#vits fronting

[everloste]

trying something new(ish)

talking about my feelings under the cut.

life would probably be a bit easier if i wanted to be alive.

it comes back to that every time. "well maybe if you actually didn't want to die you'd take care of yourself!" idk maybe, but thats not where im at. i've lost a lot of my motivation to do things, to share with others. i have to be reminded to share my art, i DONT share my writing... i barely even talk about myself that often. im usually content to not be remembered by anyone... that used to be my biggest fear.

even my boyfriend barely ever hears the emotional truth from me anymore. i have no interest in being myself or sharing my thoughts or feelings. i honestly think the only feelings i have are anger and sadness, punctuated by episodes of mania i convince myself are happiness. maybe im wrong, my point of view is apparently very darksided when im like this. since i never talk about it anymore i dont really know.

i used to be an open book but i got hurt over and over again and shamed for things i didnt deserve to be shamed for until i stopped being that person where anyone could see. i've forgotten what that person was even like. i am literally no longer the same entity as the one who used my old account, who opened up about my life, who trusted others. they dont even feel real, really. i dont relate to them, i dont know how they lived with everything happening to them... i dont know what they cared about or how they were able to be kind to people, how they managed to live with all of this grief and anger...

but i say that about the person i was 6 hours ago sometimes. the fun of having a dissociative identity disorder is that i feel that way all the time and i never know whats real about what im feeling. i tend to assume none of it is real or all of it. (sometimes theres no difference between all and nothing.) (i know this is not sound logic.)

but that kindof leads me to completely disregarding myself a lot of the time. which my boyfriend hates...

theres no clean conclusion to this, im just forcing myself to write this down instead of crying alone and pretending im fine later.

[29121996]

YA ANYWAY

[myrthms]

Decking Front Yard (Stockholm)

[myblindbrother]

Front Yard Porch in Gothenburg

[narcoticv3nus]

Crimson and Clover 𝜗ৎ König

Kinktober Day XVI: Spanking/Impact Play

summary: time for another punishment tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, spanking, oral sex(m!receiving), degradation, punishment, mean!könig, brattamer!könig, bratty!reader, sub!reader, dom!könig wc: 2.1k a/n: what did we do this time?

MASTERLIST

Standing before him, your fingers wrapped tightly around the hem of your tiny club dress, feeling the soft fabric crinkle in your fist. The delicate material shimmered in the dim lighting as you shifted slightly, your heart racing. You peered into his cold, unforgiving gaze, a mix of fear and determination swirling within you.

The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, and you could sense the weight of his scrutiny. It was as if he could see through you, unraveling your thoughts and vulnerability.

König sat hunched over, his broad shoulders tense, with his elbows propped heavily on his knees. His gaze pierced through the dim light, unwavering as he fixed his unblinking icy blue eyes on you. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of your neck, sending a shiver along your spine. It was almost as if time had slowed as you began to count each long, dark lash that framed his intense stare, the weight of his presence wrapping around you like a thick fog.

“I’m sorry, König–” The moment the words slipped from your lips, you noticed his eyes narrowed slightly, a clear signal for you to stop speaking. The intensity of his gaze made your heart race as you instinctively complied, sealing your lips tightly together. You pressed them firmly, feeling the soft flesh meld, a barrier safeguarding the thoughts swirling in your mind. In that silence, unspoken words hung heavy, charged with an uncomfortable tension.

You knew you shouldn't have gone out when he told you no, but who was to tell you what you can and can't do? He's not your father, even if he pretends to be.

"So, you zink you can disobey me and zen come crawling back here vit no consequences, hmm?" König's voice was low, a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the room. He studied you intently; his hands clasped together in front of him, those piercing saucers seeing right through your defiant exterior.

He momentarily said nothing, letting his words sink in before rising from his seat in one fluid motion. With a single finger, he beckoned you closer, his stern expression unwavering. He reached out, grabbing your wrist firmly yet not cruelly, pulling you over to him. As he sat back down, he tugged you forward, guiding you over his lap with a strength that left you little room to protest.

He adjusted you on his lap, ensuring your bottom was positioned just right—centered and elevated over his muscular thighs. The rough fabric of his pants scraped against your sensitive skin, a stark contrast to the softness of your dress. You squirmed slightly, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He placed a firm hand on your back, holding you steady as he lifted the hem of your dress, exposing your lace-covered bottom completely. His hand rose, hovering over the curve of your behind for a moment before delivering the first sharp smack. It echoed through the room, a loud clap followed by the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

He continued each blow landing with precision, gradually increasing in intensity. He could feel the heat rising from your skin, his palm burning with the impact, but his expression remained stern and determined.

König's grip on your wrist tightened, his hold on you unyielding as you struggled against his firm grasp. You tried to squirm away, but his hand pressed harder into the small of your back, pinning you in place. He didn't relish in causing you pain, but he knew it was necessary—a lesson that would hopefully prevent such reckless behavior. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because of your stubbornness.

Each strike was calculated and delivered with enough force to make an impression yet not leave permanent marks. The sound of his hand connecting with your bottom filled the room, punctuated by your sharp gasps and stifled whimpers.

The spanking continued, each swat echoing through the quiet space, until König felt satisfied that the message was well received. Finally, he paused, breathing heavily as he watched your squirming form, a hungry glint in his eyes.

“M’sorry…” you sniffled, pressing your cheek into the leather cushion beneath you as his heavy, warm hand caressed over your stinging skin with a newfound tenderness, a stark contrast to the hostility it was inflicting onto you mere seconds prior. You glanced behind you, shivering as your eyes met his. “I should've listened to you,” you finished as blood rushed to your cheeks, filling you with shame. Shame for crushing your ego and submitting to the man above you and shame for liking it. Tears continued slipping down your cheeks until they created a small puddle on the cushions below.

"I know you’re sorry," König muttered, his tone softer yet firm. His hand remained on your warm, stinging flesh, rubbing gentle circles to ease the pain—a strange mix of punishment and comfort that sent confusing signals throughout your body. His touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, savoring the heat that radiated from you.

With a sigh, König lifted you into a sitting position, perched on his lap, effortlessly repositioning your legs around his waist. His hand cupped your cheek, lifting your face to meet his gaze, "You're mine. Mine to protect, mine to discipline, mine to fuck." His voice turned sharp as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against your forehead. His thumb swept across your cheekbone, catching a rogue tear. "You vill never do that again, understood?" The command was gentle, yet the underlying authority was impossible to miss.

You nodded begrudgingly, your eyebrows furrowing and your bottom lip jutting into a pout. You kept your eyes locked onto his clothed chest, too humiliated to meet his gaze.

"Look at me," he urged, his voice softening. König hated seeing you upset—it was almost like looking at a wounded animal. But he also knew that you needed this.

His fingers brushed gently across your cheek, urging your chin upward until your eyes met his again. He searched your gaze, looking for the slightest hint of defiance before nodding, satisfied that the lesson had sunk in. "Good girl," he breathed, pulling you closer into a tight embrace. The firmness of his chest pressed against you as he rested his chin on your head.

