#like we're getting only a fraction of what used to be taught

[celiaelise]

Every so often I remember and get annoyed about how my liberal arts college was trying to push "math in the arts", but the professors from the departments didn't seem to want to talk each other? And, like, I was studying in both those departments. And I'd be like, "cool, my interests!" and go to the math department's special little lecture, and it'd be, like. A three hour presentation on linear perspective. And I feel like that happened multiple times? But my memory could be exaggerating, lol.

It's just irritating, cause the math people obviously couldn't be bothered to learn about the arts, but still wanted credit for crossing over into different subjects. Like, there's SO much math-inspired art!! There's often a lot of math that goes into making art! These subjects are not as discrete as they seem!!!

But also I'm probably just biased, cause I was raised by architects 😅 like, sorry, I thought we ALL grew up learning drafting basics... my bad...😬

[upwards-descent]

Learning

"You have done well to make it this far, heroes blessed by the goddesses."

Ordona was a magnificent being, with mighty horns like the native goats and eyes deeper than the sky. A feeling of utter peace came across Link and he couldn't help but beam up at the spirit. Ganondorf, for all the good he'd done, couldn't ignore the slight tightness in his sternum. It was as if the black blood of prophecy and divine holy light within him were agitated by Ordona's presence.

Thank you, Link signed. The awe-inspiring creature had left him speechless and he defaulted to using his hands where words couldn't suffice. Are you... Also a goddess?

"I am not, child," Ordona cooed. "Like you, I was given a divine task. As I guard these lands and maintain the barrier against Twilight, it is up to you both to chase away the monsters from this land and reinstate the light. You have proven your worth and the goddesses bless your journey. Shall your wounds ever bring you to your knees, find your way back to my spring and I shall heal you."

With a mighty bugle, Ordona faded from sight. As Link stood in the spring, garbed in the hero's traditional tunic, he could feel some vitality return to him. He turned to ask Ganondorf if he felt the same, only to find the Gerudo staring at him with an odd look on his face.

"Are you alright?" Link asked, tilting his head in concern.

"You spoke with your hands and the spirit understood," The Gerudo's brow furrowed. "What sort of language is that?"

"Oh, it's Hyrulean sign," An enthused grin crossed the Ordonian's lips. "Rusl taught me. Sometimes I get overwhelmed and it's like my voice just refuses to come out so I... Talk with my hands."

"That's fascinating." Ganondorf looked genuinely impressed. 

"I guess if we're on this journey together now... I can teach you? I'd help."

"I'm always willing to gain new skills." Ganondorf cracked a grin.

"Okay, here's a good first one," Link stepped closer to ensure the knight had a good view. "Watch my hands."

Both index fingers crooked into a hook shape then interlocked. He then reversed his hands and repeated the motion. 

"That's my name," Link grinned. "You make an interlocking chain motion, because chains are linked together. You try."

Ganondorf mimicked the gesture and the Hylian looked absolutely delighted.

"What would my name be?" He asked, somehow unable to stop himself from continually signing the single word. Practice made perfect after all.

"Ooh," Link pursed his lips and stroked his chin in thought. "It's not a direct translation, names are sorta special. Like Rusl's sign," He clenched both fists, holding them one over the other. The top came down before rising back up to it's original position. "It looks like sheathing and then unsheathing a sword since Rusl is the village swordsman. I guess..."

Link pondered for another moment. He lifted his right hand, extending his index finger and thumb as if pinching something but left about an inch between them. Holding the position, he put his hand to his forehead then moved it forward.

"And that means?" Ganondorf asked, bemused.

"Well this is the sign for the letter G," Link showed the position again. "And then I put it on my forehead like that gem you've got."

The Gerudo didn't react at first, eyes widening just a fraction before a hearty laugh burst from his chest. He nodded a few times, grinning, and mimicked the sign himself.

"I like it," He agreed, then signed Link's name instead. "You have my interest. I would certainly take to learning all you can show me."

"Fantastic," Link grinned. "I can teach you some more on the road to Hyrule Field."

[system-of-a-feather]

Do you think knowing your role is really important? Like protectors are pretty clearly protectors for us but I'm just a teen alter who's sad a lot. Maybe I'm taking the labels too literally? I hold trauma memories but that's not all I do...I think maybe we were heavily misled by DID youtubers. Like our old host stressed themselves out so much when they first discovered the system because they heard that alters are trapped in trauma memories like a mind hell and also they can DIE. But I was one of the alters they were worried about and I'm not trapped.

Naaaaahhhhh. And honestly, we are very disillusioned and not a fan of DID Youtube all together really. The only one we really would recommend to any level is M&M and even then, I would say to take it with the note that they are sharing a fraction of everything and only what they are comfortable sharing publicly. Beyond that, I reallly would try to not take DID Youtube too seriously or really as anything too particularly informational.

Specifically also, don't fuck around with DissociaDID shit, we won't go into our detailed opinions on them, but they're arguably the worst in terms of both active message and information and the passive subcontext and lessons they share on there. I am personally of the believe that in most cases DissociaDID's video sets people up for failure if used for anything more than just a "heres the very very basics of how things kinda tend to be like sometimes" and/or an introduction to the chaotic mess. I say this as an ex-fan.

But DID Youtube aside, nah, I don't really think roles are all too important at all and honestly I heavily promote making up your own ones. The label of roles - especially the official ones - should serve more to communicate to therapists and outsiders (of the system) key dynamics and ways of existing of some parts to others. I find that using your own words and labels to describe your system helps create a more catered perspective to approaching how your system works.

The general paradigm of "protector" "trauma holder" "persecutor" "gatekeeper" stuff works very well as a template for understanding alter dynamics and so it works for a lot of people starting up good enough, but I feel as you go further into recovery, you benefit more from having custom and curated terms that apply more specifically to your system and those roles are better used for internal purposes.

And even then, its perfectly fine to not have a role cause existing (DID or not) is not about having a specific duty or role to fit into, it is and should be solely to just live and enjoy things. Getting too bogged down in what part is doing what for what reason tends to keep parts from actually just existing beyond the chaos of their disorder - which is something XIV had taught us cause we used to be pretty heavy with roles in the past. You exist and that should come first before trying to fit you into a box or into the machine because you existing is more important that what you have to offer.

Lin is in a similar situation to you from the little I know - a teen alter that is a trauma holder that does more than just hold trauma but nothing too drastically large - and thats super fine and cool. He's not doing anything, he is just living and learning to live and thats all we expect from him. We're happy when we see him happy and we don't really care what he is supposed to be doing or what role he plays cause man fuck that shit.

We are just here to live. It benefits none of us to be trying to focus on "work" within the system when we have a life to live.

I am of the opinion that roles help in relaxing and getting an understanding to the general idea of how DID works, but past that stage of confusion of early healing, its kinda just best to let that go and really just learn to live again.

Hyper focusing and trying to organize and understand everything in DID is honestly ruminating and fixating and staying in trauma - inherently - and will keep you regularly trying to pick apart trauma and ruminate in it - directly or not - if you are worrying too much about labels and roles and how everything works exactly. It's easier said than done and it took us years to get here, but imo the best way to live peacefully with DID is to really just let it be.

