#rediscovered it and immediately began work in it

[jenuinely-speaking]

Haven't been able to write at all the past two weeks and it seems even Spotify is on my side tonight 🙌🏽

It's time to get this first monster chapter done and possibly post some previews and back story for this AU. Been working on it for almost a year and it's been sizzling in the slow cooker 🤌🏽

Sneak peak tag of story one of the collection in the tags

[cosmicdahlias]

Fuck Me Like You Hate Me

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

You’re so tired and overworked from trying to prevent Weirdmageddon. Ford proposes some much needed stress relief.

warnings: rough sex, choking, slapping

okay so full disclosure the title is ripped from a seether song, i’ve been rediscovering the music i listened to as a teen and i was immediately inspired.

You sat hunched over your desk, going over the journals. You were reviewing every possible way to prevent and stop Bill. You hadn’t properly slept in days, working yourself to the point of exhaustion until your body gave out and forced you to sleep. You stared at the rift, how could such a small thing be such a looming threat?

Ford descended the stairs with a fistful of unicorn hair, seems like Mabel’s quest was successful.

“Afternoon, y/n, how are things goi-“ He stopped, a look of concern spread across his face. “Oh honey, you look so exhausted.”

He came up behind you and began massaging your shoulders. “You need a break, burning the candle at both ends won’t do you any good.”

Your brow furrowed. “Ford, how can you say that? The whole world, no the universe is at stake.”

He turned your chair to face him. “And what good are you to the universe if you’re too exhausted to even keep your head up?” He said taking your cheek in his hand.

You leaned into his touch, covering his hand with yours for a second before the grave reality at hand set back in, you shook your head.

“Ford, I- we don’t have time for this. What if Bill-“

He kissed you hard. “Forget about Bill for just this moment, focus on me, only me. Listen, you’ve been so overworked and stressed out. I can sense it immediately from across the room. And I think I have a solution. Use me, let out all of that pent up emotion out on me. I know you need this”

“Ford, seriously, I can’t. I really need to go over the journals.”

He took your hands in his. “Stardust, I love you, but I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

You blushed. “Ford, no, what if I-“

“Hurt me? Baby, there’s not a thing you could do to hurt me.” He chuckled.

You weighed the pros and cons. No, you couldn’t. Preventing Weirdmageddon was your top priority. You refused to let yourself be distracted, not even for a second.

“I’m sorry, but really I need to get back to work, you should too.”

You turned around, returning to the task at hand.

He cocked and eyebrow and crossed his arms. “What? Are you scared?”

You buried your face into the pages, electing to ignore him.

Ford let out a huff. “Fucking say something, come on!”

You put up a hand, a clear signal that you were too busy for this.

“Don’t be such a cunt.” He said, knowing full well how much you hated being called that, but it worked. You turned around in your chair, holy fucking shit you wanted to tear him apart.

“Excuse me?”

He could see that he got to you. “Ohhhohoho, you don’t like that, do you? What are you gonna do? Are you just gonna stand there and take it?”

You stood up, knocking your chair to the floor. You seized the collar of his trench coat, pulling him into a furious kiss. You felt him smirk against your lips, he had won.

You broke away, grabbing his wrist and basically dragging him up the stairs, leading him down the hallway to his room. You passed by Stan, who laughed his ass off when he saw your face.

“Oh geez, what’d ya do this time, sixer?”

“Shut it.” You seethed through gritted teeth.

“Whoa, touchy. Guess you’re in for it now.” He said, patting Ford on the back.

You slammed the door behind you, pouncing on Ford. You practically ripped his clothes off and they scattered to the floor. You shoved him onto the bed and you began removing your clothes. You looked down at him, still seeing red.

He wanted you to hate fuck him? Fine, you were going to rock his shit so hard that he wouldn’t be able to see straight for months. You sat next to him on the bed and spat in his face, his cock twitched wildly.

“I like this side of you. I should call you a cunt more often.”

That did it. You reeled a hand back, slapping him in the face. It barely registered.

“You call that a slap?”

He raised his hand and brought it down sharply on your ass, you yelped.

“THAT’S a slap.” He growled.

You reeled your hand back for a second time and struck him hard on the face. His head snapped to the side, he blinked a few times, vision blurry.

You gave him a second to recover before moving to straddle his face.

“Are you gonna sit on my face? Do it, fucking smother me.” He growled.

You sank yourself down on him and he took your clit in his mouth.

“That’s it, grind on me.”

He wrapped his hands around your thighs, trying to pull you as close as he could, eating you out like it was his last meal. You bucked your hips as he lapped at you. He loved this, he loved having his mouth on you, the way you bucked your hips against his tongue. He could spend all day between your thighs if you’d let him.

Your breathing became shallow, you were close. Ford took notice, quickening the pace of his tongue.

“That’s it, cum on tongue, cum on my fucking tongue.”

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, grinding yourself desperately on him, feeling yourself cum on his face. You threw your head back in ecstasy, moaning loudly. He tightened his grip on your thighs, trying to coax a second orgasm out of you. You rocked your hips as you came again.

You slid yourself off his face, sitting on his hips, his cock pressed against your ass. You looked down to see his stubbled chin covered in your cum, god he looked so hot like that. You leaned down and kissed him sloppily, licking yourself off him. You reached your hands down and pinched his nipples, tugging them hard. He moaned loudly and his cock throbbed on your ass.

You hovered yourself over his length and sank yourself down onto him. He reached his hands up to grip your waist and started to buck his hips into you. You seized his wrists and pinned them above his head, you weren’t going to let him have control, not this time.

“I knew if I pissed you off enough that you’d get like this, you’re such a slut, riding my cock like this. You- mmf.”

You covered his mouth with your hand. He seized your wrist and pulled it off of him.

“What’d you think that was gonna do? You wanna shut me up? Make me. How’re you gonna do it, huh? How’re you gonna do it?”

You slapped him hard across the face.

“Oh yeah? You think slapping me is gonna work? Because I’m still talking.”

You pulled yourself off of him and he whined at the loss of your pussy around his cock. You picked his belt up off the floor, returned yourself on top of him, sliding him back inside you and slipped the belt around his throat.

“Are you gonna choke me? Do it, fucking asphyxiate me.” He growled.

You pulled the belt, it dug into his neck. He managed to choke out a moan.

“Not so talkative now, are you?” You taunted.

He nodded submissively. It wasn’t often that he showed you this side of him, opting to be the dominant one, but god you loved having him under you. You pulled down the belt, temporarily loosening your grip. You leaned down and bit hard on his neck, he whimpered loudly.

“God I love when you hurt me like that, stardust.”

You tightened the belt again, his cock twitched wildly inside you.

He tried to speak, but with the belt the words were unintelligible, you released your grip again.

“Can I cum in you?”

“Grammar, Ford.” You teased.

He chuckled. “May I cum in you?”

“Good boy, that’s better.”

You picked up your pace, giving him the ride of his life.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, dear god you feel incredible.” He said, breathing ragged.

His moans were deafening as he came inside you, filling you with his cum.

He laid his head back on the pillow panting, words failing him. All he could do was look at you, god you were so beautiful.

He reached up, cupping your cheek. “Feel better?”

“Regrettably, yes.”

“See? I told you that you needed this. Next time don’t be such a cunt.” He teased.

You slapped him lightly.

“That was very much deserved.” He chuckled.

You pulled yourself off of him, removing the belt from his neck. Ford laid on his side pulling you into a spoon, sighing deeply. You laid with him for a moment before the anxiety over Weirdmageddon returned.

You moved to get up. “Okay I really need to get back to researchi-“

Ford pulled you back against him. “I know, I know, but just stay with me for a while, please.”

You huffed, but knew this is what you needed. You began to feel drowsy, you tried to fight it, but felt sleep overtake you.

-

When you awoke an hour later you both got dressed and went to make your way back downstairs, passing by Stan again. He smirked.

“Heh heh, sorted things out did ya?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Stanley. I can always count on you to be mature.”

[the-queen-and-the-king]

A little piece of paradise - 13

The team is investing on the return of The Reaper. Aaron is studying the documents of the case in his hotel room and his phone rings.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss (and a tiny bit of Dave at the end)

Contents: smut, hand job, oral sex, multiple orgasms NSFW/Minors DNI

This text will be an AU with a sudden canon-divergence. I wrote it when I was rewatching the show, so many chapters will be directly related to some episodes of season 4. There will be 28 chapters.

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3

___

He had spread out all the pieces of the Reaper file on the mattress. Photos, autopsy reports, witness statements. And he reread for the umpteenth time the testimony of one of the victim's relatives. George Foyet’s girlfriend’s one. There was something not quite right about the whole thing. Somewhere there was a grain of sand preventing the whole machinery from working properly. But he couldn't put his finger on it. His phone suddenly rang, and he looked up from his papers. He picked up the phone and a voice called out to him:

“Aaron.”

“Emily?”

“I want you.”

He tossed the paper sleeve on the bedspread, smiling.

“Do you want to come?”

“No. You, come.”

He looked at his watch. It was late, but clearly neither of them was tired.

“Okay. I’m coming.”

He hung up, retrieved his room access card, and left, holding the door so it wouldn't slam. He watched around and hurried across the corridor before scratching against the wallpaper of the other ingress. His lover opened immediately, smiling from ear to ear. She was wrapped in a thick bathrobe and from what he could see of her cleavage, she wasn't wearing much underneath. A realization that warmed his belly.

She closed behind him with the same delicacy, then he pressed her against the wall to exchange a languorous kiss with her. Her arms around his neck, her fingers foraging through his dark hair, she girdled his hips with her legs. He pressed his pelvis against hers, his erect penis meeting the resistance of panties through his own layers of fabric. He was still wearing most of his clothes, but it was only a matter of minutes before he had nothing on. And the same was true for his companion.

As if to prove it, she untied his tie in a flash. He slipped the sleeves of the fleecy bathrobe off her shoulders, revealing a bra that showed more skin than it hid. They looked at each other, and the same hungry smile appeared on their lips. He kissed the nape of her neck; she unbuttoned his shirt. He explored the contours of her breasts with his mouth, and she interrupted him long enough to pull the collar of his T-shirt over his head.  He unbuckled her belt to reveal the stocking, which combined with this minimalist top to form a naughty ensemble that left him not at all indifferent. She rested her feet on the ground to unbuckle his belt and give more room to his standing sex.

Both in their underwear, they made their way to the bed, kissing and caressing each other. She led him to lie on his back, and he made no effort to struggle. He didn't care whether he was above or below, as long as they made love and were satisfied in the end.

She put her lips against his and he felt her fingers slip under the elastic of his boxers. She clasped his member and began a series of back-and-forth movements that drew a moan of pleasure from him. Masturbation was an activity he'd stopped doing when he'd met Haley – he'd had no use for it since she'd fulfilled his needs. After their separation, he'd lost interest. But when Emily had manually stimulated him for the first time, he'd rediscovered all the emotions that had driven him, as a teenager, to do it again and again.

Still, he'd rather thrust inside her, feel her arch under his assaults, her nails digging into the skin of his back and hear her moan his first name as she neared orgasm, but he wouldn't say no to that kind of attention. Especially when she herself agreed to let him slip his phalanges between her intimate lips, as he suddenly longed to do. Except that she was placed too far away for his guiding hand, and his right hand wasn't dexterous enough to take over. He tried to devise a strategy to bring her close to him, but all his thoughts vanished when he was caught by the growing fire in his lower abdomen.

She continued her gestures knowingly, fully aware of the fire she was stoking within him. He clung to the sheets as best he could as she made the final movements that brought him deliverance. He lost his footing in reality very briefly when his body expelled its seed, then his mind quickly recomposed itself.

“Come,” he ordered, taking her arm.

Gently, he guided her towards him so that she straddled his shoulders and came to sit almost on his face. She had understood his intentions and had therefore removed her panties very slowly before his eyes before doing what he expected of her. Placing his palms on her thighs, his mouth gingerly captured her clitoris, and he perceived his lover's sigh of ease. He then delved into his repertoire of techniques, expanded year after year, to redress the balance. She'd made him come, now it was her turn.

Following the undulations of his lover's pelvis and the injunctions that gushed from her throat, he licked, sucked, lapped up her nectar and kissed her bud in a controlled rhythm. Emily braced herself against the headboard, her torso shaking as much from the effort of holding this position as from the waves of delight pulsing through her veins. From his vantage point, he could see her half-open mouth, from which excited moans escaped, and her closed eyelids beneath her furrowed brows. The first “Aaron” took flight, quickly followed by a whole squadron and, finally, she surrendered, her abdomen wracked with spasms.

She pulled away so as not to smother him, but snuggled up to him, her dark eyes shining with recognition. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t need to talk. They'd been having sex long enough to know that the evening wasn't over yet. This was just an appetizer. To confirm this, they kissed and immediately embraced with renewed energy. He cocked again and his partner smiled at the sight. She held him on his back and didn't even pretend to make it last with a few caresses. She impaled herself on his stiffened spear and whimpered with pleasure. He himself exhaled a grunt of satisfaction.

Her crotch was warm, moist, and perfectly suited to his anatomy. When he entered it, he had the sensation of being where he should have been, and extracting himself from it was an unpleasant moment every time. Emily's hips rolled over his pelvis with some alacrity, and he had to stop her to realize what was on his mind. Usually, he enjoyed seeing her above him, as he could admire the view without having to support his own weight; but this time, he was too far away. After stopping her – as best he could – he sat up, kissed her, unhooked her bra, sent it waltzing and kissed her liberated breasts. Then, intoxicated by her natural scent, he instinctively took over the reins of their erotic dance by pushing into her. The female profiler went with him on the spot, and, in each other's arms, they united fiercely until he poured into her. As is often the case, Emily came immediately afterwards, her ultimate pleasure galvanized by her lover's ecstasy.

