#how am i supposed to draw if i'm that exhausted after work

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: hello again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You change out of your work clothes into a pair of old jeans and a fraying sweatshirt. You can smell the smoke from the basement as you huff at the ceiling. Great. You thought maybe having Pete home could at least spare you a few minutes to lay down. As usual, you have to save the day he's spoiled. Not that it was any good before that.

You go upstairs as the fire alarms wails and you hear Simone asking if everything's okay. You come up behind your daughter and gently touch her shoulder, "go read, everything's fine."

Pete pokes the button on the detector with the end of the broom as you hurry in to move the pan from the burner into the sink. The pan is ruined as the breasts stick, burnt to the finish entirely. You shake your head as you face your husband. He looks like a beaten dog as he holds the broom and pouts.

"I'll put some of the frozen nuggets in the oven," you resign, "why don't you set the table or something?"

He mopes and puts the broom back in the closet. He doesn't leave though. He approaches as you open the freezer and take out the breaded processed chicken. You put the bag on the counter and tear it open.

"I'm sorry, babe. I'm really... I'm trying."

"I don't want you to try, Pete, get it through your head," you whisper sharply, "I don't want you. At all."

He sputters as you refuse to look at him. You pull out a baking sheet and spread out the nuggets. He watches, helpless and stunned.

"You can't mean that," he mewls.

"What am I supposed to want with you?" You ask, "You blew it. We both did. It's done. We just... get through for the kids. For the company, until you can pay me alimony."

"Huh?" He chokes on the noise.

"Mom," Simone jolts you as she chimes from the doorway. You and Pete turn in unison. "That idiot with the lip fur is outside."

You frown as Pete gives another confused utter. "Who-- he is?"

"He knocked but I told him to go away," she shrugs, "don't think he got the message."

"Simone," you look at Pete as he furrows his brow. "My boss..."

"What the hell is your boss doing here?" Pete asks.

"I wouldn't know," you answer dryly.

You march out of the kitchen, past Simone as you go to the front window and peer out. You see Hansen inspecting your mailbox before he jams the doorbell. Great. 

You go to the door with your daughter and husband trailing you. This is the last thing you need. How dare he come there and disturb your family. He gets eight hours a day to torture you. And you haven't eaten, you're about to fall over.

You swing the door open, ready to eviscerate him but stopping short. You can't do that. Not least of all because Simone is right there. 

"Mr. Hansen," you greet airily, "what can I do for you?"

"Ah, nice to see you too," he eyes Pete over your shoulder as Simone stands beside you.

"Wish she could say the same," Simone sneers, "I told you to go away."

"Sim," you reproach, you're starting to think she gets that from you. "Mr. Hansen..."

"You're the boss? What're you doing here?" Pete asks, gripping the door frame as he' stands almost right against your back.

"You must be the old man," Hansen smirks, "didn't the wife tell you? She got a promotion."

"Huh, old man-- promotion?" Pete reels aloud. "No."

You swallow and suck in air. Just go along with it. One wrong step and he might just tell the truth for once.

"I haven't had the chance, we've been making dinner," you simper sourly.

"Well, I wish I could say I'm just here to say congrats but business calls," Hansen checks his watch. 

"It's six-thirty," Pete scoffs.

"Oh, you know, the big boys, it's a business dinners and useless small talk but gotta put on a good face." He looks at you and a line forms between his brows, "so better go doll yourself up."

"Wha-- right now?"

"I called you. Several times. You didn't pick up. Your problem, not mine. Let's go," he snaps your fingers.

"Mommy," Malik's voice startles you as he squeezes between you and Simone, "oh! Mommy!"

He whimpers and clings to your leg as he gapes up at Hansen, hiding behind you like he did when he was younger.

"I told you he's evil," Simone grumbles.

"Alright, everybody, inside," you declare as you raise your hands, "Mr. Hansen, please, just, give me a couple minutes."

"I've given you a few already but suppose I can't take you to dinner with grease on your shirt."

You look down at the new stain on your sweatshirt. Of course. You back up and close the door, turning to face your family, crowded in the entryway, bearing down on you.

"Okay, here's what's going to happen. Pete, put the chicken in, twenty minutes, make sure you flip them so they don't stick. Simone, keep an eye on Malik, please, help him with his homework, honey. Mal," you pause and untangle your son from you, "be good, please."

"Are you leaving?" He pouts.

"I have to."

"What the he--ck," Pete corrects himself before he can swear, "you're just going with him?"

"He's my boss, Pete," you snip, "I don't have much of a choice. I need the money. We both do. I doubt it'll be all night. A dinner, easy."

You know it's probably not what Hansen says it is but you're not going to unveil that deception. It's better to go along. You hate to lie to your family but you'd feel worse to let them down.

"Great, so you get to go out and have a fancy dinner and I have to stay here?"

"Pete," you sniff, "you're a father, start acting like it." You stop yourself, "Simone, Malik, please, go watch some TV."

Simone frowns as she peeks between you and your husband. You see the suspicion and anxiety sparking in her. She takes Malik's hand and takes him into the living room.

"I'll bring leftovers, happy?"

"That guy looks like a real scuzz bucket," he growls.

"Oh, please, you've spent how long staying late to go to dinners and be with Miss Panties or No Panties," you snarl, "don't start because I have to miss one night."

"Honey," he changes his tone, "I can't-- what do I do?"

"What do you do? Figure it out," you shoulder past him, done with the argument. You haven't won, you have to go put up with Hansen.

"Babe," Pete calls after you.

"I'm sure you could ask Simone, even a twelve year old can figure it out," you toss over your shoulder as you stomp upstairs.

🗄️

You pull on a plain black skirt that ends at your knees, of the few you have among your wardrobe. You match it with a lamb gray blouse and a blazer you can’t button. You try your best to refresh your hair and face but at this point, there’s not much you can do about it.

You come downstairs and slip into a pair of round-toed flats as Pete watches silently. You know he wants to argue. You don’t want to go either but you’re sure as shit not telling him that. Let him suffer while you do the same.

“I’ll try not to be too late,” you shrug on your coat and hook your purse over your shoulder, “Malik, don’t give your father a hard time at bathtime and Simone, do your math. You can’t read all night.”

You reach for your phone and spin back for the door. Pete catches you, holding you at arm’s length. His blue eyes cling to yours with a glimmer of desperation.

“Love ya, honey,” he says, “I really do.”

You gulp and put your chin up. The kids are there. You try not to let your loathing tighten in your cheeks, “love you too…” you eke out and clear your through. “Love you all.” You pull away from him and smile at Simone and Malik, “have a good night.”

You quickly turn away and scurry to the door. Something about the moment leaves you breathless. The realisation that your family is hanging by a fraying thread. You pull the door shut as you come out to find Hansen leaning on the hood of his sports care. Is that douche bag red?

You come up the walk as he watches you with a smirk, “adorable, got the whole clan home.”

“Please,” you grumble, “let’s just get out of here. Far away.”

He stands up straight, “already jonesing for more, huh?”

“No, I just don’t want you near my family,” you retort.

He cackles and the car chirps as it unlocks. He goes around the driver side as you approach the passenger’s. You open the door and get into the low seat. You don’t like the incline of the seat or the smell of the air freshener. Everything about him is unbearable.

He jams his index into the ignition, hitting the button to turn the engine. He sits back and rests a hand lazing on the bottom of the steering wheel as he pulls out slowly. You buckle the seat belt and stare ahead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone–”

“Good start, toots, but a better one would be your hand in my pants,” he snickers.

You cringe and put your purse between your feet. You strain against the seat belt and lean over the stick shift. As you reach for him, he swats you away and growls. You retract, annoyed.

“I thought–”

“You know, I was thinking of just driving you to the Wendy’s parking lot and sticking it in,” he cruises well past the speed limit as he remains casually reclined, “but that seems too easy.”

You grit your teeth. He’s mocking you. He slaps his hand on your knee and drags it up your thigh, rumbling your skirt.

“I didn’t know you owned one of these,” he pinches the hem, “you really got yourself prettied up, huh?”

You don’t say anything.

“Can I make a suggestion? Doesn’t matter, I’m gonna. Try something shorter. You got the tight part but this is something my fourth grade librarian would wear. Oh, and lace. Or silk.”

You want to scream at him. Does he really think you can afford all that? That you want your ass or tits hanging out in front of your daughter? He knows all that, he’s once again making a joke of you.

“Aw, tootsie roll, am I upsetting you? Well, that’s real fucking shit,” his voice goes rigid, “I was pretty upset listening to your voicemail on fucking repeat.”

“Sorry, I told you–”

“I don’t care. Busy? Not in my world. Let’s get this straight, the only thing you’ll be busy with is me. Or… I think Petey Boy may just love to hear all about your workplace antics. I mean really, he should be proud, you’re fucking skilled. That man, I see why he put a ring on it. Wherever it is… Shit…” he skids to a stop at a sign and looks at you, “you didn’t have to pawn it off? That’s goddamn sad, honey buns.”

You inhale and lift your chin. That would be a better story than the truth. Besides, you have a feeling he doesn’t genuinely care.

“I’ll buy you a new diamond. Two of them, one for each titty,” he chortles as he steps on the gas again, “what’s your birthstone? I’ll get that for your ass.”

“Mr. Hansen, I understand you’re upset. I didn’t listen. I didn’t answer the phone, but I can’t just leave my family–”

“You will do whatever I tell you,” he interjects, “first, you’re going to stop. No more excuses, you figure it out. Second,” he veers into a lot, just behind an unmarked office building, “you’re going to loosen the fuck up.”

He steers around to the back of the lot, parking slightly crooked and across the lines. There aren’t too many other cars this time of evening. He turns off the engine and rolls his shoulders. Well, it’s not a Wendy’s at least.

“Get in the back,” he orders.

You want to ask what or why but you know better. You get out and open the back door. You sit on the end of the seat.

“Lay down,” he says, still facing forward.

You glance at him, slightly confused. You slide up the seat and recline. His seat belt snaps back against the interior and his door opens. Gravel crunches under his soles and his shadow passes between the car and the streetlights. He darkens the open back door.

“Pull your fucking skirt up,” he orders in exasperation, as if you should’ve done so already.

You lift your shoulders and reach down to tug at your skirt. It’s hard to get it up, it’s tight and uncomfortable, you should’ve thrown it out. You feel the zipper about to burst. Impatiently, he shoves the hem up as he bends over the seat.

You’re suddenly very self-conscious as you realise what he’s going to do. He holds himself between your thighs as his hand crawls up to your panties. High-rise cotton underwear that balloon a bit too much around your pelvis.

“Sir, I’ll just take care of you,” you insist as you try to sit up.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, “lay down.”

You blink as your lip twitches. You can’t remember the last time Pete did that. You’re not okay. You don’t want Hansen down there. You really don’t want anyone at this point.

“Really, Mr.--”

“Lay the fuck back and shut up while I eat your pussy,” he grabs your panties and yanks, jolting you.

You fall back as he forces the fabric down. He growls and rips along the seam. You close your eyes and tense. As he exposes you, your thighs quiver.

He presses his face against your leg, his mustache tickling you as his breath dampens your skin. You swallow a shiver. You’re oversensitive and strung out. You squeeze your eyes tight and focus on your breath as he nuzzles and nips up towards your cunt.

You clench as he gets closer. Without thinking, you push your hand to his head as you try to stop him. Your heart is racing. Why is this harder than what you’ve already done?

He snatches your hand and throws your arm over the edge of the seat. You wince as he bites into your tender thigh. You squeak and he growls, his nose grazing up to your lips. You hold your breath as he closes in.

His tongue flicks up and you gasp. He glides between your folds, delving into you, humming so it rumbles through you. You raise your hand to grip the back of the seat. You forgot how nice this felt.

He takes it slow. A patience you’ve never seen in him as he dotes on your clit, swirling back and forth, suckling, dipping his tongue up and down your lips, lapping up your flowing delight. You quiver as you sink into the sensation, almost forgetting the man who’s inspired it.

His hand creeps up to your blouse, beneath your open jacket, and he squeezes your chest through the fabric. You wiggles his head back and forth as his tending grows more intense. He spreads his tongue wide and groans, his mouth slurping and sucking noisily.

The heat spreads into your thighs and tingles up your back. You arch your spine and dig your nails into the seat. You puff as you feel a climax rising. Hansen stretches his other hand over your stomach, pinning you down as he devours you ravenously.

You’re tipped over the edge, letting out a series of squeaks and squawks as you give into the orgasm. You’re dizzy from the sheer ecstasy of the moment, of his still lapping tongue, not stopping even as you cry out. He keeps on, urged on by your helpless moans. As in everything, it’s never enough for him.