As you sniffled and wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging onto him like a lifeline, König felt a warmth spread through his chest, an odd sensation of belonging. He stroked your hair gently, murmuring words in German that you didn't understand but somehow knew were meant to soothe. "I vill take care of you," he whispered in English, his accent thickening slightly, "Alvays," he promised, whispering your name into your ear as his hips pressed into yours, his erection straining against his jeans as it sought out your warmth.

"Now," König said, his voice deep and husky, breaking the silence after a few moments, "are you ready to apologize properly?" He held your gaze, his hand slipping lower to cup your bottom firmly. His fingers traced over your stinging flesh, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Yes?" he prompted, lifting an eyebrow expectantly. He enjoyed this dance of power and submission between them—the way you trembled at his touch yet clung to him for support.

In response to your nod and your obedient “yes sir” that followed, König shifted his grip on your bottom, pulling you forward until your lips hovered inches from his. He pressed a hard kiss onto your mouth, his tongue demanding entrance. As you moaned and opened up to him, König deepened the kiss, claiming ownership of you once more.

One hand remained firmly planted on your backside while the other slid up your thigh, pushing your dress aside to reveal damp lace underwear. He groaned into your mouth, his fingers brushing against the fabric before hooking his thumbs into the waistband and yanking them down. You gasped against his lips as he exposed your sensitive skin to the cool air. His hand returned to cup your bare bottom, squeezing it firmly before giving it a sharp smack—a reminder of your place.

“Vell, then," he said, breaking away from the kiss, "Apologize, and maybe ve can move on from dis." His tone was gruff with lust, betraying his own need for resolution.

You immediately sank to your knees, whimpering when your knees thunked against the hardwood floor. You peered up at him, batting your lashes in faux innocence as you undid his belt, pooling it through his pant loops before unbuttoning the seam and pulling down his zipper.

As you freed him from his jeans, König's cock sprang forth, heavy and erect. He stared down at you, his breath hitching as you wrapped your small hands around his girth. When your tongue flicked out to taste him, König's hand found its way into your hair, gripping it firmly. "Vhat are you sorry for, mein Engel?" he asked, his voice strained. He knew it wasn't the time for words, but he needed to hear you admit your wrongdoing and see that you understood why you were here, on your knees before him.

“For going out when you told me no…” you murmured, nuzzling your cheek against his twitching cock, feeling his twitch tip leaking precum onto your skin.

“Zat’s right…” His hips bucked forward slightly as you began to suck him, his fingers tightening in your locks. He tried to keep his control, but the sight of your reddened cheeks and tear-stained face, coupled with the exquisite pleasure you were giving him, made it difficult.

König's eyes narrowed, and he reminded himself that this was about more than just release—it was about dominance and submission, about teaching you the consequences of disobeying him. But as your pace quickened and you took him deeper into your sinful mouth, he couldn't help but feel a primal satisfaction surge through him. He'd break you down and build you back up again—stronger, better, and utterly devoted to him.

"Mmm," he grunted approvingly, watching intently as your lips slid up and down his shaft. His eyes narrowed, savoring the moment when your gaze met his. He loved seeing you like this—submissive and eager to please him. As you continued to work his length, he reached out a hand, cupping your cheek and wiping away the remnants of tears.

"Ve all make mistakes," he said gruffly, "but ve learn from zem, ja?" His free hand drifted to your throat, applying light pressure before sliding down to cup your breast, thumbing the hardened nipple beneath your dress. "Show me how much you've learned," he growled, guiding your movements faster and harder. His release built within him, but König wouldn't let go until you'd fully atoned for your disobedience.

Watching you take him so willingly into your mouth, he couldn’t help the low rumble of appreciation that escaped his throat. His grip on your hair tightened, guiding your movements, forcing you to take him deeper than before. He savored the warmth and wetness of your mouth, the way your tongue swirled around the tip of his cock, and the gentle scrape of your teeth. He could feel his release building, but he held back—this wasn’t just about pleasure. This was a lesson, a reminder of who was in control.

"Vhat do you say?" he asked again, his voice strained with need. His fingers pinched your nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. König smirked—he knew exactly how to get the reaction he wanted. "Say it," he urged, groaning your name as his hips started to buck rhythmically with your movements.

“Fank you,” you gurgled the words around his length, cringing at the sound of your voice muffled by his cock pistoning in and out of your mouth.

König's smirk deepened. "Very good." He leaned forward, his free hand resting on your shoulder as he thrust deeper into your mouth. "Ve're making progress," he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

He continued to fuck your face, relishing the feeling of power as you struggled to keep up with his pace. But you were strong, he could tell—stronger than most. And König loved nothing more than pushing those he cared for to their limits. When he finally released himself, it was with a moan that echoed through the room, painting your face and hair with his seed.

As you sat back, coughing and gasping for breath, König couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. He pulled you to your feet and wiped the remnants of black-stained tears away with his thumb.

"Clean yourself up," he ordered gruffly, releasing you and turning to fix himself. When he looked back, his eyes were serious. "And don't forget—next time you disobey me, ve'll be having a different conversation." He didn't want to frighten you, but you needed to know that there would always be consequences. That was just part of being his.

main masterlist, rules

[mapsontheweb]

Words with hv- initially in North Germanic languages. Shown with the word for "whale".

by jkvatterholm 

This hv- in these words is exactly the same as in the other germanic languages. whale/hvalr, what/hvat. However a few interesting things have happened.

In the west, and in East-Swedish it has gone over to kv- and gv-. Much of the area has lost the h, making it just w- or v-. While some places have kept the h in front of a v or w. hw-.

The oldest reconstruction of this word is *(s)kʷálos, meaning “sheatfish”. This is some of those descendants:

*(s)kʷálos

squalus - Latin

kalis - Prussian

hwalaz - Germanic

*hwalaz evolved further into many different languages:

Old English: hwæl

English: whale

Old High German: wal

German: Wal

Proto Norse: hwalaR

Old Norse: hvalr

It also lent the words to Finnish and Sami people as valas and fális/faelies

The exact pronunciation of hv- in old Norse is a bit debated, but in any case the h hardened to a K in the west, while in the east it was mostly dropped completely.

Another nice example is the word "white". "hwi" in Jutland, "kvit" in Norway, "hoit/hwit" in Estonia, "wait" in Älvdalen and "vit" in Swedish.

Some sources:

http://xn--lvdalsk-4wa.ordbok.gratis/ - Elfdalian http://www.jyskordbog.dk/ordbog/ - Jutlandic http://www.rnhf.se/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=197&Itemid=104 - Estonian http://www.sprakochfolkminnen.se/sprak/dialekter/syd--och-vastsvensk-dialektdatabas/sok-i-databasen.html - South-West Sweden http://runeberg.org/dialektl/0031.html - Swedish in general http://uppslag.kaapeli.fi/bin/view/Uppslagsverket/SvenskanIFinland - Finnland

[knight-dwx-09]

First Player

1. New Admin

After hours of thinking, Jaune was debating between Trivia Vanilla, Pyrrha Nikos, and Ruby Rose. Why those three? To be honest, he just chose random since the floating words won’t help him at all. And finally, he had chosen one.

