for you as you run around the place without a care in the world.” 

“Aww, how did you know?” he sulks. “Still, it has to be you. Gonta’s good for carrying things, but not much else. And Shuichi has zero stamina, so he’ll be tired after we go to maybe two stores. Plus, there’s no way I could convince anyone else to come with me. Maybe Kaede, but I’ll probably get a life lesson and lecture if I have her come with me.”

You stare at him, trying to figure out what his motive was, anyway. 

“Are you seriously just asking me to go Christmas shopping with you? Nothing else? What do you want from me, anyway? I’m not as strong as Gonta, and I doubt I can give as much advice on gifts as Shuichi or Kaede.” 

He just grins and puts a finger to his lips playfully. 

“Hm, I wonder? What do I want from you?” He jumps off your bed sprightly and skips to the door. “Anyway, be out of your room in ten. We’re going to the mall!” 

Before you can object another time, he goes out and shuts the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts and an unfortunate time restriction that gives you little time to tidy yourself up. Sighing, you clamber out of your bed, resigned, and start sifting through your clean clothes. It was going to be a long day with Kokichi at your side.

Even so, you can’t deny he’d indeed sparked your curiosity, and when it came to satiating it, Kokichi never disappointed. Excitement simmered in your chest just below the surface of your weariness. There was something to look forward to, even if you weren’t sure what it was yet. And boy, was it something.

[your-divine-ribs]

Forbidden Part 34

Words: 3.4k

As promised for Smutty Sunday // Y/N and Prof Van make the most of their journey time back to campus // deep-throating, degradation, it’s pretty dirty 🖤

Forbidden Masterlist Main Masterlist

The journey back to campus is certainly an experience. You've done the 'walk of shame' in far worst states after all, and this time you're not actually walking, you're travelling in style, reclined back in the passenger seat of Van's sleek Audi, exchanging sultry glances whilst he waits to pull out of his winding driveway and on to the main road.

"This car's really nice," you say, hands stroking the black leather upholstery appreciatively, pressing your thighs together as you imagine how it would feel to slide into his lap and and straddle him, really give his neighbours something interesting to gossip about. You'd wondered whether the curtains had been twitching this morning when you'd emerged from the house together, and even though the driveway was mostly shielded from prying eyes the thought of the scandal it would cause gives you an illicit thrill nevertheless. "It's a shame we're in such a rush this morning. I've always wanted to do it on leather seats. There's just something about the thought of it that really turns me on."

"You'd better hold that thought," he replies, the corner of his lips twitching into a devilish smirk. He's wearing shades but from your position sat beside him you can see his eyes moving over your bare thighs. "Believe me if I had my way I'd be fucking off this meeting and you'd be spread wide on the back seat for me right here, right now."

You grin salaciously, an ache growing in your core that's begging to be sated. Even though you're still tender from last night you'd endure any amount of discomfort to feel the delectable stretch of him inside you once again. "Right here? Whatever would the neighbours say?"

"Fuck the neighbours," he responds gruffly as he pulls on to the road.

"I'd rather you'd just fuck me."

You don't miss the way he shifts in the seat, the tension across his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel tighter. "Horny little thing aren't ya? I'm gonna make such a mess of you on this Italy trip but I need you to be patient for me. Think you can behave yourself from now until then?"

How the hell does he expect you to behave when temptation personified is sitting right there just inches away? He looks so good this morning it'd be a sin to pass up a prime opportunity for some misbehaving.

"I'm not sure if I can," you respond with a sigh, letting your legs fall open in the hopes that he'll take the bait. "I don't know if I can wait a whole week. It's just that I think about you all the time... how good you make me feel... I find it hard to control myself if I'm being completely honest. Who knows what I might get up to if you're not around to keep an eye on me?"

There's a simmering heat in the car that has nothing to do with the fine weather, it radiates off the both of you, a fiery chemistry that sparks whenever you two share the same space. You wonder whether it'll ever lessen so that you might feel normal around him... and even if you really want it to. After all it's his voracious appetite that thrills you and unleashes your wayward side. He makes you feel desired and so vitally alive, like anything is possible whilst you live out the wildest of fantasies that up until now have been tucked away in the darkest recesses of your mind.

The hand that was on the gear shift moves across to your lap and he nudges the hem of the t-shirt you're wearing upwards as he speaks. "I wasn't asking you Y/N, I was telling you. I trust you do know who this belongs to?" A finger traces the crease of your inner thigh before skimming over the silk of your panties, making your breathing hitch.

His possessive words and fleeting touch are a catalyst to your already aroused state. You can't help but react, mirroring his actions by reaching over the centre console to run a hand over his thigh, fingers raking down the tightly stretched denim. "Of course I know that but a week's a long time. A girl has needs and you can't seriously expect me to wait that long. Maybe if you could just give me a little something to... you know... tide me over until then... maybe, just maybe I could wait..."

You know that you're playing with fire, the sly disobedience in your voice sure to tempt him as you slide your hand in between his thighs.

"Insatiable little slut," he growls low in his throat, his demeanour shifting, much to your delight. He spreads his legs to allow your touch to wander further which of course you take full advantage of. "So desperate for my cock you can't even control yourself on a ten minute drive to campus. Have you learnt nothing at all about restraint?"

"You're a really good teacher and all but there's just so much to take in... I think I might need a re-cap..."

Your hand moves upwards to cup his growing bulge, tracing the outline of his cock. You know full well the risk of getting caught increases exponentially when you're out in public but you can't help yourself. There's something so scintillating about teasing him like this when he can't fully react like you know he wants to, the fact that you're driving through rush-hour traffic on a busy week-day morning, everyone going about their business unmindful of you seducing your Professor in the confines of his car.

"I should teach you a lesson you're not gonna forget this time," he says, hips canting upwards as you slide your palm over him more firmly. "Pull over and fuck you pressed right up against the windscreen so the whole world can see what a needy whore you are. I don't suppose that would be punishment though would it? Sure you'd enjoy it."

"Don't make threats you're not gonna follow through with," you counter boldly, purposefully challenging him. "It's making me wet just thinking about it."

You smirk victoriously as a frustrated groan escapes him as you start to rub him with purpose. You know he's struggling to maintain his composure and not pull over at the side of the road and carry out his wild threat, you can see the tension in his jaw as he curses under his breath, turned on beyond belief but not being able to take control of the situation like he normally does.

"Oops," you giggling mischievously as he stiffens even more under your touch, the muscles in his thighs tensing up. "Look what's happened. You look a little uncomfortable in those tight jeans... maybe I could help you out by loosening them a little?"

His eyes keep darting down to his lap to watch as your dainty fingers seek out his hardness through the fabric, the other hand deftly unfastening his belt. "What the fuck d'ya think you're doing? If I have to stop and I'm late for work you'll be in serious trouble."

He doesn't stop you though and his inaction speaks volumes. You've never been in such a position of control with him before and you love it, the surprising shift in power filling you with confidence. You have the urge to really push the boundaries, the temptation of seeing him melting under your touch too good to resist.

"Better keep your eyes on the road," you tease brazenly. "You wouldn't want to have an accident now would you? And who said anything about pulling over? I think you should carry on driving. Don't wanna miss that meeting do you? I'll take care of you, don't worry about that."

His lust-filled gaze darts to meet yours briefly before it fixes on the road ahead, his mouth opening and closing like you've rendered him temporarily speechless. You think he's going to halt you as you start to pop open the buttons on his jeans but he doesn't. In fact he lifts his ass off the seat to allow you to push his jeans down his hips.

"Just when I think things with you can't possibly get any better you go and surprise me yet again."

You smile, the needy sigh he releases as you slide your hand under the elastic of his underwear to free his cock sending a rush of heat straight to your core.

"God you're such a bad girl... and so filthy... fuck... and it's all for me..."

"All for you Sir..."

You simper at his wicked brand of praise, drooling at the sight of him rock hard and eager for you. You're desperate to lean over and take him into your mouth, swallow him down as deep as your gag reflex will allow until he's panting and squirming in the seat but you don't want it to be over too soon. You're mindful of the fact that you're now only a few minutes drive away from campus but you want every second spent with him to last, you want to stretch it out until he's trembling and groaning and all he can think about is you and your hands and your lips and your tongue. Maybe you'll drive him so wild he'll be forced to pull over after all and carry out the delicious threats that he's been taunting you with all morning.

So you take it slow, flexing your fingers around his girth and letting them run slowly up and down his length, pausing every so often to run your thumb slowly over his tip, small feather-light circles around and around until you feel him twitching and throbbing and growing in your palm.

"I just like to make you feel good, that's all," you whisper, low and seductive, satisfied to see his teeth digging hard into his bottom lip as you tease his slit, feeling the wetness gathering there.

"You do... you bloody do... you know exactly what I like... ughhh.... feels so good..."

Having him under your thrall like this is driving you crazy, the small groans that slip from his lips, the way his fingers grasp the steering wheel harder each time you squeeze him a little more firmly. The tip of his cock is glistening now, pearly drops of precum gathering there, making you salivate. You need more.

You swiftly unbuckle your seatbelt and turn your body towards him, leaning right over so you can press a soft kiss to his jawline, nuzzling into the scratchy stubble there. Your free hand pulls on the collar of his shirt to expose more of his throat.

"Can I taste you?" You murmur your words against the warmth of his skin, feeling his pulse skitter under your lips, your teeth nipping at his collar bone. "I've missed the way you feel in my mouth... and my throat... please Sir..."

"Fuck yes," he mutters without hesitation. He takes a hand off the wheel to reach up and lace his fingers through your hair, exerting a slight pressure to urge your head downwards. His movements aren't harsh but when he speaks his tone is commanding.

"You know what I want. Be a good girl for me and suck it. Put that filthy mouth of yours to good use for once..."

His words devolve into sighs as you lean right over to lap at the creamy precum beaded at his tip, the ache between your legs intensifying at the taste of him. The hand gripping your hair tightens satisfyingly as you let your tongue swirl around him before you purse your lips and slide down his length. He's so thick, sliding deliciously against your tongue, the stretch in your jaw already telling you that you're nearing your limit. It's a struggle to accommodate his size but you try as best you can, your lips only halfway down his shaft before you feel your throat protesting, wetness pricking at the corners of your eyes. A hilarious thought flits through your head that if you died at this very moment, asphyxiated by choking on his cock, it would totally be worth it. You want nothing more than to indulge him and hear the sounds of pleasure drifting down from above. You want to give him everything.

You close your eyes, concentrating on savouring those gorgeous noises as you begin to eagerly bob your head, the husky breathlessness in his voice as he tells you, "that's it... like that... just like that... I'm gonna have to pull in behind the history building... don't stop... don't you dare stop."

You feel the car turn sharply before accelerating,  then it pulls to a sudden standstill, the low purr of the engine falling quiet. As instructed you don't stop, not that you want to anyway. You're too consumed by the delectable fullness of him in your mouth, intoxicated by the way his hips start to buck upwards like he can't control himself. Both hands now free, he brushes your hair back off your face so he can closely watch you, transfixed by the sight of his dick sliding wetly between your spit-slicked lips.

"Look at you... you look so good with your mouth full of me... so fucking dirty... and I know you can take it all. C'mon baby... just a little more."

