#i was in some sort of flow state it was wild

[ghostlyalbacore]

I may or may not have played yomi hustle for 5 hours after work

[spoiled-fawn]

Meeting Johnny

Western AU; Mail Order Spouse Trope

WC: 2,726 CW: None

AN: I'm alive! Sorry this is so short, this was a good stopping point and I need to work on my world-building for Soap before getting to the next part. Just know- I haven't given up on this AU (It's literally my firstborn, blood, and soul, but I will be a bit slow until my brain juices stay flowing. I hope ye enjoy <3

Please see the Introduction for the explanation and precursors to the scene.

Introduction, Biography

--------

Johnny’s proposal to you was quick in terms of a few letters exchanged; three letters in, he invited you to come out and sent you enough money to figure out accommodations to get to him. As soon as you read those words at the post office, you ran home high on endorphins and adrenaline began packing your bags without grandiose care in the world. The fire inside you licked at the bottom of your heart, anger at staying in this shithole for far too long and feeling a sense of belonging- the sense of feeling wanted to make you have an ulterior purpose in life as if a phoenix reborn and spreading its wings while nose-diving into the unknown. When your parents came home as you zipped your bags, you sincerely couldn’t give a flying fuck as you shoved past them and began berating your parents with a grand show of a public yelling match for the neighbors to hear. 

Good for you! 

You had already planned how to get to him after receiving his first letter back; First step, buying a train ticket that led you to Santa Fe, New Mexico. From there, you had to embark on the Gila Trail, before having to buy your horse and head out on the San Diego Crossings wagon road by yourself. 

This trip was a long haul, and you prayed that Johnny would trust in your quickly established faith to wait out for you. The promise of a strong and loving man is all you could think about...

While in your adrenaline-filled escape, you hadn’t plucked the book in your room that hid his photo as a bookmark, but thankfully had grabbed the letter that gave you his directions. While you scavenge your mind to have a solid image of him, you think over his features and re-read the letters countless times.

Johnny has a background of all sorts, having grown up in a family that held their bond strong, especially after his father had passed in a mining cave-in, which rendered him the man of the house from a young age. Even in his brief telling of these events, you could tell he’s moved out to California to find a deeper meaning of himself, create the line in concrete for it to harden as he ages. 

That isn’t to say that he has lost his sense of boyishness, not at all in fact. His stories that he wrote even contained small doodles along the borders to better depict what he was writing about, and it was half your mind to cut them out and keep them as little bookmarks or place them in your wallet as a keepsake. He was playful, writing jokes about the smallest things, even letting you in on some secrets about the people in his town before you got there.

While the sense of his flame burned hot in multiple directions, deep in his hearth was a passionate man. Just as he seemed so sweet, with a flick of his wrist the writing would turn into something hot enough to make you blush, averting your eyes as your mind ran wild with his thoughts. He seems to enjoy a bubble bath… but maybe only when you’re in it with him. Even writing about the future and him stating he wants a family by any means, you could only imagine a deep possessiveness inside of him to claim you as such. Even if you were able to have his biological children or not, he’d still make sure you felt like you did.

But back to your journey. 

The course of the trains provided you an oversight of the new lands you had yet to ever see, as it was the beginning stages of territories turning into states. The rides were long, and adjusting to the set time zones was a large throw-off to your circadian rhythm. Having already traveled two states west, it was difficult to decide on which line would grant you the fastest access to Johnny. Luckily enough, a kind person in the Denver station helped point out that taking the route from northern Nevadah into California would grant you the fastest time, and ease your solo traveling. 

The kind person stated that they were in a similar situation and now waiting for the train, having a bit of time to offer some advice while making it toward their end goal. Thanking them with bountiful wishes and good luck’s in their journey, you were on your way.

It took four more days to find yourself in Temecula, California. An astonishing change from the desert lands that reflected the sun so brightly now showed the capabilities of a plush environment of greenery and clouds. The train station was reached as the sunlight began pouring in over the mountains; being quick on your feet, and from the other settlers being far too tired, you found a deal on the last remaining horse available. 

Traveling by horseback prompted challenges with reading Johnny's directions, and you did not want to admit that you were lost. The lack of directory and signage left you getting flustered already by noon and being left alone in such a rural area in between towns felt far more daunting than any part of this trip. Passing by stagecoaches who all seemed to know their way around, you filed in line through a secondary road filled with houses in the valley of the small mountains.

Three hours later and a small urge to cry while having given up on re-reading the letter, you accepted defeat when you saw someone sitting on their porch down a dirt road with his house being the only one there.

“Hi! Excuse me, sir?” The sound of your voice breaks through the stillness of the settling valley, enough to make the man look up from the table he is currently hunched over.

“Would you mind helping me out by giving me directions?” Willing yourself to not blush or shrink into your large coat, embarrassment running through your chest while in the new environment.

For a moment, the man doesn't seem to acknowledge you, having to do a double take before his eyes widen in surprise. The toothpick that was delicately hanging on his lip falls to the ground, less he even notices before he sits up straight readjusting his hat, and clears his throat.

“‘Course, my dear. How can I be of service.” His accent is rich, leading you to believe that he’s been raised in the West, and has a perfectly smooth twang to his speech as it leaves his side smile.

“I’m looking for the country store… There’s supposed to be an old Coke sign on it.” The words leave you in a higher pitch than you’d normally speak, having a handsome stranger stare at you with a wide-eyed stare as he watches your lips move. “And to be honest- I wouldn’t know if I’m in the right place to begin with.” 

As if snapped back to reality again, eye contact cut short as he blinks before looking down the road and then back to you. “Ah, store’ way down yonder with a crossing sign. If yer’ headed west then a left will take you to the interstate,” A nod confirms his sense of confidence in his directions, explaining it plain and simple as the roads that his house lies on.

The smile that crosses your face lights your eyes, and it's the most relief you’ve gotten ever since getting on horseback. “Thank you, I really do appreciate it.” Your hands pull on the reigns of the horse, already turning around to try and beat sunset before it's too dark to ride alone.

Before you’re out of earshot, “When you’re in, you gotta stop and ask Ms. Bell for somma’ her sweet tea. But remember, take a right, and you’ll end up right back here to me.” The wink that leaves him makes you question if you’re seeing things in the late light of the day, but you’re sure he can see the blush that burns your cheeks.

A laugh leaves you before nodding in response, now clicking your horse into a quick trot while you’re high on the adrenaline from the interaction. Well… at least you have a backup plan in case your bachelor doesn't work out.

Arriving far too quickly than you’d expect, the store was only a few minutes down the road and concealed by a line of trees. Hitching your horse and walking into the store on stiff legs, you plan on following the stranger's advice to get some sweet tea.

The bell above the door jingles as you walk in, catching the attention of the older woman behind the counter. Here eyes take in your form, surprised such a fresh-faced person has arrived this late into the day. “How can I help you, sweetheart?” Her voice rings out a bit rough, someone who knows how to pull her weight if trouble would arrive.

“I’m actually looking to get to someone's home near town, but I was told to make my way from this store to not get lost.” A pause as your eyes take in the scenery of the rustic store; A layer of dust settled onto the wooden floors as shelves are stocked with an assortment of canned goods, spices, and a few refrigerators labeled as eggs and milk. “Met a stranger on the way and was told I should get some sweet tea here, too.”

Her eyes, still studying you as you speak and noting your accent, or lack thereof, bring a small quirk to her face. “Well, lemme get you some of my tea while you get yourself found.” Leaving her seat she makes her way to a wall in the back, pulling out two large mason jars with a light brown liquid. 

“That stranger you met- was he small ways up north fr’mere?” The smile on her face grows as she walks back to her seat at the register as you walk forward to meet her.

“Yes… A lone house down a single road. Blue eyes, brown hair, and some stubble.” The answer is pulled from you automatically, reciting the mental image of him.

“Toothpick in his mouth?”

The question is almost absurd in how spot-on she is, but then again this is a very small town. “Yes.”

The answer makes her laugh, somewhat un-ladylike when compared to the women from your home, and the noise makes you startle in place for a second.

“That damn Johnny makes me work my ass off to keep this tea in stock. He’s been so stressed waiting for his person to come ‘nd has been drinking me straight out of this stuff.” She levels when calming down for a moment, now placing the jars in bags.

She has yet to look back up at you and fails to notice your limbs seemingly frozen in place as the air leaves your lungs. That was Johnny?

“I’m so sorry ma’am. Did you say that was Johnny? As in MacTavish?”

The rustle of the brown paper bags stops, her eyes darting up to find yours. “Well, I’ll be damned.” She murmurs lowly before a sly smile takes over her face. “You’re here, and you’re damned too good from what you made yourself out to be, sweetheart.” 

Still frozen with your mind reeling, adrenaline begins to pump back into your bloodstream while a jolt alights your muscles. “Oh- I’m so sorry ma’am, I must get going its getting late and-”

The sliding of the jars on her counter interrupts your rambling, “Ah ah, its Ms. Bell dear, and you best be taking this with you to him. Don’t worry bout nothin’ but I’m happy to welcome you to the town.” 

If you looked now, you could notice the tremor in your hands. Nodding and taking the bag, a rush of endless ‘thank you’s’ and an elated smile seats itself permanently before loading the bags on the saddle and turning back around to start galloping forward back towards where you once were.

—

The sound of horses and wagons isn’t a constant to Santa Ysabel during the night hours, usually only occurring after the dayshift ends. As Johnny sits on his porch, his mind muddled with confusion as he stews over his soon-to-be partner arrives, thoughts of the stranger asking for directions makes him confused.

Fresh toothpick in his mouth as he widdles away at a bar of tallow, working to pull off glycerine for work. Surely that wasn’t a coincidence, right? The picture you sent was muddled down with water stains, and he blamed it on the damn train that sent your envelopes out this way. It was beginning sunset, and though he couldn't make out most of your features because of the coat you concealed yourself in- 

The bar of soap drops to the ground and he curses, now jumping out of his mind and into the present. 

The sound of hooves beating and approaching make him look up.