#lloyd hansen #pete brenner #dark lloyd hansen #dark pete brenner #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!pete brenner #lloyd hansen x reader #pete brenner x reader #same as it ever was #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #the gray man #pain hustlers

[writethrough]

How to Mistakenly Summon An Ancient Being & Keep Him

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You're an insomniac and have exhausted all other avenues to help you sleep except one. What happens when that one brings you the King of Dreams?

Warnings: Language (only one f*** was given), mutual pining, inability to sleep

Word Count: 3299

A/N: I'm super pumped to share this one! Though, I do think I could've upped the pining a bit more. Let me know what you think!

Nothing you tried worked. No amount of meditation, sleepy time tea, or melatonin kept you asleep. Your doctor had prescribed you sleeping pills, which worked for a few weeks, but the drowsiness and headaches made you stop taking them.

You had been scrolling through your social media when an ad for some spirituality website popped up. All the words were a blur except “help” and “sleep.” You clicked on it before you could think about viruses. That led you through site after site. Some hawked overpriced sleeping potions that sent up all of your red flags, and others touted crystals for pleasant dreams and to ward off nightmares, but it was a ritual that caught your attention.

It was simple enough. A few herbs you already had in your kitchen, a candle, and some sigils that took you much longer to draw than they should have. All you had to do was say the words at midnight and hope your prayer would be answered. The worst that could happen was already happening to you. It's not like you could get less sleep.

When the clock ticked to 12 AM, you lit the candle and recited the spell three times.

You waited. You weren’t sure what you were waiting for—heavy eyelids, relaxation, the inability to keep your head up. However, you never expected to hear a deep voice behind you.

“You humans never change," he growled. It was more than a glare he pinned you with; it was that of a beast, ready to devour.

—

It happened so quickly.

He and Lucienne were in the library, combing through books when he felt a tugging from the top of his spine. It brought him back to that day over a century ago. He couldn’t let that happen again.

“Lucienne!” he called as sand swirled around him.

“My lord?” Lucienne could only watch in horror.

Before either could do anything more, he had been transported into a bedroom. A woman sat facing away from him, and all of his anger honed in on her.

He would commit atrocities sooner than sit in another cage. And you were about to discover just how far he would go.

—

The man before you blended into the shadows cast by the moon. He seemed to encompass everything within the darkness, but you knew he couldn’t; he was just a man—one that appeared without explanation.

You steeled yourself. Slowly rising, never taking your eyes away.

“Who the hell are you, and how did you get in here?” you asked, impressed that your voice came out relatively steady.

The man’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent. If anything, this angered you more than frightened you.

“You need to leave before I call the police,” you said. You would call the cops regardless, but he didn’t need to know.

This made his eyes narrow.

“You wish me to leave?” he asked as if he were trying to decipher the words.

“Yeah, people typically don’t like it when strange men just pop up in their bedroom,” you snapped. Why was he looking at you like you were the crazy one?

“You summoned me, human,” he said.

You straightened, taken off guard. “I summoned you? You're out of your mind. I did not summ—” Then it clicked. The ritual. Could that be what he was talking about? You pointed to the candle. “Is this what you mean?”

He nodded slowly. His posture seemed to relax a little.

You glanced between him and your tools.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “It was just supposed to help me fall asleep. Not bring me a…what exactly are you?”

He ignored your question for one of his own. “May I see the incantation?”

You grabbed your laptop from the floor and showed him the lines. After a moment of contemplation, he exhaled a deep, exhausted breath.

“Truly, did you not know this was to summon me?”

You shook your head. “I promise. I…I just wanted to sleep.”

How were you going to do that now? And what were you going to do about the man you supposedly summoned from who knows where?

“I can help with that,” he said. “This ritual may not be what you thought, but it will do as you wished.” He leveled you with his gaze. “My name is Morpheus. I am the King of Dreams.”

—

You were…different, he had decided. Neither good nor bad, just something other.

You said this was an accident and that you hadn’t expected the ritual to work. Morpheus saw the desperation in your eyes—the need for a solution to a problem out of your control. Perhaps it was that familiarity that made him want to help you.

And no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, there was an instinct that told him he could trust you.

—

You had just summoned the fucking Sandman. You weren’t sure if you wanted to praise or curse the off-the-wall website you found the ritual on. No, you wanted to finally have a continuous eight hours of rest.

“Okay, so how does this work?” you asked, maybe a tad too excited.

“Lie on the bed and close your eyes. This will only take a moment,” he said.

In any other situation, you would react very differently, but now that Morpheus seemed to have relaxed, you felt you could trust him. At the least, you could trust him to do as he claimed. 

After taking your position, Morpheus stood over you, a small pouch in one hand as he poured it over into the other.

“Morpheus,” you said before he could continue.

He only glanced at you in response.

“I’m sorry,” you paused. “For making you come here against your will.” He was borderline hostile when he arrived, but when you explained everything, he calmed. There had to be a story there. “And thank you for this.”

His lips twitched in a blink-and-miss-it moment.

“Sweet dreams,” he said and sprinkled the sand into your eyes.

—

The next night, Morpheus waited for you in the Dreaming. After helping you fall asleep, he grew more curious about you. What caused your insomnia? How could a human be so honest? And what made him believe you in the first place?

Though time passed differently in the Dreaming, he knew when you should’ve been sleeping. When you didn’t come, he brushed it off as having missed you. Though that wasn’t possible.

The night after, you still had not shown. By the third night, he had a strange sense of concern. Were you alright? Have you not slept at all since you met? He was determined to find out.

It was nearly 7 PM when he knocked on your door. He thought it best not to repeat his initial arrival. His eyes narrowed when you answered, dark circles gracing your under eyes. 

“Morpheus? What are you doing here?”

He slipped past you. “You have not been sleeping.”

“Not true. I slept for a few hours,” you said, sitting on your couch and indicating the space beside you.

“Not well,” he said, following. “You haven’t visited my realm.”

You stayed quiet, pulling your cardigan tighter around you.

“Why did you not call for me?” You had the means to; if you had not been sleeping, there was no reason for you not to summon him.

“That’s not fair to you,” you said. “And I wasn’t about to bother you again, especially because it seemed to affect you.”

He was silent. You took his feelings into account even though it was to your detriment.

You were not as selfish as other humans. It made him want to help you all the more.

“Think nothing of it.” He pulled out his pouch. “You must rest. Now, lie back for me.”

You nodded, evidently not having the energy to argue.

—

You waited to feel the gentle taps to your eyelids the sand made. When they didn’t come, you opened your eyes only to find yourself on a cobblestone path in a village. Stands were set up with various foods, craftsmanship, and jewelry. Some merchants were human, but others were humanoid with animal features. A few had skin swirled like galaxies or solid green or even wings. It was all so vibrant, so alive.

“Welcome to the Dreaming.” Morpheus stood next to you, carefully watching your reaction.

His realm. So, he had put you to sleep.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you spotted baby dragons, of all things, playing with young children.

You laughed in disbelief. “I’d tell you to pinch me, but I know I’m dreaming.”

A hand was placed on your back as he led you forward.

“There’s much to see,” he said.

A few creatures bowed to him as you passed. And it reminded you that he was indeed a king.

“How long have you been the King of Dreams,” you asked, slipping your hands into your pockets.

“Since the beginning of time,” he said.

You stopped, as did he, and you looked him over. You shook your head slightly before moving again.

“I’m not sure if I can even fathom that,” you said, a wave of naivety washing over you.

“Do not dwell on it. It’s best not to.” He paused. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.” You looked at him expectantly.

“How long have you had difficulty sleeping?”

You shrugged. “Feels longer than it actually is. It's like one day, my brain decided it would never turn off, not fully. I get some rest here and there, but the best sleep I’ve ever had was the night we met.”

He took a moment to think this over. What he said next shocked you.

“Then I shall put you to sleep every night."

Your eyes widened as your cheeks heated up. Did Morpheus not realize how that sounded? A being as old as time itself surely knew every way that could be taken.

“That’s-That’s really not necessary, Morpheus. I’m sure you have more important things to do than make sure I sleep.”

You thought he was going to ignore you. He seemed to do that whenever he believed it suited him. Instead, his eyes held a certain glint to them.

“You should not question the Lord of Nightmares. And in his own kingdom no less.”

Was he…teasing you? The flutter in your stomach made you believe it.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you mumbled. “I don’t want you to waste your time on me.”

You were so focused on your shoes that you missed the passing look on his face.

“Then it is fortunate I offered,” he said softly.

You met his gaze, ready to argue, but he stopped you.

“And only I may decide what is wasteful of my own time. You, (Y/N), can never be.”

—

Since that night, Morpheus had given you peaceful slumbers. Weeks passed, and his visits grew longer. He arrived when you prepared dinner. Though he didn’t often eat, he was keen to assist you in preparing it. You caught him taking a dish out of the oven once without mits. He was holding the pan before you could stop him, but his features showed no sign of pain. In domestic times like these, you forgot that he wasn’t human.

He stood chopping an onion while you combined ingredients in a bowl discussing your favorite films.

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen it,” you said.

He tried to hide his smile as he slid the onions into the bowl.

“I do have a realm to oversee,” he said pointedly.

“Evidently.” You gestured to where he was, in your kitchen, clearly not in the Dreaming.

His eyes turned bright.

“Perhaps tonight you will finally meet one of my nightmares,” he said, voice dipping as if he was serious.

You tilted your head and pursed your lips in thought.

“No, I don’t think I will,” you said, setting the bowl aside.

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re too nice.” You had to lift your chin to meet his eyes.

He had always been kind to you. It wasn’t just him putting you to sleep. It was his thoughtfulness and how deeply he cared for his people.

Morpheus hadn’t told you everything that happened to him prior to your meeting, but you gathered enough to know it had nearly broken him. The fact that he let you in at all spoke volumes. You hoped he knew how much he meant to you.

You may only be human, but you’d protect him with your entire being.

He had captured your heart quickly, and you wished you weren’t obvious enough for him to see it.

—

Morpheus reread the page for the fourth time, and its contents still failed to penetrate. Last night he had been with you making dinner. Now, all he could think about was your smile, the way your eyes lit up, and how he wanted to hold you and keep you from every wretched thing you had encountered yesterday and since you’d met.

He closed the book and stood. You were working today, which meant you wouldn’t be home, which meant he couldn’t see you until dinner tonight.

It frustrated him. He would provide you with whatever you desired—you need only ask. It was old-fashioned, but he didn’t want to be away from you. The moment you told him he could leave, it was as if something pulled him toward you. You were special. You guided him through obstacles he thought he had overcome long ago.

You became his comfort, and he hoped he had become yours. And tonight, he would tell you as much, and hopefully, you would accept him.

—

You had just gotten home from possibly the longest day of your life. Every minor inconvenience had culminated in the pounding in your head. But it was finally over, and soon enough, you and Morpheus would be relaxing on the couch watching a show he should’ve seen by now.

Changing into something comfortable, you entered the kitchen to pull the dinner ingredients out when there was a tapping at your window.

Matthew waited, tilting his head in that raven way.

“Hey, Matthew,” you said, letting him in.

He flew to the back of your armchair after swooping to scoop a mouthful of gummy worms you kept in a bowl just for him. The perks of being a magical raven.

“Hey (Y/N),” he said around his food. He continued after swallowing. “The boss is running late, but he’ll be here soon.”

You nodded. Sometimes this happened. Though Morpheus’ definition of late usually meant twenty minutes or so.

“His work is much more important than cutting vegetables,” you said, taking a seat.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw the look on his face,” he said. “He looked ready to cry or smite someone.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Those seem like two very opposite ends of the spectrum.”

“Not when he does it. I’m talking this full constipated gloss over his face,” Matthew said.

You let out a laugh. “Still, I can believe the smiting, but the crying? Never. Especially not over something as silly as helping me with dinner.”

“Are you kidding? He doesn’t say it, but that’s the highlight of his day! There’s always this pep in his step when he’s about to come here.” He paused. “Well, about as much pep as you can imagine him giving.”

You blushed. Was Morpheus really that excited about something so small?

Matthew had gone down a bit of a ramble, but the last thing he said snatched your attention.

“...I mean, he’s basically in love with you, so it’s no surprise.”

“Who’s in love with me?”

“Dream,” Matthew said as if you hadn’t been listening.

“No, he’s not.” You shook your head.

“Yeah, he is.”

“On what planet would an Endless love me of all people?” He was lying. He had to be. There was no way Morpheus returned your feelings.

“This one!” Matthew said, exasperated.

You weren’t sure if you could breathe or not. It felt like you were, but why couldn’t you inhale completely?

“Are you being serious?” you asked, trying to hide the hope in your voice.

“I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this,” he said softly.

You nodded. “Okay, so what do I do now?”

There was a familiar knock on your door. You both looked toward it.