Despite the ache in your neck and the strain to your back from the awkward angle you feel your arousal growing, your panties sure to be soaked through by the time you're finished. One hand still firmly wrapped around his dick you let the other slip tentatively between your thighs. You want to touch yourself and feel that hot slickness under your fingertips, that blissful pressure, that satisfying friction, that exquisite release. You're so worked up you know you'll come undone in mere minutes, reaching down to rub a few quick firm strokes over your damp underwear. You're already beginning to lose yourself in your own sinful world of pleasure as you writhe in the seat.

"What the fuck d'ya think you're doing?" He suddenly growls and your heart skips as he reaches over to roughly knock your hand away, your whines of protest smothered as he pushes your head even further down and holds you there. "Only I get to make you come... don't forget that!"

A stifled moan tears up from your throat as his fingers immediately take over from where yours left off, slipping under the silk of your panties and locating your clit with ease. You're overwhelmed, already lightheaded with your airway restricted, dribbling and choking around his cock as your body succumbs to the pleasure.

"Already this wet just from sucking my cock? Filthy girl."

He chuckles darkly, plunging two fingers straight into your sopping cunt as his thumb sweeps masterfully over your clit. You whimper pathetically, stunned at how quick the tables have turned. Just moments ago you were in charge, teasing and tempting him in a calculated seduction. Now he's dominating you yet again, your mind blurring at the edges as he controls you completely, gripping your hair harder as he forces your head up and down, thrusting and grunting with each sharp motion, fucking into your mouth with reckless abandon.

"I'm gonna come," he blurts urgently, and you can do nothing but drool helplessly around his cock, the obscenely wet sounds of you spluttering and gagging filling the car as he presses deeper still into your throat. He's still fucking you ruthlessly with his fingers, sending you hurtling headfirst towards an orgasm so intense that your body's already shuddering violently. You want to scream out loud but your sounds are muffled and it's probably just as well as you'd be sure to draw the attention of inquisitive passers-by.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck... OH FU-CK..." he groans, holding you firmly in place as you feel thick spurts of cum hit the back of your throat, your own body bucking as you simultaneously hit your peak, the lack of oxygen intensifying everything to dizzying heights. Only then does his grip on you finally loosen and you pull away, gasping for air which you suck desperately into your strained lungs, the throes of your climax still radiating through you.

"Holy fucking shit... that's a hell of a way to start the morning off!" He lets out a breathy laugh like he can't quite believe what's just occurred, hastily tucking himself away and adjusting his clothing.

You keep your head down, panting like crazy whilst you try to gain a modicum of composure. You know you must look a state, reduced to a whimpering, red-faced mess once again by this man who you know damn well without even looking up will be infuriatingly calm and unruffled even as he comes down from the peak of his own high.

The hands that had grasped you so brutally only moments before are gentle and mindful, one pulling the hem of the t-shirt down to cover your modesty, the other carefully smoothing sweat-dampened strands of hair off your face as he tries to tilt your face upwards. You resist for a moment but give in, straightening up in your seat to look at him when he calls softly to you.

"Y/N... c'mon now... look at me... don't hide away... let me see that pretty face..."

"I must look a right mess after that," you mumble, partially hiding behind your hands as you allow a smile to surface "... again! Seems to be a bit of a recurring theme."

He's smiling too, amused by your sudden bashfulness. "Well... you've only got yourself to blame... teasing me like you do. You didn't really think I was gonna let you get away with it now did you?"

He reaches up to catch hold of your hands, moving them to uncover your face and to your surprise his fingers entwine through yours as he brings them down to rest in your lap. He doesn't let go, that same unexpected warmth you glimpsed before in his eyes catching you off-guard.

Your shyness increases and you feel flustered, not knowing what to say or do next, but it doesn't matter. All of a sudden he's moving forwards, closing the small gap between you to crush his lips against yours. The kiss is deep and intense and passionate and you melt into it willingly. The perfect combination of ravenous hunger and sweet tenderness, a contradiction that you've come to know so well from Van. Despite how much your sexual encounters rile you up it's these small moments of tenderness, no matter how brief, no matter how fleeting, that draw you in helplessly. Your mind's in a spin as you pull away to catch a breath, words spilling from your lips that you instantly regret.

"It could be like this for us... every morning... if we really wanted it..."

FUCK! Why the hell did you have go and say THAT?

All that mind-blowing sex has obviously short-circuited your brain... made you forget that just this very morning you were reassuring him that this was just casual no strings attached fun.

"I mean... I didn't mean... I mean I wasn't talking about us like being together or anything... not like a couple..." you stammer quickly, trying to backtrack but instead digging yourself an even deeper hole, your cheeks blazing like a beacon.

"I know what you meant," he smiles, and it's warm and reassuring, disarming you once again, drawing you in even more. "Let's just enjoy the time we have together, yeah?"

"Yeah... and I... I really ought to go... before someone sees me," you mutter, still flustered. You try to pull away but he won't let you go, pulling you back this time with a hand at the back of your head like he can't bare the thought of your lips being away from his even for a second.

You wonder if he can taste himself on your tongue, but if he can it appears not to bother him, his tongue licking into your mouth like he's claiming you as he murmurs against your lips how perfect you are and how pretty you are and how good you are for him...

But you're not.

You're anything but. You're not good for him. You're bad for him, just like he's bad for you. Two careless thrill-seekers drawn to each others' dark whims like moths to a flame, too blinded by the tempting heat of the fire to recognise the damage that same flame could cause.

But for better or for worse you're not sure if you can live without it anymore.

[vossn]

Month 3-to-4-ish on Testosterone

The reason why I haven't really updated is that there hasn't been much happening! Previous changes continue:

I'm getting hairier. Thighs, stomach, arms, hands, chest, everywhere. Starting to grow sideburns. My chin is fluffy. Odd detail, but my hands also look less feminine, it is hard to describe, but you know what I mean when you see it :D

My voice continues dropping. It is surprisingly low for the short time that has passed, but I'm enjoying it. I'll try to put together a comparison of my old fanfic readings vs now some time. Singing is hard because I start to squeak if I even try to go slightly high, and I am slightly hoarse, but I am confident this will ease over time.

I cry less. I can't even name the last time I cried, and it comes much less easy to me now, which is good, because god did I annoy myself with how fast I'd get teary-eyed.

I also can safely say that dysphoria has substantially lessened. There were times in my life where I'd just spend each and every evening sobbing my eyes out, go to sleep, and would wake up knowing I'd have to do it all again. I was so dysphoric that I felt no euphoria at all, in fact I often felt quite dead. If you're at this stage: It does get better, but I also know it hurts like hell. It won't hurt forever.

Nowadays I look in the mirror and I just think I look like a dude, I don't quite look my age, sure, but seeing him in the mirror makes me very happy. I don't pass super well, I have a bit of a ..shape, but it doesn't bother me like it used to.

My biggest adjustment with transition has been that there's a very stark difference between wanting to be something and actually being something, actually living it. That's mainly the fault of our society, not being trans itself. There are things I would have never thought possible to happen this way when I began, and had I known, I would have been scared out of my mind.

The trick is finding a few people who, fiercely and unapologetically, are in your corner. Shout-out to my grandma, who 1. acknowledged how hard it must be for me at a time where everyone was just straight-up blaming me, 2. offered me a place to stay and help if i ever needed it, thus being cooler at 92 years old than her daughter ever will be.

I like to think I'm better, at least for the time being. Far from great, but better.

That's all for today, I'm off to pursue one of the shittiest sports you can do while trans: swimming :)

[bloodyshadow1]

Guiding Wisdom ch 11

Someone told me that they couldn't read my story anymore since I put it so only people with ao3 accounts can read it because AI is using Ao3 now. I felt bad so I thought I'd post the newest chapter here

It was breathtaking being in front of her mother’s villa. Despite how many times she visited, Olympus never lost its grandeur, but she had never been here. It was standard, if still impressive due to the size and style, but less obnoxious compared to Zeus’. It reminded Annabeth of the Athena Cabin back at Camp Half-Blood. It was made of gray stone, perfectly symmetrical, it was one of the most beautiful buildings Annabeth had ever seen.

“It is pretty nice right,” Athena said more than asked, “let us go inside,” she suggested. “Unless you would like to study the exterior more. It is up to you.”

“It’s fine mom,” Annabeth said, but she was still looking over every inch of the outside of the palace, marveling at its beauty. “I can come outside later, right,” she finished questioningly. She knew Athena planned on inviting her children, but that didn’t mean it was an open invitation. Right?

“Of course,” Athena agreed, though clearly out of her depths, “my home should be open to my children whenever they visit Olympus. Even on your sabbatical you are here most often. Visit as often as you like. Though I cannot guarantee that I will be here. My duties make it so I rarely have time to use my lands as anything other than a glorified office.”

“I guess you are always busy,” Annabeth said, trying to sound sincere, not bitter. Athena was an important goddess, Annabeth understood that, but growing up she would have killed for a chance to do anything like this with her mom as a kid.

“Yes,” Athena admitted, “but that has lessened, if only slightly. For now, things have calmed down, there is no threat on the horizon that I can see. Many of our ancient enemies are put to rest for now, in no small part thanks to you and your friends. I am no longer needed in war rooms where I am continuously ignored.” Not that she was bitter. “I wish to make up for lost time, as it were.”

“It’s a start,” Annabeth said neutrally. She wouldn’t hide the pain Minerva had put her through, and she was close enough to Athena that Annabeth didn’t know how much overlap there was. A 12 year old Annabeth would have loved everything Athena was trying to do. Annabeth as 19 could only hope it was real, maybe afraid and cursing herself for being hopeful, but the gods can change. So she could allow herself to hope, it had worked with Fredrick to an extent.

“That is all I can ask,” Athena said, bidding her daughter inside. The entrance hall of Athena’s estate was a wide room that was mostly plain. Two statues stood on either side of the doorway of gray stone, one of Artemis the other of Persephone. Each created by a master’s hand. Other than that it was a chamber made of white stone and plain walls. “Please take off your shoes,” Athena said as she took off her own. “Socks are fine or I can provide indoor slippers if that’s what you prefer. But no one is allowed to walk around my home with dirty shoes.” Hermes walked through her home with muddy shoes once, once and that was all he needed to learn the proper etiquette of Athena’s palace.

Annabeth didn’t mind, it was a simple rule and seeing her mother follow it too despite making the rule ended any argument that she might have made. It was polite and she didn’t mind, especially once she put on the slippers her mother provided. They were like walking on clouds.

“This is the main living quarters,” Athena explained, though her tone made it clear she was aware it was unnecessary. “I figured this would be where most of the hosting and socializing would be done, at least at first.”

Annabeth looked around, it was a huge room, slightly smaller than an auditorium, with high ceilings. Unlike the entranceway, the walls were covered with fine art and tapestries each made with a master’s hand like everything in the home seemed to be. Ancient weapons and armor from heroes lost to time, some on the wall, others draped over manikins. Even some posters of plays and signed headshots of actors from the age of the silent film to today. There was no rhyme or reason solidifying a style amongst the art work, some were scenes of battle, others love, others abstract art, but the lack of uniform almost seemed to pull the room together. It was like a less tacky theme restaurant with the walls covered in memorabilia.