There, Here, you’re back again and the whites of your teeth are illuminated by the fading sun to show your smile.

Slowing down your horse to a stop, breathing in a slight pant as compared to your horses, the smile never leaves you.

“Figure you need some more directions, sweetheart?” His drawl leaves him, standing to make his way towards you. 

“Take off your hat.” The response is curt, and demanding in a way, but that glimmer of excitement makes it sound so sweet.

Johnny himself is befuddled for a moment, eyebrow cocked but complies anyway. Now raising the hat off of his head and holding it to his chest, his eyes answer for him. This what you wanted?

A small sound of excitement leaves you, nodding before your leg swings over your saddle, dismounting with a small jump and walking forward.

“Johnny, it's me.”

A swear leaves his mouth, accompanied by a rush of air before he drops his hat to the side and plucks hit toothpick out with it. The smile that coats his face makes him appear so young and boyish at heart as he moves forward with arms open to wrap around your hips with a low growl, “C’mere you,”

You could be embarrassed by the small squeal that leaves you, but you couldn’t give a rat's ass on anything right now. He spins you around for a quick moment, arms around your body as he lifts you easily with his strength.

Staring down into his eyes, you grab a shoulder while the other hand cups his jaw. “Didn’t know it was you until Ms. Bell said something.”

He laughs, head tilting back in bewilderment at the situation and excitement. “Talkin bout her sweet tea?” He asks while setting you down on your feet, hands never straying as he pulls you against him and traverses over your body.

“Yes, gave me some to bring home.”

The use of home sparks his heart with a bright thrum, butterflies encasing his stomach while he rumbles out a laugh. The texture of his hands is both soft and ruff, his thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones before one hand moves to brush over your hair, cupping the back of your neck.

“Well, in that case, welcome home, sweety.” The rumble sends a shiver down your spine, eyes darting over his face before settling on his lips. A breath settles before you look back into his sharp blue eyes, as he looks at you seemingly waiting for permission.

A small nod of your head and gently pulling him towards you, the band on the back of your head pulls you forward as he brings your lips together. The taste of him has a spice to it, the favor of cinnamon cotes his lips and brings a slow burn over yours while his body’s warmth brings another wave.

The stubble of his beard rubs your face- and it's a welcome feeling as compared to the winds of the valleys whipping past you. Something you’d gladly leave your skin bright red and raw from hours of the feeling.

Before growing too heated, you part with a small gasp and trail him slightly before blinking to find his smirk growing as a low rumble vibrates against you. “Let's get you settled in, then we can celebrate s’more.”

--------

[Who do you all think the reader met at the train station? If you get the song reference for their meeting you get two gold stars! I hope yall enjoy.]

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 14. Telling Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Solita Grey Rating: Teen Summary: Solita has two hands and two clients. One's a gadfly, the other's an idiot, this is a vexing evening. Notes: Weird Wild West AU, a Desertwalkers story

Solita was enjoying the pleasant turn in the evening at the Cat's Eye cabaret.

Her date for the evening had momentarily vanished, saying he wished to go refresh himself before retiring for the night. The man was a well meaning Hrothgar gentleman from Bozja. Apparently interested in local opportunities which he could leverage for his concerns back home. Kind enough, but she got the distinct impression he was not quite taking her seriously. He asked the right sort of questions, asking for her expertise on many matters, but was perhaps a bit too fond of his jests, and often seemed distracted. He had not been quite rude, nor quite condescending, but, well.

It was frustrating. But that was a common enough state of affairs in her line of work. She took a sip of her champagne. For all that, though, he had been charming, and had a likable demeanor. If he did not wish to heed her, that would be rather more his problem than hers, and she had high hopes for the momentary entertainments of the evening. In the morning, he would be on his way, and she could review what she had learned with the others.

For now, she found herself simply enjoying the atmosphere of the cabaret. She exulted in her senses, the taste of fine liquor on her tongue, the slightly spicy smell of people and cedar and food and drink that wafted through the air, the thrum of the music through the floorboards, the visual spectacle of dancers on the stage. Even the auras of the place were flowing and pulsing pleasantly, the Weave choosing to reflect everyone's good mood.

Her work could be frustrating at times, but it also had its perks, and moments like this were among them. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and just took it all in.

"Ah! Mz. Grey! I was hoping I would find you here!"

She pondered, for the briefest of moments, about the sheer relief and joy she might feel in getting help from Thancred to hide a body.

When she opened her eyes, she could see the bright starriness of Zoissette's aura before she caught sight of her big stupid grinning face.

Her ears went back immediately.

Zoissette didn't notice. She had one of her notebooks open, and was excitedly pointing at her entries in it.

"The petrified forest was a revelation! I have finished my spectral analysis, and you would not believe the aspects of the aether I found within them. Well, maybe you would, actually. I managed to confirm some of your-"

Solita reached up and grabbed the collaring on Zoissette's dress, pulling her ear down to mouth level.

"I am with another client tonight," she hissed. "Make an appointment."

Zoissette's expression immediately shifted to mild horror, and she cleared her throat as Solita let her go. "Oh, I apolo-"

"Why hello! Who's this!" boomed a cheerful voice.

Solita took a deep breath and forced a smile as she turned. The Hrothgar gentlemen had returned, and he took her hand, bowing deep to give it a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, before turning his attention to Zoissette, giving her a friendly smile.

"Hello, dear," said Solita stiffly. "Zoissette, this is the esteemed Pretorad Desasch, a gentleman from Bozja. Pretorad, this is Zoissette Vauban, who I believe was just stopping by on her way home."

Solita watched Zoissette sharply. Not giving a full introduction could be considered rude, but she did not particularly care just this moment. However, as she spoke, she could see Zoissette shift. The woman stood up a little straighter. Her previously open expression faded to a detached half smile. Her posture shifted, her arms pulling in to her sides, and she somehow made herself look more ... presentable? Elegant?

Not quite. Solita could now see what Thancred had already pointed out to her in an earlier conversation. Zoissette was a member of the gentry, possibly even nobility. She always had a certain poise and posture to her, but previously it had been open, care free. Now she was closed off but presentable, lightly guarded, somehow in that twilight between welcoming but not truly universally approachable.

This was a woman who was used to the upper echelons of the spoken and unspoken languages of power. A place where Solita herself lived these days, as part of her work.

"Pretorad Desasch, I do not believe I have known the pleasure," said Zoissette, her voice more airy than usual. Distant. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I must offer my sincere apologies, however, as the Mz. Grey has the right of it. I am only recently returned from my errands, and perhaps should be heading for my home."

Zoissette offered a curtsy. Her words and tone were polite. She was being mildly deferential.

"Nonsense," said Pretorad, as he wrapped one arm around Solita and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Any friend of Solita's is a friend worth getting to know. Come, stay with us a moment! Tell me, Lady Vauban, was it? What do you do around here?"

He gestured at the bartender while Solita continued to stare daggers at Zoissette. "I would say she is perhaps more of an acquaintance."

"Well, as mentioned, Mz. Grey has the right of it, and I do not wish to bother either of you much longer," said Zoissette, her face still wearing that distant half-smile. "But if the sir must know, I am a naturalist. My interests lie in the local flora, fauna, and histories."

"Oh, and were you trying to hide this gem from me, dear Solita?" asked Pretorad, laughing. "Or perhaps you were eager to retire for the night? But please, Lady Vauban, entertain me for a few questions, would you?"

Zoissette tilted her head, a question. But in the motion was a subtlety. The tilt was towards Solita, and angled so that Solita could see her eyes despite her glasses, see that she was clearly looking to her. Solita, after a moment's hesitation and thought, gave the slightest nod. There was little helping the matter now, she decided. Might as well get this over with and quickly, if possible.

Zoissette gave Pretorad a curtsey, and Pretorad waved his hand towards the barkeep. "Splendid! Simply splendid. Three drinks, my good man, whatever they like, and I'll have some of that local specialty, what's it called? Mezzal?"

"Mezcal, sir," said Zoissette politely. "I shall follow the gentleman's example."

Solita simply gestured for the barkeep to top of her glass, and he nodded. It did not take him long to provide their drinks to them, and Pretorad leaned his back against the bar, facing outward. Space enough for Solita on one side, but able to keep his attention on Zoissette on the other.

"A naturalist! Tell me more. Anything currently have your interest?"

"Verification of local histories and folklore while I survey the local landscape. There is a cornucopia of information to be gleaned for those who seek it. I am only recently back from an expedition, and Mz. Grey's services proved invaluable in its success."

Zoissette gestured at Solita as she spoke, and bowed her head towards her.

"Surveying, hmm?" said Pretorad thoughtfully. He glanced over at Solita. "And how did the seer's insight help with that?"

"She knows the local area far better than I, and its histories, as well as having an intimacy with the land that I lack. Her findings, combined with my own, enabled me to create a more accurate map with increased fidelity and previously uncharted information on aetheric densities in the area I explored."

"Fascinating, fascinating, simply fascinating! Aetheric densities, hmm? Well, wonders never cease, when it comes to wonders! Any plans for another expedition?"

"Ah. Well. When she is once more able to spare some time for me, I was hoping to gain her insight to the fields to the north, and perhaps begin another survey."

"Hmn. Might I be able to convince you to show me where you are speaking of?"

Zoissette hesitated, slightly, but after a moment, she pulled a map out of one of her bags, and carefully laid it out over two nearby barstools. She pointed as she spoke. "This is not a political map, so kindly overlook the lack of recognizable landmarks. I can tell you that Stonewood, where we are now, is here; my prior surveys happened in the grasslands not so far from here. And here, near the southern buttes, and here, in the petrified forest. My next survey I intend to perform shall be here, the outer ceruleum fields."

Pretorad looked over the map with a practiced eye, rubbing his chin. "Interesting," he murmured. He glanced over at Solita. "Some of these are places I too am curious about. I notice you updated the topographical markers, and made note of mineral veins and other such areas of interest. And these markings?"

"The aforementioned Aetheric readings. You may use the guide in the lower corner, sir."