They rolled onto their backs, side by side, their ribcages heaving with force. Their skin covered in sweat, they bubbled from within, as if in the grip of a fever. But the same smile lit up their faces, and when they saw it on their partner's face, they burst out laughing. With her, Aaron had rediscovered the lightness that had marked his adolescence and kept him from falling on the wrong side of the fence. At the time, they had only been fleeting moments, quickly absorbed by the difficulty of his daily life – at least until he met Haley and the burden he was then carrying vanished. 

The rest of the story had tarnished those fond memories, and he now revisited them only through the prism of doubt and resentment. The sky had darkened again until Emily revealed her feelings for him. This love had chased away the dark clouds gathering under his skull and, ever since, a cathartic insouciance seized him as soon as she entered his field of vision. He wasn't fooled by the complexity of their relationship, but everything seemed so much simpler with her that he didn't worry about tomorrow. With her, he came back to life. And he hoped with all his heart that, this time, the reciprocal was true.

What was certain, at any rate, was that they were on the same wavelength in terms of carnal desire. Without consulting each other, they began kissing again, and then their hands went back to exploring the contours of each other's bodies. He was soon ready to take her again and realized that she was quite capable of accepting him between her legs. He straightened up to kneel above her, between her spread thighs. Slipping his hands under her loins, he lifted her back from the sheets to pass his knees underneath. Emily smiled and girdled his hips with her calves. Holding her pelvis between his fingers, he penetrated her with unfeigned pleasure. He paced back and forth in the burning den, which quickly closed in around him.

Her partner held on as best she could to the bedpost, eyes closed, mouth open, eyebrows furrowed in effort, words of encouragement leaking between her delicate lips. A powerful urge to cum assailed him as soon as he thrust into her, but he refused to give in to it. He wanted her to come before him. He wanted to see the ecstasy take over her body and make her momentarily lose control of her actions. For the two control freaks that they were, offering themselves to their loved ones to such an extent was an unmistakable sign of trust that strengthened their bond a little more every day. 

So, he hammered intensely at this intimacy that excited him so much as he gritted his teeth. And his lover showed every sign of approaching pleasure. With victory in his sights, he continued his back-and-forth, listening to the few commands she could still articulate. Then all her muscles tensed for a heartbeat before a wave swept through her from her lower abdomen to the tips of her toes. A smile lit up Aaron's face as he thrust into her twice more for the orgasm to engulf him. A jolt of pleasure shot from the small of his back, irradiating his nerves and triggering waves of happiness. They then remained in this position until they had recovered their breath and parted without haste.

He grabbed the edge of the comforter Emily had folded down at the foot of the mattress before he arrived and pulled it over them so they wouldn't catch cold. Their bodies flooded with beneficial hormones, they felt sleep falling upon them. The female profiler had rested her head on one of the pillows and was struggling to keep her eyes open. She was still smiling, but barely had the strength to raise a hand to stroke his cheek.

“Where's your phone?” he asked, pulling the other pillow closer to hers.

“Why?” she replied sleepily.

“So, I can set the alarm clock to my own time and get out of here undetected,” he explained, placing a kiss on her shoulder, neck, cheekbone, and temple.

Every kiss called for another one. He loved the smell and taste of her skin so much that he felt he could do this all night long.

“’bedside table,” she answered, ready to sink.

He located the device where she had indicated, took it, and unlocked it in order to change the setting of his companion, who was more of a late riser than he.

“’put it back afterwards,” she begged, pouting.

“Yes, don’t worry.”

He kissed her on the forehead, once, twice, three times, and told himself he'd better not go on. Even if he was content with a few hours' sleep, he still needed to sleep. Instead, he searched for the main switch that plunged them into darkness, then lay back against her, one of his arms wrapped around her belly.

“Good night, Emily,” he said, pressing his lips into her hair one last time.

“’night, Aaron,” she responded, intertwining her fingers with his.

They fell asleep in no time and remained entwined until the cell phone rang. He hurried to turn it off before the sound grew any louder, and placed a tender kiss on the cheek of his beloved as she continued her night, seemingly oblivious to anything.

“See you later,” he murmured to her ear.

She smiled, exerted light pressure on his phalanges and let him go. He dressed without paying too much attention, left, holding the door, and returned to his room. He found it just as he'd left it, with the lights on and documents strewn everywhere. He felt a little guilty at having ignored his mission to go and copulate with the one he loved, but reassured himself thinking that his men would be able to figure out this mystery without his help. So, he dashed into the shower, washed, shaved, and put on decently before tidying up the mess he'd made. Only then did he go down to the reception room to pour himself a strong cup of coffee. Dave was the first to join him.

“Someone tried to reach you last night,” he informed him after the customary greetings.

“What do you mean?” he frowned, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Yes, it's been ringing long enough,” he declared with a hint of reproach in his voice.

As his bedroom adjoined his, this nocturnal call must have awakened him or prevented him from sleeping. However, no one on the team knew about him and Emily, and he couldn't confess that he'd gone to join her.

“I didn't hear that,” he revealed, directing his gaze towards the pastries.

“You didn't hear the phone I heard through your wall…”

He could feel the inquisitive pupils of the Italian American staring back at him. His excuse wasn't working. Logically.

“They must have called when I went down to reception. The bathroom bulb was burnt out.”

He couldn't have done better without betraying his subterfuge.

“That must be it,” agreed the BAU co-founder, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

“I'll see if anyone left a message after breakfast.”

“Let's hope it wasn't important.”

___

First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/771016298484334592/a-little-piece-of-paradise-1?source=share

Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/779260613821153280/a-little-piece-of-paradise-14?source=share

[ryttu3k]

Noodling around with a new Durge. Tentative name: Etavel, high elf bard (and eventually Cleric of Corellon). Flighty, dramatic, a lover of art, music, magic, and beauty, Etavel is a pretty archetypal Corellite - something that makes them spectacularly unsuited for being Bhaal's Chosen and heir.

(CW for… Durge and Bhaalspawn-typical stuff, really.)

Turns out using a lost elven Bhaalspawn soul, originally conceived in the original plot prior to the Time of Troubles, in crafting his new child may have been a mistake. Bhaal had intended to shape this soul into a weapon - instead, the Bhaalspawn this soul had once been had died in childhood before even reaching their First Reflection, returned to Arvandor, and become quite attached to Corellon's teachings; when they found themself ripped back to the Material Plane, something of that remained, some inherent elvishness that not even their Bhaalist blood could overwhelm. Etavel was born in 1439, possessing the Blessing of Corellon, and raised by Baldurian elves in a tradition of music and magic.

They were ten years old when they killed their foster parents, immediately taken in by Sceleritas Fel, the cult beginning the process of indoctrinating the young elf as their new leader. Etavel tried to resist, they really did. They loved beautiful things, and the Undercity was not beautiful, it was ugly and scary and cruel. Still, they were only a child, and easily overpowered physically and mentally by their domineering older half-brother Sarevok - over time, Etavel broke down, reluctantly embracing their destiny along with Sarevok and their niece Helena, Sarevok's daughter, put on a strict program of education and brainwashing, teaching them combat, Bhaalist culture, and a great deal of regular violence.

While they still rebelled on occasion (once, as a youth in 1460, they even managed to run all the way to Evereska, intending to escape into the Feywild!), these attempts grew less frequent as the cult slowly broke their spirit, and while they still loved art, music, magic, and beauty, their view on such began taking on a distinctly more Bhaalist tinge. By the 1470s, they were a seasoned killer; in 1477, they went on a killing spree that became legendary amongst the cult, and when Bhaal officially returned five years later in 1482, following the deaths of Abdel Adrien and Viekung, Etavel was officially named Bhaal's Chosen (much to the dismay of Sarevok and his grand/daughter Orin, his child with Helena, who Orin had slain in 1471 when she was seven years old).

By 1490, they were… tired. Tired of the Bhaalist cult, tired of being seen only as a tool of their father. Tired of the Dark Urge that often stripped them entirely of agency and control. They began working with Enver Gortash, falling desperately in love, or at least infatuation; while they still had loyalty to Bhaal and the full intention of eventually carrying out his plans, they began wondering if, perhaps, there could be another path for them.

Whether the Absolute plot would have saved them, however, they would never find out. The day before Midsummer, Flamerule 30 1492, Orin attacked them and handed them over to the tender ministrations of the Myrkulite Kressa Bonedaughter. They would remain in her custody for nearly two tendays before being loaded onto the Nautiloid; on Eleasis 20, their new life would begin.

Etavel is still young, for an elf - only 53 years old, while an adult by Baldurian standards, they have yet to pass many elven milestones, like the Drawing of the Veil. Their trance is filled with memories of their past lives and nightmarish glimpses of their current one, mostly stripped of context. Still, their waking hours are an unexpected gift, despite the violent urges they still feel. Now, they can celebrate art, music, magic, and beauty - and a more innocent, joyeous form of them, like they had enjoyed in their youth before the cult and before the Urge. They've rediscovered Corellon Larethian, and have reached out to them in an attempt to find some guiding star in their own life; there is a future to be had there, if only they can rid themself of the Urge once and for all.

[brainddeadd]

The Holiday

After a tough breakup with your deadbeat ex-boyfriend and months of mundane office work, you made a bold decision: to escape to Toronto for a much-needed holiday. You booked a last-minute flight, eager to leave behind the dullness of your everyday life and the painful memories of your past.

The moment you arrived in Toronto, the crisp winter air invigorated your spirit. The city's vibrant atmosphere felt like a breath of fresh air, and you couldn’t wait to explore its charming streets. You wandered through local cafés, browsed quirky shops, and marveled at the stunning architecture, feeling a sense of freedom you hadn’t experienced in ages.

On your second night, you decided to visit a popular bar known for its live music. You settled onto a bar stool, sipping a warm drink as the band played soulful tunes. The energy of the crowd buzzed around you, and you felt alive for the first time in months.

As you scanned the room, your gaze landed on a tall figure with a friendly smile, chatting with friends. You didn't recognize him at first, but there was something magnetic about him. He had a relaxed demeanor and a laugh that seemed to resonate with the music. You tried to play it cool, but your heart raced at the thought of approaching him.

Gathering your courage, you made your way over, your heart pounding in your chest. “Hi! I’m [Your Name]. Mind if I join you?” you asked, trying to sound confident despite the flutter in your stomach.

“Of course! I’m Joseph,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

You hit it off immediately, sharing stories and laughter over drinks. You told him about your escape from a boring job and a toxic relationship, while he shared tales of his life, his passion for hockey, and his recent triumphs in the sport. There was something about him—his kindness, his humor—that drew you in, and soon, you were lost in conversation, the world around you fading away.

As the night progressed, Joseph leaned in closer, his warm gaze locking onto yours. “So, what’s on your agenda for tomorrow?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

“I was thinking about exploring the Distillery District,” you replied, a smile dancing on your lips. “Want to join?”

“I’d love to,” he said, his enthusiasm infectious.

The next day was a whirlwind of laughter and exploration. You strolled hand in hand through the cobblestone streets of the Distillery District, indulging in artisanal chocolate and soaking in the festive atmosphere. Every moment with Joseph felt electric, and you could sense the chemistry building between you.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the city, you found yourselves at a cozy restaurant overlooking the waterfront. The ambiance was perfect, and your heart raced as Joseph reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours.

“I’m really glad we met,” he said softly, his gaze intense. “This has been the best holiday I could have asked for.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a sensation both exhilarating and terrifying. “Me too,” you admitted, your heart pounding. “I didn’t expect to meet someone like you here.”

“Someone like me?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Someone who makes me feel… alive,” you confessed, feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated.

He smiled, his expression softening. “You deserve to feel that way. We all do.”

The days flew by in a blur of joy, laughter, and unexpected romance. Each moment with Joseph felt like a step toward a brighter future, away from the shadows of your past. You realized that this trip had been more than just an escape—it was a chance to rediscover yourself.

As your time in Toronto came to an end, you stood on the balcony of your hotel room, looking out over the city. Joseph joined you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “What now?” he asked, his voice a gentle rumble.

You turned to face him, your heart full. “I think I want to see where this goes. No more running away. Just… embracing what’s in front of me.”

Joseph’s smile lit up the night. “Me too. Let’s take this adventure together.”

With a shared kiss under the shimmering city lights, you felt a wave of hope wash over you. Toronto had been your escape, but it had also become the beginning of something beautiful—a new chapter in your life, filled with love, laughter, and the promise of endless possibilities.

Back home, life resumed, but you carried the warmth of Toronto with you. You’d changed, and so had your outlook. You no longer felt bound by your past, and you embraced your job with renewed vigor. As you navigated your day-to-day life, the memory of Joseph remained—a sweet reminder that sometimes, taking a leap of faith could lead to extraordinary things.

And every now and then, you’d receive a text from Joseph, reminding you that love could blossom in the most unexpected places. You smiled, knowing that your holiday escape had become so much more than a fleeting moment—it had transformed your life.