Annabeth wished Rachel was there with her. Annabeth could appreciate good art, but her oracle friend would have a field day in this room alone.

There were couches, ones that looked old and worn, but seemed comfortable. Odd, though perhaps not too odd given who Athena was, but there was also a loom in the corner that stood out to Annabeth. “This is a lot of space,” Annabeth noted as she took everything in. Athena wanted her to help so she would do her best. “Maybe a bit…, too much. It almost feels overwhelming even with the entire Athena Cabin here, it’s a huge palace.”

“I suppose so,” Athena agreed, reluctantly. “I like my open space, but perhaps for the sake of my children, I could make it slightly less overwhelming.” With a wave of her hand the room grew smaller.

To Annabeth it didn’t even look like the room shrunk in size, it just was suddenly smaller. The powers of the gods were always impressive, despite not wanting to become one, Annabeth envied her mother’s power. She was about to say something to her mother, but stopped when she saw Athena take a deep slow breath. Annabeth didn’t know if her mother even remembered she was there right now, but for both their sakes she pretended to look away and give Athena some privacy. She didn’t have to pretend that hard, even in a smaller room, the artwork in the room was beautiful.

After a moment Athena approached her, “do you have any other suggestions for this room,” she asked, as if she did not need a minute to breathe.

“I was thinking that for the actual get together,” Annabeth started. ‘Get together’ sounded odd in her mouth, but ‘party’ didn’t really fit her idea of Athena either. “Carpet might work better. The tile on the floor is gorgeous and easier to clean, but it can feel a bit cold and detached where you want the atmosphere to be welcoming. Something softer might not be as grand, but it will be better at putting people at ease.”

“That does make sense,” Athena agreed, though Annabeth could see that it was hurting her mother to change her beautiful tile floor to carpet. Still, she took her daughter’s suggestion without argument. “What are you thinking,” she said and with a snap of her fingers the floor was covered in a short gray carpet. She looked at Annabeth for approval.

“Let’s put it on the maybe column,” Annabeth suggested.

Without missing a step, Athena touched the wall beside her and a white board emerged from it. At the top were three columns, yes written in blue, no written in red, and maybe written in green. Under the green was the equivalent of a thumbnail of the current gray carpet. “Then let us keep trying,” Athena suggested with a small, hopeful smile on her face.

“Let’s,” Annabeth agreed, trying to return the smile. For the next ten minutes or so the two of them had a genuinely fun time going through every type of carpet that the goddess of crafts and a girl with a dream of being an architect could conceive of. No matter how ugly or outlandish with Athena’s ability she could summon and create any pattern or image.

Annabeth even got her mother to laugh when she suggested a Lisa Frank unicorn carpet. When Athena summoned it the two of them agreed that the woman had a style, but not was a definite no. The maybes and nos filled up fast but they settled on a silver gray carpet that is soft long. “Oh yeah,” Annabeth said as she rubbed her hand over the soft carpet. “This is nice, a few sleeping bags and we wouldn’t need pillows to sleep in here.”

“That might be the case Annabeth, but I am not going to force my children to sleep in my den,” Athena said walking over to her daughter.

The idea of having her own room in her mother’s home was a childhood dream to Annabeth. To actually feel welcomed by a parent enough to have her own space, she loved her siblings but even though the Athena cabin was better equipped than the others on space, it still could feel like she never had privacy.

Still, “that’s really nice of you mom,” Annabeth said, “but I’m sure my siblings would appreciate that, but most of us are used to living at camp, you know in a communal living space. I freaked out the first night my roommate spent the night at her girlfriend’s and I was left completely alone.” She called Percy who had experience in a big open space alone since he was the only one in the Poseidon cabin, but she didn’t need to tell Athena that.

“I suppose you are correct,” Athena said with a nod, “but then most of your siblings are probably used to it by now. And sleeping on the floor probably is not good for some of them.”

“What do you mean,” Annabeth asked confused.

“Well Jeremiah is in his 60’s. I doubt he would be interested in sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag, no matter how comfortable I make the carpet,” Athena explained.

“Who is Jeremiah,” Annabeth asked, her confusion continued.

“He is your older brother,” Athena said as if it were obvious, “a teacher at Yale, enjoys opera and showtunes, has been living with his boyfriend for the past 43 years in a domestic partnership since their love is ‘illegal’ here,” she finished bitterly.

Athena had no interest in romantic love, she had only experienced it once in her immortal life and that was enough, but she seethed at the idea that her children were not allowed to wed their chosen partners. Similar problems had happened before interracial marriage was legalized too, and Athena was sick of it.

“My older brother,” Annabeth practically whispered. Logically, she knew that she had older siblings, she could still remember Sofia, the head of the Athena Cabin when she first arrived at camp. She had been nice enough, nicer than Thalia had been at first, but Annabeth never saw her after her first summer. She had been too old to spend her life in a summer camp, like Annabeth was currently, but even though she had never heard about Sofia dying, Annabeth assumed the worst, especially once the war started.

Historically Annabeth knew she had famous half-siblings, George Washington, Daedalus, and Frederic Bartholdi to name a few. But it was hard to wrap her head around the idea of older children of Athena out there in the world. Even without the option to go to New Rome.

“There are roughly 60 of my children alive currently,” Athena said seeing Annabeth’s confusion, “including the Athena Cabin at Camp.” There should be more, so many more, she cursed herself internally. Her children did not have the powerful scents that children of the Big Three had, in fact their scent was weaker than most demi-gods due to the lack of fantastic powers gifted to them. And her children were perhaps the most dangerous to monsters if they lived to 18 since survival was due to their skills in battle, not divine power. The soulless ones often chose a meal less likely to fight back than a fully grown child of Athena. If not for her pride and Minerva’s madness there would be dozens more, maybe even over a hundred.

The Athena Parthenos was a powerful relic and it helped unite the Greek and Roman demi-gods, but Athena regretted how many of her children she sent to their deaths to retrieve it. Part of her wished she could blame all of the coins that dangled from Arache on Minerva’s actions, but that would be wrong. Athena would not hide from the horrors she caused.

“I am unsure of how many will attend,” Athena said aloud, both to save her daughter and herself from their own spiral. “I still receive prayers every now and then, but as children of the gods grow older, most of them choose to leave that part of their lives behind. To become a key part of the mortal world than ours,” she said sadly. Athena did not blame them, it was common for many reasons. Once you became an adult, it was harder to pray to an absent parent for help, if they were not there for you as a child, why would they be there for you when you can stand on your own two feet.

Annabeth stood there, lost in her own head. Shaken from her discovery of having older siblings, who were out in the real world, alive. There were too many thoughts, happy that there was proof she had a future even outside of New Rome, but she couldn’t help but be bitter too. If there were adult demi-gods out in the world, why did everything have to fall on kids like her? Why didn’t they fight in the war against the titans, or Gaia, or the Triumvirate? They got rewarded for living to adulthood while she and Percy saved the world when they were twelve and kept having to do so every year.

It was just so complicated, but maybe also a little hopeful. Annabeth thought New Rome was their only choice for a future. Monsters might attack adult demi-gods less, but Percy’s scent was strong even now. They thought twice before attacking a son of Poseidon at his age, especially one as infamous as Percy, but would that be the same once they had kids. Do legacies have the scent that their parents or grandparents would? It was all just too much.

“Perhaps we should move on to the other rooms of the palace,” Athena suggested, she could tell Annabeth’s brilliant mind would be fixated on this if she was not distracted. Something Diomedes said happened to her all the time. If Annabeth needed time, she would have it, but Athena was proof that sometimes you needed to be saved from yourself.

“Yeah,” Annabeth managed to get out, “that would be for the best.” She didn’t have time to be bitter or hopeful. She had to remember she was helping her mother, she could deal with meeting her older siblings when she met them.

The next room was the kitchen, a kitchen from the future and from a chef’s dream. A massive state of the art kitchen with a fridge bigger than Annabeth’s dorm. Dozens of gadgets lined the shelves, some that Annabeth could not even begin to conceive of their uses. There was a black marble island in the center of the room where there was a sink and counter space.

“I always had an interest in cooking,” Athena admitted as she looked around her kitchen. “It was a rather interesting quandary for me. As a goddess I do not need to eat food like a mortal. Offerings and Ambrosia keep me sated. Yet, there are many foods that mortals make, some wonderful, some awful, but with millions, if not billions of recipes throughout time. It is rare to find something that tastes better than Ambrosia, but it does happen every now and then and it is fascinating.” Sally’s cookies for instance.

“So I like to learn how to make food despite it being inefficient for me,” Athena continued. “It is fun to learn recipes and cooking techniques from around the world.”

“I thought that this would be the best place to have snacks and other foodstuffs,” Athena said, fearing she made things awkward with her explanation. “It keeps things organized and if anyone wishes for something else, I can make it for them here.”

“That would probably be best,” Annabeth said, getting into design mode. She wasn’t an interior designer, but she had an eye for things. “You should make a lot of those cookies Sally taught you to make.”

“I can assume that you enjoyed them then,” Athena asked hesitantly. Athena thought they were tasty, but she did not have the courage to see if her children enjoyed them.

“Yeah, they were really good,” Annabeth told her sincerely. They weren’t the same as Sally’s, for some reason they tasted differently even though they were the same recipe, but they were delicious. Percy said they weren’t as good as his mom’s, but that didn’t stop him from inhaling half the box her mother left for her.

“I am glad you enjoyed them, I will be happy to make more for the gathering,” Athena said with a gentle smile that was rarely seen on her face.

From there, they continued the tour, each room being massive and beautiful with artwork adorning the walls that Annabeth had never seen. She’d have to take pictures to share with Rachel the next chance she had. It didn’t take much, Athena had impeccable tastes, even if it was a bit much sometimes. Athena’s palace would be full of masterpieces, but like the size of the rooms it could be overwhelming to be a mortal, or even half and know any one of these paintings, sculptures, or tapestries would be worth more than any house she’d be able to fine with Percy once they graduated.

It was the library/workshop that really made Annabeth gasp. It was huge, like every room in the palace, but this one at least looked lived in. It didn’t even have a roof, more of a veranda over the entrance, but it looked out over all of New York. The massive shelves are covered in books, some new, but others older than her father, older than this country. It made the Circe’s library on her island seem pitiful.

Then there was the craft section that made up the second half of the area reminded Annabeth of Daedalus’ workshop. Mixes of ancient and modern tools to craft every sort of medium Annabeth had ever heard of and many she didn’t. Easels, pottery wheels, of course a loom, Athena’s specialty, but there were tables for metal etchings and even a computer set up for digital art that would make the Hephestus kids drool.

“Mom…,” Annabeth was finally able to get out once she found her voice in the midst of her wonder, “the size of all these rooms?”

“You may ask your questions with no fear of retaliation Annabeth,” Athena told her as she grew more solemn, but not angry.

Annabeth figured Athena already knew what she was about to ask. It bothered her, but she still gave Annabeth permission. “When we were talking with Sally,” Annabeth said carefully, “you spoke of your birth, or after your birth. How you were in Zeus’ stomach. It sounded horrible, obviously, but the way you talked about it…, I could tell from your face that it still bothers you. Seeing this place, it’s beautiful, but the size of everything puts everything into perspective. Are you claustrophobic?”