"Hah hah! Of course, of course. And next, I cannot help but notice that is near the outer ceruleum fields. I believe they are yet virgin. Perhaps trying to get in on a little early tapping action, hmn?"

Zoissette stiffened slightly, and while Solita remained outwardly relaxed, she felt a twinge of alert.

"My interests, I assure you sir, are not commercial in nature."

Pretorad laughed at that. "Of course not, of course not! A naturalist would never sully their good name with such matters, I am certain. Why, they know every number except the economic, am I right? The quantity of every mass, but the value of none, to mangle a phrase? Hah hah hah!"

Zoissette froze for a moment, and Solita was immediately very on edge. She did not know fully which insults that Zoissette was prone to taking exception to, but this was one of Pretorad's not-quite-rude comments she herself had been diplomatically ignoring all night. But now she wondered if she would be having to deal with her client being stabbed.

But then, Zoissette laughed, a hollow, tittering thing. "Ah, of course, good sir, of course," she said stiffly.

"The sir may know the price of ceruleum futures, but 'tis the naturalist that sees the value beyond the economic. Such true value may be a question of taste, but if the good sir cannot see nor understand that which the naturalist values, he will find himself all the poorer for it," said Solita bitingly. She was not sure why she had been so deferential tonight, anyroad. The man was pleasant, but becoming a boor, and she nor her reputation would suffer fools.

Galling though it was to be stuck mediating between a fool and an idiot.

"My, I'd almost forgotten what a sharp tongue you have," said Pretorad cooly. He reached over to gently curl a finger under Solita's chin, and smiled kindly at her. "I hope to not find out anything about the sharpness of those teeth, later.

"But! You are right, and I would be more the fool to not heed your counsel which I am paying handsomely for, after all," he said, letting his hand drop. "My apologies to both of you, ladies."

Zoissette relaxed, and curtsied. "I accept your apology, and choose to take no further offense, sir."

Solita just made a small noise of assent and sipped her champagne.

"Hah! Well, thank you, my lady. My, you certainly know your manners," he said thoughtfully. "And your terrain," he added, gesturing at the map, which Zoissette reached for and began to roll up. "I wonder what you might say to a potential sponsorship, assuming you aren't self sponsored or don't already have one? Even if you do, I think I would be best pleased to offer my support. Or even just purchase first rights, whatever that would cost me. You've the seer's faith, it seems, and now that I've seen your work, I think I would like to pay for my own faith in your future work."

Solita watched this exchange with mild interest. Zoissette did not tense up again, and this was rather more like the business sort of conversation she had been hired on for with Pretorad.

"I appreciate your interest, sir," said Zoissette. "However, I find myself deferring to the Lady Grey. My work would not be possible without hers. I would prefer that you confer with her, and perhaps she can serve as a necessary intermediary between your business and mine."

"Oh, of course, of course," said Pretorad thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He set his drink down. "Ah! I have forgotten my case and papers back at our table from earlier. How remiss of me to not bring them along for such important discussion. If you will give me a moment, I shall return."

He bowed to Zoissette, who curtsied in turn, then turn and gently took Solita's hand to give it a kiss. She gifted him with a smile, and a gentle wave.

As he left passed out of close distance, she turned on Zoissette just in time to see the woman deflate, turning to hold herself up against the bar.

She looked some kind of miserable, and Solita felt a pang of concern despite herself.

"I had forgotten how tiring all this could be," she said. "I meant to apologize earlier, Mz. Grey. I would not intentionally interfere with your work. And I must apologize now. I think, that I will be taking my leave."

Solita looked over at where Pretorad apparently was just finding his glasses in his briefcase, and beginning to flip through some papers he seemed to always have near or on him.

"He shall wonder at your absence," she said.

"Ah, the usual excuses shall suffice. I hate to be a further burden, but just tell him I excused myself with a case of the vapors. I doubt he is the type to be rude enough to insist on inquiring further after that. He should recognize the excuse for what it is." She paused. "Should." Another moment. "I hate all these stupid games."

"You seems to excel at playing these games of words and meaning," said Solita, feeling faintly baffled.

"I excel at being -polite-, which I choose to be," said Zoissette stiffly. "And - no. Forget it. I apologize, again. Good night, Solita."

Solita frowned at her as she went. "Hold a moment, if you would."

Zoissette paused.

"...you can make arrangements through Mz. Gohtawyn, if you still wish to speak to your findings."

Zoissette turned to her with a pained smile, pushing up her glasses, and just shook her head slightly.

"I will not waste any more of your time on this," she said. "Do not worry. If you are truly curious, I will publish to our local library before next season. Your contributions will be noted, and I do intend to seek you out before I make for my next survey. Take care, Mz. Grey."

Zoissette left, allowing no time for further comment, and Solita was left at the bar, feeling oddly bemused at the exchange.

Pretorad returned, with his case, holding some papers, looking around curiously as he did so.

Solita gestured to him with a champagne glass. "The Lady Vauban has retired for the evening."

"Has she now? I suspected as much. Damned shame, but understandable. I hope you're not too upset at my attempt to poach such a gem from your hand. I was told of your reputation, but to see the exact caliber of person in your orbit! Hmn. And her bearing... former military on top of all that, I'd wager. I have been short sighted."

Solita wanted to protest, but did not, instead just swirling her champagne in her glass. "More the fool you, then. You know my reputation. I can hardly fault you for not taking me at face value, but perhaps you might have verified such yourself."

"Hah! Forgive me my methods, but if you'll allow, I find that I have done exactly that."

"Well I hope you find yourself satisfied," said Solita, finishing her drink. She was tired of tonight, between these two. "Perhaps we might retire for the evening as well?"

He set down his papers. "Business before pleasure, if you don't mind. Indulge me?"

"If you insist."

They both sat down at the bar, and he began to go over his interests in the area once more, conversations they had already had. But this time, she noticed, to her rather deep annoyance, that he was paying more attention this time around, seemed more inclined to heed her words. Earlier in the day he had been more boisterous, more cheerful, almost at play. But now, he was clearly being more serious about matters, taking notes, deferring to her very expensive expertise.

She took the matter professionally, and hid her annoyance. At least he was finally taking her seriously, and frankly, that did give her a sense of satisfaction. As their conversation winded into the late hours and resolved, and they at last retired, Solita had one last annoyance, however, as she found herself wondering after one Zoissette Vauban.

[vickyvicarious]

Mina and Van Helsing's journey towards the castle today has several alarming points of comparison with Dracula and Jonathan's journey. Here's just a couple that stood out to me today:

This state of excitement kept on for some little time; and at last we saw before us the Pass opening out on the eastern side. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one.

Jonathan

It is now not far off sunset time, and over the snow the light of the sun flow in big yellow flood. For we are going up, and up; and all is oh! so wild and rocky, as though it were the end of the world.

Van Helsing

Both Jonathan and Van Helsing experience a sensation of crossing from one land/reality into a new, much more dangerous one. I love the idea that there is a palpable sense as you begin to enter into Dracula's territory, and it always brings unease though you may attribute it to weather or to scenery.

Then, amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants and a universal crossing of themselves, a calèche, with four horses, drove up behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the coach. I could see from the flash of our lamps, as the rays fell on them, that the horses were coal-black and splendid animals. They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes, which seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to us.

Dracula

Then she woke, bright and radiant and we go on our way and soon reach the Pass. At this time and place, she become all on fire with zeal; some new guiding power be in her manifested, for she point to a road and say:— "This is the way."

Mina

The sudden burst of vigor Mina experiences upon reaching the Pass reminds me a lot of Dracula's dramatic entry there. He appears in a sudden moment, surprising and terrifying the other passengers, and he is full of strength. Mina is dressed all in black and possibly still hiding her face with her veil now as well, but she shares Dracula's "bright eyes", at least later on in the entry, when she watches Van Helsing sleep.

I think I must have fallen asleep and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be repeated endlessly, and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare.

Jonathan

Then we go on for long, long hours and hours. At the first, I tell Madam Mina to sleep; she try, and she succeed. She sleep all the time; till at the last, I feel myself to suspicious grow, and attempt to wake her. But she sleep on, and I may not wake her though I try. I do not wish to try too hard lest I harm her; for I know that she have suffer much, and sleep at times be all-in-all to her. I think I drowse myself, for all of sudden I feel guilt, as though I have done something; I find myself bolt up, with the reins in my hand, and the good horses go along jog, jog, just as ever.

Van Helsing

Both Jonathan and Van Helsing felt the long hours of the journey, the same experience seeming to repeat endlessly in a way that makes them feel they must have been sleeping despite their fear and their efforts to stay awake. I don't doubt that they both do fall asleep repeatedly, at least briefly (and this is echoed again for Van Helsing when he tries to keep watch during the night). Mina's deep sleep in this part of the journey also acts as a kind of contrast to Jonathan, especially if you believe that he was supposed to be hypnotized/drugged into sleep and only partially resisted because he was wearing his protective gifts/didn't drink the brandy. Mina here is almost an example of a what-if Jonathan had been fully under Dracula's influence on that journey. Especially since once again her 'sleeping so hard she can't be woken' state reminds me of Jonathan's trance sleep on 3 October.

I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side of the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a graceful wave of his hand to the table, and said: "I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will, I trust, excuse me that I do not join you; but I have dined already, and I do not sup."

Dracula

Then when I return to the fire she have my supper ready. I go to help her; but she smile, and tell me that she have eat already—that she was so hungry that she would not wait. I like it not, and I have grave doubts; but I fear to affright her, and so I am silent of it. She help me and I eat alone;

Mina

And another worrying echo of Dracula in Mina. We know the reason Dracula prepared Jonathan's meal and said he already ate was because as a vampire he had no desire to eat human food, and maybe he had in fact already supped on someone's blood. So when Mina does the same thing for Van Helsing here, it feels deeply reminiscent in a way that makes us wonder... did she not want to eat because she is too vampiric, and lie in order not to worry him? Was she telling the truth? Or does she dine the same way Dracula does - perhaps not then but later in the night, when Van Helsing keeps falling asleep to find her watching him with her bright eyes, and wakes in the morning to find her sleeping once again, healthier and redder than before?