[randomantix]

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guess what? rio is back with another muse womp womp presenting to yall my lil all-star that’s currently disenchanted with his superstar life, jo haneul/uriel of remedy. notorious for his songs only look at me and eyes, nose, lips. as always, if you want to plot, just react. you can find more info about him below:

jo haneul:

song byul and jo youngmin, a long-time couple, had long been hoping to conceive a child. one fateful night, they casted a wish on a shooting star, and their love manifested a miracle—haneul was born.

after haneul, they also welcomed a twin, his family became tighter than ever. they weren’t wealthy by any means, but they were able to provide both needs and to an extent, the wants of their children. as haneul was growing up, he found himself increasingly drawn to the vibrant world of singers and entertainers. with dreams of one day gracing the television screens himself, his family became his biggest supporters, wholeheartedly backing him. they enrolled him in various academies where he honed his talents through vocal, dance, even rap and language classes.

at the tender age of 14, haneul was signed under ydh entertainment, where he trained with future knight and moonshot members. by 16, he was more than ready to debut; however, the company didn’t have immediate plans for him, which greatly frustrated him. after a heartfelt conversation with his mother, they decided to terminate his trainee contract, even if they had to pay for the penalties.

when he saw the moonshot members debut on stage, it filled him with bitterness. for a while, he floundered around aimlessly. during this rebellious phase, his relationship with his mother became strained as he attempted to convince himself that music was no longer his passion. despite his best efforts to distance himself from it, he found himself drawn back to music, rediscovering his love as he performed on the streets of hongdae. overnight, a video of one of his performances went viral on social media.

kevin yoon, whom he has already crossed paths with before, took notice. at the time, he was scouting for talents, looking to form a boy group under his new label. he had a call and they met personally, he initially declined the offer expressing contentment with his current situation. after some soul searching, he decided to take the plunge and join the new group. he knew kevin yoon had a reputation for spotting raw talent and turning it into gold, and the prospect of being part of something bigger than himself was too tempting to pass up.

the transition from street performances to a structured group setting was challenging, but his experiences as a busker had honed his skills and given him a unique edge. he brought his grit, passion, and a fresh perspective to the group. his maturity came into play a handful of times, making it an easy decision for them to select him as a leader. uriel, already his catholic name, felt like the ideal choice for his stage name, and thus, the rest was history.

remedy uriel:

remedy started from humble beginnings, they had to scratch and claw to earn every opportunities in their early years. haneul took it up as a challenge. his dedication gradually garnered attention, as his hard work began to bear fruit. he constantly receive acclaim for his vocal abilities, but it is his emerging charisma that truly captivated audiences.

tw: terminal illness, parental death

haneul’s career was taking off, on the other hand, his busy schedules with the group made him grow further apart from his family. unbeknownst to him, his mother had been battling an illness during this time, choosing to keep it a secret from him to avoid causing him worry and distractions from reaching his dreams. tragically, in summer of 2019, haneul’s mother passed away. he was truly devastated and he blamed himself for it, he felt as though he took everything for granted. while remedy received numerous accolades at year-end award shows, these achievements felt hollow compared to the warmth of his mother’s embrace. a hiatus was granted to him for proper mourning, lasting until the spring of 2020.

the year 2020 was proved to be the darkest year for remedy. their success came to a screeching halt when several false rumors started to spread about the members. haneul, despite being beloved by the public, was not immune to the ensuing backlash. initially, the rumors began with dating speculations, escalating to accusations regarding his leadership and maturity. though he remained unfazed by these unfounded claims, one particular allegation—that he was using his mother’s passing as an excuse for an extended hiatus—pushed him to his breaking point; it felt deeply personal.

midas labels soon acquired ninety9 creative, and cho taejoon handpicked haneul and another member to work closely with. initially, haneul did not perceive this as anything significant, prepared as he was to fulfill his responsibilities as group leader. everything seemed normal: their comebacks were consistent, the production was even better quality, and their unique identity stayed intact—until it didn’t. he wasn’t particularly fond of being handed things on a silver platter, but he wasn’t about to bite the hand that feeds him.

early on in haneul’s individual career, he mainly sang osts for weekday television dramas. on the side, he would have hosting and other smaller gigs. by 2021, he began to accumulate an increasing number of engagements. thus far, he has released two solo albums. he has garnered multiple accolades on music shows and has become a staple on music-centric variety and talk shows, such as “famous singers” and “sea of hope.” additionally, he has secured magazine features and ambassadorship deals.

tw: serious mental health issues

despite the shimmering facade of his celebrity life, a shadow loomed just beneath the surface. the constant pressure to maintain his image weighed heavily on him, like an anchor pulling him deeper into the depths of anxiety and depression. friends turned into mere acquaintances, with trust becoming a rare commodity in a world where loyalty often came with a price. behind closed doors, he wrestled with insecurities that contradicted the confident persona he projected to the world.

each flash of a camera felt like a reminder of his fragility, a stark contrast to the adoring cheers of the crowd. the applause faded as quickly as it came, leaving him in silence, grappling with a gnawing emptiness. he craved genuine connections but felt trapped in a gilded cage where every interaction was scrutinized, every word analyzed. the allure of fame was intoxicating, but it came with a haunting realization: the higher he climbed, the more precarious his position became. in the silent moments, he yearned for authenticity, a life unshackled from the relentless pursuit of approval.

on and off screen personality:

as the chosen leader, he led the group with an iron fist but he mellowed down over the years. he said in a recent interview that looking back he realized he was too harsh, adding that he just wanted to make sure they did well and that it was all out of love.

on stage, he exudes pure confidence. he built a somewhat “bad boy” persona, but he is known to be polite and eloquent in person. he is mostly serious so it’s a common misconception that he is bad at variety. he is certainly not boring, in fact he is dubbed as ��reaction machine” often giving the wittiest responses towards any “disses” against him. he loves to communicate with fans through the hi-u app, usually sharing about his daily activities.

as a friend, he’s very pleasant and amiable. his love language is gift-giving and acts of service; those he cherishes can expect to be spoiled rotten. he has a wide network of friends, but he only has a few whom he really trusts. due to previous experiences, he harbors a deep-seated fear of commitment. but despite constantly portraying himself as someone who can’t love and can’t be loved, he is, at heart, a hopeless romantic.

[peekychu]

hi, ive loved your art forever, finally working up the courage to send an ask ahshdjfjf

when i was a kid i was really attached to the pokemon anime and i remember that one episode about the charmander being left all alone in the rain, and then being saved by ash and given a chance to recover, i remember projecting so hard onto it and wanting to be given that chance as well, to have someone save me like that. anyways, your art has always made me Feel Things, theres a very sentimental quality to your art and the way you design characters. i connect a lot with your sadder stuff as well. youre very good at storytelling in your work, especially that piece with ray about wanting to return to the places in your childhood but not ever experiencing them the same way. man, you hit that feeling right on the head.

anyways, where was i going with this. i struggle a lot with trying to reclaim some parts of my childhood, it took me a lot to even remember that i projected so much onto that charmander. but seeing a pikachu be so.. i dont know, happy about connecting with pokemon so much, it just, it means a lot to me. i used my imagination as escapism and id like to try and reconnect with it. i am using your art as a guide and as inspiration.. i feel like i can get close to that again.

i hope animal friends brings you joy and i will be so happy if you choose to share any of it. and im sorry about your job, ive been in that exact situation, stay strong

sincerely, one online animal beast to another <3

Oh my GOD, this ask is so touching idek where to start answering 😭😭😭 Wow, thank you!!!

Instant follow btw, ur drawings are so dynamic and sensory, and HOLY moly your anatomy skills 🤯 I’m super honored!!!

I honestly forget ppl ever see my more sad/melancholy drawings, I wasn’t expecting it to affect me so hard hearing someone mention it xD Drawing is one of the few vessels I can properly channel my emotions with, and there’s a lot more raw stuff I don’t share online. I never know if the catharsis I feel drawing the Heavier stuff translates, because I still center those drawings around silly animals xD

I’m so happy you were able to rediscover your connection with Ash’s charmander!! That episode always made me emotional too 💔 I can’t say where my lifelong fixation on Pikachu really began, but my mom told me that even before I engaged with anything pkmn related, I was just immediately enamored by seeing it at a store or on TV xD

Eventually she took me to see Pokémon 4ever in theaters, and I vaguely remember being instantly ENCHANTED by the little short movie before the actual film began. Those animated shorts of Pikachu with all its friends, no humans attached, were always this ultimate comfort fantasy for me to watch xD

As my identity and personality fluctuates, I always find it comforting being grounded in my connection to Pikachu. The episode where it refused to evolve stuck with me on a deep level too haha.

ANYWAYS UHH I can’t thank you enough for your kind words!!!! I am holding ur paw, you stay strong too!

[gothgirlantlers]

The song of the day is

LORNA SHORE - Pain Remains Trilogy

Trigger warning for the music video: self harm and suicide

Its not necessary to watch the video to understand the songs, it just adds some extra context to the story. The songs themselves don't get as explicit as the video does.

Ya'll asked for the wall of text, so here it is. Before I dive into these 3 songs on their own I first will give you the context of the album that this trilogy is the final act of.

Once we get to the trilogy, though, the music videos are very good but very heavy topic wise. If you're really interested, I would recommend pulling the lyrics up as well as catching everything he says is damn near impossible.

"Pain Remains," an album by Lorna Shore, tells the story of a character who has experienced a great loss in his life and uses the ability to lucid dream to escape from the pain the real world has caused him.

Throughout the album, he hones his abilities to become the God of this dream state world he has created. With his new abilities, he even gets to the point of creating life in their own image. He creates man from his own memories, yet this still does not fulfill the void in his chest. After everything they have accomplished, they still aren't happy. If this could not provide fulfillment for them, then what's the point.

The world becomes an inescapable purgatory for them. After wandering and looking at all they have created, they become full of rage and want to see the world they've created burn. If it could not fill the void in their heart after all of the work they put into it, then why should it exist. He then has a glimpse of hope. Some sort of light begins to guide him to what he hopes is his escape.

They do not explicitly say what this light is, but based on these lines and the title of the first part of the trilogy "Pain Remains I: Dancing like flames" I assume what he saw was the face of his love that he lost before the album began. He saw the light of his love dancing like flames ahead of him, leading him out from this purgatory of his own creation.

Now, this is where the trilogy begins with the first part

Dancing like Flames

This opening line is both about the dream world he has created, and his love he rediscovered while in it. Both of those things captivated him. The dream world became his escape from the loss of his love, but seeing her again will be his escape from the dream world. Both meant so much to him in his life that turning his back to either seems impossible now.

Although that slowly changes as he begins to focus on seeing her again in the dream world and reflects on the time they spent together alive.

At this point he immediately falls for them again, only to realize it is only a creation in his dream world. He can see them, but they are no longer real. This is just a creation based on memories of this love he once had. They know exactly how to get to his heart, but he knows its just a game.

A lot of this song is detailing his love with this woman, and how quickly and surprising it was to him. They had the perfect love story, only for it all to be taken away in the blink of an eye. What I love is its as if he is talking about his past love as well as the dream world at the same time. Both are things he dedicated a lot of his life and love to, which now feels pointless to him. His love, because she was taken from him far too soon, and the dream world, because it could not fill the void that she left.

At this moment he is coming to terms with the fact that he is lost, and has lost the last bit of hope he had about ever being found. The dream world he has created is pointless to him now. He has lost any purpose he had being here, but he knows returning to the real world may be even worse. Those lines lead directly into the final closing moments of the song where he says.

The love he once had is gone. In its wake it has left him a shell of his former self. If he alive anymore? Does it really matter at this point? If the world that he carefully designed to be in his own image could not fill the void left behind by this woman, than what possibly could? He feels caught between 2 options, but doesn't want to choose either of them.

This song directly leads into the second part

After all I've Done, I'll disappear

This is when it starts getting really heavy, especially in the music videos. He has truly given up all hope.

In this world he was using to escape, he now see's piece of his former life spread throughout it. In his attempts to escape from his pain, he engulfed himself in it. His own personal purgatory which he desires nothing more than to escape from.

He now knows this has to end. He must escape and put an end to this world.

There is only one way to escape though. He is going to burn his world down, and disappear.

Which is where we'll lead into the final part,

In a sea of Fire

After this songs lengthy string intro, they dive into what might be the heaviest song on the album. Will Ramos (the lyricist) said this about this song

Which is a very evident theme in this song as he begins by tearing this world apart in his lyrics. Describing it as a "ceaseless existence" and later on as "an echo, a murmur, a broken melody"

Leading directly into the chorus, which to be a little less formal here, is some of the most metal shit I've ever heard in my life that I shamelessly will be stealing for villain monologues in my dnd campaign.

There is only one route for him now. This world must be destroyed, and he is going to do it himself. Every bit of rage and emotion he spent all this time fleeing from is now all rushing out of him at once.

If even in his attempts to escape he has cocooned himself in the pain he was running from, whats the point? The world is a complete lie, built upon memories of a world he long has deserted. One he would rather die than have to return to. He will throw himself into the fire, and burn away.

One key detail is in an album absolutely full of breakdowns, these 3 songs only have the one, which happens towards the end of this song. Leading up to it he says

He realizes this world was not helping him. It was only masking the pain. But he now realizes that no matter what he does, he can't escape that pain. The only solution now is to burn down his world, and end his own life along with it.

The final climax of this song is them replaying the chorus one last time, it being the biggest and most cinematic moment, as the song immediately fades away to have a bit of a synth moment, only to build back up and leave us with the final note of this trilogy, and the album as a whole.

I have already made a long winded post about this portion, so a lot of what I say is going to be me repeating myself, but this truly is one of my favorite moments in music across any genre.