For a moment Athena just stared out into the city, her face stone. But eventually she softened, “yes, I am. It is not debilitating, but it is uncomfortable being reminded of where I was first born. I become more…, testy and am more prone to irrational behavior.”

“I never knew,” Annabeth told her.

“I did not wish anyone to know, only a handful of beings know of my weakness,” Athena said, her voice full of disappointment in herself. Diomedes of course, Artemis and Persephone who helped her through episodes when they were younger, Hestia probably, and Pallas who died with that secret inside her. Not even her owls knew, some might have an inkling, but most were happy that the rooms of her palace were so large it made it easy to fly in.

Oh and Triton, he had been the one to explain it to her. That was before Claustrophobia had a name since it was before Psyche or Dionysus, but the phobia existed before the name. Despite the bad blood between them, he never told anyone of her weakness and she was grateful.

“We change things back and keep the ceilings high mom,” Annabeth assured her.

Hearing her daughter’s concern for mental state warmed Athena’s heart. She was still unused to having her children care about her, it was an alien but nice feeling. “It is alright Annabeth. The rooms are still large enough that it is not uncomfortable to be in them. Perhaps they will even be cozy when all of my children arrive,” Athena assured her. “Besides, if it becomes…overwhelming, I can change it back until the gathering and return the changes when I am hosting. I will be fine,” she assured her daughter.

Annabeth looked like she wanted to argue, but decided against it, “if you’re sure.”

“I am,” Athena promised, even with Annabeth suggesting smaller rooms, they would still be huge for anyone other than her. Athena was sure she could manage for a few days if it made her children happy. “Let us continue, we can head to the outside from here,” she said, with what she hoped was a sincere smile on her face.

The effectiveness of said smile was debatable, but Annabeth did agree to move on so Athena counted that as a win. As they moved through the workshop however Athena stopped her. “I do not want to alarm you, but there might be something triggering for you up ahead. I will let you choose if you wish to continue, we can see it or I can hide it if you would like, whatever you want, I will respect your choice.”

“What is it,” Annabeth asked surprised that there was something in her mother’s art gallery that Athena thought she should be warned about.

“A piece of rope,” Athena said reluctantly.

“A piece of rope,” Annabeth repeated, not understanding what her mother thought that would frighten her.

“Yes, a piece of rope that was expertly woven by one of my daughters to save herself in her own personal hell on earth,” Athena said sadly and reluctantly.

Annabeth’s eyes went wide as she understood what her mother was getting at. Despite herself, she walked forward and saw the rope made of discarded kite string that she wove years ago in Arachne’s lair. It was the bridge she made all those years ago, mounted on the wall amongst all the other art and majesty that Athena had collected over the years, yet it was displayed as if it was the blade of a great hero.

“I don’t understand I burnt this,” Annabeth said, her heart pounding in her chest as she remembered that day. Before Tartarus it had been the worst day of her life. Trapped in a monster’s lair, surrounded by spiders and misogynistic ghosts, a broken ankle in the dark without even her hat as a magical item. She had woven the kite string into a bridge as a last resort that paid off, she needed to cross a chasm before the spiders could get her. She burnt it to keep them from following her, or at least to slow them down.

“You did,” Athena explained gently as she approached her daughter, she did not touch her, afraid to set her off, but she wanted to be there if Annabeth needed her. “But fire falls under my aunt’s domain. Hestia retrieved the rope, your first act of weaving and brought it to me, telling me,” really yelling at her, “how your wits and skill saved your life.”

It had been a little after Annabeth and Percy fell into the abyss. Athena’s head was nearly torn open as Minerva grappled with her for control. Hestia betraying her had been enough to give Athena the edge to maintain control for a moment, but not keep it. It was enough for Athena to mourn her daughter, to be proud of Annabeth’s success, while feeling shame for her own actions as Minvera.

“But why is it here on your wall,” Annabeth said drily, swallowing.

“It was your first act of weaving,” Athena said dourly, “and it saved your life. Once I found out you were alive and Gaia was dealt with, I put it up to remember your moment of glory.” And as a reminder of what her pride could force her to do.

“Then all the artwork and everything,” Annabeth said realizing what her mother was saying, “it was created by my siblings?”

“Not everything,” Athena admitted, “most things yes, I am proud of my children and display their gifts to me as openly as I can. Some were creations of mortals I patronized, or heroes I mentored, but yes, something from a child or student,” Athena said sadly. She knew every piece of art by name and creator, every hero who swung their swords or raised a shield, every student of hers that created something beautiful. She wanted something to remember them by and this was the way an immortal being could.

“You can make whatever decision you wish about the rope you wove Annabeth,” Athena promised again. “If you wish for me to put it away I will, if you want it to remain on the wall forever it will. If you want me to burn it to ash so there is one less reminder of the hell I sent you to, I can burn it right now so that not even Hestia can save it. Whatever you want, no judgment.”

Annabeth was quiet for a moment, “let me think on it,” she eventually said.

“Of course,” Athena promised diplomatically, “there is no rush, and you can change your mind whenever you want. While you are thinking about that, perhaps we can move on to something lighter,” she suggested as she continued to walk outside.

The outside was as breathtaking as the inside, though more wild. It was almost like the first time Annabeth had really seen Camp Half-Blood in all its glory. There was a beautiful garden larger than almost any Annabeth had seen. Beside that was a large clay circle with training weapons beside it. A large fire pit that wasn’t lit yet, but had a spit over it ready to roast something. There was even a breathtaking spring with a waterfall cascading into it from a cliffside, like something out of a fairytale.

However what caught Annabeth’s eye was a city, a miniature city about the size of a medium building. Annabeth walked over to it and saw that there were no people in the city, no, it was populated by owls.

“I see you have found Feathersburg,” Athena said, her tone a mix of soft and exasperated.

“Feathersburg,” Annabeth repeated and looked at her mother unsure if Athena was making a joke.

“It was not my idea,” Athena assured her, “I wanted to name it Owlthens, but I was outvoted.”

Feathersburg was something, Annabeth had to admit. Despite at first glance being a mishmash of birdhouses lumped together, she could see the genius of the city planning, the perfect fusion of efficiency and beauty. Feathersburg itself was a simple square shape, Annabeth could see the city was divided into quarters with a river running through it. No block was too big or too crowded. There were traffic lights and stop signs at appropriate intersections that would keep traffic from getting too congested. Each home had its own decently spaced yard the same size as the others, some had flowers, others vegetables and fruits, though they were people sized, not owl sized strangely enough.

It shouldn’t be as wonderful to see, but Annabeth adored it. She did have a question for her mother though. “If I might ask,” she started, but Athena interrupted her, not unkindly though.

“Why do they have cars or roads at all,” Athena finished her daughter’s question sounding tired. “It is just something they like for some reason. They know they can fly, they know it is actually slower to drive their cars anywhere than it is to fly, but they still do what they do. I might as well ask them why they wear clothes and wigs, which I have and they just stare at me with their large bird eyes no matter who I ask,” Athena said as she drifted off into the memory.

“Regardless,” Athena said shaking her head, “Feathersburg does not need any changes, except a new name,” Athena mumbled under her breath, “I thought you might like it as I do.”

“It is certainly something,” Annabetha admitted. The strange owl city was charming despite herself.

“This is the residential district,” Athena said, pointing to the most populated district where the homes were. “The economic district where the owls who want jobs work,” she said pointing to the area with the most uniformed buildings. “That is the leisure district, where recreation happens to their heart's content,” she moved her finger across the river to a much more casual area of Feathersburg. “And that is the Thespian district,” she pointed to the final area of Feathersburg.

“The what,” Annabeth asked, unsure if she heard her mother correctly.

“The Thespian District Annabeth,” Athena said with a sigh. It looked like something from an old Hollywood lot, with everything from sci-fi, to Western, to fantasy and to modern day backgrounds, costumes, buildings were clearly different and used as sets for whatever the owls wanted. “My owls are a bunch of eccentric little bitches and I love them so much,” she admitted. “They like to basically have an extended larp where they have fun acting out whatever they wish. It is quite entertaining,” Athena admitted. “However we must move on, as we have more to see and I could watch their antics for days,” she said walking away with Annabeth meant to follow her.

Annabeth strayed for a moment, the owl city was strangely enticing to watch. But eventually she tore herself away and followed her mother. “This is the garden,” Athena said showing off her field of work. “I mostly grow fruits and vegetables, but there are some flowers as well.”

And the two of them continued throughout the house, having a good time with each other on their first mother daughter day. Annabeth learned a few other rules of the palace, no flying in certain areas of the house, which wouldn’t be a problem for her.

While the other was to not go into the restricted rooms of which there were 3. A laboratory that Athena explained was filled with dangerous experiments that she did not want anyone but her own immortal body exposed to. A room that was locked that Athena simply told her no one is allowed in but her. And finally a bedroom on the fourth floor that was right next to her mother’s, on the floor with hundreds of other empty bedrooms.

“This is Diomedes’ bedroom,” Athena explained, “not even I am allowed to go in there without permission. She could enter of course, this was her palace, there was nothing that could actually stop her. But she liked to keep her relationships with her best friend and champion strong and invading her space without permission had the potential to ruin that.

“Diomedes, he was one of your favorite heroes in the Trojan War right,” Annabeth said. She had spent much of her childhood reading and learning whatever she could about her mother once she found books she was able to read. The King of Argos was one of the most dangerous warriors the Goddess of Wisdom had ever taken under her wing. But there wasn’t much about him afterward compared to Achilles or Odysseus who everyone remembered. But when she saw her mother wince she was afraid she got something wrong.

“Partially right,” Athena managed to get out and turn her frown into an awkward smile. “You are correct, however, and I want to be clear that it is not your fault that you did not know, but Diomedes is actually a woman. She transitioned with my aid after the war so please use she/her when referring to her in the future.”

“I’m sorry I-,” Annabeth started to say, but Athena cut her off.

“I know, like I said it is not your fault,” she assured her daughter. “It just brought up bad memories,” her champion had to fight, both to prove herself as a god and to be respected as a woman when she had her realizations. Bad memories. “Now that you know, you can act accordingly.”

“Of course,” Annabeth promised, “she is your roommate as well as your champion,” she asked more than said.

“Something like that,” Athena admitted. She was well aware that her friendship with her champion was strange from the outside but it worked for the two of them. “I can introduce the two of you later, but for now, just know that she is my best friend and loyal companion, and her room is off limits without her express permission.” She did not need her children speculating on her relationships like the rest of Olympus.

The rest of the day was pleasant and helpful, Athena showed Annabeth the room she could have when she stayed there. They were enchanted so that when a person other than Diomedes and Herself touched the door for the first time it would turn into whatever room the occupant desired as their perfect room. That way her children would have a home if they wanted. If Zeus let her bring her children up to visit for more than a weekend. It had taken a lot to get the King of the Heavens to give permission for the upcoming gathering, but it will be worth it for a chance to know her children more.