It's scary if you aren't there yet and its not something you can really rush or force, but that's my personal secret advice as someone at functional multiplicity. You don't need to understand you DID to have great peace with it, hell I'd even argue that its pointless to try to understand your DID (might not be true cause we're polyfragmented so maybe for non pf systems its less of a wild goose chase, but for us we just came to terms and accepted that this shit is nonsensical and trying to make sense out of it is more of a headache than its worth)

[taneyeo]

frieren hits hard in more ways than one

like first of all, that they always show, not tell. everything isn't said outloud for you, and you learn by juxtaposition. except when frieren really doesnt understand, then thats when someone (fern) steps in to say those words directly.

there are just so many stories about the journey to reaching a goal, but not as many about the what someone does past the big, big goal. so there's this surreal feeling of, what is there left to do? its like a huge world where you feel like you've accomplished everything and yet you've accomplished nothing

I especially love how we're exactly like frieren--"I don't know anything about Himmel", she says, and we as viewers/readers also know nothing about him. And we slowly remember bits and things about him as the episodes progress to form this shape of him that she's unconsciously made but has only really started to understand

and then, the way that she doesn't say a word, but you know what she's doing is directly related to something that himmel has done / said.

her magic is like me with cooking. if you ask me if i like cooking, i'd be like just so-so--im always learning how to cook and learning new techniques and new dishes and how to get it just like restaurants...

but really that's partially because

it was /you/ who gave me that inspiration, it was you that loved eggs, it was you who made steak and asparagus, it was you that made bentos for us at lunch time

if someone were to ask me, I'd just answer "I just wanted to try out this dish" -- but somewhere inside me, I'm remembering the way you told me to cook to the right temperature, how you taught me how to hold the knife and gushed about the proper way to take care of them. I still fluff rice the same way you showed me the first time even.

And when you left--all I could think was, "why didn't I just ask you more about what you wanted?" As i grow older, the years I spent with you in my life changes to smaller and smaller fractions--but the spaces you've left in me haven't changed at all.

frieren remembering himmel reminds me of how i remember you, this vague feeling that I don't feel much of anything for you anymore, but at the same time I miss you more than anything else in this world

and reading this, surely someone will ask, "are you still pining after all these years?" and to that i respond, i don't think so.

its the idea of not ever being able to talk or interact with someone that you used to spend every living moment with, and you'll never be able to regain those days back except as a dream, a vague memory, a passing though when something familiar flashes by your eyes. its equivalent to death--to that person i used to know, to the person that used to know me, that person is someone i'll never be able to connect with anymore

and knowing the loss of you, makes me realize the pain of losing the other things in my life--my grandma, my friends, my daily routines. if not for you, i dont think i would have come to love stories like violet evergarden, liz and the blue bird, and now frieren. because of you i know the value of treasuring the small things in life that we take for granted, the slow days spent lazing around with friends laughing and smiling.

if not for you, i wouldn't have paid as much attention to the things that impact me in my daily life, just as frieren would have never learned about impact of the passage of time, learned about the value of relationships, or learned about the meaningful things in everyday life.

[pvrkacciosan]

The Heart of the Lioness: ☽⋆8⋆☾

Arrival Parade

The Heart of the Lioness Masterlist

Previous Part

"I liked your hair longer" Fenrys drawled, nor him or Gavriel so much as flinching when Rowan's dagger embedded into the wall beside his head. The resounding thud as it broke into the wood had Fenrys smiling wider.

It riled the other male up more when Fenrys continued to smirk, giving a quick amused glance to the dagger still vibrating from the sheer force that thumped it into the doorway,

Fenrys shot a quipped look and smirk at the Whitethorn, "Was your aim that shitty when you cut your own hair?"

A dark haired man was stood behind Rowan and both Gavriel and Fenrys could feel his magic stalking into the air of the room, prowling like a nimble feline figure, He was young, but his power was old. Fenrys could smell the magic pulsing in his veins, its presence pushing against their own power, a stroke of curiosity flourished through it, like the deadly curiosity of a cat.

"Rowan, put your blades down. We're not here for you" Gavriel said, directing a hand at Rowan, Fenrys' amused expression casted across to their old friend, if they could even call their relationship that, and smiled.

The man behind Rowan watched carefully, his eyes scanning and taking them in, the same way his magic was doing. Fenrys itched to make a retort about the man's magic but was cut short when Rolfe spoke from beside his desk, gloved hand rested on his desk. Gathering himself the attention of the four magic wielders.

"I take it you know each other"

The pair by the door stood in silence as Rowan shifted his weight on one foot, a hand still taught around the handle of his blades, "Gavriel and Fenrys used to...work with me"

Something unnerved in the dark haired man behind Rowan when their old friend turned to explain to him, 

"They are blood sworn to Maeve. As I used to be"

Rolfe was leaning further against his desk, some sort of fascination dancing in his sea-green eyes as he looked back and forth across the room, assessing each of the Fae warriors, weighing up their words, while running a hand through his hair, the glove moving aside, a peak of the rumoured ink marring his hands—the legendary map that was hidden there.

Fenrys was grinning once more when Rowan turned back to them, finally sheathing his weapons "What is you business with Rolfe?"

Gavriel tilted forward from beside him slightly, as though he was about to answer, but Rolfe took the liberty, waving a gloved hand in their direction, "They're bearers of the news I promised you— among other things"

Rowan's dark stare moved back to them, the muscles in his shoulders relaxing a small fraction, the air of magic in the room diminished as the young man behind him relaxed, it was appeasing to know they didn't see them as such a threat right now. The notion that, that could change had Fenrys biting down on a small laugh.

"We were just sitting down for lunch" he mused, tilting his head back slightly, "Shall we?" Feeling satisfied with the pissed off look on Whitethorn's face, Fenrys prowled from the room as Gavriel talked to Rowan,

He faintly heard the mention of 'King of Adarlan', the dark raven haired man with Rowan he realised, but that thought was abandoned when Gavriel said, voice raised slightly,

"You know how cranky Fenrys gets when he doesn't eat"

"I heard that" he yelled back as he continued on down to the bar, walking through the empty room to a table at the back, which Gavriel and him had vacated before as they sat down to eat. It was only a second later that the rest arrived at the table he waited at, bowls filled with steaming food in front of him.

Gavriel took a seat at his side, and hesitated a question while he pulled out a chair.

"Is..." Fenrys saw the look Gavriel shot at Rowan, a wary glance, as if he knew the mention of his question might set Rowan off, Fenrys swallowed, if only to wet his throat at the idea of what Rowan had done to cities much bigger then Skull's bay, what he might do if Gavriel didn't word his question correctly.

"Is Aelin Galathynius with you?"

Gavriel's words were like a knife through the air, Fenrys ate away from his bowl, eyes flicking between Gavriel and Rowan's expressionless face which gave no hint or reaction to the other male's words, from the corner of his eye Fenrys could see the young King of Adarlan looking to each of them, as if he didn't quite know where to look, fearful that glancing at anyone of them may get him sentenced to death.

Rowan gave a single shake of his head, "My Queen is not in our company" the silver haired Whitethorn wore a sour expression on his face that would have made Lorcan proud, Fenrys spooned some more food into his mouth, fighting a groan of satisfaction as the different flavoured melted into his taste buds.

Gavriel got up and dragged across a set of chairs for the two, ignoring Rolfe as he stayed a small distance away, by the banister. Head leant against the dark wood, the mild amusement etched onto his face had Fenrys looking at him twice before turning back to his meal.

Rowan sounded more then displeased when he asked, "Tell me whatever the hell this news is" he hadn't accepted the offer of seating from Gavriel as he still stood, the King of Adarlan by his side, no doubt following every one of Whitethorns actions,

Fenrys was shovelling the spoon into his mouth when he sensed Gavriel look to him, he met the older's stare but made a gesture for him to talk as he munched on the contents of the spoon. 

"Maeve's Armada sails for this continent"

Rowan's answering response was sharp, "Is that Bitch allying with Morath?" 

Fenrys' stomach plummeted at the name he called their queen, forgetting Rowan no longer had any ties to Maeve, he felt a part of his heart rupture at the envy that tugged in his chest, 

Rowan's head snapped to Rolfe, "Are you allying with her?"