Jaune: Okay, first option have never failed me before so I choose Ruby Rose.

[Picking Ruby Rose]

[Waiting for the user to reply…]

The only thing Jaune could do at that moment was sitting on his bed and wait when he noticed from the window that it was already dark.

Jaune: Hmmm, should I go to sleep? I don’t even know if this person is awake or not.

[Congratulations]

[Player: “Ruby Rose” had accepted to become your first Player]

Jaune: YES!

A blue screen appeared with a name in front of him, giving some detail to the person he chose.

Name: Ruby Rose

Title: Red Riding Hood

Gender: Female

Age: 4

Race: Human (Silver-Eyed Warrior)

Level: 5

HP: 250

MP: (Locked)

AP: (Locked)

STR: 6

VIT: 3

DEX: 13

INT: 9

WIS: 7

CHA: 10

LUK: 120

Jaune: Oh wow, she is really young. I wonder how she react to a blue screen show up in her face, asking her to become a player.

As he read the detail of her information, he saw something that catch his eyes.

Jaune: Silver-eyed warrior? What is that?

[System level is too low to provide the answer]

Jaune: Come on! Aren’t you supposed to help me to become a hero?

[System could only help the Developer within its authority at the moment. Trying to give aids beyond of the current capability are impossible]

Jaune: Fine… but can you at least call me Jaune instead of Developer?

[Of course Jaune]

He smiled a bit after it listen to his request as he continue reading Ruby Rose’s information. he know what the number and stat represent, he didn’t being called a gamer master by her family for nothing.

Jaune: Wait, if I can see her stat, could I see my?

[Correct]

Jaune: Then I want to see it.

A screen with his name materialize in the thin air.

Name: Jaune Arc

Title: Coward Hero (Jaune: Hey!), The Admin

Age: 7

Race: Human

HP: 520

MP: 100

AP: 1700

STR: 23

VIT: 30

DEX: 17

INT: 3 (Jaune: COME ON!)

WIS: 5

CHA: 5 (Jaune:… I hate you…)

LUK: 1 (Locked) (Jaune: *Sulking*)

[Point System: 47]

Jaune: why most of my stat are so low compared to Ruby?

[Because Jaune love to sleep through the class, read comic book in most of the free time, and have a very low-self esteem]

Jaune: No I don’t!

[…]

Jaune: It just my family and people around me are much better than me…

[…]

Jaune: And the class are so boring, why should I learn about math when I can use my brain to become a hero!

[…]

Jaune: Fine… I may have low self esteem and don’t like studied…

[Wisdom has increased by 1]

Jaune: Jerk

[Realizing one’s flaw is a great first step to reaching one’s desired]

Jaune: You are still a jerk

[System level up!]

Jaune: Huh? Already? Does that mean you could finally answer me some of my questions like what is a silver-eyed warrior?

[System level is too low to provide the answer]

Then something snap in him as he let out a loud scream the revert throughout the household of Arc.

Somewhere

A young rose in his beowolf onesie slam open her bedroom door with a loud noise, scaring Tai Xiao Long as he jumped in his chair.

Ruby: Dad! There’s blue screen floating in the air!

Tai head snap toward his second sweet daughter, Summer’s cookies in hand as he was about to eat it but stop like a deer caught in headlights.

Tai: Huh… Where?

Ruby: Right there! It is saying that I have become the first Gamer! It’s like the RPG game I player this morning!

Tai just stares at the empty air where Ruby was pointing for a moment, then to her sparkling eyes, and back to the cookies in his hold as Yang, in her pajamas, come out of her room while rubbing her tired eyes.

Tai: Just what did Summer put in this cookies?

[girafeduvexin]

L'AU de Gravity Falls (Fraternité Falls ?) avec Ford et Stan en vieux militants de gauche français, ça va me faire ma semaine.

D'un côté, t'as Ford qui était militant au PCF dans les années 70, ancien soixante-huitard (il a tellement fait ses études à Nanterre), limite trotskiste, le gars expert en théorie marxiste, tu débats avec lui et il te sort 45 textes de Marx ou Benjamin qui te contredisent, l'intello de gauche avec ses pulls troués et ses millions de feuilles volantes, mais qui, contrairement à tous ses camarades, ne fait pas de la socio mais de la physique ! Étonnamment, il a cru au programme commun en 81, il a voté pour Mitterrand, et paf en 82, Stan le pousse dans le portail. Il revient en 2012, sous la présidence de Hollande "ah mais le PCF est encore là?" "C'est mort" "c'est à cause du PS, ces sales social-traitres !", il apprend a posteriori la trahison de Mitterand et le tournant de la rigueur "on peut vraiment pas faire confiance à un socialiste", il fume des clopes en rageant devant le Mystery Shack à chaque intervention télévisée de Hollande et il cotise toujours au PCF, malgré tout.

De l'autre, t'as Stan, peu politisé dans son adolescence, et qui passe à côté de mai 68 parce qu'à la rue à ce moment là, qui vit de débrouille, de galère, qui ne vote pas, ne s'intéresse pas à tout ça pendant longtemps parce que bah, ce qu'il veut c'est survivre jusqu'au lendemain et c'est tout. Et puis, il pousse par accident Ford dans un portail, et le voilà bien malgré lui installé à Gravity Falls. Et maintenant que la survie n'est plus un enjeu, sa conscience politique s'éveille et elle est évidemment marquée par ses années de galère. Ces hommes politiques qui parlent d"assistanat", qu'est-ce qu'ils connaissent à la misère ? Stan est pas très cultivé politiquement et il a pas le temps pour ça, il a un portail à réparer et un frère à sauver, mais les mecs en cravate qui parlent sans rien connaître, ça l'enrage. Et ils ont le culot de dire que c'est à cause de l'immigration qu'il y a du chômage en France ! Stan vote LO, NPA, il vote pour des gens du peuple sans jamais adhérer à un parti (mais il a quand même failli être sur une liste électorale locale !) et il emmerde les fachos, par principe, sans vraiment trop creuser derrière. Il entarte des politicards, il fait des manifs sauvages et il tabasse des fachos dès qu'il peut. Au Mystery Shack, à certaines heures, on peut entendre les Béruriers Noirs gueuler "LA JEUNESSE EMMERDE LE FRONT NATIONAL" et Stan corrige "la VIEILLESSE emmerde le front national".

En 2012, Ford revient, Stan et lui se disputent etc, y a l'apocalypse, ils se réconcilient. Ils discutent de tout, de rien, mais pas de politique, parce qu'il y a tellement plus important à ce moment là.

Et puis un soir, alors qu'ils regardent la télé, on annonce au 20h que Hollande va faire une intervention ce soir. Les deux frères sifflent entre leurs dents, sans se concerter :

"Sale traître"

Regards surpris l'un sur l'autre, puis sourires : évidemment. Évidemment.

Stan fume des roulées avec Ford devant le Mystery Shack. Il râle en disant que les hommes politiques ne comprennent pas le peuple, Ford l'accuse en souriant d'être populiste, Stan rétorque que Ford est un "sale coco de merde". Ils rigolent. La vie est belle.