Eventually it started to get late, Annabeth needed to return to California. Athena offered to let her stay the night, but Annabeth turned her down. She had plans tomorrow and wanted to talk with her boyfriend about what she had seen and done with her mom today. But she was respectful about it though. She promised her mother that she would be there in a month's time with her other siblings to visit and let Athena know that she could visit before that if she wanted to.

That made Athena hopeful, she even managed to put a comforting hand on Annabeth’s shoulder when they said goodbye. They were not at the hugging stage, something they both were internally grateful for, but maybe one day.

Athena left her daughter in her home feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

[brandwhorestarscream]

What kinds of troubles does minimus end up getting into because of his double life?

And how many of the little ones inherited more of the mini-con genes? Three? two?

Ok actually gonna answer this in reverse order. Idk how many babies took on the minicon form, but I'd guess they're less than half, just cuz. Well. Runts of every species often struggle, even in the womb. I know being a minicon and being a runt are not the same thing, but think about it. In the womb, say there's 5 bitties. The bigger ones, aka the ones with Roddy's alt mode, would be constantly sucking up a large percentage of all available resources, be it building materials for their bodies or actual energy from their carrier's fuel. The smaller one(s) will only be left with scraps, thereby lessening their chance to actually make it to birth as a healthy newborn. Granted, yes, minicons are smaller and so will need less of the total fill, but it's still not optimal condition for babbies to grow 🥺 of the litter, I'd say only one or two are Minimus sized.

As for the kinds of things Minimus gets up to 🤭 well! Lemme tell you, being a dad is much harder than he thought it would be. Children need discipline and attention, right? Easy enough. He's dealt with young upcoming recruits before, and boot camp surely can't be more taxing than minding toddlers, right? It's basically the same thing.

Uhhhh, yeah. No it's fucking not.

He was not prepared for how absolutely ragged these kids are running him. They have so much energy, and is it any wonder why?! They guzzle down more fuel than any grown adult he's ever seen! The bitties can outdrink him and their mother both! It's like their tanks are just bottomless pits and it leaves them bouncing off the walls for hours! He asks Rodimus what he puts in their energon because surely these kids are hopped up some kind of additive! There's no way they're this rambunctious, right?!

And Rodimus, the slagger, just laughs at him. Welcome to life with quintuplet babies! Just be grateful they aren't identical. Minimus definitely shivers at that comment 🤭

But despite his original reservations and complete awe at their craziness, he's actually a pretty good dad. He's perfect hugging size, great for gently patting at owies and then getting flustered when a sniffling bab demands he kiss it better, like mama does. He gets down on the floor to play with them, he lets them drag him along like a doll in their games of pretend, and he's more than happy to sit quietly for coloring time. He sheepishly asks Rodimus to teach him how to make their favorite snacks, and his first outing with the family is just a simple trip to the park, and try as he might, he can't keep a serious face watching the babs tumble and run and play. One of them swoops in to grab him and suddenly the smallest daddy at the park finds himself chasing his own kids on the jungle gym and through the tubes. He's never heard their babies laugh like that, and it's the first time one of them squeaks out a, "Love you dada!"

He helps Rodimus carry them back home that night, tho he can only manage the teo tiny ones, Roddy's grateful for the help.

He also gets into all sorts of messes, learns about how difficult baby bath time can be, has his first panic with little bumps and bruises and viruses, etc, etc. All while dodging state officials and the entirety of the council, making up lie after lie after lie and creating the most complicated webs for his alter ego.

He knows he shouldn't, he knows he should stop. He knows he should tell Rodimus the truth, but... he doesn't want to. Being Minimus, being a normal person, being a sire who's only responsibility is protecting those bitties' smiles? That feels way better than being Magnus ever has. He's content to keep living this lie forever, though it probably won't last

[kthlnco]

Unveiling the Clouds

Allure of the Clouds

Vaping, I was introduced to vaping during 6th grade, that one classmate acting cool and boastful in front of us showing off smoke that would make me cough. At that time I just thought it was absolutely dumb and ridiculous, growing up surrounded by chainsmokers I vowed to myself to not even think of touching anything smoking related.

Years come by and I'm on my senior years, vaping became more popular, students walking around with their disposables hanging around their necks. Peer pressure that's what it was on my first drag, new school, new classmates, you just want to fit in. There's this invisible rulebook on what's cool and what's not, and vaping seems to be right up there on the "cool" list.

On that first take I didn't see the purpose, "why do they enjoy this?", "what's the point?", questions running through my mind. I mean yeah it did make me feel that I belonged, it felt cool i guess? Being surrounded by people that constantly use them made me feel the urge to keep on using it and see what was the hype. A friend of mine lended me one and let's say I kept it.

There came the time of my first purchase, "mango ice" was the flavor, I mean come on it's crazy how disposable vape companies target most teens. From the colorful packaging, catchy ads, interesting builds - it's designed to reel us in. Plus the flavors? Who can resist something tasting like "strawberry lychee", "strawberry watermelon", heck a "Cola" flavor? The flavors got to me, that was what I enjoyed, during these times I have yet to hit my disposables, what I'd do is what some would call "hipak-buga". Then there came the time that I stopped.

During my lowest time, I needed something to calm my nerves, relieve my anxiety, lessen my stress, and that was when I bought a dispo once again. Once I learned to hit and actually take it in, I felt it. I felt the calmness, the relief, I felt relaxed. That's when I realized what it was for, not just for cool vapors and tricks, it helps lessen your stress much like a cigarette would, but with tasty flavors.

Not gonna lie but up to this date I still use vape, it became my escape. Vaping offers a brief moment of relief, a chance to forget about everything else and just focus on those swirling clouds. I often think about the chemicals I've been inhaling and the damage it could be doing to my body. But even knowing that, it's hard to shake the habit once you're hooked.

It started out of sheer curiosity, wanting to see what all the hype is about. And before I know it I'm hooked. Don't get me wrong I'm not writing to hype you guys to get hooked into this vice, it's more of an insight on why someone would use it (me).

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Familiar Faces - Interlude Grayson and John

Summary of this AU: Elijah Gilbert has been haunted by dreams of other lives as long as he remembers, but now with the appearance of the Salvatore brother he may finally get some answers.

Not sure where this came from but thought I'd share, currently plotting out the events later on in the time line and what going on in MF vs NOLA.

If Elijah knew he'd look back at the time he was stopping Damon from killing Zach and miss it, he'd likely set everything on fire.

Anyway back to a even brighter time.

----

John and Grayson watched the kids on the lawn as the twins ran through the latest routine. Miranda was inside getting the kids a drink with Jenna likely gossiping about Jenna's love life.

John had missed the twins turning sixteen as so had arrived a month late, asking them to show him what they had leaned since he had last visited.

Cheerleading had been a natural choice for Elena, part to follow Miranda's footsteps and part to keep doing things alongside Bonnie and Caroline.

Grayson hadn’t been as happy with Elijah's choice, first to follow along and then to take an interest in gymnastics properly. Copying his sister and her friends had been fine as children but doing the same into high would have made Elijah a easy target for bullies, something he had been worried about already as he saw his son being pushed to the sidelines by the assumption that Tyler and Matt would be joining the football team. 

But his wife and Elijah had both made it clear he wasn’t joining the team, Elijah pointing out his episodes would mean he’d miss some games which would cause more trouble but being part of the cheer team meant they could just not include him for the final routines, while he still went to practice with the girls, even if it meant he was only acting as a spotter. 

He had asked Elijah why he was so interested in it.

“It’s mine” Elijah had explained, “in the way the instruments aren’t, they’re calming but like I already know them, gymnastics and the routines are new, I have to work at them.”

Elijah could’ve been a prodigy with his natural ability with all the instruments they had tried but he visibly became quickly bored or uncomfortable when he spent too long with them, the best they had got for him to enjoy them was when he started to play his siblings latest favourite on his instruments.

So Grayson and Mirandra had gotten used to listening to Elijah play ‘Linkin park’ and others on his piano to Elena’s and Jeremy’s amusement instead of the classic composers, it was all fine as long as their kids were happy.

Once he had agreed Miranda had insisted on hiring a proper instructor which he had also agreed with to Elijah’s annoyance, to make sure Elijah knew everything he needed to stop himself from accidentally hurting someone else or himself.

Elijah landed a backward somersault to Jeremy and Elena’s cheers, he smiled towards his son as Elijah looked up, as John clapped beside him.

He watched as Elena called Jeremy over and the pair started to instruct him how to act as their spotter, he felt himself tense as he always did when they started doing this.

“He’s good.” John complemented, “Healthy, you’d never have expected this after his episodes.”

Elijah looked a normal healthy teenager, only noticeably leaner when standing besides Matt and Tyler and in the last year he had managed to out grow Tyler slightly.

But he had been born worryingly smaller that Elena and while he grew, the episodes in the early years of his life and slowed him down from catching up.

“They still happen.” he sighed, even he couldn’t tell if they had lessened as Elijah had grown or his son had learnt to hide how much they affected him.

“Your research-” his brother started and he could already see where it was going.

“John.” The name came out a little too sharp but it shut his brother up, “I sat beside him in the hospital bed for nights after we tried the blood.” he reminded him “It didn't just fail to make a difference, it made it worse. Listening as he begged in his sleep, as he cried in languages he shouldn’t know.”

Jeremy helped Elena climb onto Elijah’s shoulder, his daughter raised her arms above her head with a bright smile, kept steady by Elijah’s hands on her calves. 

“His magic-” John started, but he cut him off again.

“He’s learned enough to keep control, Shelia will keep watch over him in case it becomes a problem.” Grayson explained. Elijah had about as much interest in learning more about becoming a witch as he did the classical composers. He learned enough to ensure he wasn’t a danger and nothing else.

Grayson sighed in relief as Elena returned to the ground with Elijah’s help, but he kept up a proud smile, even if it raised his heart rate it was good to see them all together, the twins had always been great with keeping Jeremy involved.

“He needs to be prepared, they do.“ John told him again, the words kept from the children by his clapping.

Grayson hated the reminder, he didn’t want any of his children facing the supernatural, he wanted to them stay innocent of the monsters of the world. 

Elena and Elijah both wanted to help people and they could by following him in becoming a doctor, but he didn’t want them to follow his other path, Elijah had enough nightmares already and the idea of an episode striking when he was facing one of them would be a death sentence.

“Elijah doesn’t need the added burden when we don’t know what is causing his episodes.” he shook his head as he confessed.

Grayson had no intention of showing either of the twins the Gilbert journals and he had made sure the Augustine Society knew to leave Elijah alone, he wouldn’t trust some of those at the society not to experiment on Elijah's adverse reaction to the blood.

Grayson did his brother a favour and ignored the fact John visibly relaxed once he knew the twins would be spared their family traditions, instead he swallowed his own guilt at only planning to place that weight on his youngest’s shoulders.

—--

When John to Mystic falls after his brother’s death he’s not expecting for the founder’s council to know about Elijah’s magic and to inform him that his nephew-son was standing in their way to remove the vampires.

He blames the Salvatore brothers, for endangering the twins and breaking his brother’s wish to spare them from knowing everything.