“Do what’s gonna make you happy,” he said, then left out from where he came.

—

Okay, you could do this. It was just Morpheus. Standing outside your place, waiting for you to let him in after you found out he apparently loved you. Do you pretend not to know? Should you come out with it? You loved Matthew, but shit, you wished he didn’t talk so much.

First things first, you had to open the door.

“Morpheus.” You smiled, hopefully not too big.

“Hello (Y/N),” he said, pulling a bouquet of flowers from behind him. “For you.”

You gave him a soft smile. “What’s the occasion?”

He seemed to hesitate a moment. “I simply wanted to.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” You turned to the kitchen to search for a vase, hiding your widening smile.

“I sent Matthew earlier. Is he not here?” Morpheus asked, having followed you.

“Just left.” Do what’s gonna make you happy. “He actually told me something he probably shouldn’t have.”

“And that is?” He waited patiently but sensed your reluctance. “Unless I should be kept in the dark as well.”

“No,” you breathed. “No, it was kind of about you.”

He regarded you carefully. “...Has whatever he told you made you uncomfortable in my presence?”

Your eyes widened. “No! Never.” You supposed the only way to say this was to just come out with it. “He told me that you…well, he told me that you love me.”

“Oh.”

He had clearly not expected that response. And you wondered if he had ever told Matthew about his feelings or if the bird was only guessing.

“It’s true,” he said. “That’s the occasion.”

“Occasion?”

“The flowers. I was going to tell you tonight,” he said.

A thought occurred to you, and the corner of your mouth turned up.

“Then tell me,” you said, taking a step closer.

Morpheus seemed to be taken aback but recovered just as quickly. His jaw clenched, and he met your eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered. “It grows with each passing day.”

You found one of his hands with yours. His touch kept you grounded. You needed that with how it felt like you’d float away any second.

“I love you, too.” You beamed, happier than you had ever been.

His eyes were soft, and they became the slightest bit hooded.

“May I kiss you?”

Your response was to lift your chin and capture his lips with yours.

It was like you were on fire. And yet your heart somehow calmed.

This was right—his hands on your waist, yours resting on his chest. Each press of his lips reinforced everything since you met. Trust, safety, comfort, and now love.

You had to be the one to pull away for breath.

His thumb grazed your cheek as he examined your features.

How was it possible for someone to be so captivating?

You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your head in the crook of his neck.

“Not even in my wildest dreams did I think you would love me,” you said, ecstatic that you were wrong.

He hummed. “It’s fortunate that I create dreams then.”

You pulled away enough to look at him. “Very fortunate.”

He leaned down for another kiss, a slow, deep peck. It burned all the way to your toes.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips.

He pulled you closer, intent on showing you.

#the sandman #the sandman fluff #the sandman fanfic #morpheus x reader #morpheus fluff #morpheus x y/n #Morpheus x you #dream of the endless #dream x y/n #dream x reader #dream x you #dream fluff #mutual pining

[doodlemancy]

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhh

so here's the deal re: this fucking horseshit. god i hate this.

i, personally, have mostly given up on trying to dodge inclusion in AI datasets. the stuff i make generally isn't what they're looking for anyway and there's no real way to 100% avoid being scraped short of becoming entirely invisible online, which would um, lead to me having no money and dying. that's part of the cruelty of all this, but also, in a way, it's the same risk artists online have always taken; if you want people to see your work, you have to post it knowing that some of those people are fucking lowlife piece of shit scumbags who will try to resell it on redbubble or something for a quick buck. AI is just a new and exhausting way for garbagey people to stink worse. i am not in any way excusing that behavior or trying to imply people should not be mad about it or that we shouldn't condemn this move and fight back. "if you don't want your work stolen, don't put it online" is the kind of shitty Internet Tough Guy talk i've always hated since my dA days. it's as useless and heartless as telling people that if they don't want their bikes stolen, they shouldn't leave them at the bike rack. i'm saying that i, personally, will not let a bunch of soulless thieving shitheads drive me offline. i belong here. they belong in a wifi-proof dumpster.

nightshade and glaze eat my artwork alive. they make it look terrible. when you have to sell things on the basis that they look nice, it's a big problem when protective measures make them look like dogshit. my work is not a good candidate for these processes. even if that weren't the case, i don't have the stamina, especially right now while my chronic pain is flaring for the third month in a row and my adhd meds are scarce, to go back and shade/glaze everything, and it wouldn't work on reblogs anyway. given the way midjourney and its equally stinky siblings have already scraped years and terabytes' worth of image data from popular websites, it doesn't seem worth my time. if you think it is worth yours i am not going to like, yell at you. i am just one person. but i want to be clear about the kind of situations some of us are being forced into.

i think some of the doomsaying about AI and what it will do to us has been overblown-- they need you, for marketing purposes, to believe that someday their shitty robot will be as good at "drawing" and as practical to work with as a human-- but the consequences of "AI" (which is not even actually AI) are already real and visible and obvious to anyone paying attention. i unfortunately am not infinitely wise and powerful and therefore do not have an ideal all-encompassing solution to this deeply stupid problem that the Most Unlikeable Manbabies On Earth have imposed on us after NFTs fizzled out.

what i do have is a very large repository of nice anime and game screenshots i've taken, knowledge of many archives of nice public domain images, a computer that can run nightshade overnight or while i'm off doing other things, and, most importantly, near-infinite capacity for pettiness. i do kinda feel like the jury is still out on how well nightshade/glaze will work in the long run, but in the meantime, i suppose it wouldn't cost me a lot to... perhaps... every time i get Mad About AI™, channel that anger into dumping some thoroughly-but-not-spammily-tagged, high-quality, inconspicuous poison onto this godforsaken hellsite via a secret side blog. i could make a batch of poison ahead of time, keep it on my phone, use my Toilet Scrolling Time or my Public Transit Time to post and tag up an image here and there. it could be a fun challenge to try to make some pretty robot poison that some humans will still enjoy.

the other thing we need to poison at this point, IMO, is the word "AI" itself, by being loudly and mercilessly critical of any company that dabbles in it, the same way we all clowned on any company that pushed their luck with NFT/crypto shit a couple of years ago. we need to have every corporation terrified that association with AI will tank their sales and hurt their brand. AI must = number go down and lots of people screaming at you. companies will fuck around. we must provide the finding-out. we shouldn't have to. but we can!

so make sure to let tumblr know you hate this. maybe you could include this interesting link (tw child abuse) about how Stable Diffusion was trained on some extremely serious crime. or these screenshots of Midjourney devs just sort of admitting what their whole thing is, which i got here but which have kinda been spread all over since January.

spite and anger can be forms of hope. that's all i have to say, or at least all i'm willing to type with my left hand tonight.

#long post #big long sigh

[that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict]

OK but imagine heavily making out with Kim Seungmin (SPECIFICALLY THIS VERSION) and feeling that lip ring in y- nvm u get the point

This was a rlly rushed post let me feed my delusions rq 🤚

I'm not over 5 Star yet how tf am I supposed to deal with the upcoming October-november comeback--

(Suggestive content under the cut)

Seungmin sighs heavily as you pull him in by his collar for a kiss. He easily slid his duffle bag off his shoulder, moving his hands to slide around your waist. After a long day at his tiring job, your idol boyfriend was understandably exhausted. The new comeback had him working nonstop for an inhumane number of hours. His motivation for working so hard was coming home to your open arms and plush lips every day.

The two of you stumbled clumsily into your shared apartment, with Seungmin hastily closing the front door behind you. You guided him over to the couch, allowing him to lean his warm body against you as you continued kissing. It wasn't long before you started pushing your tongue past his lips, eager to go further. You wanted to ease your boyfriend's stress; you knew how overworked he was. But before you could deepen the kiss, a cold, metallic taste hit your taste buds.

You pulled back immediately. Seungmin tried to follow your lips, and furrowed his eyebrows at you when you just moved back even more.

"Why'd you pull stop? I was enjoying it..."

"I tasted metal in your mouth, Seungmin. Are you bleeding or something?"

The brunette gazed hazily at you for a few moments before it occurred to him what you were talking about. He grinned sheepishly and moved closer to the standing lamp by the couch, illuminating his face with light and allowing you to get a clearer look at him. A metallic glint on his bottom lip caught your eye, and you leaned in further. The cold, bitter taste on his mouth made so much more sense when you realised what it was.

"I got a fake lip piercing for the comeback album's photobook shoot...Guess I must've forgotten to take it off."

"...oh."

"Sorry, is it weird for you? I'll take it off--"

He was cut off by you smashing your lips onto his once more. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but chuckled into the kiss and settled his large hands on your back. Unexpectedly, you suddenly pushed your tongue against his mouth. Seungmin was even more surprised when you started sucking lightly on his bottom lip, specifically the spot where the lip ring was.

He whimpered at the feeling, his nails digging into your back. You, on the other hand, sighed at the cold tinge in your mouth. He looked so hot with that new accessory, how could you resist? You sucked harder on his bottom lip, drawing out a series of sighs and groans from your now shuddering boyfriend. Eventually you pulled away to give him a break.

A shiny string of spit connected your lips to his, making the lip ring look even more prominent under the lampshade's light. Seungmin's face was tinged with a light red blush, and he was still shaking a little, clearly still recovering from your sudden ambush on him. You made a mental note to thank his stylist for the new comeback.

Noticing the way you were practically ravaging him with your eyes, Seungmin chuckled lowly.

"So...you like the lip ring?"

"What do you think, genius?"

V delulu today yes

Fun fact I typed this while streaming it for my friend to watch he was taken aback but not surprised at my writing process 🤓

#stray kids #skz #kim seungmin #seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin x you #skz imagines #skz 5 star

[vodika-vibes]

The ARC and the Monster

Summary: Three months after the events that left him with prosthetic legs and a prosthetic arm, ARC Knight Echo is on a journey to relearn himself. And while on this journey, he discovers a village that doesn't exist.

Pairing: ARC Knight Echo x Reader

Word Count: 5810

Warnings: Mentions of death

Mando'a Used: sen'ika - little bird (according to the website I saw, lol)

A/N: I am very bad at writing fight scenes, I should work on that, lol. This is a twist on Beauty and the Beast, and I'm actually happy with it, which is surprising.

Divider by saradika

“Morning again, darlin’,” You smile tiredly at the merchant, “Bacon and a fresh loaf of bread?”

“I don’t suppose you have anything new?” You ask as you lean against the counter.

The Merchant laughed, “You know I don’t, darlin’. One loaf of bread, and one rack of bacon. As normal.”

You sigh and rest your head on your palm, “I am so tired of bacon.” You say with a sigh.

“Ah, I know darlin’.” He reaches out and lightly pats your hand, “How are things at the palace?”

“Same as ever. As per normal.” You smile at him as you take the bag of food, “How’s the wife?”

“Exhausted. We both are. We never expected our son to be an infant for almost 30 years.” He sighs, he accepts the credits and you wave as you head towards the door.

“Maybe someday the curse will be broken,” You call from the door.

“You won’t find many people who still have hope, darlin’. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wave and step out of the shop, allowing the door to swing shut behind you. You neatly side-step several other people, and start walking the meandering path headed back towards the manor.

At this point, you can walk the path while wearing a blind-fold, you’re so familiar with the path between the village and the old mansion you call home.

You are, or were, the head chef for the Duke of these lands. In charge of all of the cooking and all of the food shopping. At the time it was a good job, high paying with incredible job security, and a chance to move up in the world.

Of course…that’s not what actually happened.

Thirty years ago a stranger appeared at the palace doors on the night of the young Baron’s 15th birthday. The Baron himself answered the door, though it wasn’t his duty, and he sent the guest away with a harsh word and a violent hand.

The Stranger was a Sorceress, and she was so put out by the Baron’s actions that she cursed the entire land. The Duke and Duchess vanished, trapped in a painting to your best guess, the young Baron twisted and changed, until his looks matched his personality…and everyone unfortunate enough to live in this Duchy ended up trapped in a time loop. 

This day, the day of the Baron’s 15th birthday, repeats over and over and over again. And the only way for the Curse to break is if the Baron show’s any true remorse.

But…

Well…

He doesn’t. 

You stop in front of the manor, and then turn to walk around the building to enter through the rear. No need to draw attention to yourself, if at all possible.

There are some good sides to being trapped in a time loop, you suppose as you push the door open. For example, anything that happens today will be reset when the clock strikes midnight. Any dishes that get broken will be repaired, any injuries will be healed, and any money spent will end up right back in your account.

Also, no one can die.

But no one can be born either. 

You kind of feel bad for one of the Housekeepers, she was 7 months pregnant when this whole fiasco began, and now, thirty years later, she’s still 7 months pregnant.

But that not dying has been a boon. Especially those first few years when the Baron was so angry at everything that he lashed out at everyone.