Rolfe's eyes narrow at the accusation but made no comment as Gavriel leaned in closer, speaking, "No"

"I told you I want no part in this war" Rolfe now said, expression softening into one of boredom, shrugging he looked to each of them, the room was growing warmer with the heat of Rowan's magic, which he probably didn't realise he was even releasing.

"Maeve isn't the sort to share power" Gavriel continued, he had centuries over them all in age and had been one of Maeve's longest serving warriors, his words had made Fenrys stomach flip a little, Brielle had to be on a ship by now. or he hoped. Something old inside him twisted, a feral and primal thing clawing it's way to the surface at the thought of what he would do to Maeve if she harmed his mate.

"We got word that she was readying her Armada to leave— for Eyllwe"

The young king behind Rowan paled at the words, looking to each of them before stopping on Rowan, "Why Eyllwe? Is it be possible she could be sending aid?"

Rowan didn't answer the King's question as he folded his arms over his chest, rubbing a thumb into his lower lip, he froze before sending his former friends a hard stare, "You got word? from who?"

"Brielle" Gavriel said quickly, Rowan passed a look to Fenrys as the other male spoke, "I doubt she's sending aid to anyone at all— at least not where this continent is concerned. And again, we didn't get specific reasons for why"

Fenrys' hand twitched to reach for the letter that sat heavy inside his cloak pocket, after a heart beat and careful consideration he reached inside and pulled it from within, he felt as Rowan's eyes tracked his movement, they narrowed when he saw the parchment.

Fenrys held it out in front of him for the other male to take. Rowan hesitated for a second before stepping forward to take the letter, he unfolded it and began to read, the King leaned over his shoulder to read it but frowned unable to read the old Language written on the page.

"What does it say?" he asked Rowan, when he got no response Fenrys felt bad for him, but Whitethorn looked up from the letter, Fenrys didn't miss how Rowan's eyes lingered on the writing at the bottom of the page. Maeve knows.  Fenrys had no doubt Rowan knew exactly what that meant, but he didn't say anything about it as he folded the paper back up, dropping it onto the table.

"She always tells us" he frowned, Maeve had changed since the time of his blood oath, Rowan's gut twisted at what it might have been like for his old companions since he left, "She'd never contained information like that"

"Is there any possibility that she was wrong?" Dorian asked, warranting himself the attention of the three Fae Male, "The Seductress of the North I mean, I've heard stories but what if she was wrong about what she saw."

The feeling from before returned to Fenrys' chest, and as he felt the pressure build there he bit down on the growl that rose. Brielle hated that side of her reputation, for the Seductress was not her but rather in fact the blood oath that wielded her body into claiming that title.

"I would trust Brielle's word over any other" Rowan spoke softly to Dorian, the feeling in Fenrys chest began to whither away at the mention of her real name, Rowan may have resented them all but he trusted Brielle and that was enough for him.

Rowan turned back to them, acknowledging the small nod Gavriel sent his way, a hidden message in the gesture, Rowan return it, but continued with the conversation, "Maeve cannot believe she can conquer Eyllwe — at least not for any extended period of time, not without drawing all her armies here and leaving her realm undefended"

"Again" Fenrys drawled, "We don't know details, We only told him" he jerked his head towards Rolfe he hadn't moved from his place by the banister "as a courtesy warning— among other things"

The air around them snapped as Rowan spun on the man rested by the stairs, "I need to dispatch messages. Immediately"

Rolfe shifted his shoulder against the banister so he could study the leather of his gloves, "Why bother? Won't the recipient arrive soon enough?"

"What?" Fenrys and Gavriel both froze at the calmness of Rowan's tone, he had used that voice before and the person it had been directed at didn't last more then five minutes after he spoke.

Rolfe was smiling now, gleaming advantages in his expression, "Rumour has it Aelin Galathynius destroyed General Narrok and his Lieutenants over in Wendlyn. And that she accomplished this with a Fae Prince at her side. Impressive"

It was becoming harder to focus with Rowan's magic in the air, cold and calculated like a winter breeze blowing in over the peak of a snow tipped mountain "And your point is, Captain?"

"I just wish to know whether Her Majesty, Queen of Fire, expects a grand parade when she arrives"

Fenrys and Gavriel both looked back to Rowan now, watching his expression carefully as he said, "Again, She's not coming here."

Rolfe scoffed, and eyebrow raising into his hairline, "Oh? You mean to tell me that her lover goes to rescue the King of Adarlan, and instead of taking him North, he brings him here — and it doesn't somehow mean I'm to soon play host to her?"

Fenrys was smirking, when Rowan shot him a dark glare, oh Lover  was it now? Fenrys was still smirking, amused, when Rowan turned back to Rolfe to continue to defend himself and his reasons for being in Skulls Bay, "She asked me to bring King Dorian to persuade you to join our cause. But as you have no interest in any agenda but you own, it seems our trip was wasted. So we have no further use for you at this table, especially if you're incapable of dispatching messengers." he paused a gesture to the stairs behind the Pirate Lord, "you're dismissed"

Fenrys couldn't hold back the laugh that erupted from him, but he felt as Gavriel straightened in his seat beside him, Rolfe hissed out his reply, spitting it as though it was venom, "I don't care who you are and what power you wield. You don't give me orders in my territory"

Rowan's response was quick, "You'd better get used to taking them, For if Morath wins this war, they will not be content to let you flounce about these islands, pretending to be king they will lock you out of every port and river, deny you trade with cities that you have come to depend upon. Who shall your buyers be when there are none left to purchase your goods? I doubt Maeve will bother— or remember you"

"if these islands are sacked, we will sail to others— and others. The seas are my haven—upon the waves, we will always be free"

"I'd hardly call squatting in your tavern in fear of Valg Assassins free"

The noise of leather creasing from Rolfe gloves, as he curled and uncurled his fist, he turned his gaze to Fenrys and Gavriel, "We will meet here tomorrow at eleven"

He turned around once more to face the white haired Whitethorn, "Send however many damn messages you want. You may stay until your queen arrives, which I have no doubt she will. At that time I will see what the legendary Aelin Galathynius has to say for herself. Until then, get the hell out "— he nodded back to Gavriel and Fenrys, both met his stare head on, 

"You can talk to the Princes at their own damn lodgings"

Rolfe finally moved from his position at the bottom of the stairs, his shoulder rigid with anger as he stalked for the door throwing it open, he revealed four roguish men, no doubt those left of his crew, each were soaked from the rain, hair dripping.  They rose and reached for weapons when the door opened but none acted as Rolfe looked back to them inside, he held the door open as Rowan and Dorian moved first,  Rowan shot him and Gavriel a look, 

"Let's go" neither argued as they rose, and followed their former companion out the door and onto the street way

~

Fenrys ran his fingers along the fine black material beneath him when he wriggled his shoulders into the cushions of the chair he had headed straight for when Rowan allowed them access into their lodgings, "Such fine accommodations. Which of the royals is paying then?" Fenrys brushed off the familiar look Gavriel shot at him.

He watched with mild amusement in his eyes as the young raven haired King froze at his word, Rowan was across the room and watched, "Does it make a difference?" he moved around, seemingly checking ever inch of the walls for any means of spying. Fenrys observed, watching the whitethorns attempts to make sure it was secure, it would matter not─ if the best spies in this world wanted to spy on them, there would be no stopping them, especially if it was one of the spies from Brielle's court.

"Someone's got to have money to finance this war" Fenrys drawled from where he sat, gaze moving to the young King, he scanned the human up and down "Though maybe considering yesterday's decree from Morath, you'll be moving to more... economical quarters"

Rowan settled next to a set of draws, which sat across the room near the door,

"Worry over your own business, Fenrys" Gavriel said, Fenrys snorted in amusement, oh how he missed this, the teasing, he begun to play with the hair hanging around his neck, curling it around a finger. He could envision the fun he might have, taking the piss out of Whitethorn once Brielle arrived.