This is literally the epilogue of the album, where he then lays his soliloquy.

which is almost explicitly the titles of the 3 parts of this trilogy. As Will himself said, this song is a very bittersweet tragedy of an ending to a devastating album.

The narrator spends the entire album creating a world in an attempt to escape from the void that the lose of the love of his life left him with. No matter how much he accomplishes, it all must come to an end. After all that he has done to escape it

The Pain Remains

[xylaes]

Xylaes stared up at the ceiling, exhaling an exasperated sigh as he rubbed at the slight lump now forming on his forehead. An annoyed expression was fixed on his features as he clenched his jaw in an attempt to shrug off the sudden pain.

“Come on, let’s keep going.” Pollux bounced on the balls of his feet, training daggers in hand as he gestured for his friend to get up and keep trying.

“It’s no fucking use…” Xylaes flung both hands upwards before letting them flop back down beside him. “I have no idea how to control it. I have no idea exactly what -it- even is yet since it mostly seems to happen when I’m under extreme pressure.” 

Ever since the limb replantation from the House of the Chosen in Maldraxxus, Xylaes had rediscovered some of his magic. Or the arm’s magic, he wasn’t quite certain how that worked just yet. Even after six years he didn’t feel like he was any closer to finding his answers. He had been stripped of all his arcane magic prior to entering prison as a part of his sentence decades ago, and while this replanted arm seemed to have brought some magic back to him, he had no idea how to control it nor how to even summon it at all.

It was mostly random, but he did know that anytime his life seemed to be in immediate danger he was able to access that new, but also old magic. Unfortunately, recreating those types of situations while just sparring was impossible. Pollux had done his best to try to gain the element of surprise on him, attempting to provoke some kind of reaction, but it still had yet to work.

The only thing it was accomplishing now was in pissing him off. “I’m done with this.” Xylaes stood up and began to stalk away when suddenly Pollux was below him, swiping a leg around to knock him off his feet. With a *thump* and a soft grunt, Xylaes found himself on the ground yet again. “Fucking stop it! I said I’m done with this today!” He could feel the anger flaring up inside of him as he rolled onto his feet and stared down the other man.

Pollux once again disappeared from sight with a shrug. Xylaes’s nostrils flared as eyes darted around, attempting to sense his friend who was no doubt about to attack him from the shadows again despite his objections. A sharp jab between his shoulder blades spun him around only to be met with emptiness and the overwhelming urge to punch Pollux in his stupid, pretty face when they actually did take a break. A kick to the back of his knee caused him to drop to his other knee with a pained grunt before being forcefully knocked onto his side once more. Fucking rogues. 

He rolled away from the last strike up onto his feet once more, holding up his left hand at the ready in case some kind of magic decided it wanted to make itself known to him. Pollux appeared for a split second a handful of yards away and tossed one of those training daggers right at Xy’s face. He couldn’t call upon any magic, but he did manage to slap the weapon away mid-air; at least his reaction time was still decent. A thought made too soon when a sudden jab thunked against his lower back, spinning him around once again.

No longer just frustrated at this point, Xylaes was pissed off. Mostly at himself because he could not figure out how to make this blasted arm, nor any part of himself for that matter, produce any kind of magic on cue or even by accident. It had been nothing but disappointment day after day of sparring, practicing, focusing, meditating, or anything that might help him. So much work with zero results would get to anyone after a while, and today was that day for him. Pollux certainly wasn’t helping.

He abruptly found himself knocked onto his ass once more, and in a moment of pure, simmering rage he bellowed out a loud, “FUCK OFF!”, as he shot his left arm out before him.

Pollux was suddenly knocked from the shadows, staggering a few steps before finding his footing. There was a moment of confusion on his face before he clutched at the sides of his head and dropped to his knees, eyes watering, blood trickling from his nose, and clearly in pain as he gasped out, “Stop….Stop it…STOP!!”

That oddly alluring rage was quick to fade and so was Pollux’s invisible assault. Both men stared at each other across the training grounds, in a little bit of lingering pain, but mostly in confusion. Pollux was the first to move, getting to his feet as he wiped the blood from his face, and moving over to Xylaes to offer a hand up. He didn’t take it just yet, still attempting to wrap his mind around whatever had just happened. 

That certainly was not his magic, but it was his doing…right? Pollux retracted his hand and sighed, flopping down next to Xylaes on the ground. “I think…” He paused, attempting to collect his thoughts. He had felt that pain before, he knew exactly what that was. “I think we need to consider that perhaps that arm has given you access to…other types of magic.”

@polluxhale

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep 57: Winterfest Moments

The Story of a Family

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The revival of his relationship with Noemi loomed large on Luigi’s heart and mind, but when Winterfest rolled around, he was excited to show all the special Sims in his life just how much they meant to him.

He started with his smallest friend – his beloved feline companion. That morning Luigi began the day by giving Chubbs an extended leisurely playtime chasing around their favorite laser toy. The deep purr rumbling from his cat’s chest told him that his gift had been appreciated!

The next friend he ran into was Bonnie, who was just getting ready to head out to her first class of the day. Knowing she planned to find a place with Leroy after she graduated that semester Luigi had bought her a collection of spring seeds to start her own little garden. She loved it, promising to invite him over to sample the fruits of her labor as soon as she had something to show for it.

---------------------------------------------

Next Luigi headed outside to put his gifts to his cousins in the mailbox and was excited to find a package from Great-Grandpa Candor waiting for him!

He took it back up to his room, opening it to reveal a framed poster with an inspirational quote about working hard. Luigi immediately found a space for it on the wall and texted his grandfather a thank you before spinning into his winter clothes and heading off to campus.

---------------------------------------------

He found Noemi in The Commons, working in one of her club’s upstairs labs on parts for the upcoming util-bot contest.

When she unboxed that season’s bestselling romance novel and a few not safe for school “toys”, she knew that not telling him about her pregnancy scare had been the right call. The test had been negative, so really there was nothing to say. Besides, she’d gone too long without his joyful adventurousness in the bedroom, and she didn’t want to spook him with worries about premature parenthood.

Noemi laughed when he said he’d bought two copies of the book, and suggested they could start a “book club”. Snuggling up close she told him seriously that she’d like that very much. She had a small box of protection wrapped up all pretty under the tree at her place for him and was really looking forward to rediscovering that aspect of their relationship.

---------------------------------------------

During the long break between his last class and practice Luigi headed back home to Brindleton Bay. As was tradition for them, Peachy was whipping up a hearty grand breakfast for their Winterfest dinner. Luigi happily pitched in to make some special holiday cocktails.

Even with a rare misstep by the gourmet chef resulting in the need for a few more eggs and a change of clothes they finished with plenty of time to catch up before Scott and his girlfriend Bria arrived to join them. Luigi found it much easier to celebrate with the couple now that he had his own girl.

He didn’t mention Noemi to his family since they hadn’t yet talked about “going public”, but he was sure he’d be able to do so soon.

---------------------------------------------

After dinner a chagrined Peachy asked his boy for a little “IT help”.

He’d never been the most tech savvy sim and elderhood had only made it harder to remember “all those darn passwords”.

Luigi laughed, replying that it was the least he could do as repayment for “all those amazing meals.”, dutifully sitting down at the rec room computer to straighten everything out for his father before they joined everyone in the living room to exchange presents.

---------------------------------------------

Before Luigi headed back to school and Scott went off to see Bria’s folks, Peachy and Valentina pulled their respective boys aside.

They’d already secured Aubrie and Kian’s agreement to be flower pal and ring bearer respectively at their wedding in Tartosa, scheduled after the New Year, and they hoped Luigi and Scott would stand up as their Sims of Honor.

Both boys were happy to agree, glad that their parents had worked out the “family issues” and finally been able to set a date. It had been a wonderful Winterfest so far and Luigi still had one final bit of holiday cheer to spread that evening at practice.

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View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[wafflebloggies]

aftershocks

[a small DTFM thing, set after my fic, in the light of recent events]

Although the world had ended, it had done so very quietly, and most people hadn’t noticed yet.

Mark, half asleep, did not act like someone who knew the world had ended. He padded out of the hotel bedroom and across the small kitchenette, touching things with an unready hand like anybody might in an unfamiliar space, squinting through his glasses, not at all as if the world had ended. He fumbled in a cabinet for a glass, got himself some water, drank some on his way back through the room, saw the enormous splash of black across the tile and carpet and wall and stopped in his tracks, not as if the world had ended but as if it had suddenly become more interesting; albeit not in a good way.

“What?” he said to himself, and then, louder, “Antonio?”

He backed up a bit, staring at the big splatter of black sludge as if it might leap at him.

“An-”

He had not yet seen Antonio, evidently, because when the voice came creeping from the shadow under the table he started like someone had dumped ice down his back.

“She’s dead, Mark.”

“Jesus Christ, Antonio-” The water in Mark’s glass jumped in little spangles as he spoke. He glanced at it, put it down on the counter. “Who’s dead? What’s this- stuff? What hap-”

“It’s okay,” said Antonio’s voice, from under the table. It seemed to climb unwillingly from the very middle of the shadow, the darkest part, as if there was nothing really under there and the table was just originating the voice on its own. Terrible casting, if that were the case, a very flat hard-edged uncompromising motel table speaking with the soft, shaky, faraway voice of someone trembling right at their wits’ end, peeking into the beyond.

Mark waited for a while, on the assumption that there was going to be something else. The black gloop on the wall continued to slide downwards, slowly, in long unpleasant bulges, like congealing treacle. Distantly, he heard the lift doors out in the hallway chime, rumble open, rumble shut.

“Do you want to… elaborate, on that?” he said, at last.

“I don’t think that’d be a very good idea,” said the table.

Mark blinked a few times. The table itself felt distinctly off-limits, so he pulled himself up onto the small countertop next to the aggravatingly tiny sink and perched, bare heels resting against the glossy white cupboards, feeling for the glass at his side and pulling it towards him as he looked at the table and the horrible splat. He took careful stock of himself and decided that he was probably about as awake as anyone could be expected to be at two AM. He had been sleeping better, lately. One of the things he had found himself slowly rediscovering was the feeling of waking up feeling a little sleepy, instead of terribly, buzzingly, immediately awake.

“I’m picking up some bad vibes,” he said. It felt like something Antonio might say, and he thought it might get a reaction.

The table didn’t say anything. Mark lifted his eyebrows, as if soliciting an explanation from the silent room at large, and drank some more water.

“Okay… do I need to go get you something from the pharmacy? Is there anything that’d help?” He eyed the black splat. “Pepto, or-”

“You don’t need to go to the hospital today, Mark,” said the table, reasonably.

Mark stopped. The splat, the weird silence, this bizarre behaviour, of course it was all more than enough to put him on edge, but it was only now that a slow, icy, crawly feeling began to work itself up his spine. Without thinking, he reached for his phone, and realised he’d left it in the bedroom.

“What? No, I said a pharmacy- Antonio, what’s going on? Who’s dead?”

There was a long silence. Just as Mark was convinced there wasn’t going to be any sort of response at all, he heard a slight shifting sound from under the table, a soft click, and the TV turned itself on. Mark turned his head sharply, but the sight of the screen, the scrolling legend, the cold black-white-gray twisted devastation, arrested him before he could make a noise.

For a while. He sat there and watched for a while, a cold statue with one hand stopped in the act of questing across the counter and his heels resting against the cupboard doors, bathed in the cold light from the TV as the drone pictures roamed across the sharp skeletal wreckage, the slow cycling parade of shots. When he finally managed to speak, his voice was a jarring thing, hard and practical and too harsh in the silent room.

“It- could be fake. We have to go-” He stopped himself. “No, no, bad idea. Shit. Uh- okay, I’ll check Twitter, if it’s real everyone’s going to be talking about it. I’ll check, you look for videos.” He was moving, now, sliding from the counter, giving the ghastly splat a wide berth as he headed for the bedroom. “If it’s fake there can’t be any-”

“I said, you don’t need to go to the hospital today,” said the voice under the table. Light and reasonable, shorn short of life and any emotion other than a playful sort of discursion, shallow as a sheet of foil, as if there was no topic in the world that mattered but one. Mark knew this tone in this voice so well it made him sick, but the shake in it and the horror threading through from underneath was another thing altogether, new, awful, real. Mark slowed, stopped moving, the bad feeling in his spine gnawing higher, colder, as the voice went on.

“I said, we have to film a video today, I said, did you forget? I said-”

“Stop it.”

“-you’re so silly, Mark, you’d forget your head if I wasn’t here to tell you, I said, you don’t need to go to the hospital, we’re going to film today, I said-”

“-stop-”

“I said it’s not like she knows you’re there, does she even know who you are anymore when you go anyway she doesn’t does she I said you don’t need to go to the hospital today you need to film I said-”

“STOP IT!” Mark yelled, slamming a hand into the tabletop, striking the head of one of the flimsy fake-wood chairs so that it skittered backwards across the floor and toppled. Under the clatter, the soft voice fell silent.

Mark stood, one hand on the table, the smart of it pulsing through his skin, up his arm. He stood there with his head down for a while, as the circling images of bent rebar and filthy black smoke soaked the room in dizzy white light.

“You felt- it- die, didn’t you?”

Silence.

“Your… mother.”

He curled his stinging hand and stepped back, feeling with hot shaking fingers across the underside lip of the big TV. He turned it off, stood for a little while looking into the blank black screen, the pale smoky reflection of his own face in the dead-shine of the surface. He felt, then saw, the hard angry smile start there, threaten to break into a terrible vengeful grin. He pressed it back under, fought his face still.