[alicedusstuff]

Juste moi qui pensait avant de dormir…

-version française-

Wukong n'était pas sûr s'il avait envie de pleurer ou de crier. Son corps tout entier ressemblait à un cœur qui battait trop fort contre sa poitrine.

Il regarda le sol avec rage. Puis, ses mains, ces mains impuissantes qui avaient été dans l'incapacite d'arrêter Macaque.

"C'était stupide, stupide, stupide, stupide, stupide!"

Wukong attrapa chaque côté de sa tête et tira sur ses cheveux. Son corps s'affaissa alors qu'il criait , le front collé à son ombre. C'etait le dernier vestige du portail par lequel son ami venait de le recracher pour échapper à un châtiment qu'il n'aurait jamais vu venir.

Il revoyait encore Macaque le tirer dans le portail au moment où la montagne lui tombait dessus. Il le vit lui sourire si gentiment. Pourtant Wukong pouvait entendre un "Je te l'avais dit" moqueur dans l'arrière de sa tête. Il eu juste le temps d'apercevoir Macaque user de sa magie pour porter un glamour qui changerait le singe de l'ombre, en la personne qu'il avait tenté de protéger.

Wukong ne pouvait oublier comment le noir passait au orange, les six oreilles disparaissaient pour en devenir deux, et les pupilles ressembler aux siennes.

Wukong se maudit.

Qu'est-ce qui l'a poussé à s'opposer à Bouddah ?

Il leva les yeux vers l'endroit ou devrait se trouver la montagne où Macaque devrais certainement être bloqué. Devrait il aller le voir? Macaque lui en voudrait t-il ? Voulait il même le voir ? Le coeur de Wukong se serra. Il ne pouvait pas y retourner. Il n'en avait pas le droit...il...n'était pas prêt pour ça. Il ne supporterait pas la colère de Macaque. Pas après qu'il lui est promis une vie de bonheur.

"Et si il mourrait sous cette montagne? "

Les ongles de Wukong gratèrent la terre de la montagne de fleur et de fruit, et un petit rire bref lui echappa. Non...Macaque avait une longévité demoniaque. Il ne mourra pas...n'est ce pas ?

Wukong reflechit un moment avant de se mordre l'interieur des lèvres. Il allait quand même s'assurer de nourrir Macaque tout les jours...si le singe de l'ombre ne lui en veux pas trop.

[eruden-writes]

Self-Destructive Life Choices - Part 1

Boss x Employee Orc x Human May not continue

This started off as a self-indulgent boss x employee little smut fic - wherein the boss just propositions the employee one day - but went a completely different direction.

Summary: Estrella Marsh has worked for Kizru Vit, CEO and owner of Storybound Publishing House, for five years. For most of that time, she has harbored a crush on him. A crush which she has, effectively, crushed down and refuses to address.

Three months after Kizru and his romantic partner separate, he propositions Estrella to - ahem - help him scratch an itch. Which, in turn, leads to a bigger proposal.

xxx

Stopping outside her boss’s office, Estrella Marsh took a deep breath and readjusted the litany of papers in her arms. An excited apprehension always came with entering Mr. Vit’s proximity. It had been five years since Estrella started working at Storybound Publishing House and her nerves had never deadened. 

Mr. Vit had been the one to hire Estrella as his personal assistant, which was just a more PC way of saying secretary. She answered calls and emails; scheduled and reminded him of appointments; and, less commonly, often read and “red penned” some of the potential manuscripts looking to publish under SPH’s logo. Likely the job should have gone to an actual copy editor or something, but the boss seemed to trust Estrella with the “special” option the most.

Estrella was not sure what made them particularly special, other than the fact they were written by the company’s #1 Best Selling Romance Author, CR Onamai.

Steeling herself as she pushed the door open, she half-hoped he would be gone. It was later in the evening and, since his long-time partner’s departure, he’d taken leaving early without notice. Keeping her head down - certainly not daring to look at the door that once connected Kizru’s office to Ryeleigh’s - she trudged into the office and made a beeline for his desk.

She barely got two steps in when Mr. Vit’s voice greeted her, “Hey, Red, want to help me with something?” 

Her head snapped up, finding Mr. Vit leaned back in his chair. His green eyes on her and his eyebrows raised in an inquisitive fashion.

The nickname he gifted her wasn’t particularly imaginative, coined upon her talent for “red-penning” manuscripts. There was no other reason for it, considering she had neither red hair nor a penchant for wearing the color.

Fighting down the heat of being seen, Estrella moved closer to his desk and placed the stack of documents down. Task complete, she stood straight and clasped her hands in front of herself. “What is it, Mr. Vit?” 

She was careful to keep the curiosity from her eyes when she looked at her boss. 

Kizru Vit was not necessarily someone she had imagined sitting at the helm of a publishing company. If Estrella hadn’t worked at the publishing company, she would have pictured the head to be someone older and bespectacled. Perhaps possessing a distinguished air. Someone no nonsense and particular.

Kizru, on the other hand, was tall and broad with a seaweed green skin tone and features that could be called sculpted or craggy, depending on his mood. His style of dress waffled between business-casual to, on predicted slow days, sweatpants and a tank top. A scar streaked down the right side of his face, turning his right eye a more milky shade of green. Despite the injury, he assured Estrella he could still see out of the eye.

His age was beginning to show in his black beard, peppered with white, and at his white-streaked temples. During her employment, the rest of his hair had subtly shifted from deep black to a lighter shade, undoubtedly becoming lighter with age.

Admittedly, he did wear glasses and at times he could be distinguished. Though thanks to how closely Estrella worked with him, the distinguished air was often undercut by his scatter-minded tendencies.

“It’s been three months since my partner left me, right?” He braced his elbow on top of the desk, leaning forward as his chin rested in his palm.

His position reminded her of a schoolkid, staring longingly at the clock as it inched closer to dismissal time. However, the reminder of his ex almost made her jolt. Ryeleigh, her boss’s ex, had been his romantic partner for longer than Estrella worked at the publishing house. They’d always been pleasant and kind, though professionally distant. Something Kizru could have taken notes on when Ryeleigh was present.

Further, they had always been one of the reasons Estrella had clamped down on the fond thoughts of Mr. Vit, keeping her admiration from becoming more than workplace appropriate.

“Yes, I believe it’s been about three months.” In an attempt to swallow the feelings that threatened to flutter through her, she gave a stoic nod.

Kizru’s green eyes watched her carefully for a long moment, fingers toying with the short beard at his chin. Estrella couldn’t even imagine what he was thinking. Had Ryeleigh contacted him to renew their relationship? Was he considering getting back out into the dating world? Neither of those thoughts seemed like he’d need her input. 

He was a grown man, capable of doing his own research or taking his own ass out on the town if he so pleased. 

“Alright, putting all the cards on the table,” Kizru finally sighed, pressing both of his palms flat to the desk as he leaned back. She noticed how his chair slid backward as his back hit the cushion. “I’m really horny.” 