"How you even manage to walk with that much steel on you, Whitethorn has always been a mystery to me."

"How no one has ever cut out you tongue just to shut you up has always been a mystery to me"

Fenrys chuckled and glanced at Gavriel from the corner of his gaze, "I've been told it's my best feature. At least Gavriel's sister thinks so"

Gavriel's head snapped in his direction so quickly, Fenrys was surprised he didn't break something in his vertebra while committing out the action. A dangerous primal look danced in the male's eyes, the eyes that reminded Fenrys so much of Brielle, he couldn't help but continue grinning.

A low laugh came from the other side of the room, Fenrys could see the King of Adarlan laughing  hand held over his mouth to hide his amusement. Rowan was watching the king before he turned back around, leaning further and bracing his hands on the dresser behind him.

"How did you keep your scents hidden?"

At the question Gavriel finally turned away from Fenrys, his eyes still dark "A new trick of Maeve's— to keep us nearly invisible in a land that does not receive our kind warmly" he jutted out his chin in their direction, "Though it seems it's not wholly effective"

"You two better have a damn good explanation for why you're here —and why you dragged Rolfe into whatever it is"

Fenrys sat up, lip curling with slight rage, Rowan thought they would be here on their own accord, did he think that they would chose to come across, that any of them ever chose to follow these order, not all of them had a young Fae princess come in to save them from the ties of a blood oath, to a bitch of a Queen.

"You get everything you want, Rowan, yet you're still a stone-cold bastard. Lorcan would be proud."

"Where's Connall?" Rowan asked, arms folded, tone mocking.

Fenrys felt his heart stop, and features tighten, "Where do you think? One of us is always the anchor"

"And Brielle what shall happen to her now your not there and Maeve knows?" Rowan's tone was sharper this time, but still a mockery to get back at Fenrys for his previous teasing,

The familiar feral feeling returned, caging itself around his heart. Something in Whitethorns face shifted or unnerved when he looked into Fenrys's eyes, his voice was low when he spoke, but loud enough for ever one to hear, a dangerous growl hidden within.

"Careful, Whitethorn, I don't think Aelin of the Wildfire will appreciate it if she arrives and find her lover  in pieces."

 He spat the word at Whitethorn, all sense of humour washed from within him, he could deal with Rowan mocking him about his brother, but he was struggling to deal with his urges about Brielle and the panic he felt for her... he was in no mind to be near them and if Whitethorn kept pushing Fenrys might do something he most certainly would not regret, even if Aelin Galathynius hunted him down for it.

Gavriel looked equally as annoyed by Rowan's comment but he didn't let it get the better of him as he stepped between the two other Fae male,

"Brielle isn't in Doranelle" 

Rowan looked away from Fenrys, the smallest shred of guilt shining in his eyes, but he replaced it seconds after he met Gavriel's stare, "Then where the hell is she?"

"She's coming here" Fenrys finished, Rowan cursed running a hand through his hair, a small etch of worry on his face. It was an expression Fenrys recognised, for he had worn it too.

Both Brielle and Aelin were coming to the same place, their meeting was now inevitable. The male had seen the displays of power from both Fae females, and none of them had seen that amount power from Fae females since Maeve. They could only hope the two got along, because if they didn't, Gods help them all.

"So" Fenrys let out, allowing the words to draw along his tongue, "are we soon to call you King Rowan?"

Gavriel's resounding sigh echoed across the room, "Gods above, Fenrys" it was evident in the way Gavriel's shoulders sagged, that he was tired of being the buffer between their group for centuries. Cutting in quickly before Fenrys would say something that might actually get his tongue cut out.

"Your arrival, Rowan, was a fortunate turn of events" Rowan turned to meet Gavriel's stare once more, and in that instant he knew what it was he was about to be asked, 

"Where is Lorcan?"

He contemplated his options, "I don't know where Lorcan is,"

Gavriel scanned his former friends face, reading it, "You don't know where he is— but you've seen him?"

A single nod.

"Are we really going to play truths and lies? Just tell us you bastard" 

Rowan glared at him once more, Fenrys returned it with a beaming smile.

"Are you here on Maeve's command— ahead of the Armada? What about Brielle?"

Gavriel gave a quick shake of his head, "Our presence has nothing to do with the Armada sailing. She sent us to hunt him. You already know the crime he committed."

"We don't know what Brielle's command is, she didn't say in her letter" Fenrys rubbed a hand up his arm, in comfort or warmth he wasn't quite sure, 

"Could it be possible she didn't have a command?" Dorian asked, they looked to him, Fenrys had almost forgotten the Young King was standing there, 

Gavriel spoke up for them, "Not likely, Maeve wouldn't let us leave without purpose," his eye narrowed in thought, turning back to look at the Fae males of the group, "Most of Brielle's commands where to gather information, that was what her power was good at, but that doesn't make sense why she would be coming here"

The other two also now took in his words, 

"If Maeve found out about you two" Rowan started looking warily at Fenrys, when he got no reaction he continued, "Why would she let Brielle leave and not wield that information"

It made no sense to them, something was not adding up, Dorian frowned, missing information.

When Rowan noticed his expression he looked to Fenrys, an unspoken request, when Fenrys blinked Rowan allowed himself to elaborate for the King of Adarlan.

"Brielle and Fenrys are mates"

Dorian's jaw dropped, and had the situation not been serious Fenrys might have chuckled, the young king looked at him shocked, "The Wolf and Lioness of Doranelle are mates?" the weight of it hit him, no one outside of their group truly knew of his relationship with Brielle. Fenrys couldn't help but note that Dorian now addressed her by her other title.

He felt a sense of pride for having kept the secret for so long, but that empty gap cracked through his chest again, for if he and Brielle died tomorrow, which at this rate was a great possibility, no one other than them would know of the love they held for each other, and part of him wanted to go around Skulls Bay and tell as many people as possible, Just so their love was real, not just to them but to the world.

 It was a realisation that would have had Fenrys stumbling had he not be sat down already— He wanted the Worldto know just how much he loved Brielle.

And that thought didn't scare him nearly as much as it should have.

...

Taglist: @dreamiezpsycho @lunaralaraspace @mis-lil-red

Next Part

[dyker-farmer]

Ok this was supposed to be a quick draw and a description to go with, that blew into a full chapter and now it's also on Ao3 SO happy reading ig idk

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

[[MORE]]

Take that can away if you can.

Gulp it down. Chapter 1/2/3/4

There's a few to-know to survive life in society, in the valley; there's no good way to comment on the age nor weight of both resident housewives, you can't say no to Evelyn's homemade cookies- and why would you, you fool-, you do not fight at the Saloon or you'll get no cheese anymore on your pizza and only sparkling water for drinks, and-

And you don't mess with Shane's alcohol related ritual.

Except I did, that night, because you do that, when your two-years long friendship with the guy taught you better than letting his impulses overcome yours, when your buddy is trying to recover from teenage long-lasting into early adulthood, trauma-enhanced heavy addiction, and you know, you know tomorrow he'll feel like absolute shit and question his right to therapy the moment he'll stop his pounding skull from splitting. Wonders what a three-dosage paracetamol can do. 

At least he doesn't drink it out anymore.

So yeah, when you're in my shoes, you get that Joja store-bought crap out of Shane's hand, and you brace yourself for the incoming lash out.

The first fractions of seconds are always those to look closely into most. It's only a glimpse, but before the scowl slips on like a well-worn boxing glove ready to strike, there is always this open page I learned I needed to decipher as quick as I could.