It was incredibly…strange. Getting ripped to shreds and then waking up in bed the next morning like nothing happened.

Luckily, the Baron has since learned that his temper tantrums have no lasting effect, and has since locked himself away. You don’t know what he eats…and to be honest, you don’t care. You have more important things to do than deal with a self important brat.

You step around one of the butlers, who is dutifully dusting a vase, “Good morning, Chaz,” You greet.

“Good morning, Miss.” He replies, “Did you have a nice walk?”

Your smile is wry, “Well, it’s warm and sunny, right now, and not a cloud in the sky. So, I was miserable.”

He chuckles, “I sent the young ones to the kitchen for a baking lesson, they seemed thrilled.”

“Well, if I had the choice between cookies and math, I would choose cookies too, Chaz.” You joke as you lightly pat him on the shoulder, and then step around him.

“Quite right, Miss.” He says with a laugh, “Also, the Young Master is in a foul mood today, I would avoid the southern gardens.”

“When isn’t the Young Master in a foul mood.” You reply, “But I’ll tell people to stay clear.” You toss him one last smile, and walk the short distance from the side entrance to the kitchen, and you set your bag on the counter, “I have bread…and bacon.” you call out to your staff.

The room erupts into groans of dismay. “If I have to have bacon one more time,” One of the maids says dramatically as she drapes herself across the prep table, “I’m going to throw myself off a bridge.”

“That would be impressive since there are no bridges in the Loop.” You counter dryly, “Also. I’m making soup with bacon and chicken.” The moaning slows to a stop, “Great. Also, Chaz says stay out of the Southern Garden. Also, who’s doing baking lessons?”

“Granny’s got the kids,” One of the other maids calls from near the window, “And I saw the young Baron head into the Garden, he looked mad enough to spit fire.”

“Alright everyone, let’s get to work. We have a manor to feed.” You call, and the room devolves into organized chaos, and you smile. Running a kitchen is a dance, and it’s a dance you’ve performed over ten thousand times. Everyone is in their positions, and though the room looks chaotic…well, they’re performing a masterpiece. 

You smile and slide yourself into your position, and begin your part of the dance.

***************

It has been three months since the events that saw ARC Knight Echo losing his arm, and both of his legs in a magical explosion. And while he has prosthetics, and they work well, and he’s comfortable with them, he’s still not comfortable with his new body.

It’s why he went to Rex and asked for time. Time to heal on his own, without people hovering around him. Time to get used to the prosthetics and the way that his body moves now.

And after two weeks of camping, he’s starting to feel more like himself. Still, he’s not quite ready to return home just yet. For all that he claims that he hates camping…he’s actually enjoying himself. Enjoying the hunting and the fishing, and navigating the land with nothing more than a map and a compass.

Still, Echo is beginning to think it’s time to return home. There’s only so much time he can spend on his own before he starts missing his brothers, and starts talking to the trees around him.

He glances at his map, and then at the bridge several feet away, “Well…I’ll get to the top of the hill, and then I’ll turn around and head home.” He says to himself. He looks over the map one more time, and then folds it and slides it into his jacket pocket. He then hefts his bag over his shoulder, and he crosses the bridge.

He walks up the shallow hill, crests the top, and then he stops. Slowly, without moving his eyes, he pulls the map out of his jacket and he looks down at it, and then back in front of him.

There is not supposed to be a village here. And yet there is.

A well settled village, at that. The houses look old, like they’ve been there for a while, and the road is cobbled, rather than dirt. Echo pockets his map, and carefully adjusts his jacket so he’s able to rest his hand on the pommel of his blade.

And then he starts walking down the cobbled road.

This is strange, and he loves solving strange.

******************

Once more, you walk the distance between the manor and the village. You go to the grocers, you buy bacon and bread while making jokes about having literally anything else, and you leave the shop.

Normally you don’t pay any attention to your surroundings, you’ve done this thousands of times now, but for some reason, today you do. Maybe you’re just feeling wistful, remembering the days when you could crest the hill and cross the bridge and head into the forest.

You flicker your gaze towards the village exit, and your breath catches in your throat.

There, standing next to the welcome sign, is a man. A strange man.

And, after thirty years, there are no strange men in this village.

You turn and walk towards him. He’s tall, though not the tallest man you’ve met, with dark skin and dark hair. As you get closer, you notice that his hair is curly, and that he’s got a prosthetic arm.

By the time you’re close enough to talk to him, you’re sure. “You’re from outside,” You breathe out.

He pins you in place with a curious stare, “If you mean that I’m not from this village, then yes, you’re right.” He looks away from you, his dark eyes scanning the village properly, “This village isn’t on any map.”

A pained look crosses your face, “We used to be,” You say quietly, “But…not anymore, I suppose.”

He glances at you, and then at some of the other people in the village, some have stopped what they’re doing to stare at him, while others blatantly ignore him, “Why are they looking at me like that?”

“People don’t come here,” You explain, “I…I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“I’m Echo. Echo Fett. I’m an ARC Knight of Mandalore.” 

You introduce yourself with a smile, “I work at the manor, as the head chef.” You explain as you motion, vaguely, to the manor, “Um, so you asked what people are looking at you-”

“Yeah. They’re staring at me. I know prosthetics aren’t normal-”

“What? No! That doesn’t have anything to do with it.” You hasten to say, as you reach out and touch his arm lightly, “Just…please, will you listen to our story?”

He turns his attention back on you, “Yeah, alright.”

You tug him off the main road, and to a small park. Families used to picnic there, but not anymore. 

You sit on one of the benches, and wait until he’s sitting next to you. “So…what’s the story with this place?” Echo asks.

“Um…okay. So this story begins thirty years ago, on the night of the Baron’s 15th birthday.” You explain, your voice quiet, “You have to understand, the Baron was never a good child. He was always harsh, always cold, always mean…no one ever had anything good to say about him. I can’t even describe just how awful of a boy the Baron is.”

“Okay. So he’s a brat, the son of a Duke?”

“That’s right,” You nod, “Well, there was a surprise visitor. And for some reason the Baron answered the door himself. He turned the stranger away with violence…and it turned out that the stranger was actually a sorceress.”

“Oh no.”

“The entire Duchy was cursed as well.” You say quietly, “The Duke and Duchess were trapped in paintings. The Baron has become a monster. And the rest of us…well, we’re trapped.”

“In what way?” Echo asks.

“We have to live the same day, over and over and over again. We can do different things, within reason, but time never moves on for us.” Your voice is soft, “You’re the first new person we’ve met in years.”

He leans back against the bench, and he doesn’t say anything for a really long time, “So…what happens when time resets with me still here?”

You bite your lower lip, “I don’t know.” You hesitate, “I would suggest staying away from the manor, though. Until we know if the loop affects you…you need to stay away from the baron.”

“Why?” Echo asks.

“Because he’ll kill you.”

Echo stills, and something flinty enters his eyes, “Does he kill people often?”

“Oh, he hasn’t killed any of his employees in five years now.” You try to soothe, “And, well, it resets at midnight anyway, so…”

“Does that make it better?” Echo asks, his voice very gentle.

Your hands shake slightly as you remember razor sharp claws and teeth dripping with saliva, “...no.” You admit. You clench your hands tightly in your lap, to try and stop the trembling.

Echo glances at your hands, and reaches to place one of his hands over yours, “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” 

“For now.” You answer softly, your hands moving slightly to lightly grip his hand, the metal is cool under your hands, but is also soothing somehow, “It’s why you need to leave.” You say as you look from his hand to his face, “If you stay here-”

“No.” He interrupts, he smiles at you to soften the harshness of his word, “Look, you said that the curse is based around the Baron, right?”

“Yeah. He changed, and then his parents were trapped in the painting, and then the duchy was trapped in the loop. In that order.” You reply.

“Okay, so with the curse centered on the Baron, then to kill the curse we need to kill the Baron,”

You’re already shaking your head, “He’s too violent. If we get too close to him he’ll kill us.”

Echo frowns thoughtfully, “Then I’ll do it.”

You start and stare at him with wide eyes.

“I’m an ARC Knight, this is what we do.” Echo explains, his voice very kind.

“Free people from decade long curses?” You ask doubtfully.

He laughs softly, “Fight things that other people can’t.” He squeezes your hand, very gently, “Trust me.”

You hesitate for a long moment, and then you slowly nod. “Okay Echo.”

He smiles at you and gently releases your hands, “I’m going to need your help. Can you get me into the manor?”

Your gaze lingers on his clothing for a moment, and anxiety twists your stomach, “What if he claws you?” You ask, “His claws are…they ripped through me in one…”

Echo reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small metal orb, it’s glowing faintly, “This is an armor sphere. This is where I store my ARC armor when I’m not actively using it. Don’t worry, sen’ika, I’ll be wearing armor when I fight the Baron.”

“...okay.” You stand and gather your shopping bag in your arms, “Then you should probably follow me.”

“Yes ma’am,”

Echo follows you through the streets, and down the path that leads to the manor, and he follows you around the building to the side entrance. You hold the door to the manor open for him, and he steps into the worn down hallway that leads to the servants quarters.

Chaz is waiting for you. His severe gaze looks from Echo, to you, and then back to Echo. “The Young Master is in the library,” He says in a clipped tone, “I have instructed everyone to remain in their rooms for the time being.” He exhales slowly, and then lightly touches Echo on the shoulder, “Good luck, young man.”

“Thank you,” Echo replies, growing slightly startled when Chaz bows deeply, and then turns and vanishes into a side room. “Sen’ika, I need someplace to put my armor on.” He says to you.

“We can use the kitchen, it’s the one place in the manor the Baron never comes to.” You say, “Plus it’ll be empty right now.”

“Great, lead the way.” He follows you down a side hallway and into the kitchen, where you help him clear one of the prep tables, and he activates the little sphere, and lays all of his armor out on the table, and he quickly starts strapping the pieces to his body, “Where’s the library?” He asks.

“It’s part of the main building, on the third floor.” You explain, “You’ll never find it unless I show you…it’s not like there are any maps of the manor.”

He cuts his gaze towards you, “I don’t want you anywhere near the fighting.”

“I’ll be careful,” You reply, “But you’ll never find it without me.”

He sighs quietly, “Fine, but you will listen when I tell you to do something.”

“Yes sir,”

He finishes pulling his armor on, and he hooks his blade to his hip and then grabs his helmet, “Alright. How big is the library?”

“Massive. The Duchess was all for education.” You answer as you head out of the kitchen and into the hall, “She purchased several copies of every book ever printed and all of them are kept in the library.”

“So it’s cramped?”

“Less so than you might assume…it’s just very big.” You guide him through the twisting halls, until you reach the main living quarters. Unlike the servants quarters, which are clean and well maintained, the main house is dimly lit.

The wallpaper is ripped and torn, and there are some places where the wooden floorboards have been ripped up and flung into the wall. Pictures have been torn to shreds, and none of the furniture is usable. “The Baron did all of this?”

You nod, “He destroys the house every morning…at this point it doesn’t even take him an hour to destroy the house.” You carefully step around one of the floorboards, “Follow me, we need to go upstairs.”

You move silently through the house, and Echo is just as quiet, in spite of the armor he’s wearing. Finally you stop in front of an ornate door, “Is this the library?” Echo asks, his voice hushed.

“It is,” You hesitate, “You can still leave, Echo.”

“I’m not doing that.” Echo replies.

You sigh softly, and then you push the door open just enough that the pair of you can enter. Just like every other room in the main house, the library is destroyed, but you lightly touch Echo’s arm and you point at the ceiling, “There.”

Echo’s gaze follows your finger and he inhales sharply, “That used to be a man?” He asks.

The creature is shrouded in shadow, with claws long enough to rip a man to shreds without trying, and teeth that barely remain in his jaw. He clings to the ceiling, as though gravity has no effect on him. 

“Yes,” You whisper, “That used to be the Baron.”

Echo motions for you to get back, and draws his blade, “How do I get him down?” He hisses.

You glance at him nervously, and then you lift your fingers to your mouth, and you release a loud whistle that echoes through the chamber. And then you immediately duck under a fallen bookcase.

The Baron’s eyes snap open, revealing blood red eyes, and he releases a noise that sounds like a million angry snakes hissing at the same time. And you watch as the Baron moves, lunging at Echo with his terrifying speed.

But Echo is just as fast, and his blade is just as sharp as the Baron’s claws. 

You watch, terrified, as Echo proves just how good the average ARC Knight is, and you gasp when, in a smooth motion, Echo severs the Baron’s head from his body.

You slide out from your hiding space, and take several steps towards Echo, when the pressure in the room changes suddenly. You clamp your hands over your ears as the pressure increases and becomes painful.

