#maybe I’ll revisit this when I have more energy

[1driedpersimmon]

I’ve been a bit too tired lately to finish things so here’s just a few Lights (and L) that I’ve doodled

[tkwrites]

Can I Come See You? - Quinn Hughes x OFC

gif from gabelandeskog

Title: Can I Come See You?

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: After a rough game, Quinn seeks out comfort from Sarah. 

Warnings: some suggestive themes, swearing, other than that, it’s 98% fluff.

Word count: 4,600

Comments: I know I’ve been teasing the family reunion snapshot for a while now, but with all the heavy emotions September brings, I just haven’t been able to finish it. When this ask came in, I started writing right away, wanting some comfort myself. I’ve loved revisiting the beginning of Quinn & Sarah’s relationship while writing this Snapshot. 

Thank you, thank you, and thank you gain for your support and love! I have found such a lovely community here, and I’m so thankful. Even in this radio silence while I’ve been slogging through my grief, everyone has been so kind and supportive.  

If you enjoyed this Snapshot, please consider commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask about it. I love seeing what you think of Quinn & Sarah’s latest adventures.

Anonymous asked: Quinn gives cuddler energy 1000000% After a game, especially when they played bad and lost/gave up a lead. Immediately wanting Sarah cuddles to make him feel better. Do you think he ever went to hers after a game, giving Eunice a heart attack in the early days. Or did they mostly hang at his?

Can I come see you? 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

If it wasn’t a Friday night, he wouldn’t have even asked. But it was, and he knew Sarah didn’t have to be up early the next day. And they’d lost. Epically. 

Midway through the third, they’d given up a three goal lead. On a power play no less. He’d, thankfully, only been on the ice for one. He didn’t know what he’d do if he’d given up more than one short handed goal in a two-minute span.

There was another game the next day, the third in four days, and he knew he really should go home and go to sleep. But Toch had canceled practice the next morning, and he was upset and feeling restless and just wanted to see her. 

It had been a long time since he’d felt this longing to be with someone and actually had someone he could go to. He called his parents, but there was still a gap there, telling him something was still missing. He wanted a more physical kind of comfort.

It was a miserable night, and Quinn thought seeing Sarah might make him feel a little better. He’d never asked her something like this. Hoping she wouldn’t mind, he fired off a text.

Sarah was in her room after the game – after an awful game – when Quinn texted. 

Can I come see you? 

Her heart leapt into her throat.

Quinn had never sent a text like this before, and she wasn't totally sure what it meant.  

He wouldn't come here to initiate comfort sex, right? That would be crazy. Her roommates were home. 

Maybe he just wanted…she had no idea what he wanted, but he'd respected every boundary she'd thrown at him so far, so she responded. Sure. Let me know when you’re here, and I’ll come let you in. 

Though they hadn’t slept together yet, she was thinking about it a lot, and they'd made out. She'd even let him take off her bra a few days before. Just thinking about that night — the reverent way he'd touched her, like she was a priceless piece of art, and the croaked, pleasured noise he’d groaned into her neck when their dry humping culminated in him coming in his pants — still made her thoughts buzz.

He asked for her address. 

She’d forgotten he’d never been to her apartment before. Not inside, at least. He’d dropped her off several times, but it was always at the end of a date, and at least one of her roommates was usually home, so it’s not like she would invite him up. Also, it seemed silly to go from his lovely penthouse to inviting him up to her little apartment. If they were going to do anything, it wouldn’t be here. 

My roommates are home, just so you know, she sent, not wanting to set unrealistic expectations. 

He reacted with a thumbs up. 

Normally, she would warn them she was having someone over, but telling Eunice Quinn was coming over would only give her more time to wind herself up. So Sarah stayed in her room until he texted that he was downstairs and slipped by her roommates without giving an explanation. 

When she opened the large glass door to her building, he was standing off to the side, hands shoved in his pockets and his head hanging forward, as if it were just a little too heavy to hold up. 

“Hey,” she said quietly, not wanting to startle him.

He still jumped a little, but when he met her eyes, he smiled — genuinely — as if he was just glad to see her. 

Her heart fluttered.

“Come on in.” Taking his hand, she pulled him into the elevator, which was, thankfully, still on the ground floor. They only went up five levels before she got off and led him down the hall, and scanned through door 538. 

Her roommates were on the couch watching an episode of Friends. 

They looked over, and one of them yelped before slapping her hand over her mouth. She continued to make muffled noise, her wide eyes darting between Quinn and Sarah. 

“This is Quinn,” Sarah introduced, though it felt perfunctory. They both knew who he was. “And this is Eunice,” she said, gesturing to her, “she’s a big fan and a little bit excitable.” 

Quinn recognized her. She was the one who screamed when he’d knocked on the glass at Sarah’s first game. Her brown hair, which was more frizz than curl, was pushed back with a headband. She was still wearing a jersey – Petey’s, thankfully – from watching the game. 

“And this is Jane.” 

She was tall and willowy, with pale eyes and a thick, dark blonde braid. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jane said, standing up and offering her hand to shake.

Quinn grasped it, managing to pull a smile onto one half of his mouth. 

Eunice stood and followed suit, though he got the distinct impression that were they anywhere else with anyone else, she would be asking for a hug. “I can’t believe you’re in our house right now.” Her voice actually squeaked when she said it. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, not quite managing to pull full sincerity into his voice. Though he did feel it, he was too tired and too miserable to mask the disappointment. 

Eunice finally seemed to get over the shock of Quinn Hughes being in her living room. Leaning her butt on the armrest of the couch, she said, “tough break tonight.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. 

“Here, we can go in my room.” 

When Sarah’s hand slipped into his, his heart did an embarrassing little flutter. Hoping it didn’t show on his face, he followed her down the hall. 

He'd forgotten what it was like to move into a blank slate of an apartment. All the places he'd rented since moving to Vancouver were furnished, including curated, so-neutral-it-wasn’t-interesting artwork. Sarah’s apartment looked like a home - framed photos and unique paintings on the walls. 

Her room was simple. There was a full bed tucked under the window that overlooked the street and a desk. There wasn’t room for much else. A quark board above her desk was filled with photos of who he assumed was her family. Half a dozen babies with her same bright blue eyes or chocolate colored hair. He noticed the warm up puck he'd given her sitting on her desk, bracing the pages of a textbook open to an anatomical drawing of a seahorse. 

She sat on the bed. It was either the bed or her office chair, and they couldn't both fit on the chair.  

“What's up?” she asked after a minute or so of him looking around her room, his hands in his pockets. He was in his suit, a rain jacket over it against the wet, misty night, and had a knit hat pulled over his hair.

His eyes snapped to her. Something about seeing her in leggings and a loose t shirt, sitting on her blue and green patchwork quilt, made him ache. Longing bloomed in him to see her this comfortable somewhere where they could be together. Not together like this; together permanently. The thought stuck in his mind. Had he ever felt that way about someone before?

“I just wanted to see you,” he admitted, shoulders dropping.

“Oh.” The sincerity in his voice took her by surprise. The fact that he wanted to see her on a hard night sent a giddy, effervescent shiver through her. 

She patted the mattress, and relieved, he sunk down next to her. 

Sarah pulled his rain jacket off, throwing it over her office chair before asking, “this too?” as her fingers tucked under the collar of his suit coat. 

Usually, he would have shrugged it off as soon as he'd pulled away from the arena, but he'd been driving in the general direction of Yaletown, breathlessly waiting for Sarah’s reply.  

Nodding, he pushed his shoulders back so she could pull it off. 

She folded it much more deliberately than he usually did, matching the shoulders and making sure the arms were flat before draping it over his jacket. 

“You okay?” she asked, her hand traveling up and down his back. 

Her gentle touch and the sound of her voice sent a pang of relief through him. 

Experiencing Sarah sharing her emotions with him so openly somehow made it easier to reciprocate and trust she wasn't going to dismiss his or throw them back in his face later. 

He shook his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don't even want to think about it,” he said, leaning forward and raking his fingers into his hair.

Not quite sure what he meant, her hand paused on it’s journey smoothing over the soft material of his dress shirt. 

“Can we…” he glanced over at her. In the light from her desk lamp, his eyes were the color of cognac. “Can we lay down?”

Her lips pursed. It wasn’t that they hadn’t cuddled before. They had, but she still wasn’t exactly sure what it was that he wanted. 

“I just want to hold you,” he finally admitted. The vulnerability of saying it out loud knotted his stomach.

Her heart did a giddy little dance in her chest, and she barely held herself back from asking, really?  

“Sure,” she said instead, although it still came out a little breathy. “You've gotta take off your shoes, though.” 

As he toed off the sneakers, she scooted back, so she was laying nearest the window. 

He lay next to her. They stayed that way, side by side for a minute before Sarah asked, “how do you...?”

Extending his arm, he patted his side, inviting her to snuggle into him. She accepted readily, pressing her body to his. Really, he wanted her to hold him, but he felt a little too vulnerable to ask for that. 

A deep sigh let go as her hand rested on his chest. It had taken more than six months for him to feel this comfortable with June, for him to even think about asking her for comfort.  It was amazing to him that things with Sarah were so much easier. 

“What do you need?” she asked, tracing one of his buttons. 

Emotion threatened to choke his reply. Taking a moment to swallow it down, he tried to remember the last time someone had asked him that not related to improving his on-ice performance. Nothing immediately came to mind.

“Can you just talk?”

“About what?”

“Anything. Tell me about your roommates.”

“Well, Jane is a pediatric nurse. She works in the BC Children’s ER.” 

He let out a low whistle. 

“Yeah. It’s a rough gig sometimes, but she really loves it. She's actually headed to work in a few hours.”

He glanced at his watch, “at midnight?” 

“She works a lot of graveyards. 3 to 3 or midnight to noon. She coaches a youth lacrosse league on the weekends.”

“Really?” He felt Sarah nod. “My mom played lacrosse. She put all of us in it, too.” 

“Did you like it?” 

He shrugged, “I like hockey better.”

“Good thing you stuck with it, then.”

A breath of a laugh escaped through his nose.

“And Eunice is studying biomedical engineering. She’s on track to get her PhD.”

“Really?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “She just seems so…I mean, excitable like you said.”

“Oh, she's just dedicated to everything she does. She has a 4.0. I think it'd actually be higher if the scale didn't stop there. She does everything like that, you know? Doesn’t matter if it’s school or being a fan. She’s always 110% in. I don’t think she knows how to do anything halfway.” 

He hmm’d.

Falling into a companionable silence, Quinn sighed. He’d been looking for this his kind of comfort with another person his entire life. The first time he’d really felt it was on their first date, and it was a revelation. Each time it happened since then, it became a little less awkward. They might well be on their way to sharing the kind of quiet moments he used to see his parents have. Sitting together on the couch reading, or folding laundry together, or watching TV, just happy to be with each other. The idea of it made his chest feel buoyant enough to float away.

“How did you meet them?” 

“Eunice was advertising for someone new to move in on the school housing board. Their old roommate, Jenny, was getting married. So, I met them and saw the place, and it just worked out.” 

“Just like that?” 

“I guess?”

“I’ve never done that before.”

“What?” 

“Interviewed to be a roommate. I’ve always lived with teammates.”

“Not all of us have a built-in best friend squad.”

He snorted, and Sarah smiled. 

They eased into another quiet moment, and Quinn felt his eyelids grow heavy.

“Do you need anything?” she asked. 

“Hmm?” 

“Like, do you need anything to eat?” 

“I ate at the arena,” he said, “but I wouldn't mind something to drink.” 

As she pushed herself up and he resisted the urge to pull her back down. “What do you want? I have water, cranberry juice, or Ginger ale. I have some rum if you need something stronger, or I could make you some tea.” 

“I can't have caffeine this late. It’ll fuck up my sleep schedule.” Truth be told, it was probably already fucked just by him being here, but he didn’t want to inflict any more damage. 

She smiled, “I have peppermint, or a caffeine free maple that's really tasty as a latte.” 

“That sounds nice.”

“Okay. Do you want milk or almond milk?” 

“Almond, please.” 

“You got it.” As she crawled over him to get to the edge of the bed, she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

His mouth was still buzzing when she left the room. 

Eunice came into the kitchen as Sarah was filling the kettle. “What are you doing?” she whispered as if Quinn might hear them from down the hall. 

“Making tea,” Sarah said in her normal tone. 

She could tell Eunice wanted to start interrogating her and pointedly looked the other way. She’d be happy to talk, but not while he was still here. Getting Eunice started on a conversation like that required a certain amount of commitment, and Sarah wasn’t willing to rehash the night until it was over.

She stayed in the kitchen, watching Sarah start the kettle on the stove and pour milk into the frother. 

“I can bring this to you when it’s done.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yeah. Go be with Quinn. He looked like he needed some time with you. I’ll be in in a few.” 