Her attention shot to his face, her eyes widening at the three simple words. He was horny? Heat churned through her, confused and wary. As much as she admired him, as much as he made something inside her squirm, that was not in her job description. And she wasn’t about to let it become entangled in her professional affairs.

With her eyebrows furrowing and her lips twisting into a frown, she replied, “You have two hands. Use those.” 

“Believe me, I have been. It’s an itch that needs another person to scratch.” Kizru groaned, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling again. He didn’t even have the decency to be flushed at his ridiculous request, Estrella noticed. 

“Mr. Vit, this is sexual harassment,” she sighed, her tone a hard warning. He shouldn’t need this reminder. These words alone could ruin him. Only the fact she liked him and felt grateful for this position really saved him from the scandal.

As expected, he nodded and turned his gaze to her. “I know.” 

“Then why ask me that!” It was more of an exclamation than a question on her part. She was glad she had already deposited the papers to his desk, otherwise they would have been thrown into flight. While not the first time he had spoken openly - unprofessionally - in front of her, this was by far the worst he’d been. Had the break-up really affected him so badly?

He gave a single shoulder shrug, too lackadaisical in Estrella’s opinion. An infuriatingly light grin tilted at his lips. “You didn’t say no right away.” 

“And I didn’t say yes,” she snapped back, trying to convince herself the heat on her cheeks was ruddy anger rather than mortification. Or something worse. “You could get in a lot of trouble for this.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Kizru gave another careless shrug that made Estrella want to slap the everloving shit out of him.

“You are risking your career, your livelihood to scratch an itch, Mr. Vit.” It was only by the gods’ grace that Estrella managed to say the words at her regular decibel, albeit in a ferociously clipped tone. She put her hands on her hips, scowling at her boss. Something in his smile twitched a little wider and, not for the first time, Estrella felt like an old-time schoolmarm being sassed by a precocious adolescent.

Which honestly should not have been the case, given the fact he was older than her. But she had always been an “old soul,” as her mother said. Of course, Estrella later realized that was just a more polite way of calling her stodgy. 

Kizru shrugged as if he didn’t care about the problems his proposal could cause as he got to his feet. Her mind raced, one question rotating around her thoughts. How could he not care? All the while, part of her watched as Kizru moved out from behind the desk, closing the distance between the two of them.

“Are you having one of those mid-life ‘oh no my partner left me so I’m going to make destructive life choices’ moments?” The words would have had greater impact had Estrella not backed away from her boss with his every step forward. She couldn’t risk Kizru getting closer to her. The heat on her cheeks and the pounding in her chest were already distracting enough. Just catching the whiff of his cologne made her knees wobble.

He paused, looping his thumbs into the pockets of his pants as he regarded Estrella. She could only imagine what he saw. A frumpy woman, dressed in her usual black slacks and white blouse and grey cardigan. Dark brown hair so threaded with grey, it was becoming a lighter, dustier, color. She barely resisted the urge to bashfully push her glasses up higher on her nose.

Did he think she’d be an easy lay? Was that why he was breaching the legally allowable parameters of their employer-employee relationship? Estrella tried to let that thought fuel her anger, but a hidden part of her knew it wasn’t exactly incorrect. She had, in her moments of weakness, fantasized about that very breach of conduct herself. 

As if hearing her thoughts, a crooked grin parted his lips, making her insides burn. That particular smile always brought her attention to his tusks, often filed down to nubs. Since the separation, she thought he may have eased off on the ritual, but it was hard to tell.

“Maybe I am being self-destructive or maybe I’m just horny and decided to shoot my… shot with you, Red.” 

Estrella narrowed her eyes at him again, somehow feeling the other word he had hanging on his tongue. His smile twitched, a spark of mischief dancing in his green eyes. Shoot his load with her, indeed. 

“Look, you'll be all within your rights to go to HR about this. You can walk out that door now and I won’t stop you.” He raised his hands, palms facing Estrella in a non-threatening motion. She had to bite her tongue to keep from ogling his forearms, the sleeves of his button-up shoved to his elbow. This situation was not one where she should gawp at her boss. She should be offended and disgusted, on her way to HR right that moment. 

When his next words registered in her head, it froze her thoughts. “But I can smell the arousal on you. I have for a while. Just figured, what with me being single now and the opportunity…” 

Cold shot through Estrella, making the heat on her cheeks burn all the worse. Her wide eyes pinned him with a wild look. “How long?” 

“Excuse me?” Her tone of voice caused him to pause from creeping closer, cocking his head to the side a little. There was a little spark of amusement in his eye, an odd smile barely quirking his lips at the corners. Somehow, he was taking her words down an inappropriate line of thought. 

Estrella swallowed, forcing her tone to come out calm rather than frantic. “How long have you been able to smell arousal on me?” 

She had smashed her feelings the moment she met Kizru with his partner at the holiday party, five years ago. She had shoved them so far down, they were flatter than a pancake. There was no way he could have known. Estrella didn’t even allow herself to dally on her… appreciation of him for too long. A wall had been built!

“Oh!” Whatever Kizru had been thinking had apparently been wrong. The wry grin faded a little as his eyebrows quirked. “I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t take too much notice of it until Ryeleigh left me?” 

Well, that was a little bit of a relief. Her shoulders eased, admitting that arousing attraction was different from whatever else threatened to stir in her chest. Kizru was attractive and nice. The occasional daydream was natural.

Still, Estrella glanced at the exit, uncertain what to do. He was circling behind her and her heart wasn’t truly looking for an escape. Hells, her mind wasn’t even telling her to move. Being propositioned by her boss wasn’t unappealing. 

“Last chance to leave, Red, before I…” 

Once again, his words roused her from her frenetic thoughts. Her attention snapped back to his face, hating how wide her eyes were as she stumbled back from his approach. “Before you what?” 

Kizru teeth flashed in a broader smile, taking another step closer. “Before I stop restraining myself.” 

x x x

I've written a little bit more to this, but it's only available on my Patreon.

Again, not sure if I'll continue this.

[tired-demonspawn]

hollywood could never make a movie as batshit as Lotrando a Zubejda.

like imagine: a fun story in the czech woods where the son of the leader of a thief group gets an education and becomes an honest lumberjack against all odds.

fun right? sounds complete already.

yeah the problem is that... all that happens in the first 50 minutes of this 100 minute movie. the halfway point.

what happens next? well a delegation from a non-descript arabic country rolls up, looking all over the land for doctors, for their princess is sick. the son and the lumberjack he met are recruited because the lumberjack's name starts with Dr and the delegation were told they should look for a Dr.

no im not making this up

they get to their non-descript arabic country and meet the princess. but damn, they just lumberjacks they dont know shit about being doctors. so they are sentenced to be executed for failing to cure her.

now they maybe aint doctors, but they got sum of dat common sense. and they deduce "hey the princess aint getting any sunlight, she aint gettin dat vit D yfeel?" so as a last request they want to "dance".

aka the czech jewlery salesman they met along the way distracts their supervisor and just says things like "oh theyre probably just dancing dupák, that's why there such loud bangs" while our 2 boys cut down all the trees in front of the princess' window.

the princess gets that vitamin D, touches some grass, eats a thicc slice of bread with cottage cheese and is feeling much better already. the sultan sees this and is like "oh my god you cured my baby girl!" cancels the execution and throws them a feast.

during the feast, the son and the princess get closer.

next day:(joseph joestar voice) oh no! the son is sick... lovesick. upon reuniting with his long lost mother, who coincidentally happened to be a maid thingy in the sultan's court, she tells him "well lil lotrando seems 2 me that ur in love"

and through some misc. happenings bada bing bada boom, lotrando and zubejda(the son and the princess) marry each other. 'even though they speak a different language and have a different religion, love finds a way' as it were.

and if you need to know, yes they did have kids, and none of them had to become thieves.

and like the worst thing is... IT WORKS?????