You feel Echo’s hand lightly against your shoulder, and just barely hear him calling your name. And then there’s the sensation of a baseball bat slamming against your chest and the world goes dark.

**********

You wake with a painful groan. Your entire body hurts, and your head is throbbing. You let out a noise of discontent as your bedroom door bursts open and Chaz hurries in, “Good you’re awake. Get up, get dressed.”

You groan and roll out of bed, landing on the floor with a painful thump, “Why does everything hurt?” You rasp out.

“You were standing right there when the curse reset,” Chaz replies as he pulls you to your feet, “You took the brunt of the reset.” He explains.

“Oh…it sucks.”

“It does.” He agrees as he shoves an outfit into your hands, “Get dressed, you need to get out of the manor.”

You clumsily take the clothes and start peeling off your sleepwear, replacing them with the loose tunic Chaz gave you, “Why?”

“Echo killed the Baron yesterday, didn’t he?” Chaz asks in return.

“Yeah. He did. But if the world reset-”

“I broke a plate yesterday, it’s still broken.”

Your fingers pause on the ties of your shirt, “That’s impossible.”

“It’s improbable, but killing the Baron caused a change. You need to go back to the village and see if you can find Echo. He’s not in the manor.” Chaz pauses and leans in, “I think he was flung outside of the loop, since he’s not a part of it.” He motions to the blue and black backpack sitting in the corner of your room.

You pull your trousers on, and then pull on your boots, “That makes sense,” you say quietly, “What if he doesn’t come back?”

“He’ll come back. I have a good feeling.” Chaz replies, and then he grips your shoulders tightly, “Listen. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I think if we kill the Baron once for every year that we’ve been cursed, the curse will break.”

“30 deaths? There’s no way. We already know that the Baron remembers things that happen in previous resets.” You remind him, “There’s only so many times that Echo will be able to kill him with a sword.”

“Agreed. Don’t worry, we’ll handle it.” Chaz pushes you out the door, “Now go!”

“I’m going, I’m going.” You allow him to propel you out of your room, and down the hall, and then out the side door, and he slams the door behind you.

You huff out a heavy breath, and groan as pain shoots through you. You slowly walk the familiar path to the village, where you’re greeted by enthusiastic shouts. The grocer is missing a loaf of bread he sold the day before. The baker’s flour level is down just a little bit.

There’s change for the first time in years.

You walk to the Village sign, and lean heavily against it, your arm folded protectively against your ribs. You had forgotten how pain lingered. You don’t like it.

Your head snaps up when you see movement from in front of you, and a relieved smile crosses your face when Echo, still clad in armor, walks over to you. “Are you okay?” You ask.

He pulls his helmet off, “Are you? I found myself on the other side of the bridge when I woke up. Why are you holding your ribs?”

“They’re bruised, I think.” You reply, “I woke up in bed because of the reset.”

“So it didn’t work.” Echo says with a frown.

“Well, it is. But the curse is just…cracked. At least, that’s what we think.” You step closer to him, “Chaz broke a plate yesterday, and it’s still broken.”

Echo frowns, “You have a theory?”

“We think that if the Baron dies once for every year that we’ve been trapped here, the curse will break.”

“Thirty deaths?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Echo exhales sharply, “How many more times can I use my sword before he learns how to avoid it?”

“Better to not risk trying it again,” You reply as you reach out and take Echo’s hand, “But, we have lots of weapons…assuming you know how to use them.”

“I haven’t encountered a weapon I can’t use,” Echo replies dryly, “Come on, back to the manor.”

“Yeah.” This time Echo guides you to the manor, and through the side door.

Chaz is sitting in the kitchen with one of every weapon from the armory, “He’s in the west garden today,” He says as soon as he sees Echo, “Which one of these do you want?”

Echo presses his blade into your hands, “Keep this safe for me,” He says, and you nod, curling your arms around it, while he picks through the weapons, eventually grabbing a pair of axes which he spins expertly, “How do I get to the west garden?”

“I’ll show you,” You say.

“You’re already hurt,” Chaz says, “I’ll show you,” He says to Echo.

“But-”

Echo smiles at you as he pulls his helmet on, “Don’t worry, sen’ika. I’ll be fine.”

You watch him walk out the room, led by Chaz, and you tighten your grip around Echo’s blade.

***********

You wake up in your bed, dressed in the tunic and pants from the day before, with your arms wrapped securely around Echo’s blade.

You lay in bed for ten minutes. Whatever Echo did to the Baron clearly worked, since the day reset less than three hours after it began.

You roll out of your bed, and hurry out of the manor. And by the time you reach the village sign, Echo is waiting for you, his arms folded. “You’re okay?” You ask as soon as you’re close enough.

“A few bruises,” Echo replies as he takes his blade back, “I don’t want to get close to him again, I don’t think.”

“We’ll figure something out.” You say as you hug him quickly.

“I’m sure we will.”

The third death involves a massive amount of crossbows, which pin the Baron to the wall of the ballroom.

The eighth death involves a truly terrifying amount of fire.

The fifteenth death involves an explosive made from flour and gunpowder.

“Halfway there,” Echo says as he leans back on the bench in the garden, “Only fifteen more deaths.”

“Are you okay?” You ask as you reach out and touch a bruise on his cheek.

“Just exhausted, sen’ika.” He smiles at you, “The people sure seem happy with all of the changes,” He notes.

“Change is good, Echo. Being trapped is…it’s a kind of hell. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” You say quietly. 

“Well, with any luck, you’ll soon be free from this curse.” Echo says with a grin, “What’ll you do first?”

“Leave. I’m going to go literally anywhere else, and I’m never going to eat bacon again.”

Echo laughs, “Maybe I’ll take you back to Mandalore with me,” he says lightly, “It’s very different from this little village.”

“Oh, I’d like that-” You start to say, only to pause when something hits your face. The bustle of the village, just one street over, descends into silence, as the sky opens and rain starts falling.

You scramble to your feet, holding your hands out as the cool water splashes against your hands. And then you laugh, “Rain,” You whisper, “It’s raining!” You laugh again and spin in the rain, turning to grin at Echo, “Echo! You brought the rain back!”

From the next street over you can hear triumphant shouting, cheers of delight, and laughter.

You spin away from Echo, giggles of sheer delight falling from your lips as you stand in the pouring rain.

And Echo…well, he leans his elbows on his knees and he watches you with a fond smile on his lips. And when loud music starts playing the next street over, he gets to his feet, and he lightly takes your hand in his, an impish look crossing his face, “May I have this dance?”

You grin at him, and spin into his arms, “You may,” You agree as you look up into his eyes.

The seventeenth death involves an intricate trap with ropes, pulleys, and the heaviest bookshelf in the manor.

The twenty-first death involves a pit filled with lances.

The twenty-ninth death is much more straightforward, with Echo using a truly amazing number of potions to kill the Baron.

“This is the last one,” You whisper as you apply a healing ointment to Echo’s arm, and then reach up to patch up the bruise on his cheek.

“I think you’re more worried about this than I am.” Echo teases as he gently grabs your wrist, and lowers them away from his face, “Everything is going to be fine, I promise.”

“This is the closest we’ve been to freedom in years, Echo. I’m just…I’m nervous, that’s all.”

He smiles at you, warm and soft, and he leans in and lightly presses his forehead against yours, “There’s no need to be nervous.” He murmurs, “I’m going to take care of you.”

You release a shaky breath, “Okay. Are you sure you want to use your sword?” You ask one more time, just to make sure.

He laughs softly, “Yes. I’m sure. He won’t be expecting it.”

“But-”

Echo presses a light kiss to the inside of your wrist, “Trust me, cyar’ika. This is for the best.”

“I do trust you, but I’m still nervous.” You murmur, even as heat floods your face at his gentle kiss.

He smiles reassuringly at you, and gently releases you, “Go and take your position.”

You nod once, and take half a step back. Then you hesitate, and step back towards him and stand on your toes to press a kiss against his cheek, “Good luck, Echo.” And then you turn and hurry away.

Echo lets out a quiet chuckle, and then he pulls his helmet on. He walks the familiar path to the main room of the house, and he glances up at the second floor, where all of the employees of the Manor are standing, watching.

There’s the sound of angry hissing, and then the Baron is there. Twenty-nine deaths have left the creature angry and paranoid. Angry enough that his gaze was locked on Echo, and not any of the innocent people in the room.

Echo spins his blade with the ease of someone who knows what he’s doing and he takes a step towards the creature, “It’s time for this to end.” Echo says flatly.

The creature snarls and throws himself at Echo.

But Echo has already killed this creature twenty-nine times. He knows how he moves, how he acts in a given situation, and he’s clever enough to be able to make educated guesses on how he’ll react in unknown situations.

The whole encounter has already played out, hundreds of different times, in Echo’s mind. He already knows how it’s going to end. And so do the people watching the last fight.

Echo moves, just enough out of the way to not get hurt. He activates the runes on the blade, and he strikes. The Baron releases an inhuman scream, and spins to try and flee, but Echo strikes two more times. 

And the creature falls still.

Nothing happens for a long moment. And then the shadows that cover the creature disperse in every direction, washing over all of the people, then across everything in the Duchy, and then the shadows vanish as if they never existed to begin with.

You look at the massive clock on the wall and you watch as the calendar and time speed up to match the current day and year, and then you hurry down the stairs, “Echo!”

He pulls his helmet off and grunts as you crash into his side, “I’m okay, he didn’t even touch me.” His arm slides around your shoulder as you hug him tightly.

“No!” You both turn at the wail coming from the young man kneeling on the ground, “No! How could you? I was strong! I had power!” The Baron, a teenager again, gets to his feet, his teeth bared. “I’ll kill you!”

Echo lightly pushes you behind him as the teenager lunges at him. He draws his fist back, and then slams his fist into the boys face, sending him reeling back to the ground, “On the authority given to me by the Royal Family of Mandalore, you’re under arrest.”

“I was cursed!” The boy spat, “You can’t arrest me for being cursed!”

“No, but I can arrest you for the repeated murders of your employees. Just because it didn’t stick doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” Echo says flatly, and then he presses the tip of his blade against the teenager’s throat, “Unless you think that none of them will testify against you.”

The boy hesitates and then looks away.

“That’s what I thought.” Echo effortlessly cuffs him, and then tosses him against a wall.

“So…what happens next?” Chaz asks.

“I have to make a phone call to Mandalore, we’ll get people out here to help you all get resettled. Thirty years is a long time, my friend.” Echo says as he clasps Chaz’s shoulder, “Although, unless anyone wants to stay here, we’ll probably reach out to different nations to help you get settled somewhere else.” He smiles at the group of people, “A new start…for all of you.”

He steps away from Chaz as the older man begins giving orders for information to get passed onto the village proper, and he leaves the manor. You chase after him, “So, what happens with me, then?”

“A new start,” Echo says, stopping as you hurry to his side, “Doing whatever you want, wherever you want.”

“What if I want to stay near you?” You ask.

He pauses and looks at you, “Well, I might be able to help with that.” Echo says with a slow smile. “If that’s what you really want.”

You hum thoughtfully, “You brought the rain back, Echo. And you fought for our freedom. There’s nothing I want more than to stay with you.”

He laughs softly, “Come here, sen’ika.”

You step closer to him and he lightly hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you even closer, and then he lightly bumps his forehead against yours.

“I have an idea,” Echo says lazily, “How about, once I make this call, we go down to the village and buy sandwiches from the cafe, and we have a picnic while we wait for help to arrive?”

You rest your hands on his chest plate, “Like a date?” You ask softly.

“Exactly like a date,” He confirms.

You smile at him brightly, and you raise up on your toes to brush your lips against his, “I like that idea.”

He smiles against your lips, “Glad to hear it, cyar’ika. Now, I really do need to make this call, but you don’t have to move if you don’t want to. Actually, they’re probably going to have some questions for you, so it’s best that you don’t move-”

You grin and lay your cheek against his shoulder, it’s not a happily ever after, not yet at least, but it’s a start and that’s all you can ask for. 

#star wars #tcw #Star Wars AU #Knights and Magic AU #ARC Trooper Echo x Reader #TBB Echo x Reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction

[northern-passage]

Hello! I have a few questions as someone who takes great inspiration from brilliant works of interaction fiction and similar methods of storytelling. I hope you don’t mind me asking!

1. If there something that draws you to the current format of interactive fiction storytelling rather than something such as a visual novel? Do you enjoy it more, is it less costly, easier for you, etc…?