“Is this how it felt?” whispered the table. “Everything was okay and then, and then everything turned upside-down and now it’s like half of me isn’t there anymore, I’m half-empty inside and I, I can’t stand it, Mark. It- it hurts. Is this what we… is this what we did? Is this what I did to you?”

Mark was not an unkind person. This was a truth about himself that he had yet to accept, a truth that he spent quite a lot of effort, one way or another, avoiding at all costs. What he did know, was that the crucible of rage in his chest was not something he could trust. That the times when it flared brightest, pushed him hardest into action, were the exact times when it was the most important for him not to act.

Mother is dead.

Mark could think the words, but he couldn’t feel through what they did to him. The impulse that made him want to yell, shriek, the furious jubilant energy that wanted to claw out of him in a running-into-battle screech, and the hot unexpected barb of jealousy, that someone else had taken the victory for themselves- even when he knew he hadn’t had a chance in hell of being the one, of ever finding out how. The struggle between these feelings and his guilty relief that he hadn’t been forced to take on that fight, to somehow brave that unknowable horror that had birthed his and all of the others. He could not weigh one thought or feeling over the other, or get them all to sit still. He could only suppress, keep even on the outside. He could do that. He could always do that.

And over and above it all was the thought that this would all mean nothing, if not for his mine canary, his peculiar strip of litmus, the thing currently making no noise at all in the dark recess under the table. The thing that knew, when he couldn’t. Without Antonio here, he would have seen the footage and he would have felt nothing but a terrible uncertainty, knowing that they could make a news story, make it real, get it seen, as easily as breathing. If they breathed. That they lied, that all they knew how to do was lie. Mark felt he might have gone out of his mind, trying to prove it one way or the other. He might have done anything stupid or reckless. Because...

Because there was the thing deep underneath, the blank dead something that he couldn’t touch. To even reach for that would be to break the vital fragile thing that he needed, needed to function at all in the way he had been, the something-like-stability he had been building, carefully, for the last few months. He felt the inevitability of it, but he couldn’t do it. Not now.

He could only try, to snap Antonio out of it. He had nothing to work with, except his voice, their shared experiences, the pain and the progress. He could only try.

Mark turned, made himself look, made himself engage, finding as he did so that the aversion- the immediate hard chilly feeling that jolted in his chest and stirred up memories of awful days, terrible, miserable things- it really had faded, become so much less. Maybe with time, healing, or maybe just with knowing how important it was in this moment, that he felt his way through this without anger. Without anger, and most importantly, with the kindness and the clear thought that his friend- yes, his friend- deserved.

He made himself pick his way around the mess and take the chair and set it carefully upright. He sat down, working his hands against the arm of the chair, tensing his thin fingers and letting them slacken one by one. When his right hand felt steady and okay, he reached out and put it on the tabletop.

“Antonio?”

The silence was thin and cold and it crawled. Mark waited, and at last, a voice that sounded a lot more like Antonio’s own again made its way out of the shadow, very wobbly, very low.

“Please don’t…” A breath. “Please don’t hate me, Mark.”

Mark took a deep breath. “You know I don’t. C’mon, whatever this means, we’re going to figure it out.”

The pause this time felt like it took a year, but at long last, there was movement. Antonio’s hand came creeping over the edge of the tabletop like something out of a horror movie, slow and shaky and splattered with black goop. Mark swallowed, but he hadn’t steeled himself for nothing, and honestly he was more relieved than anything else that it wasn’t worse. It had occurred to him that maybe when something like Antonio went to pieces, it might not be a metaphor.

He reached out for Antonio’s hand and covered it with his own, hoping to hell this wouldn’t end in shattered bones. He was relieved when the hand only curled around his, threading his fingers, frantic, shivering, gentle. He breathed out, slowly, held on.

“It’s going to be okay.”

[monsterkong]

Rediscovering the Power of Old Negatives and New Techniques

🎞️ Nostalgia has a way of sneaking up on you, doesn’t it? It’s in those quiet moments, when you’re sifting through old boxes or stumbling upon a forgotten photo, that you’re transported back to another time. For me, that time was the early 2000s, when I first picked up a camera with the intention of making photography my life’s work. Little did I know, the journey would lead to the creation of a technique that would forever change the way people look in photos: the squinch.

🔥 The Spark of a New Idea

The squinch wasn’t born out of a desire to revolutionize photography. It was simply a solution to a problem I noticed early on in my career. As a former model, I knew the "wide-eyed look" was far from ideal. It lacked the depth and confidence that could elevate a photograph from good to great. So, in my New York studio, I began telling my clients to squint—just a bit—to bring out that inner confidence. But it wasn’t quite right. The word "squint" didn’t capture what I was trying to convey, and often, my clients would overdo it.

Then one day, in 2012, my daughter, who was just nine at the time, came up with a word that changed everything. "Squinch," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And in a way, it was. A squinch wasn’t a squint; it was a gentle narrowing of the lower eyelids, creating a look that was both thoughtful and confident. It was exactly what I had been trying to achieve, and it resonated immediately.

🌟 From a Studio Term to a Global Trend

The squinch quickly became a staple in my photography sessions, and it wasn’t long before the technique started to gain attention. I made a video explaining the concept, and to my surprise, it went viral. Suddenly, the squinch was everywhere.

One of the most memorable moments of this journey was when Good Morning America contacted me for a feature. The correspondent they sent was Sarah Haynes, a client whose headshot I had taken years earlier. It felt like a full-circle moment, one that solidified the squinch as more than just a quirky term—it was now a recognized technique in the world of photography.

As the squinch gained popularity, my career soared to new heights. I opened studios in both New York and LA, and my work started to gain international recognition. The squinch had become more than just a look; it was a movement, one that changed the way people approached headshot photography.

🌈 The Magic of Old Negatives

But despite all the success, some of my favorite moments come from revisiting the past. Recently, I discovered an old negative of a photo I took with my wife in our first apartment. The apartment was small, with a beautiful southern-facing window that provided the perfect light for shooting. I processed the black and white film myself, a practice I had perfected in a darkroom I set up in my mom’s basement in New Jersey.

Finding that negative was like opening a time capsule. It took me back to those early days, when photography was still a new and exciting venture for me. Back then, I spent countless hours experimenting with light, composition, and expressions—always searching for that perfect shot. Little did I know that one day, a simple word from my daughter would lead to a technique that would define my career.

Rediscovering these old negatives reminded me of why I fell in love with photography in the first place. It’s not just about the final image; it’s about the journey, the experimentation, and the joy of creating something unique. The squinch may have brought me global recognition, but it’s the memories and the passion behind each photograph that truly make it special.

As I continue to explore new techniques and revisit old ones, I’m reminded that photography is an ever-evolving art form. There’s always something new to learn, and always a reason to look back and appreciate the journey that brought you to where you are today.

[ladamedusoif]

Chimes at Midnight, or an EoY Ramble.

(divider by @saradika - thank you so much for your incredible work)

Who can cling to a ramblin’ Rose?

Good question. But cling to me for a few moments, as I ramble my way through an end of year post - of sorts. Personal shenans ahead.

I have no great wisdom to impart. No life lessons, no affirmations, just reflections and observations after a year where my entry into this fandom brought me much joy, kindness, love, and strength - and, unfortunately, some upset, hurt, and pain, too. 

But then, such is life, and while many of us use this space as an escape, the dynamics of just being human can’t help but filter through here, too.

I (and my 120k and counting words of fic - correction, my “ethical porn for nerdy types”) am here because of an alignment of events in early 2023. Here is my origin story:

I was stopped in my tracks one day by a friend’s Instagram story - or, specifically, by the twinkly-eyed, crinkly-eyed, smiley handsome man being interviewed in the video they’d shared. And something fired in my brain (bear in mind, a reaction like that is highly unusual for me).

Around the same time, my divorce process began. After a day of crying in my office and/or on the street, my sister sent me a message with some advice: You need something distracting and comforting. Watch The Mandalorian. You’ll like it.

(This is all her fault.)

I can only blame traumatised soon-to-be-divorcée brain for the fact that I didn’t quite immediately put the twinkly-eyed handsome smiling man together with the tin can dad with a voice like melted chocolate and an adorable green child that reminded me of my toddler niblings. Whoops. 

(Sorry, P. Divorcée brain!)

Long story short: it clicked, eventually, and with a hop, skip and a jump from “hey there, handsome” to “I love him a normal amount” via SNL, I ended up here. 

People often compare Tumblr and fandoms to the purest form of childhood friendship. Oh, you have a Bluey backpack? I like Bluey too. Let’s be friends? And it’s a perfect analogy. It was a joy and a comfort to realise that, after a lifetime of feeling like I had to hide and be ashamed of the things and people who made me happy, there were other people just like me who didn’t feel shame, and who helped me realise this was…normal? And good? And, though this might seem like a contradiction in terms, healthy?

I rediscovered the pure joy of shared fangirling (gn). I read other people’s beautiful fics and, overcoming my fears and anxieties, rediscovered the person I’d been until I went to college and only wrote academically/professionally - the person who always made up little stories for herself, who tapped out “novels” on her mother’s 1970s portable typewriter, who never went anywhere without a copybook for writing and drawing her stories, who dreamed of being a writer. I started to write Visiting, and people actually read it. 

And through that, and reading their words and talking/flailing in their DMs, I connected with people who in some cases became close friends. People who seemed to like me for me, for the me I was re-learning how to be after an incredibly traumatic period in my life. And that meant - and means - the world. 

(Not all of those connections or friendships were sustained, and I still don’t really understand what happened to end them - in some cases, abruptly and without explanation. All I can do is remind myself that people need different things at different times, wish them well, and allow myself to miss them.)

Gratitude sometimes gets a bad rap as a practice but it can be freeing and healing. So, putting aside the hurt and negative experiences and focusing on the good:

I am grateful for the affirming, kind, supportive relationships I’ve built through a mutual love of one (1) man. 

I am grateful for the way my presence in this community, however marginal and irrelevant I might feel, is kept going through mutual support and silliness. 

I am grateful for the opportunity to rediscover writing as creative practice and fun, rather than just something I have to do in my line of work (and which is bound up with anxiety in that respect).

I am grateful for the people who take the time not just to read but to respond to, share, and love on my work. (You’re amazing and I love you all!)

I am grateful for the people who showed and show me love even though they’ve never met me in person, and in myriad ways. (These ways include personalised birthday poems and fancams, sending me a copy of Esquire out of sheer kindness and surprising me - and my neighbour, who took in the package - with a talking Dinjamin figure. You all know who you are.)

I am grateful to my friend for her thirsty Instagram story and to my sister for her unwittingly consequential TV recommendation. 

And some general observations and reflections about my presence, experiences, and work here that I want to carry forward into 2024:

Popularity is definitely not a marker of quality.

You are entitled to have opinions and share them, even if they don’t follow the prevailing wind. Arguably, especially then.

Your feelings are valid.

Trust your gut.

It’s okay to want people to read and interact with your work, and to wonder why it doesn’t get picked up, no matter how many ‘write for you!’ posts you see from the Big Writers.

Speaking of which: if there’s room for everyone and everything, then there should be room for everyone and everything. Not just the chosen few and a handful of tropes.

Responsibility is a two-way street.

You’re worthy of love, kindness, and respect.

The love you take is equal to the love you make - or, in other words, give love and be receptive to it, whether in affirming messages, positive comments, or a simple flailing, excited reblog. 

Carry your little light, however fragile, into the new year.

With love, Rose. (And my Ben, below - print by the incredibly talented Alyssa Gonzalez)

[saellefanwork]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖

Reminder: This Demon Slayer fic is rated Mature (adults only) for canon-typical violence and eventual suggestive or explicit sexual content

Return to Chapters List

Chapter 27: Home

Returning from home, Tanjiro pays a visit to the former Hashira. During his visit to the Rengokus, he is greeted with wonderful news.

Author Note: Hey dear readers <3 Apologies for the delay in publishing this chapter. I got sick repeatedly and my brain felt like it had turned into mush (it still does, to be honest). Most of my time has been spent recovering, working or doing brainless activities.

But here it is! This officially marks the end of the story, although there will be an Epilogue chapter. (I've adjusted the total number of chapters accordingly.)

What a journey it has been! I hope you enjoyed the ride. Have fun with this chapter, I hope it makes up for all the angst I've put you through <3 Thank you for sticking with this story until its conclusion! Warning: NSFW/kinky scene in the middle ;)

As summer began, the official dissolution of the Demon Slayer Corps took place. Surviving members were bestowed with a generous retirement allowance, securing their financial well-being for the rest of their lives. The wisteria estates remained open to them, providing a sanctuary to heal and rejuvenate their battle-scarred bodies. Now, most of these veterans were trying to rediscover a semblance of normalcy and seek a new purpose in their lives. However, what was normalcy for individuals whose existence had been defined by the relentless pursuit of demons. The answer proved easier to find for some than others.

Eight months after Muzan's defeat, Tanjiro, who had returned to his native mountains with his sister and two best friends, decided to visit his former comrades. His first stop was the Butterfly Estate, transformed into a hospital catering to civilians and veterans alike. Additionally, it now operated as a medical training center specifically for women. There, he reunited with Shinobu, Aoi, Kanao, and the other young butterfly girls he had befriended during his year of service in the Corps. Despite the prospect of a less demanding era, their responsibilities persisted beyond the demise of the demon lord, and they all exuded a sense of fulfilment in their respective roles. Tanjiro genuinely shared their joy.