He doesn't know. And he's afraid to confront the possibility by asking, for her sake as well as his own.

[27dragons]

New Year Countdown: Dec 4

I almost forgot to post today's fic! It's been a busy day. Click through for the fic!

Dec 4 - Winteriron - Regency AU - Hot chocolate

Tony settled back into the settee cushions and let his gaze be captured by the flickering flames on the hearth. This was his favorite time of day, when his parents had retired to their rooms and the big house was still and quiet and he could be alone with his thoughts. Winter’s chill had quite settled over the estate, and he was just considering ringing one of the servants to bring him a throw for his lap when the door opened to admit Jarvis to the parlor.

“M’laid,” Jarvis said with his usual aplomb, “Lord Barnes is asking to see you.”

“Lord Barnes?” Tony’s heart leapt and began running like a rabbit. “What could he possibly be doing here at this hour of the evening?”

“I couldn’t say,” Jarvis admitted. “Shall I tell him you’re not prepared to receive visitors?”

“Don’t be silly,” Tony said. “Show him in.” He straightened his posture and brushed his hands over his wildling hair to try to settle it, though that was a hopeless task without an attendant and half a jar of pomade.

“Lord Barnes, your laidship,” Jarvis announced, stepping back to let the man into the room. Barnes looked quite wild, his face flushed and his hair nearly as untidy as Tony’s own. 

“Good heavens,” Tony exclaimed, jumping to his feet and rushing to capture Barnes’ hand. “Is something wrong? What’s happened? Your skin is like ice, you must be half-frozen! Jarvis, ask Cook to send up some drinking chocolate, please.”

“I wouldn’t wish to be any trouble,” Barnes protested.

“Nonsense, she was already making up a pot for me,” Tony said, all but dragging him toward the fire. “You’d only add an extra cup to the tray. Jarvis?”

“Of course, m’laid,” Jarvis murmured, letting himself back out of the room.

Tony drew Lord Barnes down onto the settee. “Sit here, warm yourself and tell me what’s brought you out here in such a state!”

Barnes took the seat Tony nudged him toward, but rather than extending his hands to the fire’s warmth, he reached out to catch Tony’s other hand, holding both of them delicately between his own. “It’s you,” he said. “I’ve not slept properly since the Rogers’ ball, and I... I couldn’t go another night, another hour, without seeing you again.”

If Tony’s heart had been a running rabbit before, it was now a thundering stag. “Lord Barnes--”

“I know it’s beastly of me,” Barnes said, half-desperately. “I shouldn’t have come so late, and looking like this, and you’d be within your rights to cast me immediately back out like some sort of madman. But if I am mad, it is for dreaming of your beautiful eyes and the sound of your laugh and the touch of your hand. I had to know if you could possibly accept my suit. Say you will, and I swear I’ll go at once and then do everything properly; I’ll come again and speak to your father--”

Tony could only see one way of stopping the frantic flow of words. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against Lord Barnes’.

“--if he... Oh. Oh!” And then Barnes was kissing Tony back, his hands clasped almost too tightly around Tony’s, as if he were holding himself back from pulling Tony entirely into his arms.

Barnes drew back after only a moment, eyes wide and shining. “Is that a yes, Laid Stark? I may call on you tomorrow?”

Tony reluctantly tugged his hands free of Lord Barnes’ grasp and moved to put a proper distance between them as he heard the servants’ footsteps in the hall, bringing the chocolate. “You may call upon me whenever you like,” he agreed, smiling through the blush that threatened to betray his own madness. “And I think you must call me Anthony.”

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Genyen/Shawn NSFW Alphabet

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Looking to see if his partner has fallen asleep yet so he can rifle through their purse/wallet.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Genyen likes his arms and shoulders - he could easily wear a t-shirt under his Buddhist robe, but he likes the way it shows them off, so he doesn't bother.

He's a boob man. He gives some spiritualist bullshit reason, stating there's profound joy in a woman's ability to nourish her child with the body from which she birthed it, but really he just wants his lips around some nips. Constantly ogling.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Genyen loves shooting a load over his partner and watching the way it coats their skin - especially if he manages to get their tits.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

The yoga practice he insists upon every morning isn't really to align his or his partner's chakras - it's so he can align his eyes with their bum in a pair of leggings.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

Shawn's scamming has taken him around the world - he's dicked a lot of people down along the way, so he knows what he's doing.

F= Favorite position

The Lotus. He says it's tantric, when really it just allows for his partner to bounce on his dick and puts their boobs at mouth level for him.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He'll treat it like it's a "spiritual" experience, but really just wants to get in those guts.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He buzzes off the hair on his head - the hair down there is naturally negligible, so he doesn't bother doing anything with it.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

He'll start out on the premise of being romantic, but as soon as he's caught up in the moment gets rough and is spouting all sorts of filth - "this pussy is the path to liberation" etc.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Every time he showers.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Somnophilia - loves being woken up with head, similarly will get things going with his partner before they've fully woken up (with prior consent, of course)

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

He's really not fussy, if the mood takes him then he goes with the flow.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Cleavage, nipples showing through clothing. A good bum in a form fitting pair of yoga pants. Kisses to his neck and jawline drive him wild.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Genyen is pretty freaky, so there's not much he won't do. Turned off by anything that takes him out of the moment - i.e. "where is this going?" "what does our future look like?" "where has my bank card gone?"

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

Genyen loves eating pussy and, likewise, loves being sucked off. He's a big fan of the 69 for this very reason.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

He can last a while, will start slow and gradually increase the pace.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

Genyen is down for anything - if his partner wants fast and hard then that's what they'll get, he just likes to smash.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

Genyen is ALL about exploration, so he's down for whatever.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

He's basically a Duracell bunny - he'll keep going for as long as his partner can stand.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Despite his adventurous nature, he doesn't like outside interference - when your body is a wonderland already, why do you need additional distractions?

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Genyen considers teasing bad karma, but only if he's on the receiving end of it. He is constantly teasing his partner. Cupping their clothed crotch and adding gentle pressure, while whispering "do you feel enlightened today?" before walking away with a smirk. Bastard.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Genyen is a dirty talker, but moans like a slut when he's getting close.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

Is a big fan of making his partner taste their own cooking - i.e. going down on them and then kissing them afterwards, pulling his fingers out of them and having them suck them clean, etc.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

7.5 inches - he's packin'.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

Extremely high and not afraid to make it his partner's problem.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

He stays awake so he can have a cheeky rummage for loose change once they've gone to sleep.

[nova--spark]

What’s Anthea’s relationship with the members of Team Prime?

This one will be interesting oh lord.

I will keep it to Team Prime Core, meaning just OP, Ratchet, Bee, Ratchet, Arcee and Bulkhead. If y'all wanna hear about Secondary Team Prime ,lemme know.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Optimus Prime is someone Anthea was...reluctant to meet, when Plasma first made it known to the Autobots about her condition and existence.

She was intimidated to say the least, to meet who Plasma had described as essentially, a walking and living demigod among his kind.

It would come as a shock to her that he was...gentle, with her. Acting remorseful, for what his people's war had robbed her of and turned her into, and offered his sincerest apologies and assured that her protection would be a priority.

Knowing that he wasn't some high and mighty leader...eased her to him, and she came to see Optimus as a familial figure of sorts. A wise mentor, who would protect her.

If he has a moment to spare, and isn't a bother, Thea will ask him stories from his days as Orion, curious about the stars beyond just Earth.

He once stated her survival as having been thanks to the Will of Primus. She's not entirely sure but...maybe he's right.

Ratchet was the second Autobot she was close with, if only because he took over her medical care, to the best of his abilities, pertaining to her Energon-Blood combo, and her Cybertronian prosthetics.

Having bad memories of doctors from her early recovery days, Ratchet's grumpy nature took time to get used to but...she appreciated it in time. At least once a month, she checks in with him to recalibrate her legs, update on how the Energon flows in her body, and more often than not, mid check up, the two are snarking back at one another.

An odd friendship but one they're both quite comfortable with.

Admittedly though, Ratchet is sometimes reminded of what happened to Raf when he was inflicted with Dark Energon and...he feels a sense of duty, to ensure Anthea's well-being in this bizarre state of existence she now has.

Bumblebee is ,in official capacity, meant to bring Anthea to base and guard her, should Plasma fall in battle, be hurt, or otherwise incapable.

Unofficially, Anthea considers the rambunctious scout a friend, and one she can connect to. Like a brother who you rope into your shenanigans.

Both lost a part of themselves in the war, and are in a manner, still readjusting to the world in a sense, Anthea's change still fresh and healing, Bee's older but still present.

If Plasmaclaw is occupied on a mission on Team Prime's behalf, she often asks Bee if they can maybe got out on a ride for a bit, if only to take her mind off things. It took her a little while to decipher his binary speech, but she can understand him a decent amount, though nowhere near perfect as Raf does.

Arcee and Anthea have a mutual respect of one another, as Arcee has loved and lost, fought and been hardened by it.

Anthea lost part of herself, and yet still returned to where her life was torn apart, and reforged herself into something entirely new.

Thea has also joked that out of the two biker Autobots, Arcee definitely has Plasma beat. A fact which Plasma took quite a bit of offense to.

Both girls have spoken with each other often in moments where both needed an ear to vent to.

Bulkhead was quite surprised in learning about what Anthea had been through, I mean sure, he'd met Miko who was wilder than a rabid scraplet, but Thea was a different story, having been one to hone that wild streak into a way to rebuild her life.

Hearing that Bulk had been a laborer, Anthea respects him,as her own mother labored at a factory when Thea was just a baby to make her life worth it. And she was impressed in how the once Wrecker could carry out battle ,and use his skills to both build and break.

It was like a brother and sister, who just...would be there when the other needed them. And that was ok between them.

[vio-starzz]

Febuwhump Day 1!!! ~ Helpless

(Idk if this is actually it. I tried)

Characters: Wild, Dink, (mentions some of the other heroes.)