“Okay.” 

As she walked back down the hall, she heard Eunice mutter something about getting Quinn to play better tomorrow.

Sarah winced, wondering if he was ever allowed to be human before being an athlete. 

Quinn looked up from his phone when Sarah came back in the room empty-handed. “No tea?” he asked, hoping his tone came off teasing. It was surprising to him she could start something and not finish it. 

Leaving the door cracked open, she got back on the bed and crawled over him, “Eunice offered to bring it in. It takes our stove ages to boil water.” 

He pulled her into him as soon as she got to his other side. As she bounced against him, she giggled, and it dissipated some of the angsty weight he’d been carrying around since the game ended. 

She snuggled up to him again, working her left arm under his back. He arched until her hand brushed his ribs.

“That’s okay?” he asked, settling back down. 

“Yeah.”

Though half of it was tied up, he threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, then ran them through the soft strands. She made a contented little noise, so he did it again, just glad to be touching her. 

“Thank you for this,” he said, voice quiet. 

“For what?” 

“For letting me come over. For,” he moved so he could wrap his arm around her, squeezing her a little bit closer. 

“Hey, if cuddling makes you feel better, I’m always down,” she said, nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder. This kind of casual affection was what she missed most every time she broke up with all of her exes. Not to mention, she got so little physical touch being away from her family.

He chuckled, and it ended in a sigh. 

His free hand found hers, and he slotted their fingers together. 

“I really like you, Sarah.” 

“I really like you, too, Quinn,” she said, tipping her head back so she could see his face. From this angle, his nose was more pronounced. She had to resist the urge to pull her hand from his so she could run her finger down the ridge of it to feel the prominent bump. 

Sensing her stare, he turned his head, bringing their lips dangerously close. It only took a bit of stretching on Sarah’s part to bring them together. 

When he felt Sarah strain toward him again, he rolled onto his side to shorten the distance between them. Her hand stayed on his chest, and their kisses remained sweet, though the adjusted position allowed for a little more tongue, which he wasn’t mad about.

This was much softer than anything they'd done so far. It was nice to know they could just be here: not rushing to get undressed or into something more intense and physical. 

She loved this kind of lazy, slow kissing, but found it didn’t usually come until much later in a relationship, after all the first physical stuff was out of the way. To be kissing - making out without really making out - like this before they’d even had sex felt like a gift. Feeling his fingers run into her hair, bringing her face just that little bit closer to his Sarah sighed.

The way her chin moved in and out as they kissed, matching the rhythm of her tongue brushing his, lulled his body into a state of deeper relaxation than he’d felt all evening.

Pulling away just enough, she whispered, “you’re a really good kisser.” 

A zing of pleasure shivered through his brain and all the way down Quinn's spine.

 “Thanks,” he breathed, easing back to see her face. 

He gazed into her eyes for a few moments longer, trying to calm his thoughts. Once he was over the initial daze her compliment brought on, he realized he should probably say something else. Instead of blurting out the, I like being good for you, that popped into his mind, he said, “you make it easy to be.”

When she shyly thanked him as her cheeks pinked, he felt like he'd swallowed the sun. 

Unable to resist anymore, Sarah reached up to trace her finger down the bridge of his nose. “How did you break it?” 

“The first time, Jack punched me in the face in an intense game of mini sticks.”

“Mini sticks?”

“It’s like…” How did he explain this to someone who’d never played? “It’s like indoor, carpet hockey. You use these little plastic sticks and a ball, usually. We used to play in the basement. My mom talks about how we played so hard, we would shake the whole house.”

“That’s some serious competition if you’re getting your nose broken.” 

A breath of a laugh huffed out of him. “I deserved it. I was goading him on pretty bad, and he didn’t really know his own strength. I can still see the horror on his face when the blood started pouring.” 

She resumed stroking, her touch feather light and gentle, “how many times have you broken it?” 

“Three.” Quinn never thought he’d like someone touching him like this, but with Sarah, he found it comforting instead of irritating. It was like she just wanted to know every part of him. “The other two were pucks to the face.”

She winced. “That sounds painful. Those pucks are way heavier than I thought.” 

“It’s not fun,” he said. “Thankfully, the adrenaline is still pumping, so it doesn’t really hurt until after the game is over.” 

“You kept playing with a broken nose?” 

Nodding, he laughed, “they strap on a full face shield, and send you back out there.” 

An incredulous, protective look took over her face that Quinn instantly loved. 

“Don’t worry. They do concussion testing and reset it if it needs it before.” 

“That’s just…really?” 

He nodded.

“I keep seeing all these memes about how tough hockey players are, and I always thought they were kind of exaggerated.” 

“It’s a tough sport,” he said. “My goal is always to be swift enough on my feet to not get involved with the harsh stuff, but sometimes a puck just redirects, and bam, your nose is broken again.” 

The kettle whistled. 

As if by an unspoken rule, they pulled back from each other. Sarah’s hand dropped back to his chest. 

A minute later, Eunice gently hipped open Sarah's door, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs and the whole milk frothing machine. “I figured it would be easier for you to froth in here,” she said, setting the tray down on Sarah's desk. 

As she backed out of the room, she widened her eyes and quirked her brows a few times, giving Sarah a look that plainly said, you have a cute, famous boy in your bed, and we're going to discuss everything as soon as he’s gone. 

“Thanks, Eunice,” Sarah said through a tight smile, hoping Quinn hadn’t seen. 

“Sure thing,” she said before softly clicking the door shut.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a tea latte,” Quinn said as he rolled onto his back so Sarah could crawl over him again. The urge to pull her on top of him by her hips was so strong that he had to curl his fingers into the quilt. 

“Really?” she asked, plugging the frother into the outlet by her nightstand. 

He shrugged. 

The machine whirred to life.

“It’s good. I like it at night. The warm milk kind of puts me to sleep.” 

When it was done, she divided the creamy concoction into the two mugs and brought one to Quinn. 

“This is okay?” he asked, gesturing to the bed. 

“Yeah.” There wasn’t anywhere else they could go. If he spilled tea on her sheets, she’d just have him help her change them. 

Sarah sat opposite him, knees bent, her bare feet between his socked ones. 

Their eyes met over their mugs, and Quinn smiled. “This is really good, thank you,” he said, gently tapping her leg with his toe. 

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you came over.” 

“Are you still up for the game tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m planning on it.”

“And you’ll stay so I can take you home?”

She nodded. “Are you flying out again after that?”

He sighed, “yeah. On Sunday. We fly out to Dallas, play them on Monday, and then go to Colorado to play on Wednesday, and then I’ll be home for a week on Thursday afternoon.”

“I’m glad it’s not too long this time.”

“Me too.” A yawn split his face. He apologized, holding a fist over his mouth.

Shaking her head, Sarah said, “you’ve had a long day.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, downing the rest of the tea. “I should probably get home and get to sleep.”

While he pulled on his sneakers, Sarah set her latte aside and slipped on some sandals. 

Rain was pounding against the glass fronted lobby when they got downstairs. Looking down at herself, Sarah said, “I’d walk you to your car, but I’m not really dressed for it.”

Half of his mouth lifted in an indulgent smile, “that’s okay.” Gathering her against him, he breathed in the smokey smell of her perfume to fortify himself for the dash into the rain and the drive home. “Thank you again.”

Her hands slid under his suit coat, pulling him more tightly against her, “you’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, pulling back to look into his face. 

“Tomorrow,” he agreed, leaning down to kiss her. They were in public, so he knew he shouldn’t linger, but he did anyway, savoring her mouth as the last thing he’d taste that night. 

“Let me know when you get home, yeah?” she asked when they parted. 

He nodded, and she watched him jog away before heading back upstairs. 

Eunice was waiting in the entryway for her and immediately grabbed her hand. “Tell us everything,” she said, excitedly pulling Sarah down the hall to the bathroom where Jane was re-braiding her hair for work. 

Before she sat in the hallway outside the bathroom, Sarah got her unfinished tea. As she sipped, she explained how he ended up there. 

Both women awed when she recounted Quinn telling her he just wanted to hold her. Eunice broke in when Sarah got to the part about making tea.

“Jane, it was so cute. I walked by, and they’re cuddling. Then, when I came back, they were kissing. Like that soft movie kind of kissing - it looked so dreamy. Then when I walked by again –” 

“Why were you walking by so much?” Sarah demanded. 

Eunice didn't even blush, “I had to get my blanket.”

“And it took you two trips to do it?” 

“I forgot what I was getting the first time and had to come back to the living room to remember.” 

“Right,” Sarah deadpanned. 

“Anyway,” she said in an over-exaggerated tone, “when I walked by again, she was petting his nose.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah exclaimed, “I am never bringing him over here again. He’s going to think you’re some kind of psychopathic stocker for walking by all the time.”

“Oh, he had no idea I was even there,” Eunice said. “He was way too busy longingly gazing at you, Ms. Roberts. I don’t think he would have even noticed me if I was stomping down the hall like a t-rex.”

“He was pretty enraptured,” Jane said. 

“You too?” 

“I had to go to the bathroom. Mine was legitimate.”

“Oh my fucking hell,” Sarah moaned. 

“Why were you touching his nose?” 

“I asked him how he broke it.” Sarah smiled at the floor. “And I like his nose.”

Eunice snorted, “of course you do.” 

Cutting off Sarah’s incredulous look, Jane asked, “what was the best part?”

All of it, she wanted to say. The fact that he came over at all. That he just wanted to cuddle, the kissing… 

“He was really sweet. I told him he was a good kisser and he just looked into my eyes for a while before he goes, ‘you make it easy to be.’” 

“Oh my gosh,” Jane gushed, “really? That is such a good answer.”

“Will you just fuck him already?” 

Sarah let out a surprised cough, and Eunice continued, “I think he’s proven he’s not just in it for the sex.”

“I think I knew that from the start.”

“So why are you waiting so long to jump him?” 

“Eunice,” Jane admonished, “Sarah can take however long she likes to take that step.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eunice said dismissively, flapping her hands, “I just want to know what he’s like in bed.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah said, dropping her head into her hands. “I am never discussing my sex life with you.”

“Yes you will.” 

“No. I won't.” 

“You will,” Eunice said with a quirk of her brows. “You've told us everything else so far. I don't think you'll be able to resist.”

“You’re unhinged, you know that?” 

“That’s why you love me.”

Laughing, Sarah had to admit she was right.  

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[littlelovelyra]

Now is not the time, nor the place.

Gale x FemTav/Reader(f)

Word count: ~1,914

Warnings: fluff(?) , Fingering, hand jobs, mouth stuff, kinda? C*m shot?

MINORS DNI

Disclaimer: I literally always put a disclaimer that I am by no means a writer, I just day dream a lot to escape my hectic work days and my somewhat chaotic life so I write down my day dreams and revisit them sometimes. Decided to publish them here so its easy for me to find. If it at least entertain one person thats a win for me :'D

Summary:

Having arrived at Last Light Inn several hours ago, your party convened and, following a discussion with Jaheira, reached a consensus to divide the patrol duties to ease the burden. Prior to this decision, after battling Kar'Niss,Gale openly confessed his physical attraction toward you only to immediately extinguish any flame that thought may have produced. Now, as chance would have it, both of you find yourselves on duty, strolling along the docks of Last Light Inn, having determined your partners through a draw of names. Suspicious. 

___________________________

“Now’s not the time nor place.” What. The. Fuck. Gale. Why even bother saying it at all? You curse the foolish wizard in your mind, focusing on the two small pouches placed in the middle of the table where you and your companions are seated, trying not to shoot daggers in his direction. You can feel his side glances as he looks at you.

“Well, as much as I love us sitting around and staring at one another—because who wouldn’t want to stare at me—who’s going to be the first to draw a name?” Astarion looks around the table, taking us all in. We’re all looking pretty tired, and no one wants to take the leap, fearing they might draw “first watch” from the second pouch after selecting their partner from the first.

“Oh gods above, fine, I’ll do it.” Astarion reaches his hand into the first pouch, retrieves a name, and then dips his hand into the second, pulling out a small piece of parchment. He clears his throat. “Well, Shadowheart, I guess you and I are taking tomorrow’s watch,” he says as a slow smirk spreads across his face. Lucky bastard, you think to yourself. As everyone else gathers the courage to draw, the order goes as follows:

Astarion / Shadowheart: Second Night

Karlach / Wyll: Third Night

Lae’Zel / Halsin: Fourth Night

You curse under your breath at the absolute joke that is your luck right now. Though, you feel luck might not have anything to do with it. You suspect Gale has somehow played his magic hand in this. You can practically feel his smugness vibrating across the table from you. As much as you care for him, these past few weeks have been confusing. From his reaction to the moment you shared in the Weave, to his dismissal at the tiefling party when you sought him out. He told you to go “enjoy the festivities,” which led you to a pretty little clearing with a vampire spawn—an experience you note never to repeat. Then, just before entering the Shadow-Cursed Lands, he received his charge from Mystra and accepted it without considering anyone else. To top it all off, he basically admitted his attraction to you and immediately shot it down. All this hot and cold behaviour has been giving you more headaches than the damn tadpole in your head. 