LIKE

IT ACTUALLY WORKS????

all the things that are set up are like pretty well paid off????

the jewlery salesman first meets lotrando while he was in school, he then travels to the non-descript arabic country for bussiness and tells em "see back home we call our doctors Dr., lemme write it down for ya on this blackboard"

because lotrando went to school he could write the Dr on the other side of the small blackboard

they have the homemade cottage cheese twice, once after the lumberjack and lotrando become friends once after they help the princess.

and so much more?????

like???

it shouldnt work???

but thats the beauty of czech cinema(or at least older czech cinema), it dont have to make sense if its a banger

my point is: hollywood could never-

[dodgerkedavra]

See Me and Live [H/D Mpreg 2024 Fic Claim]

See Me and Live by DodgerKedavra

Word Count: 37,730

Rating: E

Description: Harry and Draco are roommates. They're coworkers. They're secret boyfriends. And now they're having a baby together!?

“Pansy,” Harry hisses at Pansy’s shoulder, partially exposed by the haphazard drape of her dressing gown. “What the fuck?” “I can’t come,” Pansy moans, then sniffles loudly. “I’m ill, Harry. You know how Draco gets when he’s ill. It’s not worth the risk to both of you.” “You can’t do this to me.” Pansy is doing it to Harry—the doing is already in progress, which is why he’s crouched in front of the Floo in the workroom part of their offices at Park and Sons Private Eyes.  “It’s not my choice. It’s not my fault. If I was healthy, you know I’d be there with my power skirt-suit on and my sunglasses in place and my red lipstick all ready to go. But I can’t get up. My head is throbbing.” “Take a potion!” “A potion won’t help.” Pansy coughs, a weak, pathetic little sound. It immediately raises Harry’s suspicions. What really raises his suspicions is that she wriggles her hips at the end of her cough. Harry’s not trying to look at her hips. Her dramatic sprawl puts her head halfway out of view on one end of the Floo and her hips at the other. Also, Harry happens to know that Pansy’s grate is one of those raised ones. It’s at least six inches off the floor. His former-Auror mind quickly deduces that she cannot possibly be lying on the floor. “Pansy,” he says. “I’ll be in tomorrow. Or Friday.” Pansy flaps her hand around. “When I’m fully recovered. If Draco catches this—” “If he catches loads of dick?” Harry says in his most accusatory voice. Pansy freezes. A second too late, she gasps. “How vulgar! How—” She remembers she’s supposed to be on her deathbed, tries to sniffle, and snorts instead. “How presumptuous! And how—how judgmental, Harry. There is nothing at all wrong with sexual congress and I would never begrudge Draco—” “Ron,” Harry shouts. “I know you’re there.” Pansy freezes again. From outside the grate comes a heavy sigh. A sigh that Harry knows very well. Since it’s a sigh coming from the mouth of one of his best friends in the world, Ronald Bilius Weasley.   “Listen, mate—” Harry leans closer to the flames. “I wore the outfit. I’m dressed, Pansy.” “Go upstairs and change!” “I can’t.” “Why? Draco won’t see you stripping down and—” “He’ll hear!” “Well!” Pansy’s hand flaps around in the centre of the grate. “Good! He won’t be surprised!” “If he hears me coming, he will hex me, Pansy!” “Then announce yourself!” “What, just shout that I’m coming back upstairs against the routine because I have to get naked and—” “Why would you have to get naked?” Ron asks. “Because of you,” Harry shoots back. “Mate, I swear, none of this was my idea.” “It wasn’t? Really, Ron? Pansy put you in a Body-Bind and slithered all over your dick and—” Pansy snickers. “He’s not in a Body-Bind now.” “Merlin’s balls. Get off him and come to work. I’m dressed for the mission and you’re fine.” “I’m not,” Pansy whines. “I have a deficiency.” “A��dick deficiency?” Harry shouts. “An emergency dick deficiency that’s causing you to totally abandon me? A dickficiency?” From the earthquake-level shaking in Pansy’s shoulders, she’s doing her best to hide belly laughs. “Vit—” Pansy makes several hissing sounds in a row that sound even more like suppressed laughter. “Vitamin D,” she chokes out.

I laughed so much writing this that I almost became injured. From laughing. I had the time of my LIFE.

Special thanks to @babooshkart for the anklet idea, which really brought this whole thing together!

[bobawitch]

Love Story // Spencer Reid x French!Reader

Summary: french reader meets Reid and they become friends though both feel a strong pull towards the other. This is heavily based on the song Love Story by Indila.

A/N: OMG another oneshot, ik, i legit said i'm not the oneshot type and here i am. i really appreciate the kind words on my last one shot and I hope people like this one too!! This is around end of season 9 reid.

warnings: none!

word count: 948

You had moved to the states around a year ago, gotten yourself a sturdy job at a cafe/bookstore. You frequented any other bookstores along with the flower shops that reminded you of the quaint streets of Bezier. Your first home, nothing had driven you out in a rush but you always wanted to see the world. You had just bought a new book and were now looking at the flower shop nearby. That’s where he saw you, you were holding a rose and had the book in your free hand. You caught his attention immediately but it would be a few more weeks before he ever spoke to you.

L'âme en peine

Il vit mais parle à peine

Il attend devant cette photo d'antan

Derek had been teasing the guy endlessly for weeks now, Blake always telling the older man to leave Spence alone but honestly Reid didn’t mind it that much. He knew he was being irrational but something about you encapsulated the man. He greatly enjoyed when he’d go in for coffee and you’d be reading a book he liked. He couldn’t get you out of his mind but he was still so nervous. He was nervous to feel things towards someone again. It had been around a year since Maeve was killed in front of him and yet he hadn’t tried to speak to another woman. But today he decided he would speak to you, no matter how it went. He finally upped his courage to ask you about the book you were reading. You smiled, shutting it briefly to talk about the book in your hand. Spencer had recognized it as Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre though he wasn’t expecting it to be in French. You spoke of his profound outlooks about how human nature is our own sickening curse. Spence gave that nerdy chuckle he always did and agreed with you though disagreeing with it being a fully bad curse. But this was just the beginning of the two of you. 