Tonight, it's heartbreaking. When I peck his forehead- doting big sibling habits die hard, even when you're actually the youngest of the pair- the eyes I catch looking at me are so confused and bare of any emotion, except for the sorrow that goes beer-soaked tears, it pangs. I get used to the breakdowns, working in the fields I do when I'm off the farm's, but it's not the same when it's a friend.

When I straighten back, offensive beverage in hand, it's already gone in a flinch, away from the empty space behind the chair and onto the table, as he snarls.

"Wha- giv'me back- 's mine!" I don't know how much he drunk before he met up with me, but from the slurring, it's a Lot. A season and a half into sobriety. That's harsh.

I ignore him and walk behind him, pondering where to put the beer for now.

"Y-you can't just do that! It's my booze I got with m'money, not some- who d'you think you are?-" He sputters indignantly, angry tears fewer than the sad ones but still there. He tries to turn around and grab behind his back, but the wild movement is way off and only gets the chair to nearly topples down. I rush in time to stabilize it, and profit off the moment to set a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I can just do that, 'cus it's my house I got with my money, and I think I'm your pal who knows when you've had enough. Dude, I trust you to be an adult, but minutes before, you were already so torched I had to keep your neck upright so you didn't faceplant into the table, and you nearly just kissed my floor good evening. Not to mention you clung to my arms the whole way from the little entry stairs to the kitchen because, quoting, 'If I don't I'll fall in the hole and won't get up'."

I turn to the fridge again, going to open it, before I think better of it. Likely enough, we'll both forget it was there in the first place, it'll stink up my fridge- it's Joja's- and it'll be money out of Shane's pocket for nothing. I set it on the counter, with the rest of the pack. He'll put it to cool down when he's back to Marnie's. Or he won't, probably. 

That's not a worry for now.

When I caught up with him, it was a few feet below my doorstep; he'd probably slipped up trying to climb the three steps up to it, and settled for it. He was nursing that same can, muttering to himself, head down, curled up on himself. Except for that leg sticked out, he probably hurt it when he fell, I'll have to look at that and work on it if it's too swollen. Hopefully that'll spare us from a visit to Harvey's.

Bad memories. Not mine, and it's warm and not raining outside, but. Déjà-vu.

Anyways, he looked the picture of "help I've fallen and I can't get up- and even if I can I won't because Fuck You", and it's been a hassle to have him cooperate. But when I asked if he wanted to leave, he shook his head with a fervor no somnolent drunk should have. That resulted in a lovely streak of vomit down the wall right next to the door. That's also for later. If Eryza doesn't lap it up. Ew. This cat's never predictable.

Now, he's staring at his hands, sitting at my table, contemplating something too far down for me to see- or maybe just zoning out with a sleeping brain. Then he mumbles. "Sorry."

I get back to the table and sit at arm's length across of him. "Nah, 's okay. I don't mind being a helping hand or touchy-feely, must be the frog-eater in me. Not for the helping part." I'd chuckle but my quip falls on deaf ears.

I go to put my hand over his. When he doesn't blink at it, I try and shake a reply out of him, gently. He startles and hawkeyes our joined fingers. When he's finally looking at me, I raise a single eyebrow. He doesn't say anything, but when he pulls back his arm, I let him. We both straighten up, and it's hard to keep up the eye contact.

"So…" There's a heavy air on us. Suddenly, like the last year didn't happen, we're sitting a stride away of each other, and yet it feels like he's all the way back to the forest, looking down at waves.

"Do you want me to do something?" I bend myself a little closer to him, not moving otherwise.

He puts his head in his hands, shivering. Can't tell if it's the AC or his system kicking the alcohol out, or itself, in stress. I think I hear something, but it might as just be his shuddering breath.

"Shane" I insist, voice level, not pressing. "I need words. I want to help, I truly don't mind, but I need words to know what to do." He's never shown signs of going nonverbal before. If he does, I'll improvise. Until then… I need words.

Time ticks slowly as we wait. Then, with great effort and deep fatigue, he drags his palms up from under his nose to his temple, spreading some snot and wet tears across his face from his scrunched shut eyes. Lips trembling but finally showing, that attempt to let out a sound that's not too garbled. He coughs, sniffles a bit, breathe in again, sounding like a sick dog, and blows through gritted teeth before his jaws go slack. Eyes still closed, he whispers, and I have to lower myself some more toward his crouched form to catch it.

"Can I get something to drink…?" His voice is hoarse.

The demand could be comical, if we were into sour humor. And we usually are. But right now, we're not finding the joke in the lines. I stand silently, and as I walk to the fridge again, I let my hand brush his shoulder- same spot as before.

I take a minute to choose, look into the pantry. When I'm back at the table with my items of choice, he's still sitting there, his cheek is cushioned on his arms, face hidden from view. His shoulder, except for the occasional tremor, rise and fall in rythm with his snores. Breaks my heart to interrupt that, but not really. Hangovers are mean bitches with the sharpest nail art on the blackest of boards.

"Psst, dude. C'mon." I rustle his hair backward. He hates when I do that, says it tickles, and it makes him sneeze. So I obligatory do it once a day if I can. Let's say today's my late quota for the last four days I haven't seen him.

He gruffly tells me to kindly refrain from such pleasantries, and raise bleary eyes back up at the table. I can also guess he tried to bat a hand at me, but his coordination is off and he slaps himself lightly on the ear. Then he glares bewildered at his hand for a few seconds, obviously insulted. I profit of this moment to grab a small basin from under the sink, on second thought.

When he brings his attention back to me, I'm sitting again. Between us, a jug of fresh milk from this morning, a small sack of peppers, and a juice carafe sit aside a green glass bottle. There's also some bread, mostly for me to munch on. Because, hmmm dough. He squints at it all, especially at the bottle. Probably trying to read the label.

"Yeah no, didn't get you one of my best wine, not sorry."

"Hot pepper… juice?" He looks at the actual peppers next to it. "With actual peppers?" And then I get the squint too.

"Hmph, I know you like your elongated hell tomatoes, man, what can i say."

At that, a feeble snort.

I decide that it is the highlight victory of my soirée.

"Welp, have at it." I gesture to the half-liter liquor glass right by his left.

He fumbles with the drinks and some splashes around, but I lay back on my chair, arms crossed, letting him do his thing. While I don't hold back from growing downright doting on him when I got to- or even when I don't- I don't see how more devotion right now would be not smothering. He can break my fancy glass cups if he wants and spill my milk, so long he doesn't cut himself or cry over it.

Now, you could be thinking that plain water would have done the trick just fine, if not better, in rehydrating him. Here's the thing, though; going from booze to tasteless liquid, for Shane, that's a sure way to puking his heart out. And I'd rather not have us deal with an acid bile throat burn on top of near alcohol poisoning. Sorry to not spare you the squeamish details, but his oesophagus is pretty sensitive ever since that stomach pumping back at the clinic. Hot fiery hell fruits he can do just fine, with relative moderation and hydratation- hence the milk and juice- but liquor bursting its way back from his guts? Nuh uh. 

It had taken lots of coaxing, but he'd explained the plain tastes, or lackthereof, were very hard for him to deal with, especially when contrasting with strong ones like beers and whiskeys. I'd shackle it to gustative hypostimulation, but I don't know enough about him that way to say. He'd said sparkling water was a good compromise.

But I don't have sparkling water, because I do not like suffering.

I might buy a pack for when he visits though.

And I do know a handful about him already. Shackle that to perceptiveness and a stubborn streak on top of a year and so long camaraderie.

And having a certain uncontrollable fear of failing to act quick the next time coped with by accumulating information and patterns compulsively.

I shake my head to focus on the present again. He's switched from juices to soaking bread in milk to eat it small portion after small portion. He pauses in mid-bite when he catches me staring. He's still hunched on himself and red-faced and a tad bloated. His cheeks are drying and he's blown his nose. I smile calmly. Worst of the storm passed, unless I screw up and blow it.