[colorsplit]

Why I Staff on Corbacraft

A quick preface: This was originally meant for a message in #donator-zone on our discord server. I hit the character limit so I moved to my iPhone's Notes app, and typed this up while on a walk. I have since reworded a couple of sentences and corrected some grammar rules.

I was talking in #︱help-me today, and it has got me thinking about why I am here and why I do what I do. This’ll be a personal ramble, not any sort of “speaking as staff” thing. 

Emily joined this server a while before I did. she was young, so she didn’t speak in chat at all. I helped her with a thing once or twice, but not enough to connect with the community. Flash forward a year, maybe more. She’s playing on Corbacraft again. At that time, I didn't even know what the server’s name was or what they stood for. All I knew is I thought it would be cool to log in and walking from spawn, try to naturally find my sister’s base. (it wasn’t very hard, it was just straight ahead from the pvp arena in spawn in 2020 Orion.)

Anyway, the welcoming vibe and fun chat caused me to change my username to something less stupid, and to actually get back into minecraft. i mentioned to emily i thought it would be funny to try to apply for staff, because i used to engage in an activity known as “staff hunting”. I'd just apply and work where I was taken. Usually those servers would die out due to being run by 12 year olds. 

anyway

I hadn't played in some time at this point. So every now and then I'd just log on, and mine. I had no goal, or reason to mine. I didn't sell what I mined, I'd just throw away stuff I didn't care about and put the rest in my chests. While mining, I'd watch chat. I'd see the community interact with each other. I figured out who were friends etc. Occasionally I'd speak up and try to be funny in chat, which I have since been told is how I found the people I now consider my best friends. 

These friends, some gone and some still with us, “adopted” me. They saw I had no “group”, and they thought I was funny, so they included me in their friend group. This means the world to me, and I'm still so grateful for their friendship. 

At this point, I had been been playing for a couple of weeks or more and I heard back about my staff application. They accepted me! Newest helper in training. At this time, the staff team was split between our two servers, Orion and Alyx. The staff manager at the time, LadyOfTheRose, asked me where I wanted to staff. She strongly suggested I pick Alyx, and I saw it seemed a little neglected, so I picked Alyx. It was at this time where my reasons for being here started to take shape, and begin to grow into what they are today. 

Alyx was a more vanilla diamond economy survival vibe, so less players played there. They preferred all the frills and fancy stuff on Orion. So at this point I was torn between two servers. Do I spend my time staffing on Alyx, or hanging out with friends on Orion? For some time, I tried to balance this. But it came to a point where I'd frequently have to interrupt silly time to go resolve an issue on Alyx. So eventually I just became a mostly Alyx player. 

You may be wondering why I'd choose to spend my time on a neglected server where no one played when I could have totally been playing on the well staffed, popular one. Well the answer is right there. “well staffed”. Orion had no need of me. Alyx was basically just one moderator, beep. I and a few others became helpers on Alyx to lessen the load on her. It was at this time that my priorities shifted from “fun” to “service”. 

I am here primarily because I see this position as a form of service. I enjoy solving issues between players. I enjoy rolling back griefs and punishing rule breakers. I enjoy answering questions. I enjoy talking with players. and I love doing all of this because I love the community. 

I may not be an active Minecraft player anymore, but I am passionate about the community, and as long as I am here I will be taking a position of service and doing what I can to give back to this community that blessed me with the friends I hold dear now. 

Thank you for reading :)

[thedaveandkimmershow]

There's a line in a lot of movies that implies that loss is somehow lessened by the knowledge that the person who's been lost remains in here (touches fingers to heart).

I've always looked askance at movie scenes like that, I never bought into the sentiment, and I'm not here to say my attitude has changed. Like, at all.

What I will freely admit, though, is that the experience, after years, after decades, is complicated.

When I was a child, I went to a neighborhood bible club that probably wasn't meant for highly kinetic, ADHD children like me.

I was not an ideal student.

Still, at some point after I aged out, the teacher would walk to my house on my birthday to give me a handwritten card and some slight gift. Later, when she was no longer able to make the walk, I walked over to her place instead. And that's how it was as she grew older and I grew up to the point where we actually got to know one another.

And then she died.

And ever since that loss, on some day during the Christmas season, I show up at her grave site with a Poinsettia and a handwritten card. There's just this connection that's sustained across years then decades. To this day.

That was a student/teacher connection, though. So what happens when it's a friend. Someone with whom you started your career, grew into the professional you've become.

That's our friend, Scott, who died of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis when we were all starting to head into our thirties. And his death, occurring as we embarked on our careers left a particular scar. You see I work in post production and, as a producer, Scott was always pushing the limits of our technology. And as our technology took off over years, over decades, I would find myself wanting to tell Scott about the latest... or I'd just want to know what he thought about it or what he'd do with it.

And then I'd remember he wasn't there anymore. We couldn't compare notes. We couldn't talk about being dads. We couldn't talk about growing older.

He's wired into me in a way that takes a few beats before I realize he's not here anymore. The experience doesn't involve grief... but it isn't comforting, either.

With our friend, Susan, the experience is even more pronounced. You see, she was our neighbor at the condo at which we lived after we were married. We went through some high drama together with the condo board there that bonded us.

In the last years of her life, she lived in our home and we cared for her, shopped for her, made sure she had everything she needed. She was a serious part of our family. Each day. Every day. And when she was gone, there was an empty space where we'd normally bandy about opinions, where we'd pick up the usual things she needed, where we'd have an experience for sure Susan would love.

So there it was again. Susan was gone and she was still wired into us.

A couple beats later, though, we'd realize she isn't here anymore.

Kimmer's uncle died a couple years ago and the stories we have about him always find a way out from time to time. Kimmer's aunt, who died over a year ago, left a more indelible presence in her wake. Because of that, there are more triggers that invoke memories of her, things she'd do, things she'd say.

Again, none of this invokes grief.

Neither is it comforting, though.

It's both welcome.

And unwelcome.

These are memories that evoke lovely, comforting, humorous moments and experiences and stories. Until we're reminded of our loss. Until we're reminded that these memories belong to someone who's not here anymore and, in some cases, they've been gone for quite some time now.

So yeah. The idea of a lost loved one being in here (places fingers to heart) is a complicated experience in practice. Because my brain is wired by their presence in my life. And that wiring doesn't change because they're gone. In a way, to my mind, there is no difference between the thoughts or memories or expressions of a dear friend or relative who's alive in the world...

And one who isn't.

The thoughts are triggered regardless.

And we remain wired as if they're still here.

:-(

[qhantari]

DIY Project

Process Journal 1

On September 30th, I began my sourdough starter. It didn’t take a lot for that first day, all I had to do was mix fifty grams of water with fifty grams of flour. I used all purpose unbleached flour that was already in our cabinet. I stirred it until it was evenly incorporated and the end result was something that sort of looks like pancake batter. The instructions said to leave it in a warm place so I left it by the oven in the sunlight. It also said not to seal the lid but place one loosely over it. So, I flipped the lid upside down and placed it on top.

Seeing it in the jar for the first time I felt excited and prideful. This starter is going to signify my control over my life and my creations. It will be a “living” example of what I can accomplish. Not only that, but I’ve had writer’s block for a really long time and I think that this project can help. On the second day, all I had to do was give the starter some oxygen and a stir. The mixture grew from yesterday and was starting to form bubbles. It was breathing. I breathed life into it.

On the third day, it was time to start feeding the starter. The recipe mentioned that it is perfectly normal for the starter to begin to smell bad during this stage, but that’s an understatement. It smelled absolutely revolting and I was having a hard time with it because of the horrid stench. Consistency wise, it's starting to get to where when you stir it slowly, it looks like spider webs. Feeding the starter requires removing fifty grams from the jar (this is called the discard) and then adding another fifty grams of water and flour. For warmth, I placed a washcloth around the jar.

Until the seventh day, I fed the starter twice per day, twelve hours apart. I settled on 8am and 8pm. It wasn’t growing much for a bit, so I was starting to get worried but I pushed on. 

On the eighth day, I forgot to feed the starter in the morning. By nighttime, I had looked up “why won’t my sourdough rise” on Reddit and found some answers. Someone mentioned that if it’s watery on top (which mine was) that you should lessen the amount of water added. So, instead of adding fifty grams of water that night, I only used thirty-five grams for that night. The sourdough liked that. It seemed to rise more overnight. I felt like I understood it more. After this, I started to return to the recommended fifty grams. On the ninth day, it smelled a little different (kind of good?) and it had bubbles on the top again. On the ninth day, I decided to start keeping the starter in the oven with the light on. I thought maybe this would help it along since it’s way colder in the house now than it was when I started.

I'm beginning to get worried about my starter but every resource says to be patient with it so I'm trying my best not to stress out. In the event that my starter doesn't work out, I think I can still at least make crackers with the discard. But I'd love to be able to make a loaf of bread before the end of this project.

My little sourdough starter is trying its best.

[aizawas-upper-left-wisdom-tooth]

I was reading fan fics and was having the worst time trying to concentrate when I remembered this story and thought I'd share!

When I was about 8 years old I was having attention issues while trying to to do my "art homework" that was trying to draw my puppy. My 3rd older sister (we'll refer to her as Zara) heard me complaining that I kept spacing out and fidgeting and had a great idea!

You see, Zara had about one of THE WORST cases of ADHD that our doctor had seen at the time! (After puberty, her symptoms lessened significantly and it's down to about average ADD now) So Zara(being 11 at the time) thought to herself, "Oh! My medicine helps me focus! I bet it will help Aizawa too!"

Thing was, shes 3 years older than me and was about twice as tall! Not only had she gone through a significant growth spurt, but I had always been extremely small for my age! (Drs had actually been worried that I was being neglected due to my shy personality/the fact that I was so small/underweight, but that was due to a health issue and is a story for another time) and to top it all off, I would later find out that while I build up strong immunities to things very quickly, the first time I have anything new, the substance will have the most EXTREME REACTION on me!

So, when naive little me goes along with the plan and takes the 'not-so-micro-dose-meth'.... In the late evening.....

Well... Long story short, I didn't sleep for 3 days. I started getting auditory hallucinations by hour 60ish??? Then some visual ones by the last 2ish??? And spent about half of that time just desperately pretending that everything was fine because we were poor growing up and I refused to go to the hospital over something that was not only so stupid, but also entirely my fault(also my sister's, but we usually hated each other and I didn't want her to get in trouble for one of her few kind acts towards me)....

So.... Lesson learned!

Kids, don't take other people's medications... While a funny story to look back on, it definitely was a.... Learning experience....

[justjessame]

Light Through the Darkness: Chapter 34

Salvatore Gardens~Time Marching Ever Onward

Abigail's screaming ended as quickly as it began. She'd released it, as Lily had advised. The pain and frustration was lessened, not gone, but made manageable. Her control regained, she felt curious, four down and two to go. Would her real mother appear?

As her thoughts coalesced, the voice she heard was a complete surprise.

"Abigail, you smart, brave girl." Giuseppe Salvatore complimented. "Even here, you impress me. I truly wish I'd lived to see you take my surname."

She smiled at the man who'd only recently came to be in her affections. "Mr. Salvatore-"

"Giuseppe, I think you long earned the right to call me by my given name, Abigail." He said, carefully sitting next to her. "I wish we'd had more time to become acquainted on this level."