Il, il n'est pas fou

Il y croit, c'est tout

Il la voit partout

Il l'attend debout

Une rose à la main

À part elle il n'attend rien

Nearly two months later you two had basically started your own small book club, and when I say small I mean there were two members. You and Spence would talk for hours about different books and he always enjoyed listening to the sound of your silky french accent. Though Spencer couldn’t speak French he understood the language, having studied it in his spare time at college. He would try to say certain phrases and though most were pronounced correctly he messed up on occasion and you wouldn’t end the teasing. With each book club meeting you would grow closer and Spence’s feelings would get stronger, though you were oblivious to that. You had always found Spencer nice to look at and his brain was prettier than the stars on a clear night sky. You just assumed you two would only ever be friends since Prentiss told you about Maeve. 

Rien autour n'a de sens

Et l'air est lourd

Le regard absent

Il est seul et lui parle souvent

Il, il n'est pas fou

Il l'aime c'est tout

You could only keep a rational head about the boy genius for so long. Only 3 months after meeting you began to feel it. It was this sinking feeling that made you smile more when he was around. You found yourself imagining him whenever you listened to music or read a book. But rationality eventually came back and you would banish the idea from your mind. Which is why when he came to your house one rainy night you were evidently shocked. 

“Spence?” You looked at his dripping curly hair and how his shirt stuck to his chest tightly from the water. 

He looked at you with those big doe eyes of his and swallowed hard. It looked like he had been crying but you couldn’t say for sure. He didn’t reply to you which worried you further, causing you to pull him inside rather quickly. You grabbed him a towel and put on some tea, making him his favorite, earl grey. You got back with the tea, tucking a leg under yourself as you sat by him. He took the tea from you and held it, not looking at you for a while. Eventually you needed to know he was ok and set your tea down. Your fingers gently touched his cheek, leading him to look at you. “Spence, what’s wrong?” You spoke with genuine concern, your brows laced together with worry.

Though he didn’t respond, he just looked at you. He refused to break eye contact but out of your peripheral you saw him set his cup down. Then he began to scoot closer, your hand still rested on his cheek as you began to ask again.

“Spencer, really whats-” But you were harshly cut off by the feeling of his lips pressed against your own. Your eyes widened but within a few moments you melted into the softness of his lips. His arms quickly snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer. Your other hand came to his other cheek, holding his face close to yours. Soon enough the two of you had to pull apart. “Y/N…” He started.

You shook your head, “I know, me too.” He smiled at your words before leaning in and kissing you again, though that wasn’t the last kiss of that night.

Il la voit partout

Il l'attend debout

Debout une rose à la main

Non, non plus rien ne le retient

Dans sa love story

[jagervitdefonnyhat]

(Short form fics, to help me write more regularly, maybe. Off of a list of reverse tropes prompts. Helpful crit, and comments welcome.)

"Iz barely spring, vhy iz it zo hot already," Maxim grumbled into the peachy colored arm acting as his pillow.

"Nah, iz goot" Ognian, owner of said arm, purred back. "Move in a leedle closer, mine side iz cold." He curled around Maxim's shoulder to pull him closer to his bare chest. Thick fingers tipped with claws dug into long purple hair. Maxim reached behind and pulled it out of the way. His back was already starting to sweat through his shirt, his hair certainly didn't need to get tangled up in it.

"Iz only colt cause hyu dun vear nottink more den a vest."

"Und hyu's only varm cawse hyu insist on vearink more," rose a grumble from Dimo, occupying Oggie's other side. They lay pressed together shoulder to rib to waist to hip to Dimo's leg thrown atop Oggie's.

Maxim shifted onto his side so he could see his third companion. "Ho, vhat’s hyu excuse, den? Hyu gots fur to keep hyu varm."

"Ho, vell, iz cawse iz cold hyu dumkoff." He scoffed. "Hyu chust run varm like zum furnace on legs. Zo get back to vork."

Maxim sat up and crossed his arms. "Hy ken't!" He whined. "Mine back iz a sveaty, mine hair is shtickink to everyting, de ground is stabby vitout vearink sometink," his voice went soft at the end. "Is-" he sniffled, "is too varm! Demmit, I miss de hall!" He kicked out at his neat pile of cape and sword and boots, sending it flying across the cave. The rapier clattered against the wall. Dimo and Oggie sat up. "Is too varm too cuddle und hy hates it. At least give me de dignity of complaink."

"Brudder..."

Dimo inturrepted, "eediot. Sleep on oggie's jacket, he isn't uzink it. Can put hyu cloak on top if hyu needs. Den strip down und get over here."

"Vhat? but-"

"Ho, dun vorry. Hy iz fine vit it gettink all dirty!"

"Vell?"

Maxim slumped and dragged the back of his hand across his eyes. "Ja, ja hokay." Stripping off the long shirt and tight pants was more an ordeal than he'd have liked with shaking hands from now all that anger built up for nowhere to go. The energy from it buzzed under his skin. He stumbled getting his foot out the leg. Gathering everything back up and laying out the jacket and cape helped, as the slight draft cooled over his sweat damp skin. He looked up from his bed arrangement to see Dimo and Oggie still sat up. Dimo patted the space in front of him, so he sat.

"Hy gets dis in a braid qvick, dat should help, ja?" He asked.

"Ja, dat should help." He took his hat into his lap.

"Hyu gots a hair tie?"

"No," he said quietly. "It broke months ago. Vas mine last vun. Ve haven't had spare fabric fer a new vun yet."

Dimo huffed, and Maxim knew an eyeroll followed. "Oggie, cut a strip off de market leadder, vill hyu."

"But dat ruins de value!" Maxim twisted to stare with raised eyebrows.

"Vhat, like some townie vill notice a leedle strip done later inshtead ov vhen ve skinned it. It vill shtill sell."

Oggie handed Dimo the strip, an arms length long and dark brown on one side. "Here hyu go!" A bit thin but functional enough. Dimo put his hand atop Maxim's head and swiveled it back around.

"Tenks." He put it between his teeth as he seperated the sections and braided down a few inches. Then took the folded strip, adding each half to a section. Maxim shifted. It slipped. He took it out and put it back in. A few sections down a section fell out when he shifted again. It was slow, from there. With it braided in the rest of the way down, he took the leather ends and tied them around the tail. "Dere hyu go. Better?"

"A bit, ja." He pulled the braid forward, stroking over it, other hand tapping the brim ofhis hat. Dimo glanced at Oggie and raised an eyebrow. Oggie bit his lip and smiled, then moved into a crouch.

"Hy know chust de ting." And with a heavy shove, Dimo flung Maxim into Oggies waiting arms. Both fell back at the impact as Maxim let out a shout of surprise, hat clutched firmly in hand. Oggie reached for it.

"Hoy! Vatch vhere hyu's puttink hyu hands!" Maxim slapped the reaching hand away and leaned back into Oggie, pressing him firmly into the floor. Oggie wrapped a leg around his hips and pressed to the side, flipping them over.

"Ho ja, hy's vatchink verra carefully!" Oggie giggled. "Come here hyu!" He reached forward, where Maxim was attempting to keep it out of reached. He squirmed and dragged himself forward, out from under Oggie.