"Ywou wan' chom'?" He offers a dripping piece of bread. In moments like this, when he's sobering but not quite, the resemblance with Jas are unmistakable. The glint in his reddened eyes that open wide, and his blank-but-not-quite wondering expression, it's all here to paint a scrutinizing but vulnerable picture of tired but bright minds.

"Nah thanks. You done with that milk?"

"...Sure." He eyes it, wary. He knows where this is going, and he doesn't like it. I take the drink off the table, and his gaze follows my movement until I bring it to my lips.

He frowns. A silent warning. 

And as I lock onto him with a dead stare, not blinking a millisecond, I down the rest of the 2 liters jug in three, five gulps. I even take the time to lick my new mustache away, and close my mouth with a click of my tongue.

His expression is the macabre marriage of beffudled horror and pure affliction, disgust if you will. The face of someone who doesn't hate milk, but has grown out of it enough to not be able to live off the stuff like the brave souls I'm apart of. And probably with reason, as I actually can't, like most 20+ years old, digest the liquid in large amount. But I smile like a smug cat, perfectly content.

Cats really can't digest milk once adults, it's all social mythos.

We silently judge and fuck with each other like that for a while more, as more time passes, until the room's elephant gets it all humid with its prancing around. Enough that tears and nervous sweats start again, for no apparent reasons but the residual anxiety from the whole chain of events that led to this.

"I think we should talk about this."

--- to be continued.

[missyslittlepet]

Loki x Reader fic

**This fic contains endgame spoilers!**

(S/n) = sons name. (F/n) = First name.

Something like this might have already been done but it's just an idea that has been floating around my head since I saw the film.

((Summary - When Loki was killed you didn't know you were expecting. You are part of the group that goes to find Thanos.))

Your fingers slowly stroked your stomach. There was no bump yet but soon enough there would be. You looked out the window and held back your tears; there was no time for those now. You had a job to do.

You had found out shortly after the snap. Half of your allies had been turned to dust, Tony was who knows where and Thor was a mess. You had never seen him so full of anger. The news should have been joyous but after all that had been lost it only brought back memories you would rather forget.

You kept it to yourself for a few weeks. Carrying the pain that it brought you alone. Loki had died never knowing he was to be a father and that broke your heart. The knowledge of the baby brought horrible nightmares and you found yourself unable to shake the images of Loki thrashing around for air. His lifeless, blood shot eyes stared at you from the floor of the ship. You would wake up in cold sweats and find yourself unable to breathe. Just a small fraction of what he must have felt.

Thor found you one night crying on the bedroom floor. He had sat and cried with you when you finally told him you were pregnant. He held you close as the two of you mourned for the Asgardian trickster well into the early hours of the morning. Before he left Thor vowed to keep you and his nephew safe but you could see in his eyes that he didn't believe he could.

You and Thor were the first ones to volunteer when they found Thanos.

"Is this a good idea?" He had muttered quietly to you while the others readied themselves for the trip.

"I need to see him, Thor. If there is anyway we can get Loki back I have to be there." You sighed.

"What about the... you know... it isn't saf-" He kept his voice hushed knowing you didn't want others to know yet.

"I have to be there." You cut him off and walked towards the ship calmly.

Thor watched you leave. He had always known you were tough from the day he had met you. When he found out about you and Loki he couldn't stop grinning. He had teased his brother for weeks, loving how embarrassed and flustered he got when you were brought up. On a serious note, he knew you were good for his brother. You could talk him down, make him smile. Most importantly you loved him more than anyone else had. Thor could see it in the way you look at him. Complete adoration.

The trip to the Planet Thanos had retired to was quick. The jumps knocked you a little bit ill but you managed to keep yourself from throwing up.

Carol went ahead to scout the place out. You waited quietly for her to return. It seemed like hours before she approached the ship again.

"There's no security. No guards. He's alone." She said from outside the ship.

Everyone looked at each other with furrowed brows. This wasn't what you had expected.

"Then what are we waiting for?" You muttered.

The plan was fool proof. Attack him when he wasn't expecting it, remove the gauntlet and kill him if necessary. You were set to be one of the last people to join the struggle. You watched on as the others busted through his hut and waited for your signal. Soon enough you were called through along with Thor.

"Where are the stones?" Nat asked.

"Gone." Replied Thanos. "Reduced to atoms."

"You used them two days ago!" Bruce's voice came from inside the Hulk Buster suit.

"I used the stones to destroy the stones and it nearly killed me. But, the work is done..." He locked eyes with you.

Thonos wasn't how you remembered him. He was burned badly, his hand was cut from his body but the emotions hit you all the same. The tears pricked your eyes.

"It always will be." And just like that all hope of getting Loki back was lost.

You knew he was talking to you in that moment. He remembered you from the ship. He remember how you had tried so hard to save Loki and the way you had screamed and sobbed over his dead body.

"Why?" You whispered as one tear slipped down your cheek. Everyone turned to look at you.

Thanos remained silent.

"You took everything from me." You said, dropping to your knees in front of him. "My people, my family... my husband..." Your voice broke.

He still refused to say anything.

"He didn't even know." You were crying now. "He was going to be a father. You killed him before he even found out. You destroyed my life. You've made it so my child will never know it's father. Why?"

Everyone stared at you, mouths wide in shock and sadness at what they had just discovered.

Thanos held your gaze.

"SAY SOMETHING!" You slapped him angrily across the face.

Thanos' eyes briefly looked at the floor before meeting yours once again.

"We've all lost people. You are no different."

You pressed your lips in a thin line and sniffed. You dried your tears and took a deep breath. Loki was gone. You stood once again and nodded at Thor. In an instant Thor's axe sliced clean through his neck and Thanos' head bounced across the floor.

Without another word you and Thor walked away from the hut.

*5 years later*

You watched as your son played with his toys on the floor. His messy black hair fell in front of his face and a cheeky smile tugged at his lips. He looked just like him. You always found yourself tearing up when you realised how alike they were. Everyone told you it would get easier, told you that the nightmares would stop. They were wrong. It never got easier.

A knocking at your door pulled you from your thoughts. Slowly you stood and walked towards your door. You opened it a crack and were met by Thor, Bruce and Rocket.

"(F/n), long time no see." Rocket said pushing past you. Thor followed behind the raccoon quietly. You could tell he had been drinking again.

"(F/n)." Bruce smiled warmly and pulled you into a hug. "How's (S/n)?"

"He's good. Come see him." You smiled.

You had heard Bruce had taken his hulk form. You were happy he had finally come to terms with the hulk part of himself.

Bruce and you walked towards the living room to join everyone. Thor and (S/n) were play wrestling while Rocket laughed. You chuckled a little at the sight and sat down next to Bruce.

"You've started getting powers, haven't you?" You smiled at your son. Thor looked over at you and grinned.

Thor was such a good uncle to him. He taught him how to play video games, told him funny story about the mischief his father used to create. (S/n) had always loved the one where his dad had pretended to be a snake. Without Thor's help you wouldn't have been able to cope.

"You will make a powerful God." Thor roared with a smile as he picked (s/n) up. "Your father would have been so proud." His face dropped slightly and so did yours.

"Anyway," You said to fill the silence. "What brings you all here? I doubt this is just a casual visit."

"We have an idea. To get the stones back and we would like your help." Bruce explained.

You were stunned. "They were destroyed. How?"

"Ever seen Back to the Future?" Rocket asked.

"No?" You said.

"Me neither, but I'm told it's about time travel and that's how we're going to do it."

"...time travel..." You sat back in your chair mulling over the information.

"It's going to be dangerous," Bruce nodded. "but we need all the people we can get."