Releasing a soft sigh, you push yourself back from the table and stand up, eventually meeting his gaze. “Come on, Gale, we’re up first. Jaheira has assigned us to the dockside for our patrol.” You keep your tone cool and matter-of-fact. You will not make a fool of yourself chasing someone who clearly does not want to be chased. With all the chaos of dealing with the cultists, you have no time or energy for these petty games of the heart. He either wants you or he doesn’t, and it seems it’s the latter.

Gale follows you as you walk towards your quarters. As you reach your door, you look back at him. “Wait here, I need to change. These clothes are disgusting after killing that drider. I won’t be long. Maybe you should change too—it’s going to be a long night. Meet me back here in ten minutes.” Pressing your lips together awkwardly, you watch him hold your stare for a moment before giving a slight nod. He turns on his heel and heads toward the shared quarters. You’re grateful that your companions graciously agreed to give you the only private room in the Last Light Inn; gods know you need a bit of privacy to collect your thoughts.

In your room, you quickly change out of your clothes, wipe yourself down with a washcloth, redress, and braid your hair back. Looking in the mirror, you can see how tired you are from the journey. Closing your eyes, you mutter a short prayer to Selûne for the strength to get through the evening. A soft knock at the door catches your attention, and you cross the room to open it. Gale stands there with a fresh set of clothes, his hair now tamed, and even a bit of his beard trimmed. His eyes are as bright as ever, always seeming deep in thought, making you wonder what’s going on in his mind. “Stop it”, you think to yourself, “Now is not the time.”

You usher him out of the doorway and lead the way outside, down to the docks. You notice how close he is walking next to you, the silence is loud but every now and then his hand accidentally brushes up against yours and sends a soft shiver running up your arm. Again you wonder if he is using any magic to conjure up that effect on you. 

Walking to the edge of the dock, you scan the perimeter. Everything is quiet; it all seems as it should. You lean over the railing and glance at your reflection in the water, exhaling loudly. You stay there for a moment with your eyes shut, taking in the sounds of the flames softly flickering on the nearby torches and the occasional gentle splash of the water. It’s the most peaceful you’ve felt in a long time.

“Lost in thought?” Gale says as he places himself next to you, leaning down with his arms supporting him on the railing. You turn your head to face him and notice that his face is mere inches from yours. You linger there for a moment, your eyes scanning his face and finally your gaze falls to his lips, you wonder how they would feel pressed against yours. He catches your stare and the left side of his mouth pulls up into a soft smirk.

“Actually, I’m not thinking at all.” You say pushing yourself up you ready yourself to leave this side of the dock and continue your sweep of the area. As you turn to leave, Gale grabs your hand. You turn to him puzzled.

“Let’s stay a moment longer, shall we? It’s quiet, and nothing will happen if we take a few selfish moments for ourselves.” His thumb traces lazy circles on the back of your hand, releasing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. You watch his gentle movements, marvelling at how hands so powerful can also be so tender. Your thoughts drift to how those very same hands might feel exploring your body, familiarising themselves with your secret places while bringing you to complete ecstasy. Your cheeks begin to flush at the mental image you have painted for yourself and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by him as he offers a soft clearing of his throat to pull your attention back to reality. 

“I meant every word I said, by the way.” He looks at you, expecting a response, but you're unsure what to say. Words elude you, so you remain silent, hoping he'll continue—and he does, simply because he’s Gale.

“I have never wanted you more than I do now. Seeing your cheeks flush just then only made my desire that much more uncontrollable. I keep waiting for the right moment to kiss you, to show you how much I want you. It has to be perfect—you deserve that. But perhaps, just for tonight, we can allow ourselves a bit of imperfection. Or an appetiser before the main course, if you will.”

He raises his hand and gently lifts your face towards his. Slowly, he lowers his lips to yours, tenderly moulding them to fit around yours. A soft whimper escapes your mouth, and you feel your knees shake as if they're about to give way to this moment. Sensing your thoughts, Gale places his other hand on your hip, steadying you and pulling you closer to him. Everything around you seems to disappear, and all that exists in this moment are the two of you, completely lost in each other's embrace.

As he starts to pull away, he leads you to the covered area of the dock—more private, secluded—and you see the intent in his stare. Slow he brings the two of you down onto the deck, gently he lowers you to your back while he positions himself above you. His lips come crashing down to yours once again but this time with urgency. He uses his free hand to roam its way under your clothes exploring your soft curves and taking his time familiarising himself with the shape of you. He delicately rubs the pad of his thumb over your peaked sensitive nipple which causes you to gasp at the sensation, heat pooling in your core. You shift your hips up towards him instinctively and he groans into your mouth while your tongues dance together. His hand slithering down, snaking its way to your heated centre. Slipping under your panties his fingers slide between your folds, you inhale sharply at the sensation. Gods above nothing in your fantasies even compare to what this feels like in real time. Gale lets out a low groan. “Mhm. You are so ready for me my love. I want that to be perfect so this will just have to do for now.” as he finishes his sentence he slides two of his fingers inside you and curls them upward. Slowly pumping them in and out while his kisses become frenzied.

Your hands go exploring on their own and you find him, hard and ready. You can feel it pulsing through his trousers. The growl that escapes his lips is inviting enough for you, reaching in as you pull his length out and begin stroking him tenderly at first and then more desperately as you feel him rocking his hips in time with your hand. His hand is still working inside you and the two of you become desperate as the pace picks up. You lift your shirt up exposing your breasts with your spare hand and he brings his head down as he sucks in the swollen peak of your breast. You can feel it, the two of you are so close. 

“Gale.. Gale.. I’m going to…” You're breathless now. You can’t get it out, your head is dizzying. 

He brings his mouth to your ear, his breath hot as he whispers;  “Let go. Cum for me”. 

That’s all it takes. Your whole body shatters around him as his name escapes your lips in pure unfiltered ecstasy. He comes undone seconds later, you feel a warm splash on your bare stomach and he brings his head down to rest his forehead on yours. Softly he kisses you again before you both straighten out your clothing and smooth your hair. Silently you sit there leaning into him on the deck looking out over the water. 

“I have a confession to make.” He says scattering kisses down your cheek.

“Mhmmm… Let me guess? You rigged the pouches somehow to be partnered with me tonight?” You say looking at him.

He flashes you a wicked smile and kisses you deeply as you both stand up to continue a sweep of the perimeter. You are on duty after all and now is not the time.. nor the place.

[cocogrrrl]

bandages

when you find out that the sudden thumping by your fire exit is a masked vigilante in serious pain, you have no other choice than to help him.

mysterion!kenny mccormick x gn!reader cw: severe injuries wc: 2001

AN: I NEED TO PROOFREAD THIS HELP an part two: have not proofread this, but this fic now has a part two!

Tonight was a quiet night. You had nothing going on, to be honest. No friends over, no work to be done, nothing. For once, it left you relieved. For weeks, you’ve been wondering when would you actually have time for yourself. At the same time, the feeling of not being insanely occupied was new. Honestly, it was a little boring.

First, you were trying to relax in your living room, flicking through the movies and shows on the screen. None of them seemed appealing. After that, you decide you’d do a little art, bringing out some yarn as you tried to make something out of it. You were so out of it currently, though, so you didn’t have the energy to commit to a project.

Perhaps all you needed was sleep, though. I mean, it is 10:30 PM already, but this isn’t how you wanted to spend your free Friday night. You wanted to make the most of it. Be productive or entertain yourself.

Maybe it’s for the better, anyways. You got out o the sofa and tucked away your craft materials somewhere. You’ll probably revisit them in another two months.

All of a sudden, you hear several thumps by the fire exit.

Could it have been a criminal trying to sneak in? Honestly, trying to rob a person in a cheap studio complex was kinda low if it was indeed a robber. Could it have been a cat, though? It seems likely. Whatever it was, you decided to check it.

You entered the fire exit through your window. What greeted you was the sight of some dressed-up hero, all bloody and beaten up, lying on the concrete asphalt ground. To be honest, he looked kind of ridiculous—mostly because of the costume.

You wondered if anyone had spotted him yet. No time to think, though you had to help this poor guy. Thank god you lived on the second floor, you quickly shuffled down the footsteps of the fire escape and headed straight to the man.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you knelt beside him. He was breathing, which was good—obviously. Though his costume consisted of greys and blacks, you could see that there was blood seeping into his clothes. Definitely not good.

“Just leave me…” He choked out.

“What? No. You clearly look like you’ve broken a bone or two, and I’d be fucking insane to leave you in a state like this.” You replied, pulling your phone out of your pocket to dial an ambulance.

He was quick to pull the phone out of your hand with what little strength he had. “Don’t call for help… I’ll be caught.” Oh, so probably this guy’s an actual vigilante—not just some guy dressing up.

“You need help, though.”

“You can leave me here. It’s fine.”

“Are you insane? It’s not fine. I’m not leaving you out here to possibly die!” You sighed. “Here. I’ll bring you to my place. It’s just there on the second floor. Do you need help getting up?”

“I…” You could feel the hesitance in the man’s voice. It’s almost as if he didn’t want your help. “I can go there. I just need some help getting up.” He sighed.

A few minutes later, with some struggle, you found him lying on your couch. His wounds weren’t getting any better. They just kept on bleeding through his clothes. It was even more obvious now with the lights turned on.

You emerged out of your bathroom with a first aid kit in hand. The guy had cracked a few ribs and had cuts and bruises all over his body. He looked like hell. While you were grabbing your things, he was stripping down to his underwear and mask as you requested. You would’ve noted how hot he looked if it weren’t for the fact that he was dying right now. 

You started to wrap a bandage around his chest to support the ribs. You made it as tight as you can without trying to hurt the guy as well. Right after, you headed to your freezer, where you pulled out an ice pack and handed it to him.

“Hold it against where it hurts. I’m gonna clean your wounds up, okay?” You looked up at him as you got on your knees and brought out the wet cloth soaked in a bowl of water closer to you. He nodded and held it in place. “It’s gonna sting a little bit, if you didn’t already know.”

As you worked on what you could, you could feel him tense up and even hiss sometimes. In the corner of your eye, you could see his eyes tight shut as his jaw was clenched. You felt really bad for the guy.

After a bit, you set his costume aside as you searched through your wardrobe for cleaner clothes that fit him. You pulled out an old shirt and some basketball shorts you had lying around. “Do you need help putting clothes on?” 

He shook his head. “Alright. I’m gonna turn around—just tell me when you’re done, okay?” You said. Once more, he nodded his head. You turned on your heel, hearing some awkward shuffling and grunts as you waited.

“I’m okay now.” Those were the first actual words he said after entering your apartment. 

“You can stay the night here,” you sighed, turning back as you leaned on the wall looking at him. “God knows you need it.”

“Thank you…” He smiled at you for the first time tonight. It was now around 11 PM at this point, and you were a lot more groggier than you were earlier. Your brain was fried with the distress from earlier.

“You’re staying in my bed, by the way. You’re way too big for the couch. It could be uncomfortable for you.” You said, heading to your kitchen to grab some Diclofenac and water.

“You don’t have to. You’ve been a huge help to me already. I don’t think I could accept your hospitality.” You sat beside him, handing the pill and water to him.

“I insist. I don’t think I could handle seeing you in any more pain.” Your eyes scanned him up and down. He seemed much better compared to earlier, although he had bandages wrapped around him everywhere.

“I don’t want to cause you any discomfort, dear.” He immediately jumped at himself with that little name at the end, as you did as well. You two were clearly not expecting it. It’s not that you minded it, though.

“Come on. It’s just one night… guy.” You said, not knowing what else to call him.

“Mysterion.”

“Mysterion,” you continued. “Your health is a lot more important than wherever the hell I sleep right now. Besides, it’s not like I don’t already fall asleep on the couch on the regular.”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed. “I’m just not sure if I’m able to sleep tonight.”

“Why? Drank coffee before you fell off the rooftop?”

“Funny, but no.” However, when he said that, there was little to no reaction on his face whatsoever. “I just can’t sleep. I don’t feel tired.”

“I’ll accompany you, then.” You smiled, leaning back on the couch. It’s not like you didn’t have anything better to do.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to, okay? Besides, I got nowhere to go to tomorrow.” You said, giving him a reassuring look. You’d squeeze his shoulder to further your intentions, but you might just end up crushing him to a pulp even further.

“I can’t thank you enough…” He trailed off, not knowing your name.

“YN.” You nodded.

“Thank you, YN.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, heading for your kitchen once more to pour yourself a drink as a reward and a pat on the back for tonight. “So, who were you fighting earlier, Mysterion?” You said mindlessly, trying to make conversation with the guy.