2. What are some of the most prevalent difficulties in writing within the medium?

3. What do you wish you knew before you began writing interactive fiction?

Keep up the incredible work, I always love seeing what you post and create <3

ohhh these are fun questions :-) thank you!

question 1: i actually tried to do a visual novel first! but it is a LOT of work. i managed to do some sprites and a few backgrounds before i gave up. if i was to try and do it again i'd have to pay another artist to join me which just isn't feasible for me right now. i suppose the things i like about IF could be applied to VNs too, but i like what interactive fiction adds to whatever narrative you're trying to tell. the medium itself is a part of the story, if that makes sense. it can't exist without the main character who can't exist without a player to guide them. i like giving the player choices & i like taking them away. i like how vast the genre is, and i like seeing how other people use the mechanics and code to pull off some really interesting & unique stories.

question 2: hmmm i think what gets hard for me is just fatigue... when you write big branching narratives, you have to write a lot of tedious shit, hahaha. like currently with blood choke i've been working on the same conversation for about 3 weeks. there are dozens of variations of it, depending on who the mc is, what choices they've made, and how the other character feels about them, and whether or not the mc went with her or went with someone else means the conversation has to be shuffled around elsewhere in the chapter, and it's all extremely extremely tedious. it feels like you're writing so much, but it's literally just one conversation, one scene in the entire chapter. but you have to write it about 20 times. so it's easy in IF to run out of steam very quickly. i definitely think that's what happened with me with tnp, i hit a huge block after writing all of the combat variations in ch2, i was just so exhausted & knowing that i would have to write even more complex scenes at the end of the chapter accounting for all of it was very demoralizing. BUT i feel like my long break has helped quite a bit and i am excited to get back into tnp next month 😈

question 3: this one is tough... i'm not really sure, to be honest. i've been here for a while now and i feel pretty comfortable for the most part. i was a reader & a lurker before i started writing so i got to see a lot of the way other readers treat writers before i became one, which was helpful for me. i think if i could go back i'd tell myself that this was going to be a way bigger project than i anticipated. and also tell myself that this is my hobby and i should be having fun, not stressing or worrying about making money or pleasing other people. of course i want people to like my work and i appreciate their support, but that shouldn’t be the only reason why i'm writing… i’m writing because i want to.

#thanks again :-) #ask #anonymous

[blackjackkent]

Aw, we get a long rest cutscene with Shadowheart. It seems to take place outside the camp so I'm going to assume this is happening before Hector goes to bed for the drabble I just wrote.

This seems to be some sort of Selunite churchyard; I'm not sure where in the city this is supposed to be, but I do love that she and Hector apparently came there together. The only scenario I can think of where this would happen is that she asked him to come with her, because I don't think he would have, like, followed her.

So he comes with her and just kind of stands there and watches as she wanders around, waiting until she's ready to speak.

"It doesn't look like anyone's been here in a while," she says thoughtfully after a while. "Perhaps people lost faith. Or forgot about it."

He raises one shoulder in a slight shrug. He has not lost faith. But he cannot speak for the people of the city, who all seem to come at the world from a darker angle.

"I wanted to come here," she goes on after a little while. "To see if I felt anything that I hadn't done before. Now that I know what I know. Now that I know what I am."

He nods slowly. "You've turned from Shar," he points out gently. "Doesn't necessarily oblige you to come here and embrace Selune." He has pointed this out to her before - that after what she has been through, her obligation is to herself, before it is to any goddess, even the one he serves.

"True," she agrees. "But too much freedom can be frightening. Lonely. There's a reason why so many are eager to bow..." Her eyes squeeze shut and she looks away from him, her fists clenching at her sides. "I had my family, for too short a moment. Now they're gone... by my hand..."

He listens quietly, moving to lean his weight against a nearby plinth. As often before, his role here is not to convince her of anything, but merely to listen, to let her work her own thoughts out.

Say nothing.

He waits. And to his surprise... tears well in her eyes, and after so much pain, so much suffering... he finally sees her cry.

Her shoulders hunch and she buries her face in her hands, her whole body starting to shake with sobs. All the reality of the last twenty-four hours is suddenly crashing in on her and he feels a surge of tremendous grief and compassion for her that makes his heart ache.

Embrace her.

Neither of them has ever seemed remotely interested in a hug before, and yet the movement feels utterly instinctive, automatic, as if he would never even consider doing otherwise. He wraps his arms tightly around her, pulls her in against his chest, and after a moment's hesitation he feels her grip him back, her fingers digging into his shirt as if clinging on to avoid being swept away by a tidal wave.

Her face presses into his shoulder and she weeps bitterly with exhaustion and grief. And he holds her, and rocks his weight slightly side to side, mumbling an inarticulate sound of wordless comfort. And in spite of how terrible the events that brought them here, he feels tremendously gratified to have been asked to stand with her now.

From the guarded fear with which he first knew her, through the wary support with which he has followed her crisis of faith... they have finally come to rest, equals. Born siblings in the Selunite faith, but followers of very different paths, each feeling their way through the dark, each faced with questions in the real world that they never expected in their sheltered life before. And he realizes in this moment how terribly proud of her he is - and, almost to his surprise, that in her there are seeds of the sense of family that he thought he lost when he was pulled from the monastery.

He's not sure how long they stand there, but eventually they draw back almost with one mind, just as the embrace began. She wipes at her eyes, looking simultaneously embarrassed and grateful, and turns away abruptly, looking back at the statue of Selune behind them.

"What's next?" he asks softly, taking a step back and lacing his hands behind his back.

She draws a breath and lets it out slowly. It's still a little shaky, but the deep, heartrending sobs have eased, and she looks calmer for having had the moment of release. "We carry on," she answers. "It's all we can do. I'll... follow in a while. But I think I want to stay here a little longer, firstly. This place isn't familiar, but it's peaceful."

He smiles slightly to himself and nods at her back. After waiting a moment to be sure she has nothing else to say, he turns and walks away, back to camp, leaving her to the Moonmaiden's silent presence.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #this took forever bc i got pulled away to play overwatch lol #but this was so sweet omg! #i'm glad hector finally got to give her a hug #and he needed one from her too really #this has been a bit of a growth day for hector tbh

[derekmorgansss]

Period pains - Dean Winchester

Warnings: none really. Poorly written (it's currently 4 am and i wrote this in like 10 minutes) not proofread. Dean calls reader darling and sweetheart, does include crying, mention of a pad

Genre: fluff

Word count: 652

You, Dean and Sam were working a case in a small town in the middle of nowhere, it was supposed to be a quick salt-and-burn though it was being dragged out due to the ghost being cremated; you guys couldn't find the object it was tied to. All of you decide to turn in to the hotel for the night, Dean saying something about how 'sleeping it off’ will help. You and Sam were sitting in Baby while Dean checked you guys in. A few minutes went by of you and Sam talking about the case, before you saw Dean walk outside with a sour look on his face. When he got in the car, he turned to look at you and Sam before speaking

“They only had two rooms available, and both of them are single beds, so someone's gonna have to share” he explained. Sam sighed, disliking the idea of sharing a bed with someone, especially his brother.

You all decided that you and Dean would share, and went to your respective rooms. Once inside, you sat your bags down before going to take a hot shower to alleviate your tense muscles. Leaving the bathroom, you saw Dean sitting on the floor on a few blankets watching old western movies on tv.

“Dean, what are you doing?” you ask, looking at him confusedly

“watching tv?” he replied, confused

“not that, I meant why are you on the floor?”

“so you can have the bed” he said casually, not removing his eyes from the television

“you realize we can both sleep on the bed, right?”

After a few minutes of arguing, and him trying to prove his point of how it's the ‘’gentlemanly thing to do”, you finally give up, and collapse onto the mattress. You fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, exhaustion making you slip into a dreamless sleep.

You wake up a few hours later to a sharp pain in your stomach. Sitting up, you bring your knees to your chest, and cuddle against your legs, hoping maybe that would be enough to make the pain stop. You manage to make it to the bathroom, to put a pad on, before wobbling back to bed, stumbling when you begin to feel lightheaded.

You try to find a way to lull yourself back to sleep, though nothing is helping, and you keep tossing and turning. Sitting back up, you can't help the tears that start pouring out of your eyes. You put a hand on your mouth, trying to stifle the sounds your uneven breathing, as you don't want to alarm Dean.

‘*Dean’* you thought, and you mindlessly crawled to the floor next to him, resting your forehead again his back as you continue to silently cry. He stirs, and turns around, still half asleep, he opens one eye to look at you

“what’re you doing” he asks, his voice laced with sleep “wait, are you crying? What's wrong darlin’?” he sits up pulling you up with him. He sees you clutching your stomach, and realizes what's wrong. He pulls you into his chest, and cradles the back of your head.

“do you wanna try to lay back down on the bed?” he asks, and you nod. He stands up, before offering you a hand. Guiding you to the bed, with a hand on your lower back, he helps you sit down, before walking to the other side of the bed, and getting under the covers.

“c’mere, lay down ” he says, and you lay your head on his chest. “shh, it's okay, I'm right here, sweetheart” he says as your tears finally stop. He begins drawing light patterns between your shoulder blades, as you listen to his heartbeat; his steady breathing paired with his warmth, and comforting scent lulled you back to sleep

#dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #spn fluff #supernatural dean #derekmorgansss

[madebysamael]

It's breakdown time again.

My mental health hasn't been great for a while. Tbh, it started tanking after I worked as a vendor selling my handmade jewelry at pride shows in June.

Which went great!! I had best-selling shows and people were really excited about my art. It was awesome.

And then I had to go back to work.

I work full-time, at a desk job in a corporate office. The company is in an industry often used to represent soulless antagonists in movies. My job itself is a specialized position that requires a lot of mental labor. Finding time and energy to create is a challenge, even in the times where things are balanced.

And lately it's been really tough, because the work that needs doing is what I, a person who suspects myself to be on the autism spectrum somewhere, find hellish: I have to navigate bureaucracy and act as a diplomat. I have to coordinate projects between different people and act as a liaison. Most of my job isn't doing anymore, it's figuring out who I need to reach out to, and when, and how do I phrase this so I don't offend anyone? It's inefficient, circular, and often requires me to dance with office politics.

I'm. So. Exhausted.

So, after dragging myself away from the laptop where I've been sending emails and updating spreadsheets all week, I was so excited, because last weekend, I got to escape to my favorite fantasy world: Good Omens. To a life in color, to an eternity ever after.

You all know what happens.

It opened the floodgates. I started losing focus at work, couldn't remember where we were at on projects, who I was waiting on, who I needed to contact - hell, I couldn't even remember to bring my lunch.

I was thinking about GO, but not about the story itself. Instead, it was about how, best-case scenario, it will be 2+ years before they get their happy ending. About how leaving them in limbo for so long fucking hurts.

About how 2-3 years is a long time. Long enough for Neil, David or Michael to have an accident, an illness. About how it would never be the same if they had to recast, or if someone else wrote. Imagine GO without Michael's microexpressions, without David's face reading like an open book even with glasses on. Without Neil's love for the world he shared with Terry pouring out into every single frame of it.

2-3 years is a long time. Long enough for me to get in a car accident, to develop cancer. I already had a cancer scare in 2022; luckily, I was fine. One of my best friends got lymphoma around my age. She, luckily, is also fine now.

But one of my other best friends, who had a heart attack, just a few years older than me... He's in a wooden box in his wife's living room.

And his 10-year wedding anniversary was on July 27, 2023. The day GOS2 was released.

So here I am. A week later, trying to keep it together and failing, thinking it's just a fucking TV show, it shouldn't matter so much...

But it's never just one thing. Every pain carries the weight of all the pain that came before it. I'm carrying the weight of Karl's death, of Steph's cancer, of the family members I've lost that would take too long to list here, several before even David's age.

And I'm struggling to even draw now. Or make jewelry, or sew. The creative pursuits, the things that are supposed to make the rote office job worth it, the things it supports... I feel no joy for them. Even simple things like screenshot studies are excruciating, taking far too long. My problem-solving skills are completely drained at work, and that makes drawing so much harder.

I see so many others creating beautiful things from the pain and getting well-deserved recognition for it. But the ideas aren't coming for me, and even if they were, where would I find the energy?

I don't know how to dig myself out of this spiral. It's so very tiring, and so very, very lonely.