Your son ran up to you in that moment and climbed up onto your lap. You hugged him close and kissed his raven hair.

"Dangerous how?" You asked.

"If things go wrong there's a chance you could get stuck in the past." Answered Rocket.

Your son looked up at you and smiled, his eyes lighting up just like his dads used to.

"...I... can't." You finally sighed. "I need to think about (S/n). Without me and Thor he has no family. I love Loki with all of my heart and if there is any other way I can help I will, but I can't risk getting stuck. I'm so sorry." You had tears in your eyes again. Your son hugged you tightly. He hated seeing his mother cry.

Bruce placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It was stupid of us to ask, we're sorry. Of course we'll find you something to help us with. (F/n) if there is any way we can bring your husband back we will."

"Thank you. Thank you so much." You cried.

You left (S/n) with Valkyrie while you travelled with Thor, Bruce and Rocket to the lab; promising him you would be back soon. You prayed that you could help them get the stones. So many people had lost so much and if there was anyway or fixing it you were damn sure you were going to try. The small flicker of hope was refreshing but you knew you had to prepare for the worst. You took a deep breath and watched as New Asgard faided into the distance.

[savedarkskies]

Phrases like, "You're too young to be feeling the way you're feeling.", "Get over it." Or "You can't let it affect you.", may come from a good place from people who mean well, but 1) You don't know me. And 2) Let me metaphorically stab you in the brain with a situation that makes you feel like shit/fearful/or close to a panic attack, then turn around and tell you the same things you just told me and maybe then you'll understand just enough to see how much worse I feel whenever I'm told those things.

You aren't being helpful doing that. In fact, you're only parroting the toxic phrases society has taught you to think and accept as the positive-fix-alls to mental states and struggles that far exceed the tiny fraction of the scale you we purposefully taught existed.

If you really want to help, take a moment to ask if it's something I want to talk about, or what you can do to help in the situation. Odds are, that even if I say, "No, thanks.", in that moment, I'll know you actively tried to help and that in itself will help ground me enough to take the breaths I need to work through what set my brain off.

Everyone is different, but remember that no matter how big or small our struggle might look to you, it's very real to us and we're trying the best we can. We're fighting to make it through another day. Your patience and active support, even if declined, is appreciated and could be what helps someone decide to stick around for another day; to decide to keep fighting.

[namjuicytits]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE COOLEST, CUTEST, FUNNIEST, MOST TALENTED AND HARDWORKING, HANDSOMEST, SEXIEST LEADER TO EVER EXIST!!!!!!!!!! 💗🥳🎊🥰🎉

everyone please enjoy this moment, it will probably never happen again ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

ah... we're really here, with another birthday passing. this is our twelfth year celebrating together... TWELVE WHOLE YEARS... 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 it's really crazy, right? thinking of all of our time spent together, it feels like the blink of an eye, yet my heart is full of so many important and cherished memories it's like a lifetime too. as we all know, one of my favorite things to do is look back at all of the photos and videos i've taken of you guys over these years ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ these days i've been digging up so many ancient artifacts of you and i, or just random things i've captured of you. whether you were being cute, funny, cool, or all of the above at one time ( because that's one of your biggest talents, and it's one i don't think anyone could master quite like you ), none of them failed to make me smile. some of the smiles have been filled with fond tears, and a lot were filled with so much laughter... well... i was also in tears 🤭🤭🤭 ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ don't say anything about how much i cry... i just can't help it!! i have a lot of overwhelming love in my heart for you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ are you ready to see what i dig out of my infamous vault to share with the world today? are you scared? ㅎㅎㅎ i won't embarrass you too much... maybe~

since the day i met you, i've always been truly grateful for many things. but one of the most important to me is how comfortable i've felt with you all these years. as someone i share the same age with, i feel like there's never been any barriers between us, and our relationship has been one of complete honesty and trust, whether we like to hear what each other has to say or not. and for others it may sound odd, but i really appreciate that more than words can say. you've never been afraid to tell me what you really think, no matter how harsh it may be, or how hard it is to listen to and swallow. i know if i come to you, nothing will be sugarcoated, and i'll get the raw and truthful opinions that i need. that could be with my own personal life, or with my work, it doesn't matter what... your words have helped me through a lot, and your advice has carried me through more tough situations than i could list. if i tried, it would be long enough to wrap around the world and back to us again ㅋㅋ not only that, but i feel like i can be my real self with you, and that's something that really means the world to me. you may judge me a little bit sometimes, but that's okay!! you still accept me anyway, and that's what truly matters. i really adore the times when we're together alone, sharing a beer and talking about life. i feel so at peace in your presence, listening to you talk, and hearing your outlook and the way you think about things. it's an exciting feeling to get a small peek into that massive brain of yours, and see what kinds of things are on your mind at any given time. you're always inspiring, even when you're not trying to be. it's an aura you have about you, and it makes me want to be the best version of myself, and work even harder to be even a fraction of the talented, intelligent, and levelheaded man that you are. i appreciate you so much namjoon, thank you for being one of the best friends anyone could ask for.

not only are you a great friend, but a phenomenal leader too. that's also something about you that has shined so brightly since the beginning, even when it was just you, me, and yoongi hyung as trainees. i was really scared back then, i didn't have the slightest idea what i was doing. i could dance, and i wanted to sing... that's really all i had at that time. i was told i needed to rap, and i was so lost and terrified it was a constant stress weighing on my shoulders. i really don't think i would have made it through if it wasn't for you guys. i mean it with my entire heart and soul when i say i owe everything to you. you had a lot of patience with my young and clueless self when you really didn't have to, and you taught me everything i know. i feel very lucky to say i learned to rap from kim namjoon. and i also feel lucky to say i'm a part of bts because of kim namjoon. when i wanted to leave -- well, did leave, you fought so hard to get me to change my mind. you didn't want to let me give up, and you didn't want to let our company give up on me either. although it was stressful and tiring, and an emotionally painful time in our lives... i cherish it with a bittersweet fondness now. not only did i feel wanted, but i felt needed, all thanks to you. knowing you really think bts couldn't continue on without me... i can't even begin to describe the feelings that come over me every time i think about it ㅎㅎ so yeah... even my career, i owe it all to you. i wouldn't have it if you weren't so stubborn. and i know i'm speaking for every single one of us when i say bts couldn't exist without you. we need you, and we need all of your skills. without them, we would fall apart. please never change.

i could let this go on forever, but i'll end it with saying thank you again. for everything. for being part of my life. for existing in the same time as me at all. i'll always be grateful, and i'll always appreciate you until my last breath. happy birthday to one of the best people to ever grace humanity, and one of my best friends that i truly couldn't live without. let's have a drink together soon, please, i miss our little dates 🥺🥺 everything will be my treat!! have an amazing day, you deserve nothing less~

                                         love,                                                 hobi ♡

[wonderingwanderer]

Building a Home

You know how we're all each other's Frankenstein's monster, right? How nothing is completely just ours nowadays because somehow, we have become a mosaic of all the things we've been through and people we've met. People come and go, but they always leave an imprint in your soul on how your paths crossed and your souls intertwined at some point. For a fraction of time, they made an impact and were part of a chapter in your life.

Above all else though, there is such a thing as coming home after the journey. When people leave and you're left to your own devices, where do you go home to?

Coming home to myself was something I thought I have already been practicing. However, it is something we have to choose every day. It is something we work hard on, like showing up for ourselves even on bad days.

Tower moments have occurred recently that made me humble myself once again. It is when you thought you are already good on your own that life reminds you to go back to the basics. TO show you that there is a never-ending process of learning when you have become quite proud. Probably to go back to things you have forgotten.