“Uh, the Coon,” he muttered. You hummed in reply, hearing him in the quiet of your apartment perfectly well. “I’m usually the one who beats him, but I guess today’s just an off-day for me. I’m gonna beat his ass when I see him tomorrow.”

“Who’s the Coon anyway?” You asked, plopping yourself beside him again as you swirled your drink around before taking a sip.

“Some guy. I’ve been fighting him for years now. Ever since we were kids, actually.”

“So he’s your arch nemesis?”

“No, ew. No way. I don’t have an ‘arch nemesis’ per se. I have too many people I’m fighting with to actually have a designated enemy.” He said, a prideful smirk on his face as he said that.

“I don’t think that’s something you’re supposed to be proud of.”

“It isn’t, but I find joy in it whenever I’m on the streets nowadays.” He sighed, lying on the couch.

“Really? Fighting your multitude of enemies is what brings you joy?” You raised a brow.

“And seeing cuties like you as well, but whatever.” He quickly mumbled.

“Hmm? You think I’m cute?” You smiled, bringing your face closer to his—even though he was so obviously dodging eye contact with you.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, but yes you did.” You chuckled, gently pinching his cheek as pulled it to have him look at you. “I heard exactly what you said.”

“So what did I say, then?” He mused your playfulness, raising his eyebrows.

“You said, and I quote, ‘And seeing cuties like you as well.’”

“Completely wrong,” he said with a pout, the visible skin because of his mask reddening faintly. “I said, ‘And California brew as well.’ Clearly, you’re just hearing things.”

“Uhuh,” you sarcastically replied, nodding. “And what exactly is a California brew? I’m assuming you meant the state drink of California, by the way.”

He paused, thinking to himself. “...Kombucha?”

“It’s wine, genius.” You rolled your eyes with a grin on your face, letting your hand go from his face.

“Well, it sounds like it could be their state drink!” 

“Mhm, keep trying to save yourself. We all know what you said, Mystie-boo.” You clicked your tongue, shaking your head.

“What’s a Mystie-boo?” He looked at you full of negative judgment, although it was definitely lightheartedly.

“Like, Pookie-pie!” His gaze which was full of judgment just became one of concern. “It’s what you call your friends! Like boo boo bear!”

“I don’t think anyone calls their friends that, YN.”

“That’s because you don’t get it!” You pouted, crossing your arms as you took another sip from your drink.

The whole night you two chatted on your couch. Your teasing was relentless. You didn’t hold back one bit. Mysterion continued with his slip-of-the-tongue flirting, and you always took note of it. You didn’t mind, not one bit. You enjoyed yourself thoroughly with it. 

The early morning approached, and it was around 1 AM. You were surprised that you were still awake, considering how exhausted you were. Mysterion, however, was knocked out on the couch. You dragged his body over to your bed as efficiently as you could—which wasn’t much, but it’s the thought that counts! You draped your blanket over him, and you head out of your room, taking your sleep on the couch like you promised yourself.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You find yourself waking up at 10 AM. Honestly, for how tired out you were, that wasn’t too bad. You noticed you were back in your bed, though. Was the whole thing all a dream? You wouldn’t blame yourself if it was. I mean, maybe you were just desperate for a love life.

You sighed, rising from your bed as you reached over to your nightstand to grab your phone. To your dismay, it wasn’t there. Actually, a scribbled piece of paper was instead lying there. You shook your head, reaching to grab it.

Thanks for last night, cutie pookie pie. Is that right??

- Kenny, aka “Mysterion”

PS: youre the first person im running to if i get hurt badly again :]

You smiled, tucking the letter in your drawer. See you soon, Mysterion. 

[pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer]

Okay so Pokémon Legends Z-A!  What the fuck!  Wow!

One big concern I want to get out of the way first: apparently the game is going to take place entirely within Lumiose City.  And I mean, Lumiose is the biggest city in Pokémon, but what about the whole rest of Kalos?  Also how will we encounter Pokémon?  Surely they’re not all city-dwellers.  I have to wonder if this was a miscommunication, but I guess we’ll see.

Anyway: YES!!  Not only are we getting a new Legends game (PLA was immediately one of my favorite games in the series), but it’s set in the woefully under-utilized Kalos region!  Kalos is a well of untapped potential, and this has the chance to be a very striking way to finally draw it out.  They knew exactly what they were doing when they let that Z linger on-screen.  AND, not only THAT, but the franchise is taking 24 off and saving this game for NEXT YEAR!  Thank God, this is great news for GameFreak’s employees, and if Pokémon of all things sets this precedent it could have a HUGE impact on the industry.

As for why it’s “Z-A”…who knows?  I’m sure at least part of it is the creators wanting to come up with a more unique name, which is fair.  The hyphen makes it seem like a range covering the entire alphabet, which could signify something all-encompassing, and reversing it to go from end to beginning likely plays into the cycle of life and death represented by Xerneas and Yveltal (in this case, death must occur for new life to take its place, or something along those lines).

I’m glad (and amused) that they specifically showed Furfrou in the teaser, as it’s currently one of the last few Pokémon yet to be available in a mainline Switch game.  After this, I believe it’s just Patrat/Watchog and the Elemental Monkeys?  Maybe they’ll toss them all in to finish rounding things out.

Part of me does wonder if the prevalence of Unown in the Presents could be significant…but probably not.  As the world’s biggest Unown fan I adored their sidequest in PLA, but Unown haven’t appeared in Kalos previously and it would make more sense to revisit Zygarde Cells for this sort of quest.

And Mega Evolution!  Honestly it feels a bit weird to say it’s “back” when it’s remained prevalent in everything but the mainline games, but I’ll get over it, I’m still thrilled!  Mega Evolutions in a Legends game!  I have to imagine we’ll get some additional information on it; there’s a good chance the game will feature Kalos’s first discovery of Mega Evolution, too.  On the chance of getting new Megas…I don’t want to get my hopes up, but it would make a lot of sense!  Though I definitely still want new regional forms too.  Maybe I’m being greedy.  But speaking of forms, if the do give new forms to Xerneas and Yveltal, I hope they look better than Dialga and Palkia’s Origin Formes, those still bother me.

I’m personally hoping this one won’t be an isekai.  PLA did end up utilizing it well enough, but I’d still prefer to stay as grounded in this particular time period as possible.  Something about giving you a magic smartphone in ye olde past just feels…I dunno, patronizing?  But since Arceus probably won’t be involved this time and I don’t see any of the XYZ trio opening time portals, I think there’s a good chance of avoiding the isekai angle.  One related thing that brings to my attention is space-time distortions; they’d probably be a poor fit here on a thematic level, so I hope they’re able to come up with a good stand-in.  Maybe Mega energy suddenly flares up in a region and affects the Pokémon?  Will we encounter wild Megas?  Wait, Alphas are still a thing, right…?

Come to think of it, how will the Pokédex be handled?  I really liked the approach of creating the region’s first Dex; perhaps it could be an element of this “redevelopment” process?  I hope so.  Anyway I could list things I want to see for hours but I think this is sufficient to communicate what sort of headspace I’m in regarding this announcement.  Hon hon hon baguette Prism Tower, everyone!

[flaylore]

DIRECTORY (2024)

Jan 1, 2024, Red Mecha Pilot Tries Blender To Make Goo Cat!!!!!!

As Flayon’s about to end the stream, he reminds viewers to love themselves… and for a split second, his eyes swirls, telling them to never leave him.

Jan 2, 2024

‘Can you have a late growth spurt in your 18000's???’

Jan 4, 2024

'i cant wash the black strands out of my hair so i guess i didnt dye it WEIRD'

Jan 4, 2024

imo it looks like it's spreading

Jan 6, 2024, The Roons Got Me A Place At Time Square!!! || + Granblue Fantasy

Flayon starts to pan over a fanart of X. The screen glitches as he stares at it, saying nothing. He turns the page and the glitching stops.

MINOR: Jan 8, 2024, 【debut watchalong】o . o

Flayon revisits his debut, occasionally interrupted by glitchy moments, and ends with a brief cameo of the original pilot that got his place taken by him. Please read the summary for more information.

MINOR: Jan 13, 2024, the anxiety of happiness roon

A new Machiroon asset was introduced, which warped into a scene where a figure with swirly eyes appears. Please read the summary for a more detailed information.

MAJOR: Jan 20, 2024, Content Warning|【Machiroon Appreciation+ NEW OUTFIT】AAAAAAAAA

He compares his old outfit and his recent one, lamenting how he has changed from before.

Jan 22, 2024, UNDER NIGHT IN-BIRTH II Sys:Celes] I Need To Play Kuon Immediately #sponsored #ad

Up until this point, Flayon’s height is 171cm.

Jan 30, 2024

‘there are many me and there are many you’

Feb 7, 2024 

‘THE RUBIX CUBE IS BEATING MY ASS’

‘its a mirror cube its so confusing’

‘apparently pre debut i was able to solve stuff like this so effortlessly’

‘idk what happened’

‘i cant pilot things like I used to either’

‘the memory is so hazy’

‘but maybe its better it stays buried’

Feb 11, 2024

‘Sometimes it feels as if the R-TRUS is going to destroy me from the inside’

‘Oh-oh shut down rtrus sometimes maybe- wait can rtrus be shut down?’

‘yes

if i have no energy then he won't work

or if im too stressed then he wont work

sometimes when im inside, he'll move on his own a bit

it hasn't been happening often but every now and then’

Feb 12, 2024

‘I’m losing apart of me every time I pilot…’

Feb 13, 2024,【POKEMON UNITE】Duo's w/ The Regis ALTARE, Hero of Elysium & Your Heart

R-TRUS was found in Xenokuni and Flayon gets visits from scientists.

Feb 17, 2024, Experiencing The Wholesome Door 2 w/@Octavio_en in【The House in Fata Morgana】| Spoiler Alert!

Flayon does not have a reflection in the mirror.

Feb 17, 2024, Experiencing The Wholesome Door 2 w/@Octavio_en in【The House in Fata Morgana】| Spoiler Alert!

Flayon questions if the person inside your reflection is a doppelganger rather than yourself.

MINOR: Feb 20, 2024, x teaser

This video is best watched in its entirety.

March 4, 2024 

‘Do you wanna know how it feels to be crushed by 100+ tons of reinforced X-metal? Just because the R-TRUS is big doesn’t mean your death will be quick You’ll feel your bones pull apart and slip out Your eyes will leave your sockets ever so slowly and if I aim right I can play’

‘around with you like food. not to mention if I choose to absorb your very life force into the R-TRUS It’s the equivalent of taking out your soil and throwing it into a sea of memories. You’ll experience all the pain of everyone who met their death to me Just when you think it’s’

‘over, the cycle will loop and I’ll use your remains as fuel which I will then have concentrated into energy that flows through my spinal cord Basically you’ll be connected to my nervous system and have to share each and every waking moment with me without being able to leave’

March 8, 2024

‘I’m getting rid of old clothes and there is a lot of oversized shirts/jackets/hoodies from school SLIGHTLY 

Nostalgic but I’m bitter about something when I see it too’

‘I have one green jacket that is made out of fleece and was way too big for me

idk how I wore that and why I would wear green’

Mar 12, 2024

‘japan public transportation so cool IM STILL CONFUSED but I can feel myself getting the hang of it just slowly’

(Someone asked if he parked the R-TRUS somewhere.)

‘i have him on standby at the guild

he keeps moving on his own sometimes

just lil twitches’

April 11, 2024, 【CORPSE PARTY】Nah, I'd Live (Does He Know?) | CONTENT WARNING

Flayon loses a lot of blood when he fights with the R-TRUS overdoing it.

April 12, 2024

‘This pilot is going to go back to sleep, that is a warning from my body that I need more rest 

Hard to understand it without the R-TRUS directly telling me what's wrong with me’

April 15th, 2024, THIS CAT IS BANNED IN 44 STATES!!!! (ROON DAY 2)

This a series of clips where he turns on the red eyed toggles.

He reaffirms that he is a genius.

April 15th, 2024, THIS CAT IS BANNED IN 44 STATES!!!! (ROON DAY 2)

Rudely responding with, ‘What’s your problem?’

April 15th, 2024, THIS CAT IS BANNED IN 44 STATES!!!! (ROON DAY 2)

Flayon with red eyes grumbles as he confirms that the outfit he’s wearing is the one he wore when he attended Elysium Academy.

April 15th, 2024, THIS CAT IS BANNED IN 44 STATES!!!! (ROON DAY 2)

Flayon with red eyes confirms that the TEMPUS members do not attend the Elysium Academy.

April 15th, 2024, THIS CAT IS BANNED IN 44 STATES!!!! (ROON DAY 2)

Flayon with red eyes questions if the viewers actually want to be crushed by the R-TRUS.