"Looks like hyu's loosink over dere!" Dimo called. "Hy bet tomorrow's cookink hyu dun effen touch his hat!"

"Hoy! Hy can manage dat, et least!" Oggie turned to defend himself.

Maxim used the opportunity to shove Oggie off and fling him onto his back. "Hoy, vhat do hy get out ov dis?"

"Snails dun get anyting out ov de bets, deys de subject ov dem."

He stood up and put his hat back on his head "So hy dun gots to cook if hyu vin?"

Dimo raised an eyebrow. "Hy tinks dat iz a goot ting."

"Hey! Umph-!" Oggie tackled him back to the floor, atop the laid out jacket and cloak.

"Ha!" He lay a had on top of the hat, pressing it over Maxim's eyes. "Iz sleepy time now, hokay?"

"Ja," Maxim nodded. He smiled. "Ja, hy's goot now."

"Great, now get hyu asses over here. Hy'm cold." Dimo dragged Oggie off of Maxim and resumed his position, half on top of the other jäger and shoved together at every possible point. Oggie lay an arm out an Maxim curled up in it, hat placed carefully above him.

A moment passed and their breathing evened. In the quiet, bugs chirped and distant sticked snapped and the whistling scream of the auralnautic owls echoed through trees. The cave wasn't as cold as stone should be.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Random personal nonsense, venting in a safe place where nobody I know in real life will see.

It’s been 3 years pretty much to the day since I last did this but have finally had to admit I’m not managing The Dark Months without chemical assistance this time around. So have sent an E-consult to the GP and hopefully they will take my word for it and re-prescribe the ADs as before rather than have to have a phonecall to trawl through symptoms. The side effects suck for me but they do work and the balance has shifted such that it is better to deal with those than keep going feeling like I do.

This is a good thing. It is.

It’s unacceptable to spend 50% of my energy each day focussing on *not* crying and *not* overreacting to every perceived slight or non-positive comment or event and reminding myself why I deserve to exist. I’m missing out on enjoying my life which is actually objectively great right now and I am dragging my family down unnecessarily with being… meh all the time. And with everything going on in the world and all the people who have genuine reasons to feel depressed, it’s really daft to do so if I don’t have to.

And yet… it feels like a failure - I didn’t work hard enough on making sure I was getting outside, I missed the high dose Vit D a few days, I haven’t been disciplined enough with sitting in front of the lamp etc etc. If I’d got that right maybe…? The downside of making managing the last couple of winters in my own strength a success to celebrate, is that this time I haven’t so it’s… something else isn’t it?

But there is no shame in it, as I will tell other people over and over they wouldn’t not take their insulin if they were diabetic.

And yet… pfffffft.

[chibi-celesti]

Interlude 02-Book 01: Dia Rosa Rudje-Ar Prasrity Fowrlle

Ar Prasrity Fowrlle Gfine anw Revatail

(A moment of Peace)

Synopsis: On the eve of the Unbirthday Party, Meryu tries to bide her time to calm her soul and worries over what may happen next. What she didn’t know was that someone else was watching her from the shadows.

A special interlude dedicated to a moment between two people who don’t know each other yet, but one day will soon.

~Twisted Tonelico~

Shortly after returning to Ramshackle, Meryu and the boys settled down for the evening. While Ace and Deuce passed out on the sofa, Meryu was still awake; opting to spend time outside to calm her frayed nerves. 

The evening was cool, calm even. Meryu still couldn’t believe this is what the land beneath felt like. She remembered her guardian Shurelia telling her tales of what their world used to be like back in Platina. Those were things she could only imagine in her dreams back then. But now, seeing it and feeling the caress of the wind on her body was therapeutic. And real.

But then there's tomorrow…

Tomorrow will be my first Unbirthday Party here. And my first formal event without Lady Shurelia to guide me… she thought to herself. I wonder how she would react to me being in an all boy's academy? A smile appeared on her face. She'd probably have a panic attack and tear Mr. Crowley a new one.

She laughed to herself at the image. A fiery, livid Shurelia shouting at the magnanimous Head Mage, and two seconds away from ‘Ka-Boom'-ing the man to bits.

As Meryu continued to think about her guardian and only true family, she started to whisper a little tune to herself.

(~Lyrnya grrena anw bale,

Bautifal ciel burle~)

She swayed with the wind, whispers turning into humming to herself without a care, not minding if a soul were to see her and mock her for her naivete.

(~Was yea ra chanti fowrlle en hartes grlanza fhyu~)

(~Hyma en chs fedyya bexm, iasien sol dea houd frawr chiess herr~)

The longer she swayed with the wind, the more it enticed her to dance with it; the more she danced with the wind, the more her humming became singing.

~Mea eux na idesy sor, den~

~Was yea ra vit yora riura won manafaln dor~

(~Was yea ra vit waath oz hartes dor.~)

She sang of beautiful days, warm and hopeful tomorrow's. Not just for herself but for the world. It was something she always did.

~Mea oriye na idesy sor, dea~

~Was yea erra reen yora hynne tek manafaln ciela, an mean.~

(~Was yea erra reen dilete oz hartes ciela~)

Her little soliloquy was a performance that enamored the trees, the wind, and a few critters that traversed the campus. All either accompanied her in her song or swayed to the melodious waves of each lyric.

Her performance even caught the attention of someone who hid in the shadows. They have never met this young woman before, but it felt as though they have. Something about her voice sounded familiar to them, but they couldn't quite put their finger on it.

Curious yet mesmerized by Meryu's dance and voice, they felt like they were placed under a spell, but they did not fear. In fact, they loved it. A sudden sense of Déjà vu sent shivers throughout their body.

The shadowy figure couldn't help but hum along with the young woman's song. A part of them longing to reach out and dance with her like the wind is. But their feet were rooted to the spot; they couldn't move at all, afraid of disturbing her performance and scaring her off.

And just as she was at the precipice of her song, someone else's voice cut through and disturbed the peace. The stranger quickly hid themselves further into the shadows at the same time.

“Minion, it's late! We can't miss the Unbirthday Party, remember?”

Meryu halted in her steps, turning to the culprit that called her name, annoyed she was disturbed. “I'll be there in a moment, Grim!” Once Grim was back in the Dorm, she sighed in lament. He's right, I need to get some rest… She starts walking back to the front entrance, giving the stars one last glance before walking in the building.  I hope you're ok, Lady Shurelia.  I miss you so much…

In her ascension to the door, Meryu had sung to herself one more time.

~Wee yea ra hymme yanje revm,

Sol ammue zaarn, wi innna near burle.~

~Wee yea ra hymme yanje revm,

Yor irs, wi dor yeal folten…~

She closed the door, ignoring the silent tears falling down her face.

‘So this dorm is now inhabited?’ The stranger thought. They felt disappointed that their favorite place on campus is no longer vacant. They inwardly sighed. ‘Looks like I will have to find another place for myself.’

In a blink of an eye, they vanished  with not a single trace of their presence left behind, except for a glimmer of glowing green lights.

And the echoes of the Reyvateil’s lullaby from their lips.