Ao3 Link here!

errrr… tw: Drowning, swearing (i dont…think theres more?)

»§«

Stuck.

That’s exactly what they were, completely, stupidly, stuck.

Better yet! Fucked. They were fucked.

Chained against a wall, and restrained like some sort of monster. The shackles weighed them down so heavily, and the one around their neck was awfully suffocating. No matter what, it just felt as if it became tighter. They couldn’t speak, or move all that well, screaming is impossible when you’re muzzled like some sort of rabid dog…

But Wild isn’t a dog, they aren’t anything more than some “guy.” Hero didn’t feel right, and, well, neither did anything else: So just a “guy” it is.

Once again, the water rose a few inches, coming to their knees as if slowly taking its time till the inevitable. Wars would be disappointed to find them like this, hell, so would all the others. It’d just further strengthen how useless of a guy they were. How much of a burden it is having them trail along.

All they did right was cook! That’s the only reason they were allowed around the real heroes, so, it’s only right that after this mistake: They’d be kicked away? The heroes would force them back home, scold them in anger, it’d be all awful for everyone because Wild failed them, and that was bad on both ends. Wild tries hard not to be a failure, but they guess they always slip everything up.

No wonder–

Another loud bomb went off. Or, not everything that’s loud is a bomb… Something happened, it was loud, Wild didn’t like loud. Loud was bad.

Those sounds had been going off for a while now, it’s just the fact that the sounds have gotten closer that made it overwhelming…The water is up to their chest now. It’s flowing freely and openly, coming in so gently and quietly.

It…. It’s starting to dawn on Wild that the heroes aren’t going to find them.

Not in time, not like this.

They are NEVER going to find Wild alive.

….Shit.

The water was drowning them by this point, the loud noise drew closer: Yet, not close enough. Not enough to save what's too drowned by now.

The funny thing was how Wild didn’t try to resist it. They’ve drownt and been through eternal hell for a hundred years. Never breathing, never dying. They swore to never cascade that far into pain ever again. Never again will they wait those few seconds… Because seconds turned to minutes, then to years.

It’s why they never stayed underwater, in the lakes, rivers, or oceans of their own Hyrule. They hate the feeling. Hate the way their body screams and subconsciously wilts or curls underneath it.

They have to stay above, their head has to be above… Or they let go.

Fighting it never was fun, so, the moment it came, they breathed it in.

They let the awful taste and sensation fill their lungs… They let themselves drown.

Because at this point, as their eyes finally went numb, and their body relaxed from its tensed up state…? Nobody had the time to really save them. Nobody would put themselves through the water, to unchain and free some useless, pathetic, weak, guy.

They’d save a hero! But, not Wild.

Because again– The hero they’ve been called? Is dead.

No hero is as big of a failure as Wild is.

Wild will never be anything more… Than a failure.

Then a guy…. Even if that use of pronouns seems…

Wrong.

It all seems wrong.

Always has, always will.

Failures always look and seem wrong.

…

When their eyes flutter open desperately and they cough out an absolute shit ton of water as their lungs basically scream for air, it’s honestly not a pleasant feeling, as they gasp and heave through their unhappy lungs. Normally, as before, death is never that pleasant, so….. Wait.

They’re breathing?

They’re alive?

They look down, hands shaking.. But hands free? No more shackles? Freedom?

They’re free?!

But… How?

Already they’re sitting up, but instead of just looking at their hands this time: they allow their gaze to wander. To see whatever surroundings they lay upon, to make sure they aren’t back…

Yet, of course, it’s far too dark to adjust… Well, no? Wild’s always been good at seeing in the night, their eyes adjust quickly, instead, they’re sitting in a pitch black void. It’s not dark by lighting, but just the area itself is… It’s rather eerie.

Instead of being alone, however, they’re met by two very deceitful eyes. Dimly glowing red to even worse add onto the terrible chill that becomes present. The figure, red eyes, white hair, and fairly dark grey? Maybe almost black, skin. With, of course, a terrible grin….

If they weren’t fucked earlier, they’re fucked now, because to be fairly honest… Wild judges a book by its cover, and their judging on this guy is screaming ‘death’ and ‘bad.’

Stacked onto that, is just the inability to move. They try, but it’s like their limbs are locked in place. As if fear has been stuck to their brain, and it can’t move. They can no longer move.

They’re helpless, powerless… Oh, Hylia no…

The figure laughs with a cruel, heartless chuckle, as they move so steadily forward. Making the shadows crawl closer and closer with them.

‘Danger. Evil. Bad.’

Their mind is pleading to try and get away, but they can’t. They simply can’t move.

The figure, thing, monster, was in front of them now, grinning as they suddenly forced their hand through Wild’s chest, into their actual shattered and fragmented soul. Their actual… Soul?!

Giving them something as they do so, something painful and searing… It’s like being branded, but, god it feels so much worse. It’s unbearable, and Wild want’s nothing more than to make it stop.

That.. Damn triangle thing starts to actively burn and mark its way onto Wild’s skin, the thing Zelda has– All part’s glowing with the heat and pain, but they can’t scream.

They’re helpless.

The thing finally draws their hand back, the searing stops, the mark is gone now, and Wild can move!

Move as they crawl back quickly, curling in on themselves as they practically wither in their skin, the taste of blood crawling up into their mouth as they hate the texture and feel of the hand– Of their skin.

Is this what it’s like? Being utterly helpless and useless– Again!?

Just like hundreds of years ago. When they failed Zelda? Failed the whole entire kingdom? Failed their own mentors and heroes that came before them?

The thing just laughs, as if this was funny to their sadistic views… Which, it clearly is, as all it does in response, is whisper clearly despite so quietly two words..

“You’re mine.”

Even as they wake back up, crying and screaming, even as Wars quickly runs up to their side, and Hyrule, who was already there, starts trying to help them calm down, telling them “It’s okay now!” “Everythings alright!”

But Wild knows it isn’t. They’re that… thing’s.. Now.

Even as they don’t understand it well enough, they know they’re in danger now. They can feel Hylia even trying to calm them… But when they focus on Hylia, they sense that being as well…

They aren’t going to be okay, not anymore. Never again, will they be okay, or safe.

All they can do now is cry into Wars shoulder… Cherish the people they find as family when awake, because now? They know no dream will be the same. They know the water, and the drowning, wasn’t the dream. They still feel wet: So it was the heroes that saved them! It was their family… But, they don’t think they can tell their family about the monster that’s made its way into their head. They can’t fight this alone, but, they can hide it… Can’t they?

[moorishflower]

Go west?