"Is Giyuu around?" he inquired curiously after completing his check-up. The former Water Hashira's periodically visited the manor's owner, despite their complex and undefined relationship.

"Tomioka-san is often traveling," Kanao responded, having conducted the examination. "He comes back monthly to assess the condition of his arm prosthesis, and I noticed he seems happier and more expressive than before. He and my mistress still quarrel a lot, but you know what they say: 'Misery loves company.'"

"Neither of them appears miserable, though," Tanjiro replied with a smile. "It's probably just their way of caring for each other."

The following morning, Tanjiro bid farewell to his sister and friends at the break of dawn and set on towards the Rengoku Estate. He reached his destination after a relatively tranquil half-day walk. No longer having to rush as he did during his time as a Slayer brought him satisfaction; he could now fully appreciate the beauty of the surrounding landscape. He hoped he could explore the area in the future.

As he entered the estate's gate, Tanjiro's gaze was immediately drawn to Senjuro. The teenager was tending to plants that hadn't been there during the visitor's previous trip. At first glance, Tanjiro could discern that the court appeared more vibrant and flourishing than before.

"Senjuro! It's wonderful to see you again!" the charcoal burner warmly exclaimed.

"Oh... Tanjiro-san! It's been a while!" Senjuro responded with a gleeful smile, setting down his gardening tools to embrace his friend. "How have you been?"

"Good! And you? How's your family?"

"Father is doing well; he's in the backyard chopping wood for the fire. Aneue and Aniue are still at the dojo; they'll be back for lunch. I'll brew some tea; please follow me."

"At the dojo? You have to tell me all about it!" Tanjiro responded with a smile, trailing his friend inside the estate.

The younger Rengoku prepared a fragrant green tea, serving it alongside exquisite-looking pastries to his guest. As Tanjiro savored the treats, he was taken aback by their unique and delightful flavor.

"It's delicious! What is it?"

"These are Kanoko's yokan; she uses sweet potatoes instead of red bean paste. They are Kyojuro's favorite treats."

"I can see why! How are they doing? You mentioned they have a dojo now?"

"Yes! After the final confrontation, my older brother was relieved that there were no remaining demons. However, having dedicated his life to their eradication, he found himself lost on how to fill his days. Boredom and a sense of emptiness weighed heavily on him. That's when Kanoko suggested the idea of establishing a dojo to teach swordsmanship to the citizens. They regularly bring in former Slayers to instruct the students. They've repurposed the old Nagase family house, which Kanoko managed to buy back, as the dojo. This way, the training facility is closer to town, and it avoids having strangers inside our home, which Father wouldn't appreciate. It's been three months now, and their dojo is thriving."

"That’s great! It suits them, they both have the knack for being wonderful sensei."

"Yes! Besides that, Aneue helps me improve my baking skills. I'd like to open a tea house one day."

"That's awesome, Senjuro! Would you consider opening it near my location? We really lack a place to enjoy good tea among friends! It would be a success! Nezuko would be delighted to see you more often."

"I... I'll think about it," the young Rengoku replied, blushing. He secretly harbored feelings for the Kamado girl. "And you, Tanjiro, how are you doing now? Have you managed to regain a normal life?"

"Quite so! We retired back to our old house with Nezuko, along with Inosuke and Zenitsu. The villagers had kept it well for us. Nezuko is going to school and is also working as an herbalist, and I've resumed my charcoal-making activity. Inosuke aids us both with our tasks. Zenitsu, well … he has difficulty walking, so he doesn’t help much. But he has taken up music, and he plays concerts in nearby towns! He’s happy because it makes him popular with girls, without requiring him much effort since he's talented. Former Slayers visit us regularly; you should come too!"

"Oh... That's great! I won't fail to pass on the message to the others; they'll surely like the idea!"

They continued chatting for an extended period, savoring each sip of their brew. Just before they emptied the teapot, Shinjuro joined them. Tanjiro was impressed by the changes that had occurred in the past drunkard; although he still radiated an intimidating and deterrent aura, his emitted a much calmer and serene smell than before. Brief updates were exchanged between him and Tanjiro; the patriarch still wasn't very inclined towards small talk. Suddenly, a familiar voice boomed in the garden:

"We're back home!!"

"Not so loud, Kyojuro!" a feminine voice reprimanded, likely yours.

The couple soon entered the room where the others were gathered. The last Flame Pillar walked with pride and ease; if not for the distinct clattering accompanying his steps, one would never suspect the wooden and metal prosthesis under his knee. Upon noticing his former Tsuguko's presence, Kyojuro's smile widened.

In a burst of joy, Tanjiro threw himself into the arms of his senpai, who caught him and affectionately patted the back of the sniffling boy's head with a hearty laugh.

"Always so emotional, Tanjiro! Glad to see you're doing well!"

"I've missed you all so much!" exclaimed the young charcoal maker, smiling tearfully as he embraced you in return. "Nezuko is at the Butterfly Estate; she'll come too tomorrow if that's okay!" He refrained from mentioning that Zenitsu and Inosuke were also present but had declined his proposal to tag along under various excuses, probably too intimidated by the former Hashira to visit without a good reason.

Senjuro blushed at the news of his crush's upcoming arrival. You noticed and smiled mischievously.

"Well, of course, we'd love to see her too, right, Senjuro? We have work awaiting us, we should prepare the best dishes and pastries for our friends tomorrow."

"I can help you!" Kyojuro offered enthusiastically.

"Your cooking is horrible, son," Shinjuro retorted in a dry tone. "Help me with the roof repairs instead. We need to make sure everything is ready before your baby arrives."

"Your baby?" repeated Tanjiro with sparkling eyes, looking at both of you.

"Nothing is certain," you corrected with a half-hearted glare toward the man and his eldest. "I haven't had my period yet this month, and they're making a big deal out of it. It could be for many other reasons."

"Not with the determination you both put into it every night," Shinjuro mumbled.

You tucked your head into your shoulders and walked away, trying to feign you hadn't heard to escape further embarrassment. Senjuro followed you closely, twisting his hands and avoiding eye contact with flushed cheeks. In contrast, Kyojuro didn't flinch in the face of the accusation, and only nodded vigorously in approval. The burgundy-haired boy showed no reaction to the comment, blinking innocently, his head tilted to the side. As the eldest in a relatively large family living in the middle of the woods, he was not ignorant of how babies were made. His parents had explained it to him, and he had witnessed many animals mating in spring, but he didn't understand why the subject was embarrassing. (The reason was that his parents had been much more discreet in the conception of their kids, preserving their intimate moments far outside of their home, which only had one common room.)

Tanjiro lingered for the meal and part of the afternoon, visiting the dojo and assisting everyone in their household activities, before heading back to the Butterfly Estate. Despite your and Kyojuro's efforts to convince him to stay overnight by arguing that it wasn't very safe to travel alone late, the young man declined.

"It'll be fine; I should arrive before it gets too dark, and the moon is almost full anyway. Not to mention, nights are much less dangerous than before," he reminded reassuringly.

You nodded reluctantly, scratching the back of your head. It was sometimes challenging to remember yourselves that the world had changed and that darkness was no longer the demons' territory.

"True, but there's still the risk of aggressive animals and marauders," you argued nonetheless. You were concerned that the boy's disabled eye and arm would make it difficult for him to orientate or defend himself.

"I'm unlikely to encounter any, but I’d handle it even if that's the case," he replied with confidence as if he had read your thoughts. "I promised Nezuko I'd be back tonight, I wouldn't want her to worry. See you tomorrow!"

After bidding you farewell enthusiastically, the young man trotted away at a good pace, demonstrating that he had lost almost nothing of the speed and endurance acquired over the past few years.

The next day, you closed the dojo after the morning session, giving you and Senjuro time to prepare various dishes, both sweet and savory. When the Kamado siblings arrived in the late afternoon, the little Rengoku was extremely nervous, fidgeting around and busying himself with trivial tasks. This flustered side of him was clearly in contrast with the spectacular confidence and spontaneity his older brother exuded, but it made him endearing. With a small smile, you thought that he and Nezuko would make a nice couple. Both had sweet and altruistic personalities, and you knew they would grow into fine and reliable adults.

You found a reason to attend to something in the dojo despite the fact that the place was closed, providing the two youngest an opportunity to spend time together, and you forcefully brought Tanjiro along. The redhead resisted a bit, his protective side unsure about leaving his little sister alone with another boy. However, he yielded easily to Kyojuro's enthusiasm to train with him, the fiery man unwittingly assisting you since he had yet to realize his baby brother's feelings for Nezuko.

When you all regrouped later for dinner, the atmosphere was cheerful, with everyone displaying a relaxed expression. Conversations flowed, relating the events of the day and sharing updates on various people you knew. Taking advantage of the moment, Tanjiro sought more details about his friends' situations.

"So, you're married then," Tanjiro presumed, given it was the norm for couples living under the same roof and trying to start a family. "Since when? Should I call you Rengoku-san now, Nagase-san?"

"I'm still a Nagase, but feel free to call me Kanoko, Tanjiro-san," you replied with a smile. "We completed the civil registry form upon our return to Komazawa, so, in the eyes of the country, we're already wedded. However, my ancestor Nagase Oai secured a special agreement for saving one of the Emperor's relative from a demon during the Sengoku era. As a result, the husband of a Nagase and their children are supposed to adopt her name. While very few Japanese men would accept this, Nichirin swordsmiths were willing to forsake their identity to shield their clan from demons, which is why the Nagase women have always betrothed men from the Swordsmith village. Since Kyojuro is the eldest son of an esteemed warrior family with origins older than mine, enforcing this rule posed stronger social challenges than before. It was eventually agreed that our first son would be a Rengoku, and the subsequent children Nagase."

Tanjiro appeared impressed by the explanation. With a dreamy and curious look, he asked, "Since you had a love marriage [A/N: "renai kekkon," opposed to the most common option at this time, the "omiai kekkon," arranged marriage], how did Kyojuro-san propose to you, Kanoko-san?"

You choked on your tea, accidentally spitting it in the young man's face. Struggling with a violent fit of coughing, you managed to offer a handkerchief to your new victim, who was frozen in surprise with closed eyes.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't expect that question. I mean ... uh..."

"It's a fun story!" Kyojuro interjected with his loud voice. "I asked her while we were – ..."

"DON'T TELL HIM!" you shouted, slapping a hand over his mouth. He didn't even blink despite the force of the impact.

"Perhaps it's better to keep that information private!" he corrected himself, his enthusiastic expression unfazed when you released him after a few seconds of caution.

Nezuko and Senjuro laughed at your interaction, while Shinjuro rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. Only Tanjiro seemed lost: "Um ... okay, I guess? I don't see what's so funny ... but as long as you're happy."

"You're too innocent, big brother," teased Nezuko with a smile.

"Eeeeh?! I'm not sure I want to hear that from you, Nezuko," Tanjiro retorted with a worried look.

"You're perfect as you are, Tanjiro," you reassured him firmly, still feeling embarrassed. At that moment, you were immensely grateful for his innocence.

"Ha! That reminds me, Tanjiro! The Shinto ceremony and the wedding banquet will take place in early autumn; you should come!"

"You didn't send him the invitation?" you asked with an aghast expression, briefly forgetting the previous topic.

"Hmm! It's quite plausible that it slipped my mind!" Kyojuro replied with a carefree smile.

You massaged the bridge of your nose with a sigh, looking exasperated, and everyone around chuckled. You couldn't help but grin at your turn; it was impossible to stay angry for long against your husband, with his radiant and warm personality despite his (endearing) oddities. The evening concluded shortly after that, and the Kamado siblings slept in this time before heading home, carrying with them the promise to return in a few months with their friends to celebrate your union.

In the tranquil dawning, a gentle fragrance, a blend of berries and blooming flowers wafted through the lush garden, accompanied the pleasant and hazy dreams that often ended your nights of rest since peace had returned for the demon slayers. Lazily turning around, you were delicately drawn from the depths of slumber by someone caressing in your hair. You smiled weakly, knowing whose hand was playing with your morning-messy locks.

"Hey..." you greeted slightly hoarsely, fluttering your heavy lids open.

"Rise and shine, little flame. Today is the day you become my wife," announced Kyojuro's voice cheerfully as he rubbed the tip of his nose against your temple.

"I'm already your wife, honey," you reminded him in an amused tone.

"In my heart and in the eyes of the Emperor, but not yet before the gods."

You chuckled softly at his lyrical outburst, much to his delight. He enjoyed seeing you so relaxed and happy. He tenderly placed his lips on yours, savoring your laughter at its source.

You closed your eyes, relishing in the sensation of his lips meeting yours as one of the first feelings to greet you each morning. Parting your lips, you welcomed the gentle exploration of his tongue. The warm hands of your beloved cupped your chest, fondling your bosoms adoringly over the light night yukata, causing your nipples to peak through the fabric. It was hard to track any changes while he had the pleasure of touching your breasts almost every day, but Kyojuro couldn't help to believe that they had grown and become more sensitive lately. He wondered if it a potential sign of pregnancy. The thought of witnessing your body transform to welcome a future baby into the world excited him even more than he already was.

The deepening kiss, coupled with these affectionate caresses, quickly stirred a familiar warmth within you, altering the rhythm of your breathing. Deliberately, Kyojuro loosened your collar, sliding his hand underneath to explore your soft contours before delicately rolling one of your nipples between his rough fingers. Your moan was muffled against his tongue, and you felt him press his hips against you in response, a notable bulge forming under his yukata.

"Aren't we going to be late if we keep going?" you managed to murmur, though you weren't sure to possess enough willpower to halt your intimate activities.