April 15th, 2024, THIS CAT IS BANNED IN 44 STATES!!!! (ROON DAY 2)

Flayon with red eyes calls viewers filthy.

April 20, 2024,【UNARCHIVED KARAOKE】LET'S PARTY WITH THE BOYS BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY 🎂🎈【OFF COLLAB】

He turns into particles to teleport in and out of the R-TRUS. The sensations feels like it’s ripping his flesh apart, claiming that he’s used to it.

27 April, 2024

This a series of tweets where he turns on the red eyed toggles.

‘Do you know how painful it is to be the only one in Elysium with this kind of fire power? No other *mechs* except MINE? No one worth my time.. Until now. Do your best or you'll just become fuel for /my/ R-TRUS.’

[responding to a tweet congratulating Flayon, and pointing out his red eyes]

‘Hah?’

27 April, 2024

[responding to a tweet saying that they’re excited to fight him in Idol Showdown, 1st tweet, 2nd tweet]

27 April, 2024

[replying to a tweet of an image of X]

‘why did you send a blank image??’

May 1, 2024

[responding to yatogami fuma, who asked flayon to come over]

‘im afraid senpai

 i want to retreat to the insides. 

while i stay outside’

May 5, 2024

Flayon is referencing a monologue of his first post on Twitter/X, with updated information such as his age being 18433 years old and being put on leave after being questioned over his mental stability. Original monologue

My name is Machina X Flayon. I'm 18433 years old. I currently reside in Japan, an area associated with Xenokuni, with the rest of my guildmates and I am not married. I work as the mecha pilot for the TEMPUS GUILD, but was put on leave after the board questioned my mental stability

May 14, 2024

[responding to someone asking if he gets any weird alerts/updates from the R-TRUS when doesn’t get to use it]

‘his mental state mirrors mine’

May 14, 2024

[responding to someone asking if he’s worried he’d forget to pilot the R-TRUS if he doesn’t get to use it]

[an image of flayon with red eyes looking down disapprovingly, shadow looming over his face]

May 16, 2024, I am Hakumen. THE END HAS COME【BLAZBLUE: CENTRALFICTION】

Flayon has various weapons outside of the R-TRUS. He has his shields where he can propel off them, and his energy drinks that act as bombs that its properties similar to lava.

[cosmiccannibalcamille]

YOUR September Horoscope

Somehow we’ve found ourselves in month nine of 2024, celebrating the 9th new moon of the year. That’s right, it is officially September. How we got from January to now, I’ll never know, but what I do know is that this month has its fair share of planetary transits. And there is at least one planetary transit that is guaranteed to shake up your world even more than the realization that summer is nearly o-v-e-r. 

     No, it’s not Uranus retrograde, which kicks off the month. It’s not even the Virgo new moon on Sept. 2 (aka today) or eclipse season, which starts Sept. 17. It’s Pluto retrograde in Capricorn. That’s right, the outer planets—Uranus, Saturn, Neptune, and now Pluto—are all in retrograde motion, meaning the universe is hitting rewind on some unresolved issues. If you thought you had tied up loose ends, think again. This month is all about revisiting the past, making necessary tweaks, and maybe even giving the cosmic middle finger to anything that’s holding you back. 

     These retrogrades have already impacted me! My book release for Jupiter Returns has been pushed back a few days, but it is very nearly finished and I CANNOT be more excited. (Seriously, as we’ve finalizing edits and formatting for the novel, I’ve just fallen more in love with it. It’s hilarious! It’s heartfelt! And it’s soooo much fun!! I’ll be posting another chapter of the novel THIS WEEK). Anyway, that’s the general gist of September. Here’s the actual astrology:

Sept. 1 - Uranus stations retrograde, 27°

Sept. 1 - Pluto Rx re-enters Capricorn, 29°

Sept. 2 - Virgo New Moon, 11°

Sept. 4 - Mars enters Cancer

Sept. 9 - Mercury enters Virgo

Sept. 17 – Eclipse season begins with Lunar Eclipse in Pisces, 25°

Sept. 22 - Sun enters Libra

Sept. 22 - Venus enters Scorpio

Sept. 26 - Mercury enters Libra

     As you can see, I have not gone into great, GREAT detail about each and every planetary transit happening this month; I save such things for the weekly forecast. However, because this month essentially starts on a new week, I’ll go into those details as I explore the major astrology in the works. That said, let’s dive in, shall we?

Sept. 1 - Pluto & Uranus Rx

     On September 1st, Uranus joins the retrograde parade, staying in reverse until January 2025. This pulls focus to the Taurus part of your chart, and all the ways you are still yearning to either shake things up, wake things up, or rebel against the status quo and do things differently. Also happening on Sept. 1, Pluto re-enters Capricorn for one final hurrah before it takes up permanent residence in Aquarius on November 19th.

     Pluto’s last lap in the 29th degree of Capricorn is like a final exam on the lessons of stability, power, and transformation. The 29th degree is a fame degree, a critical degree, and an anaretic degree. You might be reckoning with something BIG. (Your horoscope for Anaretic Pluto Retrograde in Capricorn drops this Friday!)

     Expect some pushback this month, especially when it comes to transformation. The status quo isn’t going down without a fight, so brace yourself for some serious resistance—whether in your personal life or the world at large. But remember, this is the turning point. Are you ready to step into the new world, or are you clinging to the past like a millennial with a flip phone?

Sept. 2 - Virgo New Moon

     Feeling a little sluggish? You’re not alone. The New Moon in Virgo on Sept. 2 is all about getting your life in order, but with Mars in Gemini squaring Neptune Rx in Pisces, it might feel like you’re trying to organize a sock drawer while underwater. The vibe is sober, maybe even a bit blah, so make sure you’re taking care of yourself—physically and mentally. It’s all about balanced living right now, so eat your veggies and keep your energy levels in check. You’ll thank yourself later. Get YOUR Virgo New Moon horoscope here. 

Sept. 7 - 14 - Mid-Month Musings

     September 7th to 9th is when things start to get interesting. Mercury in Leo squares Uranus in Taurus, and the Sun in Virgo opposes Saturn in Pisces. Translation: your curiosity is piqued, and you’ve got the discipline to tackle those big, overwhelming tasks you’ve been avoiding. New solutions might come out of nowhere—be open to them. By the 9th, Mercury slips into Virgo, urging you to methodically sort through whatever insights you’ve just stumbled upon.

     By September 12th, the Sun squares Jupiter, and Venus trines it on Sept. 14. This is your cosmic green light to finally tackle those projects you’ve been neglecting. Want to bring some beauty and harmony into your daily grind? Now’s the time. Just don’t go overboard with the indulgences—Jupiter can be a bit of a glutton.

Get the FULL SCOOP on the astrology of September (including your HOROSCOPE) on The Cosmic Almanac

[sicknessbysalem]

let’s see it happen! it sounds like an incredible story

ask and you shall receive!

fun fact: this was the prologue to a book I started with Cassius and Calypso in 2015-16. I never ended up doing much to it, but I still have the fragments and such so maybe someday i’ll revisit it.

if you have any more questions, comments, concerns, etc., send them my way!

THIS IS NOT A SICKFIC (re: not my normal writing for this blog)!!!!

that said;

tw for chronic illness discussions, talk of death, deals with demons, demonology, rituals, self sacrifice

The air in the dimly lit room was thick with the scent of burning candles and old parchment. Calypso sat hunched over a large, ancient tome, its pages yellowed with age and filled with intricate script.

The words, written in an old dialect of Latin, seemed to swirl and shift as she read, the candlelight casting flickering shadows across the text.

The room was silent, save for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth and the occasional rustle of the pages as she turned them.

Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but she forced herself to focus. She was tired—more than tired, really—but she couldn’t afford to rest. Not when Cassius was lying in the bed behind her, barely able to lift his head from the pillow.

His health had taken a turn for the worse after their last performance, and the sight of him so weak and drained filled her with a sense of helplessness that gnawed at her insides.

Cassius had always been the stronger one, in her eyes at least. He was the one who could endure the most, who could keep going no matter how exhausted he was.

But lately, his chronic health issues had become more severe. His lupus flared up frequently, and the chronic fatigue that plagued him left him bedridden for days.

It broke Calypso’s heart to see him like this—pale, weak, and unable to muster the energy to do the things he loved.

Tonight, he was especially worn out. The show they had performed earlier had taken everything out of him.

She had noticed it in his eyes, in the way he had moved sluggishly through their routines, his steps less precise, his spells slower to cast. By the time they had returned home, he had barely made it to his bed before collapsing onto the mattress, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

Now, he was asleep, his breathing steady but labored, his face drawn and pale. This was their routine lately. Daily shows did him no favors, and any progress he made during the week was quickly erased with the length and intensity of their weekend performances. This was normal, now.

Calypso’s gaze flicked to him, worry etched into every line of her face. She had never seen him like this, so drained, so utterly exhausted.

She knew they were both pushing their limits, but Cassius… he was suffering in a way she couldn’t ignore. The fear of losing him gnawed at her, keeping her on edge.

It was why she had buried herself in the old tomes that filled their study, hoping to find something—anything—that might help him.

But tonight, as she studied one of the oldest books in their collection, something caught her eye.

A passage, written in a darker ink than the rest, seemed to jump out at her. The words were difficult to decipher, the dialect more ancient than even she was used to, but as she painstakingly translated the text, a chill ran down her spine.

The passage spoke of a prophecy, one tied to their bloodline—a lineage of powerful witches that stretched back to the days of the witch trials.

The words were cryptic, but as she pieced together the meaning, dread settled in her stomach like a stone.

The prophecy spoke of twins, born to carry on the bloodline’s legacy, but only one would survive. The other would be consumed by the very power they sought to control, their life force drained until nothing remained.

"Of the twin witches born to this sacred line, only one shall survive to see the dawn.

The other shall fall, consumed by fate’s design, their life claimed by the forces they cannot outrun."

Calypso’s breath caught in her throat as she read the words again, her heart pounding in her chest.

Twins. It had to be referring to her and Cassius—they were the only twins in their family for generations, the first since the days of the trials.

The prophecy, with its ominous tone, seemed to speak directly to her, and the implication was clear.

Cassius was going to die.

The thought sent a wave of panic through her, cold and suffocating. She glanced over at her brother. His breathing was shallow, his face etched with pain even in sleep. The sight tore at her heart, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

“No,” she whispered to herself, “I won’t let that happen.”

But the fear lingered, gnawing at her with relentless persistence.

What if the prophecy was true? What if this was his fate?

She couldn’t stand the thought of losing him—not like this, not when they had fought so hard to survive.

Calypso’s mind raced as she considered her options. She couldn’t let this prophecy come to pass. She had to find a way to protect him, to ensure that he would live.

But how? The tomes were full of spells and rituals, but nothing that could reverse a prophecy, nothing that could guarantee his survival.

Unless…

A thought, wild and desperate, flickered in the back of her mind. There were rituals—dangerous, forbidden rituals—that could bind one’s life to another’s, that could offer protection in exchange for something precious. But they were risky, and the consequences were often dire.

But what choice did she have?

If the prophecy was true, then Cassius was in grave danger, and she couldn’t bear to lose him. She had to do something—anything—to keep him safe.

Determination steeled her resolve, and Calypso began to search through the tomes with renewed urgency, flipping through the pages with trembling hands.

She would find a way. She had to. Even if it meant making a deal with forces she didn’t fully understand, even if it meant sacrificing everything she had. She would protect her brother, no matter the cost.

And so, as the night wore on and the candles burned low, Calypso delved deeper into the ancient texts. There had to be something, anything, that would fix this.

-

Days turned into nights as Calypso pored over the ancient tomes, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the room. Her determination was unyielding, her fear for Cassius a constant, gnawing presence in her chest.

When she finally found the ritual she had been searching for, it felt as though a door had opened, revealing a path she had been too desperate to see before.

It was dangerous, forbidden even she was sure, but she no longer cared about the risks. She would do whatever it took to protect her brother. She had to.

The night of one of their shows arrived, and as Calypso readied herself in her dressing room, her thoughts were far from the performance.

She went through the motions of applying her makeup, her hands steady but her mind racing with anticipation. She couldn’t risk performing the ritual at home—Cassius would be too curious, too worried. Here, in the solitude of her dressing room, she would have the privacy she needed.

When she was certain she was alone, Calypso moved quickly, gathering the materials she had prepared earlier. The room was quiet, the sounds of the theater beyond the door muffled by the thick walls.

She spread out a black silk cloth on the floor, smoothing it with trembling hands before carefully placing the items she needed: five dark candles, a piece of chalk, and a small vial of her own blood.

Her heart pounded as she drew the summoning circle on the cloth, her movements precise despite the anxiety bubbling in her chest. The chalk left a fine, white line against the dark silk, forming intricate symbols that intertwined with one another, creating a complex web of power. She figured this would he easiest. Nothing said she couldn’t do it like this.