"As do I," she said, even as she half-blamed him for his current state. "I also wish-"

"That I had given you to the correct son?" He said screwdly. "You'll never forgive me that, Abigail, I fear." His eyes looked tired and sad. "Alive, my only goal was to keep the Salvatore name unblemished and to add to our greatness. Grasping," he chuckled darkly, "you would call it."

"Why couldn't you see him as I did?" Abigail asked, truly curious. "You hated him, and never saw any of his goodness."

Giuseppe considered her question and observation of his relationship with his eldest son. "I feared him," he answered, shocking even himself. "His passion, his urge to make you happy even at such a young age showed a loyalty I wasn't sure I ever possessed. He loved you so completely, so early, that I knew he'd put you first. Not the family honor." He looked at her with guilt. "It took me far too long to realize that you shared his love, loyalty, and devotion. Yours running both to him and our family. If I hadn't been blinded by my fear of him, and his ability to reign in his passion, maybe this all could have been avoided."

Abigail realized that she didn't feel as much pain in this visit. She was angry, certainly. He'd kept them apart. Damon went to war to prove his worth to this man. She didn't want to rage at him, he'd just confessed to the real reasons behind his distrust and anger toward Damon. It proved her right, Damon had been the best of the Salvatore men.

"We would have been happy." She said wistfully. "I've seen it in my dreams. Our family, including you, happy."

His pain was evident. "I know what I've cost you, Abigail. Will you forgive me?" His tone implied what she felt she'd known since he'd appeared. Her forgiveness, his release, all part of her key home. Did she forgive him?

Thinking as her former guardian waited she did what she'd always done while suffering from indecision. She made a mental list. Why he treated Damon so badly made a dark sense, but keeping them apart for family pride? Didn't he know her? Hadn't he watched her grow and learn?

As she struggled, she realized the true question wasn't Giuseppe's problems or their past. It was how badly did she want to go home? And that did it.

"I forgive you." She said, truthfully. "For me, and you." She took his hand. "You and I had made peace before you passed, and I can't forget that." Lily again, providing her with the answers. "I wish we'd had more time. The man I met in the family crypt is someone I would have liked to know better."

She smiled as he squeezed her hand. Leaning forward, giving her the blessing of his kiss on her forehead, she felt as he faded. A single tear ran down her cheek. Quietly forgiving the man who would have been her father had eased her emotional torment. She knew home was closer.

One more, she thought, and the doors of this prison would open. Home, she felt, really was the sweetest word.

Mystic Falls, VA~January 2010

What's worse than finding out your vampire girlfriend escaped entombment and desiccation after working for half a year to release her? Learning that the other entombed vampires had escaped instead and weren't feeling very friendly toward you and your brother.

He felt really great when learning all the additional angst from Stefan and Elena. Baby brother got abducted by tomb vamps, tortured and rescuing him with help from history teacher/vampire hunter, Ric was-fun (insert eyeroll). Now, thanks to a little helpful blood donation to aid his recovery-Stefan was heading toward the inevitable Ripper nightmare.

Then there came the news that Elena Gilbert was ADOPTED! Maury moment. And? Since baby brother was heading toward disaster, the tomb vampires were heading toward destruction and he was over this entire nightmare-he didn't want to contemplate the next evolution of crap that could or would come crushing down.

What next? He nearly screamed at the sky. What could the earth possibly throw at him next?

[intheclowncar]

I've been on setraline for 3 days now and I do not feel good!

All of my limbs are weak which is a general symptom I get for doing literally anything I'm afraid of, I'm slightly nauseous constantly, especially when I try to eat and I always feel like I might throw up but I never do, on the bright side of that though I haven't lost my appetite :)

I'm struggling to fall asleep, am a lot more restless in my sleep (which I am anyway) and am struggling to stay asleep, I often wake up with a desperate need to start running or otherwise move in general (which did occasionally happen before, I think it's just because I don't really do much so my body isn't tired enough to sleep), on top of that I'm SO TIRED I was trying to sleep at like 8pm last night

My head feels very heavy and I'm struggling to get myself to start activities or tasks, like get out of bed or put my phone down, I feel almost as if I've slowed down but not really in a good way..

It's hard to say whether it's doing much for my anxiety at this point, my general anxiety comes in bursts with no specific trigger or cause, so that's something that would be difficult to notice stopping. And I haven't spoken to anyone outside of family/friends since being on it so I don't know if I'd still burst into tears at the thought of stringing together a sentence

I have noticed that I'm able to be significantly more vulnerable with the language I use, it could be because I'm also working on myself or maybe because I'm tired, but "I feel" or admitting to crying are things I wouldn't ever say a week ago, but when I typed them here I didn't get that wave of dread telling me I can't let anyone know that, which is so nice! If that keeps up regardless of whether it's all me or the meds I'll be able to grow into my own person without a desperate need to be seen in such a perfect way

My social anxiety is super severe so honestly I don't have high hopes about solving that? But lessening it would be absolutely wonderful

Also I take it at night? Idk if that was the best time,, like,, idk if it'll maybe wear off during the day because of that? But I figured it would be best for me because my schedule is super unreliable and it's the only time I'm guaranteed to be awake or not super busy.. idk I looked it up to see if that was ok and apparently that's what uou should do if it makes you nauseous so you're not throughout the day,,, but also maybe that's why my sleep is so bad?

Idk, in comparison to other people's experiences I really don't have it that bad and I am beyond grateful for that, but it isn't pleasant :p

[umbralsound-xiv]

A Frosty Reception.

How long had it been now since i'd gone to Coerthas? Moons, at the very least. Since before Sayuri was taken. I had meant to go, but... I don't know. Going alone, even the very idea felt so... Lonesome. And i'm sure i could have asked Vex or any other to join me, but it wouldn't have been the same... Still. I have to sharpen my skills. It wouldn't do for any of us to let myself get rusty.

In the amidst of the calm fall of snow stretched a violent plume of flame toward the heavens. Would that it could rival a dragon’s fire but no deafening howl or terrifying quake followed suit. In its stead huffed a foul-tempered Ishgardian, particularly at that moment. Mattisaux gripped his sword, jaw taut and gaze forward though tunnel visioned in his thoughts.

Almost as a response to the skyward plume of flame, the snows seem to whip up into a frenzy, harried by the heat. The turn of weather began small, but seemed to grow more fierce with every passing moment, especially as a certain frosty Seeker made her approach. Weapon already in hand, she comes to a standstill as a familiar figure pulls into view, watching, yet still far enough that she couldn't be sure. The glimmer of her ice was undeniable; at least what could be seen through the blizzard.

...What in the hells was that? A dragon, or...? Even if i don't face it, it's probably best to not leave it unchecked.

The man was almost determined to keep to his thoughts, halfheartedly deciding to ignore the sudden whip of wind and snow, but eventually he allowed himself to scan the edge of the Rim he stood. Not that he could see too much in the fuss of the weather but a faint shine of light shone through easily. Light enough to provoke him into channel a wave of astral dark into his blade. Then, in a nearly animalistic growl, “Come out of your hiding lest your head falls off your shoulders.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You could -try-, but the frost would take you first." She eyes the surge of aether as it swam to him, head inclined, daring to step a few paces closer to lessen the gap between them. "Mattisaux?" Though his name was called with kindness, trepidation laced her tone; nor did she lower her bow.

Naught by the sharp kiss of his teeth sounded in response before his knees bent to leapt at the voice. However, when the figure decided to reveal themselves a small grunt of frustration came out until it all but dissolved. “Bexy?” Lowering his blade just a bit, he squinted. “Come closer…”

A steady breath is drawn as she approaches, given in an exhale as she takes in his features. "I had thought you some fiend. And then, thought you possessed. That is -not- the case… Yes?" The way her eyes settle on him and her bow still does not move an ilm indicates she's not all that certain that it isn't the case.

...I should have known, even if there was no way i could have. Still, something about him seems a little... Off. Best to ensure he's... Of himself, before getting any closer.

Her voice louder and away from the wind and the frost wafting from her bow, it was enough to pull a sigh from his chest and forget all about the aether stored in his weapon. “Not this time, no. Did you intend to slay me otherwise?”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Not outright. Not without questions or some attempt at persuasion." Her wider, more friendly smile makes itself known as she approaches, dismissing her bow to the wind; now no longer howling, curiously enough, the snows fell gently once more. "But i'd be a fool to not be ready to defend myself." Eyeing over the immediate vicinity, and peering hesitantly over the overlook, her icy gaze flits back to his own. "I see no beast. That flame… Was you?"

Seeing that familiar face, and her smile with it, pressed his lips flat though without the derision that usually came along. However, as her bow faded to the aether and the flurry died to its state before left a nasty groan in his throat. “That was me, yes. Is that why you are here?” He turned just a bit to stab his sword into the piled snow, leaving the energy to ‘bleed’ until it fully dissipated. “I remember the last time I saw you emerge from a snow like that but then… it did not fade.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "It didn't. But it was different, back then. Now, i'm simply having the good fortune of crossing paths with a friend. A welcome sight, and a far better one than i had expected. I was simply curious as to what caused it." Her gloved hand gestures upwards at where the flame had been a short moment ago. "I was here to ensure i'd not gotten… Rusty. It's been moons since i've been to Coerthas." She speaks with an uncharacteristic sulk, painted lips briefly downturned before they returned to the friendly face he knew.

I couldn't tell him the relief i felt to stumble across a friend. Of course i could likely go speak to any one of them with barely a moment of notice, but for something so serendipitous... It was nice to see him. But i'd have never told him that. He might think i've gone soft.

Listening to her speak, he simply stared until he turned toward the crater where they stood. In a slight downcast tone, he made another lengthy sigh with a raised brow. “And what has kept you from coming here? I remember something about a bonding ceremony for your little sister; that did not take your entire time did it?”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Nothing. Not… Really. The last few moons have been idle and… Waiting. Sayuri is away on her honeymoon, and has been for some time. I could have gone to train any sun, but… I don't know. It has been so long. Since before she was taken. Even returned and recovered, her aether isn't what it was. Though…" She walks to his side, curiously following his gaze downwards. "That is set to change." Bexy's attention shifts to him again, then. "What of you? Much the same reason as me? Unless you've taken umbrage to the Coerthan weather and seek to cancel it?" The mere suggestion tugs a smirk, brow lofted.

The sound of her steps closer, and more so to the smallest jeer she made, lifted his hand in a tired shrug. “How many times must I remind you that the cold never bothers me? That aside, my reason for being here matters little now that you are here. Were we elsewhere I might offer to serve you tea or a drink.”

How.... Sweet. It's rare i ever feel like this. This... Biting kind of loneliness. Though i'm glad Sayuri is away for nicer reasons, i'll admit she's missed. ...And even if she were back, her aether is still hindered, and i would still likely face Coerthas alone.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "How kind of you. Were there such comforts, they'd be gladly received." Softer, warmer, and almost a little sad, her gaze looks over to him. "I know you don't mind the cold. Mist doesn't either, but she still loathes the snow. I wasn't sure if you were the same."