Perhaps, coming home to oneself is one of every day's greatest struggles. Coming home to myself is remembering a child being left alone— wounded, lost, in need of guidance. It is embracing that child, the child that you were, calming her down saying, "There, there, I am here."

Just today I realized that it is picking up wounded fractions or parts of oneself stretched out into different phases I've already gone through and will someday go through.

Coming home to myself was remembering elements of my life that have taught me things. I still remember the first time I skipped classes. It was in grade 2 when I stayed in the library despite lunchtime being over because there was a book I haven't finished yet. I guess I decided to be mischievous and daring then. Only to sneak into class and get caught by my CIvics teacher. What have I learned then? Well. it was that I loved reading but that I can be pretty rebellious too.

Grade 6 came and I remembered we were being tasked by our teacher to memorize Desiderata by Max Ehrmann. I was one of the first few in class who memorized it and it was a satisfying moment in my life to be completely honest. For some reason, that poem has taken root in my heart. Among all the lines, I still remember my favorite lines being, "Speak your truth quietly and clearly and listen to others. Even the dull and the ignorant, they too have their own story." However, time passed, I grew up, and started forgetting things that have become dear to me,

Today I am realizing how anxiety has taken so much from me. I lost my spark and my fuel. Life does wear you down so it is essential that we have people around us that remind us about how there is more to life than what we are going through. Coming home to oneself is acknowledging that sometimes that person we need to remind us —is ourselves.

When all else fails and you are crumbling, sometimes it is you whom you need to embrace. In life, it won't be always that someone would be there for you and sometimes the people you hope to be there just happen to have left or have disappointed you to a point and there is no them you can run to. It is these moments when you cradle your inner child and comfort them. Breathe in, breathe out, this is coming home.

Maybe, just maybe, all our life we have been building a home for ourselves. Only if we look back and pick up the people we were at certain parts of our life that we realize, it is coming home to oneself. It is the reminiscing of your moments when you were shattered and finding strength in how you were able to pick yourself up with or without somebody.

So I believe now that building a home for myself is picking up that rebellious grade-schooler who loved literature she felt deeply about, It was embracing that girl who was sobbing to her teacher at grade school because her life seemed so lacking. High school came and coming home to myself became learning how to forgive me for not knowing things. Sometimes things happen not because I deserved it but because I allowed people to keep disrespecting my boundaries and whatnot. Above all else, college came, and coming home to myself meant letting go of cigarettes and booze I started inducing because I didn't know how to deal with a broken heart, a wrecked family, and the realization of not becoming who I hoped to be.

These days, coming home to myself is realizing I have to pick up both drained and hurt versions of myself and those that have emerged from the darkness. Building a home for myself is acknowledging all the pain and understanding that deep inside, strength has always raged within me. I have always just needed to take my time like everybody else. I may be a Frankenstein's monster but I have never failed to get through everything life puts me through. For that, after so long, I am quite proud of myself for pulling through.

[durolenz]

Tips To come Up With The Best Custom Beer Labels

We don't want to nag, but there are certain things to think about when it comes to personalized beer labels. Is our brand being correctly represented? Are we maximizing the visibility of our product? Do our bottles have a louder singing voice than their neighbors? Are we adhering to all legal guidelines? (Yes, such things do exist.) These straightforward dos and don'ts can assist you in staying on track. Carry it out. That is not something you should do.

It sounds obnoxious. It's not the case. It's crucial, and it might help your sales skyrocket. Your Custom Name Badges deserve the finest, and four generations of printing experience have taught us pretty much all we know about making your product stand out on the shelves. We'd want to share it with you since we're feeling generous. Here's how it goes:

We've spoken about the advantages of embossed printing and hot foil stamping previously, but it's worth repeating since it provides a premium, handcrafted look that appeals to many shoppers. The label's new roughness makes it extremely touchable, and once hands get engaged, the chance of a purchase skyrockets (and so does the spending allowance). And customization isn't only for luxury or limited-edition brews; cost-effective options, such as printing white ink on metalized material to produce a foil look, allow you to make a unique container for a fraction of the price.

There are a plethora of materials to choose from; don't settle for anything that doesn't stand out. There are materials for any brand, from textured stocks to give your goods a luxury appearance and feel, to metallics that glitter beneath the lights, to high-performance films that can endure the environment.

Select a material that sets you apart from the competition to ensure that your package is top-notch. Design should be at the forefront of your strategy development since your label is the face of your product and your product IS your brand. Once you've got your design in place, you'll be able to decide what effects to use on your custom beer labels (see above re: embossing and hot foil placement).

Into the natural world? Your consumer is most likely in the same boat. They're buying craft brews, which implies quality ingredients are important. And if they're purchasing local, it's safe to assume that environmental issues are important to them, so shout it from the rooftops (and on your Custom Beer Labels) and increase shelf appeal by highlighting your product's environmental advantages. Also, congratulations on doing your part.

For your bespoke beer labels, pressure-sensitive labels offer the most choice of sizes, shapes, and distinctive looks. All of these aspects allow you to be more creative with your label design. Multiple in-line technologies can be used to print the label graphics, expanding the possibilities for a distinctive style. These designs can assist increase shelf appeal and attracting more customers by expressing the narrative of your specific beverage and brewery. Short (digital) and extended (flexographic) print runs are both possible with pressure-sensitive labels. This is cost-effective for seasonal brews as well as full-line brews of greater sizes.

Source: Tips To come Up With The Best Custom Beer Labels

[murderous-snail]

This is a lovely sentiment, and I fully support it, obviously. Help this girl, she needs it.

But this is still a thrown together, haphazard, sideways, and all together miniscule solution to a tiny fraction of a significantly larger issue.

Its impossible to crowdsource for every single person who needs a service dog - and thats ignoring everyone else who has other ridiculously extreme medical costs for things that should not be even remotely as expensive as they are (think cancer treatments, insulin, other medical equipment, surgery, ect.)

The healthcare system in America is not a healthcare system. It has nothing to do with health or care. It is about money. And if you don't have it, you WILL die of whatever condition you have, and our "healthcare system" will twist it around and blame YOU.

OP has a right to be livid. We should ALL be angry.

Support anyone and everyone you can, with every penny you can spare, but also notify you politicians that we will not tolerate this anymore. Medical treatment is a right, not a f*cking industry. And before someone comes along and says, "doesn't your work cover your insurance?" or "just get insurance."

I'm disabled. A lot of people are. Just like this girl probably is. And even when we have insurance (when they don't turn us away due to preexisting conditions or lack of income or whatever bullsh*t excuse they can get away with) 90% of the time the checks don't cove all of our meds.

Let alone food. Or housing. Or everything else humans need to survive. Or even the regular doctor visits we "disabled" need to survive.

Because government disability checks are a pittance, not a livable income. They are entirely laughable - because thats what they are, laughing at us, mocking us for being "weak" or "sick" or "inadequate".

I'm not even severely disabled. I can't imagine if I was. The indignity I have suffered over the years is nothing compared to those I know who are severely disabled.

Not to mention that crowdsourceing only works if you have a fanbase or know someone who does that actually cares. I didn't. I don't. My service dog only costs $5,000 (initially it was $32,500 but I found a new candidate and trainer) I've been raising money for 5 years. Five fucking years. I've made $52. So much for "friends and family". And I've known others that have faught even longer than that!

We shouldn't have to beg to f*cking survive. Its demeaning. We're human beings. And if this pandemic has taught anyone anything it is that we have, and have always had, the capacity to care for the unwell.

We have been lied to for decades. We have been denied our own health and wellbeing for NO reason. And its disgusting.

Be angry.

And help this girl, because of our worthless "healthcare system", her life depends on you.

For my little sister to get a new service dog that can actually accommodate her needs, it's going to cost $10,500.

American "Healthcare" is a fucking crime against humanity.