The circle was ancient, its design meant to channel energies from beyond the mortal plane.

When the circle was complete, she placed the candles at the designated points, lighting them with a whispered incantation.

The flames flickered to life, their light casting strange, twisting shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.

Calypso knelt at the edge of the circle, her breath coming in shallow, nervous gasps. The room had grown colder, the air heavy with an otherworldly presence.

She uncorked the vial of blood, the dark liquid catching the light as she carefully poured a few drops into the center of the circle.

The blood spread, seeping into the chalk lines, as if being absorbed by the very symbols she had drawn.

Her hands shook as she began to chant, her voice trembling but resolute. The words, ancient and powerful, slipped from her lips like a prayer, invoking forces she could barely comprehend.

The candles flickered, their flames dancing as though caught in an unseen wind. The temperature in the room continued to drop, and Calypso could see her breath misting in the air, each exhale a visible manifestation of the tension filling the space.

As she chanted, the darkness within the circle began to shift, coalescing into a swirling mass of shadows.

The air grew thick with the scent of ozone, and a low hum resonated through the room, vibrating through the very bones of the building.

The shadows twisted and writhed, their movement hypnotic, drawing Calypso’s gaze deeper into the void.

Suddenly, the darkness within the circle snapped into focus, and a figure began to emerge.

The shadows peeled away like layers of smoke, revealing a man—tall and slender, with an unsettling beauty that was both captivating and terrifying.

His skin was pale, almost luminescent, and his dark hair framed a face that was strikingly angular, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline.

But it was his eyes that truly caught her attention—deep, bottomless pools of swirling cosmic light, as though the night sky itself had taken up residence within them.

The man—or rather, the being—regarded her with a faint, knowing smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

“My, my, you are one powerful witch.”

His voice was smooth, low, tempting in ways Calypso hardly understood. His presence was overwhelming, filling the small room with an energy that crackled with power. Calypso could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, every instinct screaming at her to be wary, to tread carefully.

“You have called, and I have come,” the being said, his voice never wavering from the cool and calm voice that wasn’t quite a whisper but more… general soft speaking.

“What is your name?” Calypso asked, reaching for her book of demons and demonology.

“I am Asterix, you will not find me in your texts,” Asterix said, “Consider me a fashioner of the cosmos, a dream keeper perhaps.”

Calypso’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected to summon anyone specific—just a being powerful enough to fulfill her desperate wish.

But now, faced with Asterix, she realized just how precarious her situation was. She had called upon a force beyond her comprehension, and now she stood at the precipice of a choice that could change everything.

“I need your help,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain composed.

“I would assume so, it is not every day I get summoned, nor are my brothers and sisters.” Asterix told her. He offered a smile, that was somehow threatening and soothing all at once. “Definitely not one of your power.”

“Right… well…” Calypso said, “My brother… I need you to protect him.”

Asterix’s smile widened ever so slightly, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light.

“Ah, the twin?” he murmured, stepping closer to the edge of the circle. “A bond as ancient as time itself. But you must understand, child, that all things come with a price.”

Calypso swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She had known there would be a cost—nothing this powerful could be gained without sacrifice—but the intensity of Asterix’s gaze made her feel as though he could see straight into her soul.

“Relax, dear, I am only trying to get to know you. I do not make deals with those who wish only for their benefit.” Asterix said, “You’re a twenty year old showgirl, you use your magic along side your brother, your twin at that to perform for unsuspecting townspeople.”

“Well, yea, but we-“

“Are under contract,” Asterix said, “Or rather, they made a contract and you were an expense. Perhaps even with one of my brethren.”

“Yes, but I’m not looking to get out of that,” Calypso said, “My brother is sick. Very sick. And as his sister, I feel it is my duty to protect him.”

“You are noble, to be willing to sell yourself to a demon if it means saving your brother,” Asterix said, “But I must warn you, everything comes with a price to pay.”

“I’m willing to pay it,” she said, her voice stronger now, fueled by her determination. “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

Asterix tilted his head slightly, studying her with a gaze that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality.

“You are brave,” he remarked, though there was something in his tone that suggested he found it amusing. “But bravery alone will not shield you from the consequences of this pact.”

He took another step forward, his presence pressing against the boundaries of the circle, testing its limits. The candles flickered wildly, the flames straining as if they were being pulled toward him.

“If you wish to protect your brother, I can grant you that,” Asterix continued, his voice low and hypnotic. “But know this—your magic, the very essence of your being, will become your burden. Each spell you cast, each power you wield, will exact a toll on your body and soul. The pain will be yours to bear. This also means it could very well destroy you.”

Calypso felt her breath catch, the weight of his words sinking in. The thought of her magic turning against her, of each spell causing her pain, was terrifying.

But the thought of losing Cassius was worse—far worse.

She couldn’t let that happen. Not when there was something she could do, even if it meant sacrificing herself in the process.

“I accept,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides.

Asterix’s smile grew wider, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Very well,” he intoned, his voice taking on a deeper resonance that seemed to echo through the room. “The pact is made.”

He extended his hand, and as he did, a tendril of darkness reached out from within the circle, wrapping around Calypso’s wrist like a serpent.

She gasped as a searing pain shot through her arm, spreading quickly through her entire body. It was as though something deep within her was being torn apart, twisted and reshaped by the demon’s power.

Calypso’s vision blurred, the room spinning as the pain intensified. She could feel the magic inside her shifting, warping, as if being branded with Asterix’s touch.

It was a pain unlike anything she had ever experienced, a burning, wrenching sensation that left her gasping for breath.

She clutched at her chest, her fingers digging into the fabric of her dress as she tried to ground herself against the onslaught.

Asterix watched her with an almost clinical detachment, his eyes glowing brighter as the pact solidified.

“The protection you seek is granted,” he said softly, his voice like velvet over steel. “But remember, young witch, that every spell you cast from this day forward will remind you of the price you have paid. The pain will be your constant companion, a reminder of the lengths you were willing to go to for the one you love.”

Calypso bit down on a cry as the pain reached its peak, her vision going white for a moment before slowly fading back.

She could feel the demon’s presence within her now, a dark thread woven into the very fabric of her being. It was done—there was no turning back.

Asterix withdrew his hand, the tendrils of darkness retreating back into the circle. Calypso slumped forward, her body trembling as the pain slowly ebbed away, leaving her feeling drained and hollow. She looked up at Asterix, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but her resolve remained unbroken.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from the strain.

Asterix inclined his head, his expression inscrutable.

“You are strong, Calypso Delacroix,” he said, his voice almost a purr. “Stronger than you know. But remember—strength comes at a cost. And you will feel that cost every time you wield the power you hold so dear.”

With that, the shadows around Asterix began to swirl, his form slowly dissolving back into the void from which he had emerged. His voice lingered in the air, echoing softly as he vanished from sight.

“Call upon me if you have need, but be warned—the price has been paid, and there are no bargains left to make.”

And then he was gone, the room returning to its previous stillness.

Calypso sat back on her heels, her body trembling from the strain of the ritual and the deal she had just made.

The room was silent, the candles flickering weakly in the aftermath of the summoning. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the weight of what she had done pressed down on her, heavy and unrelenting.

She had made a deal with a demon, a deal that would protect Cassius at the cost of her own well-being. But it was worth it—she knew it was. As long as Cassius was safe, she could endure anything.

She also knew nobody could know. Least of all Cassius. But, to her, it was more than worth it.

[ovaryacted]

For the get to know the writer thing!

Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic, i want to know ALL, i just LOOOOVE this things and the process of art/job, please don't be shy and share with us all you think before and if you're satisfied with every piece of your creative process.

—🎨 (the art anon)

Me getting an anon with an emoji makes me feel like I’m the leader of a country omg. It’s nice to meet you, and I’ve been meaning to answer this but I wanted to give you the best answer since mine would be more in depth lol.

So, my creative process can be very lengthy and hectic most of the time because I just have an active brain. It all starts with a thought, usually the tropes or ideas I get when it comes to writing come to me during the most mundane times. They’ll pop into my head when I’m listening to certain songs, or when I see something in particular outside I find for inspiration, but most of my ideas come to me in the shower or in my dreams crazy enough.

Afterwards, I come up with a vague idea branching off of that one thought I had, it’ll be a theme tied to a song maybe, like a regular bullet point that I add to my notes app and revisit later. When I have the energy or motivation to focus on that one singular thought, that’s when I brainstorm, which usually involves me chugging some coffee or wine to really get my brain working. I write random things about what I want to achieve, word count goal, keywords I want to add or pay attention to, and what I want the piece to show.

Once I’m happy with brainstorming, I outline to make up how I want the writing piece to flow or how I want readers to feel after they’re done reading it. I usually don’t do outlines even when I was back in school I didn’t use them. But with my own writing it just helps me keep my ideas organized so I don’t lose track of what I plan on putting down on the page.

Then really it’s just writing out my ideas as best as I can the first time around, which is always the hardest part for me. What I like to do is I like to finish writing everything in one go, no stress just write what first comes to my head. After I’m done, I’ll sleep on it for a day, and then come back to it to reread and edit it completely. I edit in 3 phases as crazy as that sounds but that’s what works for me and this is what it looks like:

1 - changes to the flow of the piece or additions to the idea/theme

2 - edit repeating words and phrases so I find synonyms or other ways to describe things

3 - grammatical errors and formatting of paragraphs, etc.

This was also the same way I’d do my big academic papers in college so it just carried over when I’m writing lol. I know it probably sounds a bit neurotic and crazy with how I’m describing it, but most of the time it takes me about a full week to write something I’m happy with. Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever been like super happy with my work. I always feel like I can do better or change things, and I have a bad habit of comparing myself because I take this seriously and only want to show ppl the best of my work. I know in the end I’ll only get better, but I’m glad I have a routine that works for me when it comes to creating. I will say, I’m getting more confident in my writing so I hope it sticks. :)

[theawakenedstate]

3 Spiritual Awakening Beginner Lessons I Would Pay to Know Now

Here are three key lessons that I learned on my spiritual awakening journey that honestly I wish I would’ve known at the beginning.

So, If I was a spiritual beginner or if I was new to spiritual awakening, these are the top three lessons that I wish I would’ve known at the beginning to really propel me forward on my own awakening journey, where I didn’t feel like I needed to trial and error everything.

There’s so much growth that happens when we do trial and error, but at the same time, I really wished there was like a roadmap or a guide or something that was easy to access that would’ve helped me on my journey. Let me save you some frustration, Time, and let’s be real RELIEF – When it comes to the spiritual awakening Journey.

Spiritual Awakening can be Challenging but it doesn’t have to be

Spiritual Awakening can be challenging when we’re first waking up, there are all sorts of discoveries and emotional rollercoasters. It causes a direct Mental and physiological shift on our reality. However, where it can go wrong for many people is when you start listening to the people who keep telling you Ascension is all about suffering and spiritual growth is about Pushing through your pain.

Now of course if you know me i am not remotely about spiritual bypassing anything, Pain DOES lead to growth. In the same way when you start a workout routine, your whole body might be incredibly sore and you want to sit on your ass for the next few days doing nothing – because you’re growing a new muscle you never grew before.

Our negative stories often reveal our positive strengths, and Polarity is a very real thing that universally exists since the beginning of time as we know it. At the same time, living in a Victim Mentality with your Spiritual Awakening and ascension symptoms is of disservice to yourself. It’s a VERY common problem that occurs and people are taught that it’s the only normal way of ‘ascension’. I stand up and CALL B.S.

I’ve met many people out there who are like that, where it’s just like, well, this is just another wave of ascension, so I better buckle down and handle it. You don’t have to live that way! While maybe i’ll get some triggered from this, i find it Ridiculous that it’s almost brainwashed into people especially if you’re NEW to the process.

AND on top of it, if you’re a spiritual seeker, you’ll eat that right up and think that’s the only way, which isn’t remotely true.

You can heal your Symptoms, you can manage your energy and you can also learn how to live from soul alignment so that you can even manifest a reality where you have hardly ANY SYMPTOMS. I know you can, because i’m living proof of it and so are many of my clients.

It lives in understanding your Energy and Your higher self.

There’s a Beautiful, Empowered, and Peaceful side of Awakening

I think it’s important to touch on, there is also a beautiful side of spiritual awakening. When you’re successfully navigating your spiritual awakening, you can start to own your intuitive gifts & your personal power. As you build your relationship to higher self, you begin to strengthen your intuition and your natural inherited manifesting capabilities. There’s so much beauty inside of spiritual awakening, and one of the things I’ve really been doing really just over the past three months is as I’m starting to write this book, I’ve just been really revisiting some of these core foundational concepts.

And it’s interesting how Awakening Has that spiral staircase effect where it’s like, wow, I wasn’t even seeing it like that before, but now it makes so much more sense.