Mattisaux Baschet: “Mist… I have not thought of her in a long while. What a sour thing to bring up.” Creases formed over his forehead at the mention. “The snow is the best part though my reason for thinking so is not well liked. Though I can assure you, she and I have nothing in common aside from our home. Now let us speak of more pleasant topics, yes?”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You… Like the snow?" Bexy seems surprised at that, head tilted. "I think you're the first Ishgardian to speak kindly of it. Why?"

Mattisaux Baschet: “It is a pure thing, simply put.” As if he would rather not talk about it, he shrugged his hand as he was wont to do and drew another sigh before he said anything else. “Look at it right here. It blankets everything and covers all with its blinding white shade. When it was only seasonal, calm, wintry nights were a coveted thing but now I know one would say that we are closer to Her grace, not that I care to think much of that. But not only that, you can instantly see when it is blemished."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Pure." She mouths the word as though she'd never spoken it before, leaving it to hang for a short, awkward moment. "There is a calm in it. A peacefulness. Smothering all sound, all colour until there is just… This." A short half-laugh leaves her, gazing down the ravine. "Do you think that's what they feel, when they die by my hand? The cold, and then the silence, the quiet of it all?" A rhetoric question, as she continues on. "…I never held any love for it before i was… Afflicted with it. Blessed with it? Perhaps it warped my mind as well as my features. Regardless, i hold an affinity for it now. It would be rude not to, i think."

Mist hates it. Detests how it has warped her home and people that live there. I often think she feels it's warped me, but... Well, i can't claim to know her thoughts. I don't think i've ever been pure. And now... I'm not sure i could be. I've killed so many. For good reasons, or so i claim. Perhaps it was a mistake to ever strive to better myself. But i have to try... ...Don't i?

Mattisaux Baschet: “Cursed with it, is how I would describe it, but you are a charming girl either way.” He spoke as if his words were common knowledge, moving on as she did, answering the rhetoric just because he wanted to. “I am certain they feel the sear of your cold above all else. I did, especially when you saved me from bleeding in the snow years ago now.” His face tightened a touch. “Mayhap that is why I cannot cast it so easily…”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I used to think i was cursed with it. Perhaps i still am… But lamenting never got me anywhere, save for some bitter poetry. Whatever it is, it's mine, and without it i don't think i'd be standing here, talking to you." There's a small huff of amusement at the mention of her being a 'charming girl', as though in disagreement. "…You're the first it's ever saved, when it hasn't been in direct retaliation to killing someone to save another." A pause, then. "Is… That why you came out here?"

Mattisaux Baschet: “The first and the last I would hope. Sealing a wound with ice is not for the faint of heart,” was all he said for a moment and more. “I have been trying ice for moons now and the most I can do is splinter it in every direction rather than control it. I can never relax and it is directly reflected in every single thing I do… Though as for my reason being here since it seems you will keep asking, I wanted to feel what casting fire was like without needing it, if you understand what I am saying.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I… Think i do. Here… You're deprived of any aid of it. Any flames here are born in adversity, and wholly your own. I cannot conjure anything besides ice, and yet… Even i don't think i have any helpful advice…" As she speaks, gloved hands raise as though to gesture her futility in any such attempt.

Mattisaux Baschet: “I had a mind to ask you, but for the very reason you stated, I doubt I would find it too useful. It is simply apart of you when I am trying to do something against my very nature… It is not terribly important anyroad.” Despite his statement, frustration laced his tone and knit his demeanor.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…You can fight and defend yourself and those who matter. But…" She turns to face him then, taking half a step closer as her head cants to the side, hair tumbling over her shoulder. "…It's a point of pride, hm?"

Mattisaux turned to meet her gelid eyes with his, annoyance plain in his words. “It is not pride, I am only learning what it means to cast magic and perhaps… control myself, much to your benefit as you already know. Though -you- are not the sole reason for it.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Mm? Then enlighten me. What -is- the reason?" She asks, just as curious as she had been. "If you can cut down your enemies, what does it matter if it's with a blade of ice, or a blade of steel? You know how to cast magic, and ice yet remains beyond your grasp. Why does ice -specifically- matter so much?"

Mattisaux Baschet: “Gods, you always stick your frostbitten nose in when I try to keep to myself. What would you do if I decided to never confide in you?”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Gods forbid i'm wanting to learn about someone i care for." Bexy scolded, though her lip quirked with amusement. "If you never told me, i'd make my assumptions, correct or otherwise. You don't -have- to tell me."

Mattisaux Baschet: “Your assumptions would be for the better; it is not information that helps either of us for sharing so you can rest yourself.” He sighed, feeling more irritated by the second until a thought occurred to him. Then he smirked. “Any more and I will test my fire against your ice.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "And you will lose." Her words were spoken with the utmost confidence. "Fire doesn't frighten me. I don't burn. And you'd be facing the might of Coerthas, besides."

Mattisaux Baschet: “That you are so sure of yourself comes as no surprise thought you ought not underestimate those around you. Then again, I probably would lose in a spar since I know I would hold myself back far too much. Hm…” A sudden thought had him grinning like the devil. “Mayhap I ought to spar with your obnoxious scalekin sometime. She can heal herself well enough.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Touch her and i -will- use your entrails as bunting." Bexy spoke a little sharper, the warm grin on her lips wavering to something much colder. "I don't underestimate you. I've seen you fight, Mattisaux. I know what you are capable of, and more so. I think it might be you, who is underestimating me."

I'm sure he finds it fun to threaten her. Friends Mattisaux and i might be, but he knows how i feel about such things. I won't tolerate it.

Her harsher tone did little to shake his grin, huffing a little in humor. “Tell me, how can I underestimate you when you were the one who nearly killed me on a misunderstanding? I know who I would be up against, dear. But this is all up in the air anyroad; I would have to be manipulated again to fight you seriously.” The mischievous attitude he held died slightly. “Which would not happen so easily were I better at magic.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Had i the capacity to scar, i would have carried some from the wounds you gave me that sun. I don't regret defending those i care for. But i do regret how i did it, that sun." She holds his gaze for a little longer, allowing it to slowly fall. "I trust that you'd never harm anyone i hold dear. Not again, anyway. I hope i never spill another drop of your blood." Reconnecting her gaze, her brow knits. "You want to better yourself with ice. With aether. To learn how it works. If you know how the offense operates… You know how to better defend."

Mattisaux watched as her gaze faltered just to return with more gusto. Though he seemed vaguely confused. “Better defend as in take whatever attack comes my way, yes? If it is quick, I cannot dodge as swiftly as you would. I am not built that way nor do I care to be. Were you going somewhere with that?”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I mean that you would learn to use ice, that you might know how to better protect yourself. Unless i'm wrong completely. It's like you said. I can hardly help you, and i'm not one to worry for your wellbeing in a battle, besides." A pause, then, as her lips purse. "Well, not too much, anyway."

Mattisaux Baschet: “Ice to protect myself? Do you know me at all, dear? We must be complete strangers.” After a dramatic shake of his head, he continued. “I wish to learn it for many other reasons that are not that one but you need not worry over me protecting myself. If anything, I would be protecting others with it. Or slaying them. Whichever is more convenient.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Perhaps we're alike in that regard, then." Pulling her lips to a line, she hesitates, looking up to Mattisaux. "I will fight again, in a few suns. The one i seek. I know where he'll be. I plan on… Giving him a taste of his own medicine."

Well, i thought it best to tell him at least. If nothing else... I was sure it would go well, i had as much information as i could. I don't know what brought this feeling of such... Melancholy. Perhaps being out in the cold for the first time in a while brings such things to me.

Mattisaux Baschet: “Gods, again?” At the slightest mention of apparent strife for her, his chest puffed in agitation. “Do you need me to take care of someone in your stead? Is this an enemy from your past?”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "No. No such thing. Gods, and you tell me i worry. No. He's the last one directly responsible for Eir's capture that still lives, and a key to aiding Sayuri's… Present hindrance with her aether. I'll take everything i need from him in terms of information, then wrap him up as a late namesday gift for her for her return."

You beam with delight at Mattisaux Baschet.

Her casual smile to her plans did little in easing his worries, narrowing his eyes for a moment or so before giving his piece. “You say this now and when next I see you I would have a better time recognizing a pin cushion out of you. Should this help you survive know that I will go and slay that green witch and your other lesser healer without a second thought if I learn you were overconfident.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I won't be. I know where they'll be. How many there will be." The glimmer turns to a glower, then. "Even if i am dead, you aren't to touch them. We're destined for the same hells. I'll know." Her words hung as a threat, continuing on a little softer. "I will be -fine-, Mattisaux. I'm not some delicate blossom to be coddled."

Mattisaux Baschet: “I am not bound to you after death; everyone is forfeit should you die before me. I will not need to hold back in whatever hell we wind up in either, dear.” His gaze peered down to her in his own confidence. “That being said, you ought to make sure that does not happen… But I do swear I might be speaking to a Miqo’te-shaped wall at times. A wall that refuses to rest herself.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I have spent -moons- resting, Mattisaux. And you're one to talk." A gloved, accusatory digit is pointed in his direction. "I won't die. Plenty have tried, scores of them failed. And i'll be damned if it's to that sniveling coward."

The point had him leaning back an ilm, resorting with a small, ‘I am different’ though his voice did not hold as much weight as he wanted until she enlightened him on her target. “I take it that he is weak then? And you should not be so proud to meet with the Reaper any chance you get.” He sighed heavily. "Like I said, a wall is right in front of me planted in this snow."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "He's one of Grym's accursed lot. He'll be travelling with others, but they are disposable. Divested of his weapons, he'll be entirely useless unless as a source of information, and then… I'll let Sayuri do whatever she wants to him when she's home." An ear flicks at his verbal jab. "I have rested, i am fine. Even if i hadn't, i'd be going anyway. I'll come back with nary a scar, as usual."

Mattisaux Baschet: “Should have arrested you to your bed when I had the chance… Send me a letter or let me know somehow that you are safe after your ordeal. My heart cannot trust you after your last few encounters any longer.” Even though the freezing cold frosted his armor, he still lifted his hand to dig the metal tips into his eyes. “Pray, go now to make sure you are prepared with both yourself and where and how you will store him until your little one comes back.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I have my ways." A smile, though only half lit pulls at her lips. She seems to hesitate on moving, opting to remain as she was. "I'll send you a letter. I'll be fine." She promises, giving a short bob of her head as affirmation.

Again, his gaze narrowed in clear suspicion for a number of reasons. “I will look forward to it then since you needlessly worry me. Now, did you want to stay and watch me fail at magic or what?” He could not help the irritation grating his voice though he had no reason to hide it.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "No, no. It's fine, i'll be going." She sucks in a breath, turns on her heel… And begins to walk, managing only a few steps before her head turns at her shoulder, and she utters her usual "Be well, Mattisaux."

A breath huffed from his nose at her farewell, expecting no less but still not quite fancying the like. “I will. You worry over your own self.”

Offering another faint smile, Bexy turns away, continuing until she can no longer be seen through the snows.

I didn't particularly want to leave. I wanted company, i wanted... I don't know. Someone who would understand. Mattisaux often does, when it comes to the dark and unexplained, but... Mm. I'll have to do some thinking.