Yeah! go west, young man is a concept I'm tooling around with for The Terror! Combining two of my favorite things: depressed and repressed Victorians and the mid to late 1800s American wild west! In which James Fitzjames marries Sophia Cracroft 'to honor Sir John's memory,' Francis Crozier resigns from the British Navy and flees to the United States to avoid being confronted with losing both James and Sophia, and I attempt to fix everything with polyamory.

~~~

In all his years of sailing, James had only had occasion to visit the United States once. He had been fifteen at the time, serving aboard Pyramus with Captain Sartorius, and had been rather more concerned with maintaining his precarious position aboard the ship as opposed to gawking at the strangenesses of the former colonies. Pyramus had docked in New York, attending to some diplomatic function which James had not been privy to the specifics of; his primary memory of the journey now is that New York had seemed very much like London, in that it had been large and busy and crowded, and had clamored with a thousand different voices and accents along the docks, and the smell of rotting fish and seaweed and salt had permeated the air just the same as any other harbor. In that way, it had made him terribly and fretfully homesick, not only for London, which he had grown with and which had grown upon him in turn, but also for a more nebulous concept of home-ness, which had oft been denied him for much of his childhood.

He is not surprised to find that New York has not changed significantly in the years between 1828 and 1850. It has grown wider, yes, and taller, and louder and more offensive to the senses, but these are all things that have occurred in London as well, the only difference being that he was present in London for many of its changes, and he views the same growth here with eyes unadorned with the spectacles of familiarity.

Sophia, on the contrary, is possessed of no such fondness; he flatters himself that he has come to know her expressions well over the last year, and in particular the ones indicating disdain: here, the wrinkled nose, just barely, to mark her displeasure at the smell of the harbor; and just there, a tightness at the corner of her mouth that tells him she is struggling not to frown. He watches her retrieve a handkerchief from her handbag, which she holds delicately over the lower half of her face. It serves the dual purpose of both masking the scent of the docks and hiding her expression from him.

Perhaps another man might take offense at this. Perhaps a better husband might seek to remedy her ire.

James has never fashioned himself as a husband of any sort, let alone a decent one.

Matrimony need not be a requisite for gentlemanly behavior, he chides himself. He is too tired to do more than think it, but makes the effort to extend his hand in order to assist Sophia in disembarking. She demurs -- had that not been a constant source of argument, in the beginning? Her independence, her willfulness, her habit of grim sullenness? -- and gathers up her skirts as they move along with the flowing tide of the other passengers. The rank smell of fish and salt surrounds them all sides.

"I shall be frightfully pleased when we are quit of sea travel," she says. He nearly misses it. James had not expected her to speak to him at all…at the very least, not until they had reached their lodgings for the evening. He clears his throat. His head is throbbing, but this is nothing new. He has found that crowds and loud noises induce in him an ache behind the left eye so fierce that sometimes it takes all of his willpower to keep himself from screaming.

"We shall not be rid of it just yet, I'm afraid," he says. He makes an attempt to sound apologetic. For all that Sophia had accompanied Sir John and Lady Jane on many of their voyages, she is no Navy sailor. "We must charter a packet ship to take us down the coast, to…" He struggles to remember his geography; he has the absurd and sudden thought that, perhaps, if he were to remove his eye, functionally deficit as it is, perhaps the pain would stop. He rubs his temple instead. "…a river," he finishes, lamely. Sophia turns her head towards him. She is still holding the handkerchief to her mouth and nose, and between it and her bonnet it gives her the look of an odalisque, not unlike the women he had seen in the Ottoman Empire. The difference, of course, being that no girl there had ever looked at him with such open and fiery contempt.

"The Mississippi River," she says slowly, as if speaking to a child. James pinches the bridge of his nose, but this provides no relief. "I am aware of our travel itinerary."

Are you? he wants to ask. Demand. Are you, truly? If you were, then you would know we are not enemies. We go to find the same salvation, you and I.

He does not speak it. What use? Sophia Cracroft had determined to hate him the moment she had said 'I do.'

[lunalit-river]

[Vent] Comparative Analysis of My OC and Other OCs Observed in L/f!oc fics

*Excuse my English. This post has not been revised by AI for grammar and flow.*

Introduction

Why am I writing this instead of concentrating on my own fic? Answer to myself, it's because there were plenty of doubts while writing. The fear of writing her as not likable, not logical, not complex enough, not human enough, and not acting aligns with those who have trauma, and the last, the fear of accidentally writing her as Mary Sue. Several times I was reading someone else's fanfic and their OC were very popular? Likable? Interesting- in some sort of way, in a way that I find amusing, yet the characterization is never to become my own OC's personality. And with good reason. This post is for myself, to remind me why I write her as she is and why not she is the kind of OC that I imagine modern readers would like (I want to be welcomed by readers, too, yet sadly, I cannot make my OC more loving) Or to put it in another way, this post is me being very self-aware, or convincing myself that it's okay to write her like this. This is me analyzing my own OC.

Basic Description of My WIP F!oc

Nanami Miru (七海咲来) born in England, Japanese family. Abusive parents died in a fire, then entered Wammy's House, given alias "Meredith". Only close people would call her "Meri". Different alias were taken by her in various stages of life and situations, the most used would be Meredith/Saotome Rin (早乙女凜), Later taking the code name "M", carries out Watari's assignments. For more detail, please refer to Far Side of the Moon (AO3)

Varies kinds of OCs Observed in L/F!OC fics

It seemed that categorizing OCs into these kinds was not really fair for the fics I've read, but I won't list them out specifically, so I think sorting my own observations wouldn't hurt, I think. It is noted that these OC traits can appear combined.

Mommy OCs (sometimes this can be a tag) The girl that would take care of other children in Wammy's House if she were a Wammy child. If she is not a Wammy child, then it would be shown in later chapters that when she has contact with the Kira task force, she will take care of everyone and, of course, including L. Very good at taking care of others, physically and emotionally, a motherly like persona. She may also be a great assistant to Watari.

Sassy/wild/badass girl OCs (this is also a tag) The not-obedient girl that would argue and fight L. Maybe fight Watari. Maybe fight everyone. She would teach all of them a lesson, and let them know who's in charge of this story (?) Most of these OCs can be the tough kind, but it does not necessarily mean that she doesn't have her vulnerabilities. Giving enemies to lovers trope more, instead of friends to lovers, even if the fic stated that they are "friends" (or working partners)

Outgoing OC Had to write this separately from the previous category. Outgoing girl to contrast the gloomy vibe of L's. The contrast of their personality would give an interesting take on how they view things. Mostly this kind of outgoing girl is also loved by many others, and including L in most scenarios. Not necessarily sassy wild or not obedient. Frankly speaking, it would be more like this OC is an extrovert, in contrast to L's introversion.

Practical Realistic OCs (more cerebral) <-I'm currently aiming for this, more. I think most OCs I read do have this trait, but also combined with other mentioned traits. OC being intelligent and maybe participating in the Kira case, and giving out her advice to L and Watari, or maybe conducting some missions that Watari or L handed her.

Analysis: M and the OCs mentioned previously

As I do not consider myself to read enough L/OC fics, maybe just pause here on the categorization. Now, I would apply the above-mentioned OC types to my OC and see why she doesn't/does correspond to these popular traits.

Mommy OC I could see M sometimes being watchful to other children in Wammy's House, but rarely. It's more of an act of being nice to others, but nothing more. Without receiving much affection and love from her original family, it would be hard for her to know how to take care of others, especially those who didn't have much to do with her. (If you have not received love, then how do you give love to others) She kept herself quite distant from peers as well, and maybe the only person that she spent time with was Watari, the first person to give her kindness closer to a fatherly figure, and her first emotional dependence was mostly on Watari. Later, with L. But as L himself is also quite distant and isolates himself from others, it would be reasonable when M spends most of her time with L, and only L. It wasn't until after L left Wammy's House that she would have the chance to have contact with others more, and in my current WIP, with a boy named "Adam". What she did was not take care of Adam, but only have some contact and help him with some assignments of his current courses, as she is a few years older than Adam.

Since then, Adam would continue to learn some more music theory from Meredith, and sometimes would ask for her help on the assignments that the instructors assigned to him. It was then Meredith realized how difficult subjects Adam was learning, much more challenging than what she was learning when she was his age. What he was learning maybe two years ahead of his peers, she estimated.

If M had to take care of anyone, it would only be L and Watari. But I don't think that she needs to take care of L? Like, L has Watari beside him, so why need another being to take care of him if he already has a great butler who would even dress him on a daily basis (see, L: One Day) But I've always considered the concept of a "motherly" person has to start with some kind of love that she received before, maybe in her childhood. It was never the case for M. She may know how to serve, clean, and cook (but not baking, as she sucks at baking) from learning later in life, but it only means that she knows how and not necessarily giving the motherly feeling. I've always wanted to write a story that conveyed that being a mother and knowing how to be a mother is definitely acquired and not born with it. Yes, of course, some have an instant love for their child or young children, and maternal love is in the blood, but not all women apply to this. When accepted maternal love is acquired and needed to be learned instead of born with it, I suppose many woman could be relieved from the society's emotional blackmails of "you are the mother and you should do xxx for your child".

Sassy/wild/badass girl OCs This is more like a choice, choosing what kind of personality that one's OC would have. And I did not choose this kind. If I have to give a reason, then it would also stem from the original family that M had. Suppressed feelings and hiding your thoughts from others was what she was educated on, and with the trauma that she experienced, one of the reactions I really wanted to write about was fawning. She is desperate to cling to someone who could provide her love. Therefore, she would not have the personality to be a badass girl, I suppose. She is too afraid to be unseen, to be ignored by those whom she cares about the most, to be rejected, and therefore, she doesn't really have the courage to be disobedient. To my own interpretation of this OC, it would be harder for her to stand up to Watari than fight L, as to her she may have a more horizontal relationship with L, but never with Watari. It would definitely be vertical. M struggled for praise when she was younger and even after entering Wammy's House. Watari needed patience to make her more open, and that's why the little girl likes the inventor and sees him as the fatherly figure that she did not have in her childhood. Watari was more like a father when he was around M than L. Out of my own agenda, I wanted M to be the soft spot of Watari, but it does not mean that Watari would prioritize M more than L. Watari wanted to change the world. And L was his hope to accomplish that. It was also my attempt to subtly show Watari's obsession with L's success and later to pursuit the goal of world peace, the reason for the successor's program. I know that in Another Note (AN) Watari was portrayed like the mad scientist that wanted to copy L's success, and disregard the well-being of Wammy children, but this is really different from the relationship that Watari shared with M. In later chapters, I did have an attempt to explain and adjust the reasons provided by AN, and I do hope the narrative is logical and in an ingenious way that does not go too far from canon but still maintains the warmth Watari expressed to M, and to other children of Wammy's House. I think I'm carrying away too much in this passage.