"Mhh... Maybe, but does it matter? The party can't start without us anyway."

An amused snort evaded you. With a smile, Kyojuro's fervent lips descended towards your chest, tearing aside the other piece of fabric to reveal your bosom, and closed his mouth around your neglected nipple. A slight gasp escaped you at the temperature contrast between the cool morning air and the searing warmth of his tongue playing with your sensitive tit. Uncertain whether to give in and pull him closer or be reasonable and push him away, you found yourself tightly gripping his mane. He groaned and pressed his groin harder against you in reaction, lightly biting your delicate skin.

"Ha ..., it's difficult to believe I'm dealing with the strict and punctual Flame Pillar."

"Good thing I'm retired, then. But you know, I used to be occasionally late because of important missions. And now, there's a crucial one that requires all my attention."

"Which one?" you asked, matching his tone, a small smirk playing on your face.

His lips left your panting chest to whisper in your ear, lightly nibbling its contour. The hand that was teasing one of your nipples slid under your slightly loosened belt, slowly tracing your slick folds with the tips of his fingers.

"Making sure to make you the mother of my children."

Despite anticipating a response of this nature, you couldn't help but blush at his directness, sucking in some air sharply. He subtly shifted over you while kissing your neck with burning passion, rubbing his clothened hardness between your tights. You were more than willing to support him in his mission. Panting slightly, you also loosened his obi, freeing his imposing manhood that slammed against your partially exposed lower belly. You stroked the silky and flushed skin of his engorged member, hearing your partner take a deep breath as your cool fingers locked around his grith, stimulating him in a back-and-forth motion while conspicuously guiding him towards your warm and welcoming opening.

Kyojuro slipped his hand under one of your knees, bringing your leg close to your bust and spreading it to grant him full access to your intimacy and allow for the promised penetration and release to be as deep as possible. His tongue found yours again in a feverish dance, his free hand grazing your jaw before closing around your throat as his firm tip kissed your lower lips, teasing you with shallow thrusts.

Even though you were well acquainted with Kyojuro's seductively provocative side and understood that the slow buildup and restraints were meant to prepare for a more intense pleasure later on, impatience gripped you. You wanted him to pin you harshly to the futon mat and make love to you wildly now; besides, you had no time to waste with the day ahead. Annoyed, you delivered a sharp slap to Kyojuro's buttocks, drawing his shocked gaze towards you. However, you didn't miss the peculiar gleam in his blazing, widened pupil, suggesting something more than mere surprise. You also felt how his hand tightened around your neck and how his manhood subconsciously hit deeper against your inner walls when the slap resonated.

"Don't tease me, Kyo."

"Do that again," he requested lowly, his tone both mischievous and interested.

You raised a brow, pleasantly intrigued. "Did you like..."

Someone cleared their throat behind the bedroom door, disturbing you:

"Kyojuro, Kanoko ... interrupt what you're doing ... whatever you're doing ... we need to prepare shortly," mumbled Shinjuro's deep and noticeably uncomfortable voice. "Your friends have arrived to help you get dressed for the ceremony ... try to look presentable before receiving them."

In an instant of stunned silence, you and your husband exchanged wide-eyed glances, jaws slightly ajar, pondering when the patriarch had approached and how much he had overheard – probably more than you could dare to imagine. You hid your flushed face in your hands, feeling dreadful for having subjected yet again the inhabitants of the house to the consequences of your passionate love. Even Kyojuro looked somewhat uncomfortable for once.

"I guess the mission we wanted to accomplish will have to wait for the approval of the gods," he sighed after a moment.

The almost dramatic conclusion broke the sexual and nervous tension, and you burst into laughter. Kyojuro smiled and kissed you one last time before releasing you to get dressed more properly.

The preparations took several hours, at least for you. Tengen barged into your room unannounced, seemingly disappointed not to find you in a compromising situation (you silently thanked Shinjuro for his earlier intervention). Declaring that you were going to be late, the shinobi had thrown his best friend over his shoulder and rushed away, followed by a fidgety Senjuro, alarmed to see his big brother transported like a mere bag of rice. Meanwhile, you received the much more courteous visit from Mitsuri and Nezuko, both excited to help you with your makeup and dress. For the occasion, you had planned to wear a shiromoku, a magnificent white wedding kimono. Its fabric was adorned with discreet kanoko motifs sewn in a different, silky thread. The outfit was paired with a long red uchikake coat embroidered with gold, reminiscent of the colors of the house you were joining, but featuring the Nagase family emblem on your back instead of your husband's. Another departure from strictly conventional attire was the absence of a headdress, as you disliked its symbolism of submission. Convincing Shinjuro had been challenging, as he was a man of tradition, however Kyojuro had argued extensively in your favor and ultimately obtained the approval of his father and the Shinto priest. Consequently, the girls settled for styling your hair into a taka bun, adorned with flowers and mother-of-pearl pins.

"Your hair is beautiful, Kanoko-san!" Nezuko exclaimed. "Its snow-white shade with hints of metallic blue is amazing."

"Thank you. Actually, that's not how they used to look like. The same goes for my irises ... they depigmented when I became a demon, and since then, they've never regained their natural aspect."

"Oh, I didn't know. I'm sorry. They suit you well, though ... what color were they before?"

You friendly answered their questions, and the conversation seamlessly transitioned into discussions about each other's unusual genetic or acquired traits. You learned the origin of Tanjiro's scar and Mitsuri’s cute but curious features – apparently, she had eaten such a huge quantity of sakura mochis that her hair and eyes changed color overnight. You smiled as you listened to her story, thinking it was a tale Kyojuro could have come up with.

By the hour they finished with your refined makeup, the rest of the household had already departed. Taking a taxi to the shrine that had accepted your unconventional marriage, you experienced the speed and comfort of a motorized vehicle for the first time. Despite the noise and smell, the modernity of the conveyance left a lasting impression on you. The world was undoubtedly changing while you were busy battling demons, and you found yourself wondering about the additional technologies that would be introduced in the upcoming years. Arriving at the shrine, you noticed that only Shinjuro was waiting at the bottom of the stairs leading to the sacred place, arms crossed.

"The others are already in the sanctuary," he explained while you descended from the vehicle. "Uzui insisted that you and Kyojuro keep the surprise of your outfits until the very last occasion. I stayed behind to welcome you. We can join them now."

Mitsuri and Nezuko eagerly ascended the steps, impatient to catch a glimpse of the groom, leaving you alone with the older man. Shinjuro scrutinized you for a moment, and his expression softened.

"I was skeptical about your choices, but you make a beautiful and very dignified wife, Kanoko. I'm sure Ruka would have been delighted to have you as a daughter too."

The unexpected compliment warmed your heart. You met Shinjuro's gaze and sincerely smiled.

"Thank you, Father."

Shinjuro appeared moved by the term of address, although he swiftly concealed his emotions with a cough and a furrowed brow, suddenly bothered by an invisible speck of dust on his haori sleeve. While it was customary for married women to address their in-laws this way, you had never adhered to it, and he hadn't held it against you given your shared history. Regaining composure, he extended his arm to escort you, as a parent would if they had been present. Smiling, you slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow, ready to follow him when someone called out to you from behind.

"Kanoko."

You turned your head in surprise.

"Giyuu! You came," you exclaimed, beaming. "You hadn't responded to the invitation, so I thought I wouldn't see you."

Shinjuro squinted at the man. He was wearing western clothes and had shorter hair, now, but he had recognized him; they had crossed paths a few time before the official end of his Flame Pillar career. He instinctively felt that there was a special connection between you two. Did his son already have a rival? Perhaps he should have insisted more on the wedding headdress, after all.

"I'm not staying. I just wanted to congratulate you," your raven-haired friend replied with a sweet smile.

Despite the changes he underwent following the triumph over Kibutsuji Muzan, the last Water Hashira was still not at his best in crowded or noisy environments, such as the upcoming banquet. He was also hesitant to draw attention to himself by attending the religious union of a woman he had courted. Kyojuro wouldn't mind his presence because he deeply respected his former comrade and could only empathize with the feelings he had developed for you (he had approved the invitation, after all). The groom wasn't the type to seek to humiliate people out of insecurity either, and you were sure he would treat Giyuu with as much care as any guest, making every effort to ensure his comfort. However, you couldn't ignore the possibility that the other retired Pillars might tease the late visitor, knowing his repressed love for you. The last thing you wanted was for your friend to feel uneasy in such a joyous occasion.

"I'm grateful," you stated genuinely. "That means a lot to me. How about we share some salmon with daikon radish when you're back in the area?" You were aware it was his favorite dish.

"Deal," he responded, his eyes creasing slightly as his smile widened. "Be happy, Kanoko. You deserve it.”

“So do you.”

Never had you seen such a bright and expressive smile on him before; the warmth it brought to you was palpable. Regardless of your memories together and the uncertainties of the future, Giyuu would always hold a significant place in your heart, and you knew the sentiment was mutual. Seeing him content only added to your happiness. You reached out, and he accepted your hand without hesitation, intertwining your fingers before lifting them to his lips for a gentle kiss. Without lingering, he released you swiftly, his expression still serene, before bowing his head to you and Shinjuro, vanishing as quickly as he had appeared.

The Rengoku patriarch clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"Good riddance. I don't like him. Back in the Corps, he always acted like he was mute but had a sharp tongue when he opened his mouth, and this nasty habit of doing as he pleases. Who behaves like that with a taken woman, anyway?"

"Not to offend you, Shinjuro-san, but you don't seem to like many people," you retorted playfully. The grumpy patriarch grumbled, eliciting a giggle from you. "Don't worry. Giyuu is a precious friend and an honorable man, despite what you think. He would never interfere. And, most importantly, I'm deeply in love Kyojuro, whom I am marrying today, remember? How about you escort me to his side now... Dad?"

The mature man blushed, caught off guard by your sudden familiarity, and quickly reminded you to address him as "chichiue", not "oto-san," though there was no heat in his reprimands. You chuckled at his strictness and followed him up the stairs leading to the shrine, still holding onto his arm.

In the sanctuary courtyard, Kyojuro, the Kamado siblings, Mitsuri, Tengen and his wives awaited your arrival. Seeing your husband meticulously dressed in his wedding attire made your heart skip a beat. He donned a black montsuki over a dark hakama, the flaming emblem of his family adorning his haori's back and the crest of your family placed on the chest. Tengen had evidently spent time styling his friend's unruly mane into a refined bun, leaving his spiky fringe and two shorter strands along his jaw to frame his sunny face. The artistic touch of the exuberant "god of festivities" was apparent in the eyepatch decorated with incandescent gemstones covering Kyojuro's usually bare scar, along with discreet jewelry around his wrists, neck, and belt. After admiring you with a gleam in his eye, your husband approached you and excitedly took your hand. Shinjuro sighed as he adjusted to your not-quite-traditional outfits and your constant public displays of affection, holding back his gruff comments.

"I knew you would look beautiful in wedding attire, Kanoko, but you're even more stunning than anything I could dream of."

"Thank you, sunshine, but don't get too used to it. I still prefer wearing hakama, and the makeup and hairstyle took way too long for me to tolerate it on a regular basis. You are very handsome, too..."

"Don't get too used to it either. I thought Uzui was plotting to pull my hair out trying to comb it. I had to stop him from putting lipstick on me and painting my nails, and you should have seen the haori covered with rubies that he had initially prepared. The thing was sparking so brightly it would have blinded our guests, and it was the heaviest mantle I had ever worn," he confided in a hushed tone that was still too loud to go unnoticed, especially by the former Sound Hashira.

"Hey, you ungrateful bastard," protested the interested party. "It's not my fault if you have no taste. Monogamous couples like you only get married once, at least most of the time, so why not make it memorable with a flashier style? I don't get lame people."

Laughter filled the air until the priest and maikos urged everyone to calm down, marking the beginning of the ceremony.

The banquet that unfolded after the Shinto ritual took place directly at the Rengoku Estate. Such occasions were known for hosting a broader social circle than the shrine's exclusive guest list. Many former Demon Slayers attended, alongside associates from your independent demon-hunting career and the residents of Komazawa. The buffet, offering a variety of dishes and desserts, featured highlights such as hayashi beef rice and salt-grilled bream with roasted sweet potatoes – both yours and Kyojuro's favorites. While a few families retired after the sumptuous meal, the ensuing party remained vibrant. To the delight and amusement of the guests, Tengen and Zenitsu entered a live musical contest.

Stepping away from the exuberant show, you sought a moment of calm in the night air. Before long, your husband joined you, wrapping you in his embrace.

"Is everything okay, my love? Would you like me to ask the guests to leave?"

"No, it's not often we get to have this much fun with our friends; let's savor it a bit longer." As you held your beloved in your arms, a faint scent caught your attention. "Did you have a drink, Kyojuro?"

"Um ... just a little. Can you smell the alcohol?" he inquired with concern, the idea conjuring unpleasant memories related to his father.

"Barely, it's not overpowering, just unusual."

"Uzui is a bad influence, I'm afraid," he chuckled somewhat sardonically. "Kocho and Shinazugawa too. They convinced me that since I already had sake at the temple, I could break my habits for today and return to being the 'boringly sober Rengoku' after the party."

You offered a small empathetic smile. His comrades were likely just enthusiastic about fully letting loose with the groom for this exceptional celebration. While you didn't find it proper to encourage excessive drinking, you knew they were all good people, making it difficult to harbor any resentment towards them. Moreover, Kyojuro wasn't one to yield without being confident in his decisions, even under pressure. Unlike his father's experiences with sake, he was in a positive mental state, allowing him to appreciate alcohol in moderation.