So I wanna share with you in this week’s episode, what are the three lessons that I wish I would’ve known from the start of my journey

If you’re an Awakened Beginner or new to spirituality, these are the 3 key lessons I wish i knew from the start that would of helped me so so much. enjoy!

WATCH ON YOUTUBE

LISTEN ON THE PODCAST

What do you think? What are your own top spiritual lessons? I’d love to know! Let’s get a mass chain of spiritual lessons in the comments! 😼

Subscribe for weekly drops every Friday 🙏

P.S. The Soul Aligned Life Membership will be opening it’s doors this month! This is my monthly membership for learning how to take back control of your thoughts, and learn to navigate your spiritual awakening successfully! Stay Tuned in as a VIP by Signing up for my New series THE SPIRITUAL AWAKENING ROADMAP !

psttt, If you like this Episode, please share on socials (button below) and pin it for others to find! Thanks so much.

https://www.theawakenedstate.net/3-spiritual-awakening-beginner-lessons/

3 Spiritual Awakening Beginner Lessons I Would Pay to Know Now

Here are three key lessons that I learned on my spiritual awakening journey that honestly I wish I would’ve known at the beginning. So, If I was a spiritual beginner or if I was new to spiritual awakening, these are the top three lessons that I wish I would’ve known at the beginning to really […]

[anotheruserwithnoname]

Thoughts on Wednesday ep. 1

I don’t have time or energy to binge anymore but I did watch the first episode of Tim Burton’s Addams Family update series, Wednesday, and I have some thoughts.

Spoiler break ahead, but the tl;dr is I bloody loved it.

Thing gives somebody the finger. That pretty much is Exhibit A that this is a far cry from the John Astin/Carolyn Jones TV classic of the 1960s, or for that matter, Tim Burton’s own 1990s reimagining with Raul Julia that made Christina Ricci a star with her own version of the sociopathic Wednesday.

As can be expected from an updating, there are a number of ... updates to be had. Wednesday at times shifts from being pure evil (did she really kill 2 fellow students or is she just playing up? That’s left unclear but one bully does get his private parts chewed on by a piranha after he makes the mistake of bullying her brother, Pugsley) to being simply disturbed, in part due to an incident when she was a young child that is as close to an origin story as we’re likely to get. At the same time, Wednesday’s relationship with her parents (Catherine Zeta Zones as Morticia, revisiting her accent from The Mark of Zorro, and Luis Guzman, whose casting was a bit controversial, as the first-ever comic strip-accurate live-action Gomez) is strained, to put it mildly. So after the aforementioned piranha incident, she is sent to a boarding school called Nevermore, which is basically Hogwarts with the training wheels taken off.

At Hogwarts, she remains a bit of an outcast though in the episode she does begin to form friendships (or, at least, aliiances) with some of her classmates including Enid, a werewolf who is upset that she can’t actually change into one, and a guy who tends a coffee shop in the town, who bonds with her.

Jenna Ortega is absolutely amazing as Wednesday. Her unblinking performance as the troubled Wednesday (the series makes no attempt to hide the fact she’s messed up, though the question is left open whether Wednesday likes it that way or not), who in this more supernatural-tinged series has begun developing psychic powers, is absolutely amazing and if she isn’t nominated for an Emmy I’ll be surprised. Even in the first episode there are some moments that may come to be considered iconic in the future: her fencing (dressed in black), the piranha pool scene, and an absolutely incredible cello performance of Paint it Black. 

There are also some surprises. After being omitted from all the promos, we actually get to see Lurch again (at least in the first episode there’s no indication of him being any more than a background character, though) - Uncle Fester arrives later in the season according to the “coming soon” trailer that ends the episode. Gwendoline Christie is enigmatic as the headmistress, who might be more than she appears. Christina Ricci - the original Tim Burton Wednesday - is also in the series, playing another administrator at the school who, while clearly not meant to be a riff on Wednesday, still shares some of the traits of Ortega’s version (she’s last seen feeding venus fly-traps). 

There are some nice touches - details the original series and even the movies never went into - like having Thing apparently communicate at one point by what appears to be a form of (or maybe the actual) sign language. Which makes perfect sense, though the only thing I wasn’t a big fan of in the episode was how Wednesday treats Thing. That felt a little off to me.

The first season of eight episodes dropped all at once (I hate that - kills a show’s momentum and results in spoiler reviews coming out before the show has even been online for 8 hours), so whether it maintains the strengths of the pilot remain to be seen (I have seen a clip from an amazing dance routine Ortega does later in the season). Right now the show also has a bit of a early Riverdale feel to it, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing since that show in its early days was the closest TV got to replicating the Twin Peaks esthetic I’ve seen. 

I’ve written before about how remakes and updatings of old shows generally suck. Either they get bogged down in present-day politics (in order to “make things right”) or they forget what made the show popular in the first place (Ving Rhames, you’re amazing, but Kojak can only be made with Telly Savalas) or they approach the original with some level of distain. Burton we know respects the source material, and he has chosen well in casting Jenna Ortega, who (with all respect to Christina Ricci and Lisa Loring) is already the best Wednesday Addams ever based on a single episode.

And we get to see Thing give somebody the finger. It’s a win for everybody!

[tacobellpotatotaco]

i’m sighing so hard rn man. this will be so bad for all of us but i need to put myself first. it’s hard to imagine but it’s not impossible. if anything i’m thankful to see this all go down to know that i’m worth more than being talked to like that and it makes what’s going to happen a lot easier. he should be the one paying it off not me. i don’t know how he’ll decide it between his friends but it’s not my issue anymore. i still wonder why he would say all those things when lawyers can’t help anyone here. if he calls in all 911 calls are public record so. there’s that. and even if it was anonymous everyone will know who the first rat is, doesn’t even matter. i told people he’s my top enemy. i feel breathless. I feel like i’m floating away. when i read it all back and logged onto desktop i was so confused.

i really hope i’ll be okay. i don’t want this to be forever for me. this is me fighting for mine, he got his and i get mine. i just want a shot at life. i’ve made everything for myself. i can work hard and i do, i do it well and i know that about myself even if it’s hard to admit it. i just got nothing to show for it. i get nothing but disrespect and i hurt and it aches. i wish uriel could be proud of me because he means it. he shows me the way and tells me i’m so bright. and he’s always telling me in new ways how lovely i am. i miss him. i still watch his stories. sometimes i choke up and go numb. it was hard to finally get over david, even up until a few weeks ago. i spent so much energy on a boy who has no regard for me. i get literally stomped on for him. hardly a sorry, and definitely not a thank you once. i’ve been paying for him the past month now. Thousands. he wouldn’t even take me out on dates. he hated me and hated being around me. scowling, even. i remember this story he told me of him and his brother. every time they had to go somewhere together he would scoff and his brother would be rightfully sad and pissed. this guy don’t want me nowhereee i remember he quoted him. i always felt that way that past year. I wondered if they could rekindle, become stronger than ever, maybe one day, maybe. and now i never want to revisit that. i don’t care if his life or money depends on me anymore. i just hate feeling hated. and it hasn’t changed, he hasn’t changed. he’s mean like a kid, like a good awful kid who even the best teacher gets short with. i think that’s why it’s making me sad that i want to cut the line of him and me. he pays direct and they won’t necessarily be nice. i’m strong even though it never seems that way. i can read people and i know how i feel and how they make me feel, i know this world better than most people would assume. i don’t want him to be scared or for people to be mean to him. but i got my shit rocked, too. nothing in this world is fair. but you do what you can. i can’t spend this life without moving on, and this is moving on. i can free myself of this burden because it’s not even my own to carry. i get so sad when he contacted me acting like he was my friend. first he tried to make me feel bad, then nostalgic. i seemed to have been falling for it too up until he called. he never thought to apologize, which would have made it all go away, even then. even a year later that apology hasn’t came. and if he apologizes now, all he says is i’m sorry jenny, MY mental health is ruined. me me me me. he just gets what he wants. what about what i want? it’s too late for apologies now. they don’t do anything. he never made it right or better. he had no plans to. i remember that night we were breaking up in april. It hurt so bad. I love his dad so much. i remember we were in our apartment, and i said he needed to make this right. he said he’s been with people who treated him like shit and they never did anything for him. Nice. thanks for that. leave it as is, no need to be sorry if it’s over. get off the hook easy. easy, easy absolution. i cried in his dads arms. In arlene’s room. i’ve never been more sick. his mom, i reached for his mom, my arms out, my eyes were pouring. Im sorry i couldn’t take care of your son. google translate. it’s pathetic. arlene, arlene. his dad comes in. i’m breathless again. whyd this come down this way? i wore a skirt. i thought he would like how i felt because all the weight i lost, i looked nice, or at least that’s what i thought. the skirt stayed in the back of the closet for months, stale. in the donation pile. I contemplated. i snatched it back. i wore it for uriel once. he said i looked sweet, innocent, like a doll. we didn’t even have sex that night, but he stares and stares and smiles and combs through my hair and kisses me and pulls me in. i like falling asleep on his chest. are you awake? come here i want to kiss you. and then he squeezes me. and he’ll turn every now and then just to see me and meet my eyes with his. i cry. i miss him.

[sukepami]

Dear S,

Before you start reading this, I’ll need you to promise me something. It is not the hardest thing to ask of you, nor it is the simplest, but please, hear my plea: do not ever mention any of the things I’ll write further down this e-mail to anyone else, not even me. Don’t remind me of it. Don’t make me think about it. Do not ever, ever show even the barest inkling of knowledge about whatever it is that festers in these pages. If you can’t do this, please stop reading right now and simply send it to your junk mail. 

I’ve been thinking of writing to you ever since I asked if you remembered your old address. I didn’t do it because I forgot; I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten even the tiniest detail about you. Much on the contrary. I remember it all, in painstaking clarity, all your thoughts and opinions, what it is that makes you tick, what you hate, what you love. I know every single thing that once appealed to you and you let it go as years went by, how your world changed with your age. How, little by little, you forgot me too, like some infant dream you were finally ready to part ways with. As you may or may not know, things didn’t go the same for me.

Between the two of us, you were always the most level headed one. While you from time to time entertained my childlike wonder for the world and all the things I discovered as I grew up, you stood focused, not letting anything stray you from your path. You fought hard not to let the crackling energy housed inside you explode and, in turn, you had to find a different approach when it came to life. Your intensity made you sullen on the outside, expressionless. Even then, it could never make me admire you any less. In fact, it did the opposite: the more you pushed people away, the more I wanted in. To this day, you are still my most hard-fought over friend, the most special of them all. I never wanted to understand you. All I wanted was to stay close and bask in your light, even if only for a while.

What I’m trying to get at is that talking to you again is making me revisit some of the most bittersweet memories of my entire life. I could cope fairly well if you never made yourself known, but having you day in, day out in my line of sight and texting me out of the blue is doing things to me I can’t even understand. It hurts me, yet I’m still desperate for it, and maybe that is the reason why I entertain each and every one of your unsympathetic chimes, breaking me with the absolute disinterest with which you talk to me. If you don’t want to, why do you keep doing it? Why won’t you let me be?

Somehow, in this whirlwind of chaos, I still find a thousand reasons why I should never cut the cord. Knowing your whereabouts is vital to me, tranquilizes me in the most sickening way. A few weeks ago, I passed by your training room and peeked at you fighting like a man possessed, no light in your eyes. Days later, you walked past me on the street, but yet again I didn’t have the heart to say hello. Your air scares me, makes me want to pull away. How much of a coward does it make me, to hide whenever you’re around? Will I ever be able to face what you have become and not break down when I realize you’re not the friend I cherished so terribly anymore?

I just wish there was a way to know you’re still doing somewhat fine. You told me your dad’s been well and your mom’s fought depression again. What problems loom in your life? I’d do anything to be able to help. If you could spare me the tiniest bit of attention, the smallest of kindnesses, this selfish thing that beats for you inside me would finally be put at ease. If not, to forget you would be the immediate second desire I tend to so fiercely. To have my friend the way I do now is pure despair. To not have you wouldn’t change much about it. Still, I’d take your hatred over invisibility any day.

I missed writing to you too much. I hope you forget everything about this e-mail. 

Love, ten 

[revellier]

Some observations rewatching Good Omens S1 in prep for S2:

Even after 4 years of watching Sheen and Tennant becoming Sheen&Tennant, I’m happy to say that I still just see Aziraphale & Crowley when they’re on screen

That said, there are moments when I still see Tennant as the Doctor — mostly when he’s yelling. Still got that Oncoming Storm energy.