Outgoing OC This is also by choice more than reason. Couples in my own experiences mostly share similar personalities than those who had totally different personalities. L and M both are quiet introverts that only open up more when they are around people they are familiar with- well, maybe we can't really see that in L in canon, but he definitely is not an outgoing guy. There was a scene in anime when L knew that it would be his death day, and he went to Watari, with Watari asking him "What's wrong" but he remained silence. I think it was the few moments that we could see L seeking for some kind of emotional comfort from Watari, or maybe wanting to take one last look at the man that raised him, but didn't know what to say or express. L felt strange to tell Watari that he hear the bells. It was not him. It was not logical. And even he did tell Watari, Watari may not understand what he meant (It's really metaphysics, to say.) But judging from this scene, I do think that L would open up, very slightly, to those who he trusts the most. But never to others, colleagues (task force), or mere friends, let alone potential rivals (Yagami) Where am I? Ah yes, outgoing OCs. So it's only really my own preference to write a love interest of L's sharing similar personalities like him. Communication and opening up would be easier for this kind of couple, in my experience. And with M also not the outgoing girl, I could maintain that very nuanced emotional flow between the two of them. Everything is very subtle and indirect. And that is the kind of story I wanted to tell.

Practical Realistic OCs (more cerebral) So, this part, the thing I wanted to point out is that I do want my OC to be practical and realistic. The part that I am not going to write is OC engaging in L's investigations or career. I know that to showcase an OC's intelligence and make L approve of her is to make her work with him in some cases, or even the Kira case, but it just boggled me that if L really cherished another person, then would he let her engage in what he is doing? First, he knew that his career was never the kind that was considered safe. Especially Kira case is the most dangerous and difficult case for him; in my own understanding of L, he would be well aware of the danger and would not want his love interest to risk her life in such matters. Second, L has some sort of pride. Ego. this is his domain. Solving cases, whether it was a game for him or fighting for justice, gave him a sense of accomplishment and relieved the boredom he experienced as the top. Handling the case on his own would suit him more like L; he would again prove to others that he is the top and greatest of all. Even if L didn't have this thought, L is a man who has boundaries and needs ultimate freedom when he works. He would need assistance from the task force and Watari, but he dislikes to be distracted, as evident from canon.

I can't stand it when people's cellphones are ringing while I'm trying to talk. Let me start by saying nobody takes notes on anything that's said in these meetings. That means when we leave headquarters, any information we need is committed to memory. Please, make yourselves comfortable. (L, Death Note-Unraveling)

So how to show OC's intelligence and respect for L's boundaries? My answer in my story is, she has her own career, her own assignments given by Watari. L would only seek for her advice if he really needed it. But both of them would not trespass into each other's domain. By doing so it could maintain the boundaries of L's, giving him maximum freedom in investigation without having to worry about his love interest risking.

"I have confirmed that Kira is a student." L paused, bringing his thumb to his lips before continuing, "I'm just trying to gather more clues." M peered at the screens and flashed a smile. "Looks like the schedule of a third-year high school student." L inquired, "How so?" "If it were a first or second-year student, they would have club activities after school," M gestured towards the time on the screen, "but third-year students are busy preparing for university entrance exams and are not required to participate in clubs. Unless Kira didn't participate in any clubs, which is uncommon for Japanese students, it must be a senior student." (Far Side of the Moon, Chapter 2)

So here, what M only did was give a comment on L's current case but never participate in the investigations. I want to show that L respects her career, and she, too, respects his boundaries, even if she wants to help. Of course, if she ever did, I imagine with both of their intelligence, the Kira case would be solved maybe much faster (hehe), and maybe we would have an alive L. But no, for my story. I want to aim for the story that was not presented in canon. The scenes of L's private life that did not show in canon but happened simultaneously. Not really canon compliant, but aim to.

Conclusion: Write what you want to write.

Yeah. As I mentioned before, this post is a reminder for myself. Believe in yourself. Trust the plot. Trust the story. Trust how much you invested yourself in this story, and readers could feel that you put a lot of effort into the story and did your homework. There's a lot more I wanted to explore in my current WIP, other than DNverse. Feminism, society issues in Japan, mental health issues, trauma experiences, longing, relationships...etc. Trying to combine them all. And hope for the best.

[fictive-culture]

Hi it’s the Pokémon fictive I’m back again hi hello

I just got hit with a huge wave of missing my home so excuse me while I talk.

My mom (the one who didn’t try to kill me, aka Amber) was/is a Wooloo/Dubwool specialist. We lived together for many years. She found me in Kalos, trapped inside a cave after who knows how many years. She took me home, helped me recovered, and I never left emotionally her side after that. Even when I was traveling the world p, the feeling of always having someone to come home to was very nice, and not like anything if ever felt in years. I was native to Kalos for the most part. Born there after being created, lived there for millennia outside of traveling and such. The kingdoms of Kalos were established, I had been in the atmosphere, sort of in a hibernating state. Unbeknownst to me, gravity had finally pulled me in. Crashing into the courtyard of the castle. The first one who found me was their princess. I can’t overstate our bond that we shared after that. It was like we were siblings, never taking a moment apart from each other. I seriously don’t even remember leaving Kalos during that time. She’d eventually even became Queen, we were together into her late ages. But of course, as all Kingdoms do, ours fell. I ended up retreating into the wilds, invisible to all. The Queen’s daughter had also been quite… not good for a lack of better word. I ended up feeling the need to leave the Queen’s side for the first time since we’d met all those years ago because of her. I don’t think I ever was the Queen again. I never even got to say a proper goodbye to her. I miss her. And for years I would never feel that kind of deep connection to anybody ever again. But Amber was different. She loved me. She didn’t care I was some weird god pretending to be a human child. She’d loved me all the same. As her own. I miss her so much. We have her in the system but we haven’t spoken in a while. I hope she’s doing okay. Anyways. We lived in Kalos together for awhile until she eventually got a place, a house lab with a large pasture, to work and live at in Galar. I moved with her, to her shocking surprise. I really don’t understand if she didn’t think i’d come with her. She was really just my mother. She had already been taking many Woolf specimens back in our home in Kalos, but now she could own all of them and have them live happily, grazing in the pasture fields. She did have a pet Wooloo even before she found me. Frills. WHO eventually did evolve into a Dubwool back in Galar.

Now to I don’t think anyone’s surprise, I was not emotionally stable, and I still am not. Frills helped me through many mental breakdowns and panic attacks. I think you can imagine having somebody searching every corner of the earth to hunt and kill you is not a pleasant thought. Frills, and my Sylveon, spots. I honestly cannot remember when I caught her. Though it was as an Eevee. I named her after her spotted and splotchy fur. They helped me more than i can express. Countless sleepless nights staring out the window in my room, cold air flowing in, trying my hardest not to just leave and burrow myself into the millions of layers of the earth to sleep forever.

I really don’t like the cold all that much. At least when I can’t manage it. Gotta tell you, being crucified on top of Mt. Lanakila in an attempt to be killed and end the world really fucks you up. Thanks, Lyra. /s

I still love Lyra. At least, in recent times. She came into the system awhile back, she was there when Amber went dormant for the first time. I didn’t know that dormancy could be temporary, so I’d really thought I’d lost my mother forever, for the second time. She helped me through it, helped me sleep. Helped me get through the days afterwards. We called a truce. Though it really wasn’t necessary on her part, as she ended coming from a world where she’d stopped trying to hunt me down after Mt. Lanakila.

It’s really a shame she had to do it on that mountain. I loved Alola, but after that I really couldn’t go back to that place. Atleast not on that island. Also, fuck Violet. Not the game. Lyra’s main assistant. I fucking hate her I hate her so much she’s the fucking worst I hate her so much. She was the worst. Worse than Lyra. So much worse. At least after a while in the timelines where Lyra kept trying to hunt me down she eventually stopped trying to taunt or tease me when she’d be about to try and kill or capture me again. But not Violet. She never stopped. I couldn’t do anything about it. I hated her so much and I still do. I don’t think i’d ever be able to forgive her.

I still want to go home. I want my body back I want my powers back I want my immortality back I want my mother again I want my Pokémon again I want my Spots I want my Frills I want my Sligoo. I want my paws I want my ears I want my fangs I want my fur. I had a necklace that reminded me of the one I had at home but I lost the pendant and i want it back. It made me feel happy. I want to see my sister again. Thorn, if you see this later, I want to talk to you more :( I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.

-🎀🐾 (sorry if this isn’t the emoji tag I used last time, I keep fluctuating between not using the paws and using them.)

Sorry this got so ventish. If you don’t want to post this that’s fine.

Hi! I'm really sorry it took so long for us to post this but we like to read everything before posting and it took us awhile to read this please don't feel bad about that and feel free to send in more stuff like this :) It's what the rambles are for sharing your story and feelings I do hope that you get to see your family again and speak to them more often and just in general I hope that life is kind to you :)

[whovianshifts]

hypnagogia, hypnopompia & an involuntary break

hello! feels like i havent updated in an *age* although, given that i had previously spent an entire year neglecting this blog, a week away isnt that bad.

so, for the past week, i havent shifted *AT ALL* and for once, this wasnt anything do with motivation!! but purely against my will.

so, get this. its the night after i have that really cool focus-10 experience, and i visit my little cousin's house. she's about six and she's very cute and she wanted to sleep with me that night so i couldnt really say no and so i couldnt shift either. i didnt get much sleep on top of that and the next morning, when my alarm went off, i was still superrr sleepy. it kept on ringing and i kept on trying to wake up but my eyes were drooping involuntarily.

and thats when i remembered the hypnagogic method of shifting.

hypnagogia is basically a transient state of sleep, the moments right before you go to sleep basically. lots of people see cool shapes, and hear voices and stuff during this time because you're able to access your subconscious. the opposite of hypangogia is hypnopompia, in the moments right after you wake up, which has the same sort of effect. you could say that, given that i kept waking up and involuntarily sleeping again without noticing, i was in a mix between both, but besides. given the nature of these states, lots of people say it makes shifting super easy, so i decided to try it out.

and let me tell you, i started affirming - i am shifting - maybe once, twice at most, and suddenly i was like? diving into another bed or something, head first, and then suddenly i went through that surface and hit a chalkboard? it was just a cool experience honestly, but the fact that i was moving after like one affirmation was WILD.

so the next day, i was determined, after two days straight of cool spiritual experiences, to shift.

but the day after, i was woken awake by builders in the house (i meditate and shift in the mornings most days) so i couldnt. and because of this, that night, i couldnt sleep in my own house so i went to my aunt's and once again, i couldnt shift that morning because i had to wake up to let the builders in. the day after that, my brother was upset so he wanted to sleep in my room and then to top it off, the day after that, MY PHONE SCREEN SMASHED so i couldnt even put on my guided meditation.

so basically, ive been on an involuntary break. and its SO annoying, because i was in such a good flow and now its been disrupted ugh. a

anyway, about the hynagogia/hypnopompia thing: overall i would give it a 7/10 because, whilst it is super effective, i struggle to get into it? i have to be superrrr sleep deprived for this to work and even then, planning ahead and forcing it is sort of counterintuitive as it keeps my mind awake and lowkey stressed too anyway. but when it happens naturally, i think it works well, especially if you get better control over it!

hopefully i'll have some more interesting updates soon but besides,

happy shifting everyone!

-tish

[spicesprouts]