"Hey! Rengoku! You'll have the rest of the night with your wife; for now, you're supposed to entertain us. Give us a speech," Tengen interrupted loudly from a distance, and everyone around him erupted in cheers.

Releasing you and proudly crossing his arms over his chest, Kyojuro turned to his friends and exclaimed with a big smile, his voice resonating throughout the estate:

"Of course! Allow me to regale you with the epic legends of my ancestors! Like the time when Rengoku Genjuro faced the giant river shrimp that terrorized the nearby villagers...!"

"Whaaaat? That's not the kind of speech I was asking for!" protested Uzui amid the guffaw of the audience, but it was already too late; Kyojuro was on a roll.

The story turned out to be truly engrossing, and you laughed until tears poured down your cheeks as Kyojuro explained how Genjuro, after defeating the titanic creature with a secret Flame Breathing technique, requested as a reward that the villagers make tempura out of its flesh. He consumed so much of the resulting mountain of tempura that his hair took on a shrimp color, and since then, it became a characteristic of the Rengoku family.

"I thought it was because your ancestor Imojuro had eaten too many sweet potatoes?" Tanjiro asked very seriously when the laughter calmed down. He had heard that version during his time here as a Tsuguko. Shinjuro let out a brief snort at the mention of this nonexistent ancestor whose first particle, "imo," already meant "sweet potato."

"No, it's said it’s because of the Kankagari ceremony performed by Rengokus' wives, who gaze at a flame for two hours a day during their pregnancy," Senjuro intervened with a sympathetic smile for his brother’s former student's gullibility.

"Exactly, it's for all these reasons!" Kyojuro exclaimed enthusiastically.

Wiping away your tears, you observed your husband's return after a few more minutes of mingling with the guests. Your friends and family engaged in animated discussions about the possible reasons behind the hereditary traits of the Rengokus and why they seemed to only produce male offspring. A smile adorned your face as you relished the lively debates and the comforting presence of your beloved beside you on the engawa.

"I wish this happiness could last forever," you unintentionally let slip.

Your voice faltered as you realized you had openly shared your thoughts. Averting your gaze, you quietly cursed yourself. You were normally better at silencing your reflections, especially when it came to subjects that could involve contemplation of your potentially shortened lifespans. Maybe the carefree atmosphere of the night had made you more vulnerable and unguarded with your emotions.

Kyojuro turned his gleaming ember eye towards you with a gentle smile as he took your hand in his.

"That will be the case, my love. This happiness will still burn bright, even long after our departure; our dear ones possess the willpower to sustain its flame. As for us, let's not fret about whether or not we will survive beyond the predictions. I intend to savor every moment I have with you, whether it spans a few years or decades. And whatever the outcome, I am confident that we will continue our story in our next life. One lifetime has never been enough to show you how much I love you, anyway."

Widening your eyes, you scrutinized Kyojuro attentively, only to find that he was gazing back at you with a knowing grin, as if you both shared a secret. Had he learned about Genjuro and Oai feelings for each other too? Did he suspect, like you, that they were your past incarnations?

Reflecting his expression, you smiled back at your husband. You chose not to inquire about whether he also retained memories of the Sengoku era. The tale of your ancestors was already etched in history, more tragic than joyful, while the path to a brighter future lay ahead. It was sufficient to believe that your soulmate would keep his promise, accompanying you for as long as possible, in this life and the next.

Author Note: I need a meme of Shinjuro contemplating his life choices while Kanoko and Kyojuro wreak havoc on the house with their loud sex life lmao. The poor man just can't catch a break.

This chapter was a very different than what I usually write, focusing mostly on fluff, humor, and happy scenes, with just a hint of angst at the end – hopefully, the right amount, concluding on a sweet note. Similar to Gotouge's approach in the official manga, I've left it open to your imagination whether the Marked (and Kanoko) had their lives cut short or not. I'm sure they were happy until the end in both cases.

As always, if I made a cultural mistake, please feel free to point them out. I conducted as much research as possible, but in the end, I'm neither Japanese nor a specialist in the topics covered here, lol.

There were some details I wanted to add, but they didn't fit the story's pace. Perhaps they'll find a place in a Bonus section along with other cut or dumped scenes. I did manage to say some stuff about Kanoko appearance here, which I kind of forgot to include earlier despite the fact that it was planned a long time ago. Let's see how it will go with the edited version I'd like to do later on.

Do you have any questions? Is there an AU of this fic that you would wish to see? (like an alternative ending, an different path, hidden or extra scenes, spin-offs with the same characters, etc.) Say it in the comment section or reach out to me directly! I might write some bonus chapters if inspiration strikes, so share your dreams! lol. I also want to highlight that if you want to write or make some art about this story yourselves then, you're welcome to do so, please link it to me <3.

Also, let me express again how happy I was receiving your likes, noticing your reblogs and reading/replying to your comments <;3 Your support fueled my motivation and set my own heart ablaze!

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My Transformation with EnduNAD+: How I Regained Lost Energy and Vitality

For years, the feeling of tiredness and fatigue had become my normal. I would wake up already exhausted, my concentration would abandon me by midday, and even small daily activities seemed to require immense effort. I felt like my body could no longer keep up with my mind, and that the relentless march of time was leaving its mark, not just on my appearance, but on my inner vitality too. I felt like I was aging faster than I should have.

Despite attempts to improve my lifestyle – more sleep, a more balanced diet – the results were minimal. I was searching for something that could truly make a difference, something that acted at a deeper level. It was during this search that I came across a concept that changed my perspective: NAD+.

The Discovery of NAD+ and the Hope for Change

I learned that NAD+ (Nicotinamide Adenine Dinucleotide) is a crucial molecule for energy production in our cells. I was surprised to discover that its levels drastically decrease with age, sometimes by up to 65% between the ages of 30 and 70. This explained so much! My chronic fatigue, my difficulty maintaining concentration, even the feeling of not recovering after physical activity – everything seemed linked to this decline in NAD+.

I began looking for a way to support my NAD+ levels. Among the various options, my attention was captured by EnduNAD+. The description struck me immediately: a multi-ingredient dietary supplement that acts as an NAD+ booster, rich in precursors. I was also reassured by the fact that it was an advanced formula, fast-acting, with natural ingredients, vegan-friendly, and produced in Europe. It seemed exactly what I needed.

The Start of My Journey with EnduNAD+

I decided to give EnduNAD+ a chance. The instructions were simple: two capsules a day with 300 ml of water, and I remembered not to take them on an empty stomach. I was skeptical at first, but also full of hope.

The first few weeks were a gradual experience. There was no sudden "click," but rather a slow and steady ascent. That feeling of tiredness and fatigue that had haunted me for years began to decrease. I found myself with more energy in the morning and fewer energy crashes in the afternoon.

The Benefits That Transformed My Daily Life

After about a month and a half of regular use, the changes were undeniable and went far beyond simple energy:

Rediscovered Vigor: The feeling of "lack of energy" vanished. Not only did I feel more physically energetic, but also mentally sharper. Activities that used to drain me, I now tackled with new momentum.

Improved Concentration and Mental Clarity: I noticed a significant boost in cognitive function. The brain fog that often accompanied me lifted. I could concentrate better at work, remember more details, and think more clearly. It was as if my brain had been reactivated, and I understood that it was the NAD+ protecting neurons and supporting mitochondrial function in the brain.

Faster Recovery and Stronger Muscles: Being an active person, I particularly appreciated the accelerated regeneration. After workouts, my muscles recovered faster and I felt stronger. Ingredients like Fenugreek Seed Extract that support muscle health and endurance really made a difference.

Restorative Sleep and Better Mood: Although not a sleep aid, I noticed the quality of my sleep improved. Reading about the ingredients, I discovered the role of L-Tryptophan in the production of serotonin and melatonin, which influence mood and sleep quality. This contributed to a general emotional balance and a feeling of well-being that I had been missing.

Optimized Metabolism: Without drastically changing my diet, I noticed an improvement in metabolism and more effective weight management. NAD+ regulates glucose and fatty acid metabolism, and I felt the benefit of better nutrient processing.

An Overall Feeling of Vitality and Well-being: My immune system seemed more robust, and I felt more protected from stress and aging. It was as if my entire organism had received a boost, a "regeneration."

Why I Recommend EnduNAD+

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[positivlyfocused]

How One Client Found Her Way to Powerful Results

TL;DR The author recounts a session this week in which the client’s journey shows how powerful the dream state can be when paired with vibrational alignment—and how nurturing your Inner Being leads to inspired, effortless breakthroughs in life and work.

When I spoke with “Marsha”, a newer client, this week, she was in the thick of it. The assignment she’d received from her collaborator and spiritual partner, whom we’ll call “Janice”, had stirred up something deep. Not because the assignment was unreasonable. But because it touched an old wound—one that said: “You’re not safe to express. If you speak up, express fear…if you’re seen, something bad will happen.”

This was no small ripple. This was a wave of paralyzing fear that locked her out of clarity and into self-doubt. But what unfolded next wasn’t just a turning point in Marsha’s relatively new Positively Focused practice. It was a revelation.

At first, Marsha tried to push through her resistance, telling Janic sure, she can do the assignment. But fear of failure gripped her and wouldn’t let go. Marsha knew this was an opportunity to apply the practice. So, despite her fears, she turned to the Positively Focused process we’ve been cultivating in our work together.

And she did apply it. But it didn’t immediately produce the ease she hoped for.

Because sometimes, the momentum is still too strong. Sometimes, our beliefs are too practiced. And when that’s the case, the best thing we can do is not force alignment… but pause, soften, and allow. That’s exactly what Marsha did. 

From Collapse To Consciousness 

After trying the process, Marsha felt a nudge. It felt like fatigue. It overcame her. Rather than push through that signal, she took that as a sign that her Broader Perspective wanted her in nonphysical. So she heeded the call. She lay down, hoping to meditate or rest. But what came next was something more powerful than either. She dreamed.

In this dream, Marsha faced the same emotional landscape she had in waking life: extreme fear, constriction in her body, performance anxiety, and a sense that being her full self was unacceptable. But in the dreamscape, her Broader Perspective had more room to work.

Symbol after symbol appeared, each one softening the density she’d been carrying. Marsha felt her freedom return. She felt her joy light up. She felt the truth: Her voice is not a threat. Her creativity is not dangerous. Her sensitivity is not a liability. It is her genius. But she also saw in her dream imagery confirming contrast between those positive things and the repression, the urge to conform, and the fear that being fully self expressive was a problem. 

When she awoke from the dream, something remarkable happened. The assignment no longer looked like a burden. In fact, her mind began overflowing with ideas—not just about that one task, but about others she’d been postponing. Inspiration arrived in waves. Energy returned. What felt impossible just hours earlier, before her dream now felt obvious, even joyful.

^^Softening our resistance we rediscover the joy buried underneath.

The Value of the Dream State

In a short time, Marsha got a lot of her tasks done. Not by efforting, but by allowing. The rest she left to the Universe. That was an interesting choice because the deadline Marsha thought was hard and fast was actually something more pliable. Janice, who also is a client who meets with me before I meet with Marsha, said there was no deadline. And if Marsha couldn’t complete the assignment, it was ok, Janice said. The assignment was a stretch goal.

In-session, Marsha and I explored her side of the experience. She shared the dream, the before-and-after of it, the vibrational shift. Marsha wasn’t just reporting on tasks completed. She was describing a vibrational recalibration. One that aligned her with ease, clarity, and flow.

Of course, the power of the session wasn’t in what we solved. It was in what we remembered together: That every human being has access to this power. Many people think the dream state is just the brain’s way of organizing memory. But in the Positively Focused framework, we know dreams are so much more.

Dreams are calibrations. They are communications. They are environments where little resistance occurs. So we have a greater ability to resolve vibrational conflicts from our waking experience. Such vibrational resolutions often work faster than conscious effort. In dream state, resolutions are instant. Because when the waking mind rests, our Broader Perspective can slip past the guards of belief and touch the heart directly.

Most people wake from dreams and pick up their resistance right where they left off when they went to sleep. So they don’t get this benefit.

Breakdowns: Always Launchpads for Breakthroughs

Not. Marsha. What’s more—her dream proved that Marsha is never alone. Her Inner Being is always assisting her. But she must slow down enough to let it. She must open up to a higher order function. Her nonphysical wisdom.

The journey Marsha took over those few days is one many clients experience in this practice:

A trigger ignites old momentum.

Resistance sets in.

The practice is applied, but feels shaky.

A new impulse (like rest) is honored.

In sleep or stillness, resistance dissolves.

Resolution happens.

Inspiration flows.

Action follows effortlessly.

This cycle is not unique to Marsha. It’s the natural rhythm of alignment. The more clients lean into it, the more they discover just how brilliant both their Inner Being and the Universe are at organizing everything for success—not just external success, but vibrational success. The kind that changes your inner world and your waking life results.

Marsha’s transformation wasn’t about getting the assignment done. It was about deepening her relationship with the one being who has never doubted her: Her Broader Perspective.

So many people chase external validation, thinking that’s where value comes from. But true stability, confidence, and joy come from nurturing the relationship that exists beyond thought, beyond fear, beyond ego. That relationship is always available. Always ready. Always loving.

And when you tune to it, like Marsha did, life becomes unimaginably rich. That’s what clients in the Positively Focused practice are discovering every day. And you can too.

Become a client. We got your back. Always.