#venting #personal

[vtforpedro]

life and whatnot

It's not very good but I wanted to say I'm managing. Barely. Thank you for your comments on my last post about Isis. I appreciate them more than I can say. And a huge thank you to @thoseveganelves for a beautiful drawing of her that is my lock screen on my phone <3 thank you again. I'm having problems with Lilly now. I truly hope she'll be ok and they're more behavioral than something actually wrong but there are a few concerning things. Moreover, me and my mom's relationship is shit. She did something yesterday involving Lilly and I'm not sure I can forgive her. Or anything that's happened since the lumbar puncture I wish I never did. It was supposed to be an easy procedure to get a diagnosis and treatment but it ruined my life to such a terrible degree lol wild. I'm exhausted. My head gets pretty severe and then I'll have a break. Enough now that I have been able to watch some shows for the first time in years! They have to be easy and relatively calm shows with not much action or fast camera movement but the fact that I can while my head is in a respite is pretty great. I was working on art like crazy too but shit happened and my creative bug disappeared for a while. I'm writing in another fandom and started up more recently again after a short break. It sucks not to be creative b/c arting/writing is still about all I can do. I do miss bagginshield quite a lot right now. My neurologist is still an asshole. I cry every time I have to interact with him in some way and when I tried to switch within the same group, they wouldn't allow it. They had to talk to him about it so now he knows I'm trying to escape him lmao but thankfully the next time I see neuro is with his PA and I'll get a break from him. It's insane how they can do this to patients and not give a fuck. I lied out my teeth tho when I was trying to switch and said he did right by me, with absolutely no problems (totally didn't leave me in excruciating pain for five entire months). Oh well! My mom and I are supposed to start family therapy soon but they're not calling me back which is strange. My therapist is trying to get them to move on it. It was pulling teeth to get my mom to agree and took a massive fight for that to happen. She used to be my number one. Now I can't trust her with me or my fucking cat. My entire body tenses so badly when she is here. I love my mom with all my heart but I do not like who she has become. I'm so tired. MH is in the tank. I miss Isis severely. She was my soul cat and what happened to her was awful. But her spirit is here. I was never a spiritual person before but too many things are happening that are distinctly Isis™ so I know she's here. Beyond what may be a medical issue, Lilly has blossomed into a different cat, most of it good, but she has seemed very unsettled at times and it hasn't calmed down much since mid-May. Keeping an eye on her. Her vet gave us a prescription for gabapentin and it fucked Isis up so much that I'm nervous about it. But Isis was weird like me and cats usually respond well to it. I hate to make Lilly sedated in any way too but she may have some tooth pain rn and it'd help that. I have pretty bad nerve pain in my face and gaba is a lifesaver for me. Anyway this is rambling like usual. I'm tired and I'm unwell and just want to be well enough to be by myself with my cat again. I have a long road ahead of me to get there. Thanks for listening. 💜 Love you all very much. I am thankful you're here and I'm sending as much warmth as I can. You are all amazing people. Thank you.

#vtforpedro personal #vtforpedro medical #tw animal death #MH stuff

[mrcspectr]

Hey bestie I just had a thought that's a little small and insignificant but its consumed my brain and its because I'm looking at those icons you just reblogged. But you know, I'm looking at Marc and Steven's jackets, and they look really similar. I know they aren't the same jacket, but like... there are similarities.

Anyway, Marc's jacket get ruined and he seems upset about it when he's changing clothes in the car with Layla, albeit briefly. But, that made me wonder if Steven's ever fronted in the mornings before he knew about Marc to find that his favorite shirt was now gone, or stained, or covered in odd holes that look like they could've been made by knives or bullets (but that's loony talk, innit?) I wonder if he's ever wandered into the museum without his nametag because the jacket it was attached to disappeared in the middle of the night. I wonder how many times he's had to get it replaced. I wonder if Steven ever fronted in the midst of a shift at work and looked at himself in the reflections of the display cases, thinking, "Huh... that's odd."

I wonder how often he checked the laundry and found these weird shirts, pants, jackets, etc. that he definitely doesn't remember owning. I wonder if he ever tried them on and felt a little silly because obviously, this wasn't something he would've bought for himself. I wonder what he did with them after the fact. Did he shove them in a drawer and forest about them, his skin crawling like there were eyes watching him from somewhere unseen? Or maybe he just closed his eyes, and just as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone again.

I wonder how much attention Marc (and even Jake) had to pay to Steven's wardrobe in order to mask as him in public. I wonder how many times Marc ruined something of Steven's on accident, and how many times he beat himself about it after the fact. I wonder how often he mixed up his clothes with Steven's and scrambled to fix it before Steven would catch on.

I wonder how many times that fish died and Steven never noticed.

Just thoughts. I don't know.

Bestie, in retaliation I am here to tell you that this is very much not a small thing, because I am constantly thinking about the lengths to which Marc had to go to maintain Steven's life, when he put next to no effort in maintaining his own.

Also I just finished writing a scene about Marc and Steven sharing clothes, are you hiding away in a pocket of my brain somewhere actually.

I can imagine Marc sort of panicking a little the moment he's ruined one of Steven's novelty button up shirts. Like he rolls his eyes some every time he picks one out, and he tries not to be caught dead in any of them but sometimes Khonshu's nagging is insistent and he doesn't always get the chance to wear what he likes, in the moment. So when he takes a knife to the gut, or a bullet to the shoulder, yeah it hurts for a second, but the pain isn't at the forefront of his mind every time, it's.. fuck, how am I supposed to find another one of these? My sewing skills are shit, it's not like I can just. Fix it.

And I don't think he was necessarily perfect every time. I'm sure there were nights that he stumbled into the flat, too exhausted to stand, where he'd just fall into bed not considering the way Steven might wake up. But Steven had a hand in it too, where his mind would play tricks on him and fill in the gaps so he didn't look too closely. Must've tripped and caught on something, that's why there's a tear here, a loose thread there. Bugger, I loved that shirt. And he'd toss it in a huff, none the wiser.

I think Marc must've been much better about not keeping his things in Steven's flat, but he'd definitely have some of Steven's things in the storage locker. Maybe he'd buy extra of something and keep it away in a different wardrobe, changing there after a mission so that he wouldn't draw attention when he headed home. Feeling that familiar itch of, this isn't me, I'm leaving me behind as he got closer and closer to the flat. But the times he made mistakes, the times he'd leave things.. he'd scramble to the front, stuffing shirts under floorboards, pants under the mattress. The things that did bring him some comfort, that actually made him feel like himself, hidden away like everything else.

I think about Steven, grabbing one of his jackets in a sleep deprived haze and looking in the mirror in confusion. And Marc watching in silence, a small, sad smile on his face.

Looks good, buddy.

#also why am i thinking of like.. #marc having a little box with a TON of steven's nametag #just a whole bunch #like he stealthily had them all made up at the same time #so every time he lost one he could just #grab another #lksjgklsjgklsj #feelin' blurry today myself so i hope this came out ok #tankycinna #asks

[pbandjesse]

I'm exhausted. Like bone deep exhausted. And it does not help that I'm still in a lot of pain. But now there is new pain too. Because I did to much showing off. When will I learn.

When I got home last night I was just really happy to eat my leftover chipotle with James and then take a hot bath. I kept a rag with the hot water around my shoulders and it helped lessen the pains in My neck. And then I had a little bit of luck with some of the stretches that Mom sent me. They didn't help as much as I was hoping but a lot of the reason is because I can't get my shoulders to drop down and they're like up around my ears. I'm trying very hard but it is not exactly working.

I woke up this morning and I wasn't actually hurting too much. I got dressed and I felt pretty good. My hair feel very dry today but that's okay. I might go and try to get some kind of dry oil at the store tomorrow I don't know if that concerned about it. It was going to be a nice day.

I stopped from McDonald's for breakfast but then they gave me regular cook instead of diet and I was pretty disappointed. And I didn't want to go back so I would end up giving it to PJ because I didn't want it to be wasted.

I got the camp at 8:00 and things were okay. I did not really walk around as much as I have been because I was so sore. So after I made sure everything was set up I got in my hammock and I just chilled until around 9:00.

That's when Candela told me that the tipis were heading to the council right and that she would love my help. So I got to spend a little less than an hour helping out with them and it was so fun.

They had to mix the sand with powder pigment and they needed some more so I remembered that I had some from years ago from day camp so CJ ran up to get the gator bring that down because it was very heavy. And Candela went to go get some rakes so that the kids could get council ring all ready for The image and then they would color it in.

It took a while to get everything ready but once it was ready I had so much fun trying to draw these horses. I did a rough sketch first in the sand as they were raking just to figure out the scale then I had candela look at it and see if it was the right size and what she was looking for. I'm not really very good at drawing horses so this was a little nerve-wracking but it ended up being great. And I was very fast at it so while Candela was supposed to do one and then I was doing one and then we were going to have two other people would on the others I did three of them in the time she did one. So we completely finished the actual drawing and the kids were able to jump right into coloring them in with the sand.

And I just felt so proud. Both of myself for drawing a horse consistently three times even though they were very chunky. And for the kids for doing such a good job tracing it out and coloring it and making it look so beautiful. I hope everyone appreciated it because it looked amazing.

I had told woodlands that I was in the council line because they're always late arts and crafts so I wasn't going to be rushing back up there and even though I didn't get up there to almost 10 I still beat them there. But once I got there they were very sweet and honestly everyone did really good for that. I didn't have really any issues except for a hot glue gun burn later in the day. Everyone else did an excellent job.

Good morning went really well though and I got to work on my blanket which is almost completed. They're still going to be a lot of finishing work and sewing down woven edges and stuff but the actual attaching of the blanket is almost done. I only have The one panel left and then it will be completely put together. And I am so happy. Louisa would come and she was very silly today she did some embroidery then she got bored and she want to try other stuff.

So I showed her how my Ariel silk worked for yoga and she ended up being really good at inverting and so I showed her how to do like a pike and invert and do harness and a backpack not and then we played around with a couple shapes. She's really good at it because I wanted to show off things I know how to do I absolutely bruised my lower back. Feels nice though because I miss doing it I'm just not very strong anymore in my upper body so I was for sure trying to do too much but I was having so much fun and now I want to buy a whole apparatus and get back into it because I love it so much I just hate the classes because I hate waiting. So we'll see what happens but it was really nice to do that and I'm glad that she enjoys it but I'm also very worried about her breaking her head open. Because she was doing it a couple of the other kids wanted to try it including a counselor so I had a couple people walking through how to go upside down and some of the news and I was just watching a lot of heads making sure no one was going to fall. It was just a blast.

At lunch I walk down to the council ringless Louisa to see the finished course painting and it looked so good. Took some pictures and then went to the dining hall to get french fries. The vegetarian option was not done yet and I did not want to wait any longer. And I wasn't that hungry anyway because I had brought my McDonald's sandwich. Now I spent some time just laying in my hammock. I read for a little while. And it was really nice. I was still really sore and my neck was hurting but when I had inverted on the hammock I was able to just kind of let my shoulders go for the first time and it hurt but it didn't feel as tight and so I think I need to work on that a little bit more. Something to think about.

My afternoon groups were great. There was a burn injury which was upsetting. She wasn't even using hot glue gun she was next to someone using hot glue gun and there was a pile of pot glue and she accidentally got her finger on it and my first aid stuff kicked in and I was very calm and I kept reassuring her and I got the hot glue off of her I put her hand under cold water for a few months but she was scream crying and I felt so bad. And I know it hurt because it was big and pink and circular. I called the nurse and while we waited for the nurse I got an ice pack for her and we sat and I just made sure she was okay and I was very calm. I don't ever want to seem dismissive but me freaking out at the same time as her freaking out is not going to help anything. And then once the nurse came up she gave her burn cream and everything was all right nobody was freaked out she was just more upset that she thought she wasn't going to be able to the project just the nurse told her to not use her finger too much. So I would have attach everything but she would direct how to do it and she ended up with a very cute puppy. Everything would be okay.

And tipis would come and I had a great time just chatting with them about siblings and telling stories and listening to their stuff. I taught Aubrey how to make a bracelet on the circle loom. And I kept working on my sewing and it was a good day I was having a lot of fun.

At the end of tipis's program Louisa wanted to show them all how she could do a split in the silk so I let her go up in that and then we were showing off a couple different moves and then it turns out one of the kids also knew how to do it from taking circus classes so we let her go on it and it was just a very silly and a lot of fun. I'm just glad nobody got hurt. I let alexie know that we have been playing around with it and she said that she trusts me and that she's not worried that I would let someone get hurt on profess. Even if we are doing something dangerous I'm making sure we're doing it safely even if we don't have a crash mat.

I wasn't sure if they were going to meet me to stay to help with pick up at the end of the day road really hoping they want because I very much wanted to go home. My neck was hurting still on my back was bruised and my thighs hurt from running the horse last night. Nothing was too bad and wouldn't be until I got home but I really wanted to leave.

I went down to the office to double check that they didn't need me. Annabelle head volunteered to do the bears so I did not have to. And then I waited for Celia to bring a few things up that she had borrowed and I myself together and then I was off.

I drove to home Depot to get the tile adhesive I needed for next week's project. Right before I left I made sure that everything was set up and I know I'm not going to have enough objects but I think it will be okay at least for a couple days. So I worked on that and got everything together and then went to the store. When I got to the store immediately I found a very nice man to show my picture to of what I was looking for but they did not have the one I wanted. So he found me an alternative that was only slightly more expensive and I asked my questions like the cure time and texture and he said it was like a white peanut butter and I said oh the kids call it forbidden green cheese and he literally belly laughed out loud and it was so cute. And I just thought that was the sweetest thing.