There's a fusion in the animals of Palia that makes my brain roll around and want to inspect, for however much the design intentionally or unintentionally informs ecology. This is basically me talking about things to myself, but you're welcome to come along for the ride. The four I'm touching on are Flutterfoxes, Palcats, Plumehounds, and Silverwings, but I lost steam so I'll get back to it later. I'm also tacking on what this means for Sunny's lycanthropy involving bird aspects at the end, just as a head's up.

Flutterfoxes have floral imagery in the petal-like layering of their ears, with Fennec Fox-adjacent features. This plant-like camouflage could be reminiscent of a mantid or other insect, and their small stature compared to plumehounds could lean into a different food source niche for the two similar but divergent species? There are no flutterfoxes in game that can receive food, but it could be playfully assumed by the associations (camouflage, their butterfly-evoking name) they might enjoy a diet of insects and plants (or photosynthesis if legitimately a flora-fauna fusion). Maybe they were bred into domestication or "fancy" colorations and the features were exaggerated beyond a wild type, and the proclivities for insect-hunting became more pronounced? Palcats also have stated butterfly imagery, rather than the naming convention for flutterfoxes, so it could be argued that they in fact are the bred-down domesticated pets compared to flutterfoxes. There's something to be said for fusion versus patterning (Flutterfoxes/Plumehounds/Chapaa versus the less-fused Sernuk/Muujini/Palcats), so maybe I'll put a pin in Palcats in general.

Plumehounds are also foxlike, but their name (barely!!! to be fair) implies they may lie closer to fox-like canids (think South American foxes in genus Lycalopex like the gray and bat-eared foxes, but also some of the wolf-like canines in Canini Canina). They also have a proclivity to fungal matter, plant matter, and meat, which in both sub-sections of canids tracks as facultative. Their feathers suggest an influence of some sort of bird, though while the instinct to consider birds of prey as said influence seems reasonable, I'd argue their ability to enjoy a variety of foods besides meat may lean them into the realm of birds the likes of parrots or Galliformes. I considered corvids, too, but the plumage on the neck isn't as rounded and textured as I'd like compared to Tau's. By Tau's proclivities to mushrooms and root vegetables, I could see a case for a ground bird, and Tau's tendency to take and bury or chew things I've already alluded to feeling very parrot-like.

Silverwings are expressly described as birds of prey, and owing to the nest sites' proximity to fishing pools and that they migrate long enough distances to sleep on each other while flying, I'd suspect their lineage leaning in the vein of sea birds like Osprey. Their physical appearance leans Galliformes a little, understandably evoking peafowl with coloration, but they give off more Secretary Bird or Seriemas (another South American bird that does not fly much). It's interesting and I think something to think about with Plumehounds and Flutterfoxes as maybe being opportunistic (scavengers?) rather than abject obligate carnivore predators, and their morphology referencing in two ways more docile/not predatory winged creatures.

With respect to a strain of lycanthropy, or other therianthropies in the vein of what I'm imagining for Sunny (maybe created naturally from Flow as an, idk, virus essentially, but not giving her specifically any more attunement to Flow than any other humans), I'd think the design choices of a lot of creatures that have explicity predatory behaviors over scavaging might lean towards design choices similar to the silverwings.

Which, as the only other bird (besides Peki which I'd be glad to see too), I'd wonder how their version of the Phoenix falls in terms of influence. Is the deity a predatory bird (the way we'd assume a dragon is a predatory animal, and with the intelligence level of Majiri and humans I'd guess discerning at least)?

Unless Flow-based viruses/curses/what-have-you have deific implications, I don't think any deific designs should really play a role in therianthropic morphology, ultimately??

Idk I am full of thoughts and ponderings and I like animals but have such limited energy to deep dive any more lmao.

[umemiyan]

*cough* how does one become skilled at dirty talking bc that’s like. the one thing i can’t do lmao

well... idk exactly 😭 it sorta just seems to be something that comes more naturally to me?? like when i'm in the moment i can pretty much just lean into it. i've always kinda had strangely strong natural sexual instincts 🥲 i swear i'm not trying to sound like a cocky bitch but like idk how else to describe it. dirty talk falls under my personal umbrella of stuff i can kinda just do if i want

so yeah i don't really have to think about it a lot so i don't have any good skills to share 😭 i mean i've been consuming too much sexual content since way too young basically lol so i've definitely absorbed some things subconsciously but??? idk. when i'm really charged in the moment i go into a sort of "flow" state like an athlete HAHA dirty talk is one of those things that can just. happen. i guess everything i've absorbed from external sources and prior experiences mixes with my own desires in the moment and i start saying and doing wild shit?? i think it's possibly due to the sexual instinct being my primary instinctual variant but i'll refrain from going all psychological on you unprompted especially because it's just a hunch.

does it feel like an overthinking thing for you maybe? or just something that feels weird in general? i mean either way if it doesn't happen to feel natural to you then that's fine!! it's probably something you could learn especially if it's an overthinking/"i need to relax" thing but if not and it doesn't feel right then idk maybe it's something you shouldn't force! you're probably just fine following your instincts in other areas and having a good time so i wouldn't worry about it too much haha but if anyone happens to have any tips then i hope they will be open to sharing their wisdom w/ others 🔮

[aching-tummies]

Hungry Upset RP-Starter

Woke up with a nasty combination of an upset stomach as well as feeling a bit hungry. Decided to indulge for a moment and it got me wondering what some of you would do if you found me and my stomach in this state. Go ahead--gimme your best response ^^

I squirm in bed as wakefulness stirs behind my eyelids. I left my window open a crack for some air-flow now that the days are warmer, but the incessant chirping is annoying. Even so, it's not the chirping that woke me.

My stomach growls angrily, my intestines joining in with an ominous rumble. A sticky, queasy feeling has taken up residence in my guts with my hollow stomach currently cramping in hunger. I curl against the warring sensations with a groan. The clock reads 5:30AM. Much too early to be awake on a good day, and definitely too early for stomach distress.

I prod at my stomach with a frown. What the hell could it be griping about? I haven't eaten anything solid since breakfast yesterday. I've been fasting, trying to quell the increasing upset that's been building up for the better part of the week. It's the usual stress and exhaustion. Working two different jobs, relying on unreliable transit, the changing of the seasons causing all the little aches and pains to come out, as well as the million other tasks and bills that make up the daily grind have all sort of come to a head. I've been looking into taking some online courses on top of all of this and the stress of trying to add that to all that I'm juggling has manifested in a prolonged upset stomach. Unfortunately, with the rising costs at the grocery store, we haven't gotten our usual groceries, so an unfamiliar diet is joining the fray in stirring up trouble in my abdomen.

I palm at my stomach, a bit surprised at how much of it my hand covers. I don't have particularly large hands or anything. I guess I have been losing weight lately, and the current fast and empty/upset state of my stomach really shows it. My stomach rumbles angrily again, hunger and upset rolling around like lions wrestling out in the wild. I pat at my belly, trying to quell the sensations, but only serving to aggravate my stomach a little more.

Sitting up with a sigh, I'm not impressed when my stomach gripes and rumbles at the motion. I rub a slow circle over my little belly before getting up, hoping that a change of scenery will make me feel less 'meh'. If we still have any teabags in the kitchen, I'm hoping that some tea will help settle my stomach. A hungry grumble reverberates in my stomach at the thought of tea. Nope. No way. I'm not eating a thing until this gross, sticky, upset feeling is completely out of my system.

Tea in-hand, I decide to sit on the couch and wait for the tea to stop steaming. As I sit there, I find myself rubbing at my stomach over my shirt. I feel gross and my stomach kind of hurts. The bottom two thirds feels gross and sickly while the top third is experiencing some nasty hunger pangs. I'm glad that I managed to pawn off my shift to a coworker today. I really don't want to work with my stomach in the mess that it's currently in. Hopefully, an entire day of tummy rubs will quell the upset in my guts.

I'm mesmerized by my stomach and the sickly sensations within it as I rub in slow circles over it. A queasy ache has developed near my navel area and the hunger pangs are becoming more frequent. So focused am I that I flinch when I hear your bedroom door open. I'd forgotten about you. Here's hoping that you'll have to work today or something. I quickly tear my hands off of my belly, fumbling for the still-steaming mug of tea to occupy my hands. My stomach churns, unhappy at the loss of attention.

[polyphonetic]

Last night I dreamt I was time traveling with the 12th Doctor (Peter Capaldi). However, he was a stacked hot older woman (still he/him) and we made out a bunch and that was pretty funny. He would keep resetting the timeloop, but I had special goggles that would update my memory each time, so we could save time as well as save-state particular repetitive parts of loops. It involved stealing stuff from my estranged father's office as well as his truck for some reason.

I remember driving around dark fields in a vehicle, dodging missles from weird roaming contraptions, searching abandoned grocery stores for food and a special type of wet food for my cat.

This afternoon I had a dream that there was a door in a basement of a house in a rural field. I and a bunch of other people my age would go through it, and it was a portal to this endless plane with black skies and precarious pathways built over bright flowing lava. There were these glowing cats that lived around and they were cuddly and immune to the lava.

However, there became a faction of the other people that wanted to create some sort of right-wing revolution somehow involving living in the endless Nether world (that grew increasingly dangerous to humans as you strayed further from the entrance). A five year old kid who was naively radicalized activated a mechanism that formed these massive metal doors that started to close before the basement entrance, but I was able to hold open the doors and call desperately for everyone to escape.

Afterwards, I tried to deconstruct parts of the door to see if there was any way for someone to escape from the inside should they be trapped within, but the material paradoxically folded endlessly upon and into itself, and was a one-way entrance. Additional doors would also generate to prevent people from holding them open. Despite this, some people of that faction were still compelled to enter and explore, shaming me the whole time.

There was a wild search for potential keys around the property before people entered the lava abyss, as a chance to escape after an entrance. An uncle-ish man saw me taking some of his tools, and asked what was going on. When I explained, he took me to this rounded staircase structure, with a long metal pole in the center pointing down towards a sort of porthole to the abyssal plane.

He showed me deeper layers of that plane, how it transforms into a cerebral-fluid-like sparkling black sea of consciousness, weird bones, and other body structures, before it folds in on itself and exits. I decided I had to enter the plane after that group with him to try to save them.

I crawled down some weird furnished ventilation tunnels towards the exit, and this is where things get fuzzy. The scene shifted to this massive auditorium full of thousands of mages seated along a slope, and one by one disappearing, until I, the final one shifted with the rest into this "graduation" room. I exited this room full of mages to this other room filled with tall vetical strings connecting the floor and ceiling, millimeters apart from each other. Before an instructor, I danced through these lines of energy, focusing my attention on the subtle black coloring on parts of the strings, that while I danced seemed to be animated, and I danced by following these shapes like we were dancing together. These shapes became more detailed as I twirled faster, becoming colored and more realistic, and I danced my way back to the rural field outside of the house which contained the portal.

I looked around the world, and I had a deeper understanding of the material 2D planes that constructed it. I could see vertical and horizontal planes everywhere from which you could see the clouds and nature and could step through them and understand how my world worked. It was like moving in 4 spatial dimensions around my world while still being able to interact with it. At the same time, I saw the former party who had entered the portal, who stumbled deep enough to fall back into this world, but they were blind with eyes that could only now see the abyss they had desired.