The special effect of them taking their escalators to reach heaven and hell still wows me every time

I love all the side characters and am a little sad we won’t revisit some of them in S2

On the other hand, the female characters in S1 leave something to be desired in terms of agency (and having any scenes that pass Bechdel?) so I’m hoping that changes with so many new ones being touted as prominent in the new season

I hope we eventually get to see the origin of Crowley and the Bentley. Maybe not a 28 minute cold open, but at least a good 10-15

There’s a whole post in my head analyzing Aziraphale’s thrill-seeking tendencies, but I’ll abstain until after S2

Despite a dozen+ rewatches, I still don’t understand why “You go too fast for me” is viewed as a romantic moment. Sure, it’s a great, dramatic line and sums up how Aziraphale views himself (inaccurately; did I mention the thrill-seeking thing? 👀) and their relationship, but I just find it sad

One of the most impressive things about the Hard Times cold open is how effectively it grounded and fleshed out characters that had spent most of the first 2 episodes feeling quite fantastical and at times even cartoonish. They did more in 28 minutes than what some shows manage in a whole season

[mrlnsfrt]

Principles for Navigating Life

How do you navigate life?

Do you intentionally choose how you live or do you allow others to decide for you how you will live your life?

Are you moving intentionally towards a goal or are you simply cruising with the current consistently choosing the path of least resistance?

I do not have life all figured out, but I am constantly correcting and adjusting my course. I often review my habits, take notice of how I am spending my time and energy and how I invest my precious resources (attention, focus, energy, health, etc). I hope that this post, briefly outlining how I tackle this topic, will help you navigate your life.

I have heard people claiming they are being authentic. Sadly many times it comes across more like an excuse for careless behavior. “I am just being me” can be the equivalent of “I have no idea why I did this,” or “it felt right at the moment.”

Maybe you have met people who later regret doing what felt right at the moment. I am not saying you will never regret your choices. But I do believe that with more careful thought you can significantly diminish your regrets in life.

Get a piece of paper, or a journal, or just open a note app on your phone and let’s make some lists.

What are your core values? (What do you value most at this point in your life?

Based on your core values, what does your authentic self look like?

How do you want to be remembered?

These questions are worth careful thought. I revisit questions like this about once a month. I want to live according to what I value, and if I do not ask myself this question frequently, I end up living my life according to the value of others. Your parents, your teachers, your friends, your boss, and your spouse, all have some idea of who they want you to be. Those are not necessarily bad things, but are you becoming who you believe you are meant to be or what others want you to be?

Whatever your choice is, just be aware of it, instead of mindlessly just going with the flow.

Now that you have given some thought to your core values and what your authentic self would look like, take a moment to list your top five priorities.

I wonder if I should share mine or not. I really want you to develop your own. but if you’re curious about mine I’ll list them below.

But I strongly suggest you not read mine until you have written out your top five or at least your top 3.

My current top 5 priorities in life are

God

My Wife

My Kids

My health

My ministry (career/calling)

When I list my wife and kids I mean their well-being, not that I would always do what they want. In other words, if my wife needs something, and I would rather spend my money on something else because it would be more fun for me, I would place her needs above my desires. The same goes for my kids. This does not mean I neglect my personal needs. If it ever becomes a life or death situation I am willing to die for my wife or my kids. This also means that I will not sacrifice the well-being of my wife and kids for my personal gain (career, fame, money, etc). Though I am willing to sacrifice my health for my wife and kids I am not willing to do that for my ministry. Does this make sense?

Also, I place my wife above my kids because it is better for my kids when my wife and I are together. I believe if I were to neglect my spouse for the “sake” of my kids, my kids would end up losing in the end.

The only thing in my life that outranks my wife and kids is God. Because of my faith in who God is as revealed in the Bible, I strongly believe He is worthy of all that I am and all that I have, I live for Him and everything else that is good in my life comes from Him.

This is where the rubber meats the road. Now that you have listed your priorities, with the understanding that your priorities reflect your core values, how much time and resources have you dedicated to your priorities this past week? What about this past moth?

Here is the challenge. If you claim to have certian values and priorities, but the way you invest your time and recources does not reflect those same values, you may have preferred values that are not actually real values. our daily habits and decisions reveal what our true values are. If you claim a certain value and priority, yet not allocate any time or recourse towards it, can you really say you value it?

This is tricky. You do not want to lie to yourself. I often think about this. If I claim my wife to be my number two priority in life and yet I did nothing to help her this past week, is she really a priority in my life? Same with my kids, how muhc of my time and effort was dedicated towards them? What about my perosnal health? My ministry? Most importantly God. If I claim God to be my number one priority, yet I spent little to no time in any type of spiritual activity is God really my top priority?

Write down what seem to be your real priorities based on how you allocated time, attention, and other resources this past week and month.

What kept you from investing in your priorities? (the ones you listed above?)

What changes do you need to make in order for your allocation of time, attention, focus, energy, and resources, to match your (listed) priorities?

The next step for me is to consider what the Bible has to say about life. I realize there is a whole lot that the Bible says about life, but here are some key verses to get you started. These verses do a great job of encapsulating the big picture in a succinct way.

With what shall I come before the Lord, And bow myself before the High God? Shall I come before Him with burnt offerings, With calves a year old? 7 Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, Ten thousand rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, The fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?

8 He has shown you, O man, what is good; And what does the Lord require of you But to do justly, To love mercy, And to walk humbly with your God? - Micah 6:6-8 NKJV

In your notes or journal write down what you think this verse means. Put it in your own words.

In light of this verse, should you make any changes to your priorities? Does this verse help you consider what your life goals are and how you plan to achieve them?

I find these verses also incredibly powerful and challenging.

6 “Is this not the fast that I have chosen: To loose the bonds of wickedness, To undo the heavy burdens, To let the oppressed go free, And that you break every yoke? 7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, And that you bring to your house the poor who are cast out; When you see the naked, that you cover him, And not hide yourself from your own flesh? 8 Then your light shall break forth like the morning, Your healing shall spring forth speedily, And your righteousness shall go before you; The glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. 9 Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; You shall cry, and He will say, ‘Here I am.’

“If you take away the yoke from your midst, The pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, - Isaiah 58:6-9 NKJV

How does this verse impact your view of what life should be about?

Are there any things you wish to add to your priorities, goals, and daily routine?

I read these passages and consider my life and how much of these activities described by Isaiah are a part of my life, and if not what I can do to include them.

Consider what you believe God is calling you to do (in a practical sense) based on Micah 6:6-8 and Isaiah 58:6-9.

How can you live this out in a practical way this week? This month? What would your life look like?

Write it down in your journal or notes app.

Now let us add a verse from the New Testament. This is the last verse I’ll ask you to consider in this post.

What does “seeking the kingdom of God first” look like in your life right now?

What would “seeking the kingdom of God” look like for you this week? This month?

Now combine everything.

Your top 5 priorities.

Your core values.

When you consider what God calls you to do.

What should your life look like?

What are your life goals and how do you plan to accomplish them?

I pray that this exercise can at least get you started on living life more intentionally.

Let me know your thoughts on the comments below.

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa: Pt 12,   “Almost bit the Apple”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

“If I can make it There, I’ll make it Anywhere!”

It was suggested to me online that I revisit my journey in New York City leading up to my early career in music. NY has always been such a vibrant, exciting city, full of energy and so much culture. Understandably, it's enticing to hear about. I've been giving that a lot of thought because it's unhealthy to dwell in some of the events surrounding 9/11 and what ultimately ended my singing and Broadway aspirations. But I've also remembered countless individual experiences and conversations leading up to and during that time in my life which have been interesting to revisit.

To get to New York State initially was quite the undertaking and began my senior year of high school. Dr. Jim Bane, director of Band at Cleveland Heights High School, was a strong positive influence in my pursuing my music ambitions. Jim was incredibly supportive and encouraging of my musical pursuits. When I was accepted into Eastman, Jim allowed me to spend my lunch time, every day, in his office, dialing for scholarship applications and grants so that I could attend. Without his help, I surely would have gone to Baldwin Wallace in Ohio, which offered me a full ride (boy, was that a conversation with my parents, lol). It was also Jim Bane who introduced me to the Cleveland Youth Wind Symphony where I served as principal flutist for the three years. The CYWS was the symphony I later sang with, post 9-11, in Severance Hall. The last performance of my career before ultimately losing my voice.

In 1997 (whoa...!) I graduated from the distinguished Eastman School Of Music with a BM in Voice and began driving every week from Rochester to Manhattan for one hour lessons with the incredibly revered and talented John Mace and Richard Dorr. How I survived this year-plus, exhausting pilgrimage is beyond me. I suppose youthful determination was the key. But what wasn’t happening was my ability to find a permanent place to live in NYC.  Here I was, with opportunity in front of me, but no where to live in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I was marching all over Manhattan- on foot- looking for work with my self-manifested modeling portfolio and fashion designs (the ones I was penning during rehearsals) in hand. At some point, I briefly befriended a restaurant owner who was good friends with the then uber-popular fashion designer Elie Tahari. He got me a meeting with the designer. Wow!

I’ll never forget, after waiting nearly an hour for our meeting, the sight while sitting in Elie Tahari’s offices, when the elevator doors finally opened to Ellie with three of his staff flanking him, all on phones and scribbling things down, sweeping through the foyer and into a nearby room, filled with fabric bolts. I was called to go in and meet him, ready to show my fashion designs. Elie motioned for me to sit next to him as a fit model in a nice pair of denim jeans paced back and forth in front of us. I knew he was squeezing me in and I was happy for it. Then he asked for my book and leafed through my designs, still conducting business with his team. A few “mm hmms” later, he handed me back my book and stated “you’re an illustrator”. Now, granted my designs were more intricate than the modern, streamlined brand he was famous for, but I did fancy myself capable of designing what I penned. Elie asked me to stand and turn around for him. Said maybe he could use me as a fit model. But- fit as I was- I was only 5′5″. Oh well. A few years later, I’d begun framing and selling my fashion illustrations to private collectors and fashion enthusiasts. Thank you Elie! But I’d still love to do something with the thousands of original designs I’ve created which- currently- live in volumes, in boxes.

Through the restaurateur, I was also introduced to a statuesque and shapely transwoman named Octavia. She was sassy, very New York, and a hoot to behold. She invited me to what would have been my first drag show (don’t worry, I enjoyed many once I got to Hollywood), but I stopped spending time with them after the owner did a line of coke behind my back with his buddy. Not my scene.

Also in New York, I was interviewed at FHM Magazine as an emerging talent. I did my face and hair nice, put on a cute outfit and marched up to the building just as the door opened and an entourage of 13 or so poured out, surrounding another up and comer, Jennifer Lopez. When I got into the room, the interviewer was already making decisions to print her interview. He sat in front of me, half paying attention. The wall behind him displayed photos of The Spice Girls, tacked on it in a row. They would be printed in the next months publication. I was clearly “no one”. This is one of those memories which make me angry over missed time. I got a late start on my dreams. Had I broken free of that despicable, controlling boss years earlier, who knows if I would have been walking out of a major magazine interview, with an entourage, launching my own singing career/ empire.

I just found a note to myself entitled “the German” and giggled remembering this next part of my New York  experience. While subletting a room in a railway apartment on the upper West Side, my “roommate”- a fun, quirky voice over talent also named Lisa- and I shared a few interesting moments together wherever the third roommate subletted her room out to subsidize her portion of rent. On one occasion, the subleasee was a German man (maybe early 30′s) who was in the States on a grant to research Death. Some institution had bestowed financial resources upon this already odd and terse man so that he could sit bedside and watch people pass away, and involve himself in things which brought him closer to understanding Death and the Human condition as it deals with it’s own demise. Needless to say, I avoided conversations with the guy (as did Lisa 2.0). Sometimes, they were unavoidable, and there we're no witnesses.

One night, German dude caught me solo in the apartment and began to discuss his research. He told me of an art exhibit he’d attended where the entrance way was flanked by two naked people (a man and a woman). You couldn't enter without turning your body to the side. He enjoyed (too much) speculating about which way I might turn to enter, sizing me up and down to see how I might react to his inquiry. Then he mentioned another, earlier, exhibit by a controversial performance artist who publicized a disclaimer that whatever happened to her during the performance was her will. Upon a long table in the room were various items attendees could “use” to interact with her: scissors, rope, paint, a boa, various knives, tape, a loaded gun... The German declared he would enjoy using the knife on this artist, and explained his fascination with her Work, while moving uncomfortably closer to me and making slashing gestures at my torso with an imaginary knife. I did not move a single muscle. It was at this moment that Lisa 2.0 came home and walked into our living room- eyes wide- and asked “how’s it going?”. Both Lisa’s were thrilled the next night when The German called to say he wouldn’t be coming home because he was arrested for jumping a subway turnstile. Guess that’s legal in Europe.

(For the record, that Artist he adored was the infamous Marina Abramović. The work was “Rhythm 0″ which - I recall- ended with a loaded gun pointed at the artists head.)

Ahhhhhhh... I Love New York.

      (To be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo  @LTarantinoDesigns)