After I paid I headed out to my car and there were two girls, young like teenagers or 20 somethings, parked behind me and they were laughing at my stickers and they came out and they told me that I was very cool and that they knew that the person they parked behind was just a really neat person and that made me feel very good and I said I just want people to think that I'm just a little weird. It was a very cute interaction and it everyone drive home.

And the drive home was fine. No traffic or anything but turning my head to look for cars hurts a lot still. I'm doing it but I am for sure turning my whole shoulders.

Once I got home honestly I started falling apart more. Everything started to ache and I think my body up and holding itself together because I couldn't do anything about it and so when I got here I was just like falling apart. James was making us food and they tried really hard but the mac and cheese didn't come out right. It was very salty and very oily. But I really appreciated them trying and we both had hot dogs. I have a vegetarian one for my Kia. It was very good. And then James went and got me acetaminophen from Walgreens because apparently that won't bother my liver as much. Because I just could not function with my neck hurting this much. Like I couldn't turn and look at the coffee table.

Sweet pea late with me and we had some ice cream and it was kind of a rough evening but I was happy to be home and be with the two things I love the most. My husband and my cat.

Eventually I went and took a shower and washed my hair real good. And I felt a little bit more like a person. I got in bed and watch TikToks for a while. Eventually though I was very sore and I just wanted to close my eyes. James came and laid with me and I close my eyes for like a half an hour. But I wanted to get my post done so that I can go to sleep for real because I still have to work at the farmers market tomorrow. And Anna is not going to be there so I have to be in charge the entire time. Which is fine. I'm just sleepy already so I'm not 100% looking forward to it. And then James is going to New York so I'm going to have some time nice but I will also miss them very much.

I hope it's a good day. I hope you all sleep great. And feel better tomorrow. Goodnight everyone.

[ddagent]

John and Delenn dream of each other basically all their lives. (Maybe they even interact? It's more angsty of they don't, so I'm not sure) Neither knows what to make of the dreams and only Delenn has told Dukhat of the dreams.

PS. I know this is wild, but hey, it's fiction.

Actually, I have been working on a very similar AU on and off for about six months or so. Please enjoy this segment, set in 2.02.

--

“She should get some sleep. I’ll come first thing and check on her.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

The two men lingered outside the door to her quarters. Delenn laid against the familiar surface of her bed and longed for the one she shared with John. Pillows piled high; his warm presence behind her back. John, I need you. The pain had begun to ease and the crust over her skin had begun to crack and fall away. But she was still not sure what she had become. Still not sure what was to become of her. John, I need you.

“Have you told her about Commander Sinclair? About the Captain?”

“One thing at a time.”

One thing at a time, indeed. Delenn needed – nay, wanted – sleep. A deep well of exhaustion swallowed her whole and Delenn found herself for the first time in weeks in the dreamscape. Home. Immediately, she ran to a mirror. It was the face she had grown accustomed to all these years: half bonecrest, softened features, dark waves of hair falling across her shoulders. Both she and John had assumed her appearance was part of the dreamworld. A part of her had wondered whether the chrysalis…clearly, she had been wrong.

Taking a deep breath, Delenn pushed forward into the house. The familiar sight soothed her, yet, she would not truly be settled until she reunited with John. She tried the kitchen, the living spaces, the library. Inevitably, she found herself in their bedroom. He was standing, staring at the bed they had shared for the last twenty-seven years. His head twisted at the sound of her approach. “Delenn?”

“John.”

She ran to him, crashing into his arms. He held her tight against his frame; not a sliver of light falling between them. His hand reached up to tilt her head towards his and he pressed kiss after kiss to her cheeks, her jaw, her nose, her eyelids, her mouth – any space that would prove to him that she was here. I’m here, John. I’m home. “John—”

“—I was so scared, Delenn; I thought I’d lost you.”

“Never, my love. Never.”

Delenn had only wanted to be held by him. But there was a sense of urgency between them; a need to be as close as physically possible. They quickly divested each other of their clothing: Delenn’s dress falling away and his shirt tugged in different directions, a button joining a litany of others after decades of love-making. His mouth found the sweet spot on the curve of her neck and Delenn’s fingers dug into his shoulder blades as John slid inside her. All her fear fell away as she was consumed by pleasure. John’s gaze held hers as he came inside her; her orgasm swiftly pulling her under.

Afterwards, with John’s form a firm presence behind her back, tears pricked the corners of her eyes and began to fall. His thumb brushed one away. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Something has…happened. I did not tell you before because I did not want you to worry but now…now everything has changed.”

“Not everything, Delenn.” John laced their hands together and placed a kiss upon her shoulder. “I still love you.”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t even know what I am anymore.”

It was easier to tell John when she could not see his expression; she could avoid his disappointment, his displeasure, and focus on her words. She told him little of the great war that was to come but she did tell him the truth of Valen – he had been a Minbari not born of Minbari. A human, in fact. Her transition through the chrysalis was supposed to re-set the balance between their peoples. She spoke of the change she had undergone and how she now did not even recognise herself.

Afterwards, John eased her onto her back; his thumb drawing circles upon her hip. “I love you. You should have told me. I love you.”

“You have not seen my true face.”

“Oh, I have. I’ve spent more than three nights watching you sleep, Delenn.” He stroked her hair. “I don’t care if you’re covered in scales. I don’t care if you have a tail, or wings, or you have to be in an encounter suit like the Vorlons. I know you, Delenn of Mir, and I love you.”

Her hand reached out to touch his face. He smiled against the pads of her fingers. “I love you, John.” A strange notion bubbled up inside her; an aching need that had not been quenched by their activities in their bed. It had been a constant thought for years now but, for the first time, she brought it forth into the universe. “John, when would you next be able to get leave from the Agamemnon?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—” She drew in a breath and gently exhaled. “—I mean, I want us to meet. I want to see you, John. I do not know what the future holds for us, but I do know that I cannot bear another moment – cannot take another day – without knowing what it means to really be held in your arms.”

John beamed. He had been pushing for their meeting for so very long and Delenn had always been resistant to the idea. The thought of their first meeting occupied most of her waking thoughts and yet she knew there was always the possibility of disappointment. That she would not live up to her dream self. But Delenn no longer cared. She wanted him; he wanted her. There was nothing to stop them now.

“Are you sure about this, Delenn? That you want me to come visit?” She nodded, and his grin widened. “Then I’ll be there.” John shifted beside her; a strange look crossing his features. “Listen, I have to go. I think my alarm is about to go off. But I’ll see you soon, Delenn. You can count on it.”

His sudden departure from the dreamscape left Delenn disorientated and quickly she, too, returned to the waking world. Standing on unsteady feet, Delenn noted Lennier asleep on the sofa in her living space. The remnants of the cocoon stood; a harsh reminder of all she had gone through. Crossing to the kitchenette, Delenn decided to make herself some tea with what little strength she had. Preferably the citrus tea John loved so much. It reminded her of him. John’s coming. John’s coming to Babylon 5.

Delenn found herself smiling even as the chime on her door went. “Yes?”

“Ambassador Delenn?”

Her hearing had clearly been affected by the transformation. It was impossible. “Yes?”

“My name is Captain John Sheridan.” The tea cup that Delenn was holding fell to the floor. “I’m the new CO of Babylon 5. I thought I’d come down and introduce myself.”

Behind her, Lennier stirred; the sound of the broken cup rousing her attaché. Delenn cared little. She entered the code to release the door. And there he was. Her John. Out of breath from running from Blue Sector to Green; dressed in a soft V-neck shirt and sweatpants he so often wore when they merely slept together. She pulled down the edge of her hood to reveal her face to him. In an instant, he had crossed the threshold of her quarters and bundled her up into his arms.

The station could fall; the Shadows could come. Delenn did not care. Nothing felt as good or as right as it did than being in John’s arms.

#babylon 5 #john x delenn #dd: fanfic #ship: john x delenn #tv: babylon 5

[lemonflowercat]

75 soft: break day

i am so tired. and funny enough - yes, i did wake up feeling super low energy - but i am so much more tired now than i was when the day began and all i've done is mindlessly scroll through YT. it's not just me, right? everyone feels this drained and disgusting my-brain-is-a-a-sewer feeling, after consuming media for hours, right? and everyone starts to relate to the "if you do this, you probably have ADHD," posts, right? --- LOL. yeah so i reached that point, and that was my cue to unhook my thumb from my screen. let's not even get started with how i feel about people throwing around "ADHD" and "anxiety" and "OCD" and "neurodivergence" like it's the flu.

ugh, everyone out there is trying to sell something, everything is disingenuous un-original misleading and just twisted manipulative ways to hook people's attention. this is not the internet i envisioned growing up. ):

and despite feeling this way, i've been an avid consumer for 8h today. i've been a slave to my monkey brain, and now we get out of it.

today was supposed to be the day i make some crazy headway with my study goals and finish up biochemistry - which didn't happen clearly. i can't entirely pinpoint why my day fell apart, but i know exactly when - and that was right after breakfast. the same thing happened to me yesterday, and the day before. i've also been feeling really tired and yeah self-hate is peaking so these are some things i want to figure out for myself before i start a new week.

things i did that "align" with the person i'm trying to be:

this week v last week is disappointing, because the bare minimum i intended to do is be better than my previous week. but let's not dismiss the fact that i am now down to 3 relatively easy units in biochemistry. it's very hard to fight these deep failure sadness that's engulfing me rn. but push through we will.

i stuck to my calorie budget nearly 6 days this week, which is my best streak in a long time. but what i'm most happy about is that i've eaten out only once this week! which is something that was seeming impossible to do in my Goa life. i had lots of amazing nourishing meals that i am so grateful for.

morning yoga: 5x this week (including this morning's restorative yoga) and evening wxo: 5x this week.

rationally, it looks like i don't need to feel as terrible as i'm feeling. i think it's how little i've studied that my inner critic is being most judgmental about. it's also making me so anxious. i've been feeling like i have a scream trapped in my throat all day. i feel numb, and my brain keeps counting down to exam day with mounting dread. i wonder if the stress has a part to play in how tired i've been feeling. that coupled with the fact that my days get pretty exhausting, what with doing the me-things and then the home-things. like cleaning and cooking and tending to my babies (kokie and suzie). sigh it's not like i have a choice.

well...i don't know what really to do to fix this studying problem. i guess i have to be more mindful about my energy levels and figure what's really working for me. for now, one thing i've noticed is - the afternoon heat is sapping my energy. i will

remember to draw the blinds by my study corner

reserve the afternoon for chores and cooking because i've noticed i've been focusing better in the evening

hope this week is better x

[dhampiravidi]

❛ you okay? caught you staring off into space again. ❜ (to Jayn~)

"I'm pregnant. I have our baby in me, Cass & I don't know if I can--if I--" Jayn's eyes welled up with tears that she'd been holding back for two whole days. "Y'know I'm always late. I just had a feeling. & well, we haven't exactly been 'safe' the last couple of times..."

As in, having a frenetic four-person orgy when Caleb finally came home before 10 earlier in the week. Jayn & Pogue going from sleeping in to cuddling to dry humping to him pounding her into oblivion while she held onto the headboard for dear life...the same Saturday Caleb & Cass went to the farmers' market & gave each other handjobs in his car. Caleb fucking Jayn in the bathroom two floors below his office, because his meeting had pissed him off & she'd conveniently been nearby. Pogue taking Cass apart in front of their full-length mirror as a "punishment" for her ogling him as he got dressed for work. & then, not that anyone would get pregnant from it necessarily (well, not initially), that time when the mischievous three competed to see who could give Cass the best oral for her birthday (the "best" taking how quickly she came, how hard she came & how loudly she came into account; as with all their competitions, the receiver got five minutes to relax after each orgasm*).

Jayn gulped, nervous fingers latching onto the disposable napkin in front of her. She always grabbed onto things when her anxiety took hold. She also had trouble maintaining eye contact.

"I took six tests on Wednesday. Two for each brand, all positive." Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, almost drawing blood. "I'm pregnant," she whispered, tears wetting the napkin. So much for having a fun Friday lunch. "What am I...I know you want kids. Caleb does. Pogue does. & I want you guys to have them, but...I can't be a mom. I can't! Look at me! I'm pathetic. Should they really get magic & being sad all the time, because of me? & what if I'm not a good mom-?"

Her voice cracked. She didn't want to say it, but all four of them had dealt with some kind of parent-related pain. Her father, who wasn't a witch in any way, had been horrified when she displayed her powers for the first time years ago. Caleb's dad had been so selfish that he hurt his family & himself, driving Caleb's mom to become an alcoholic. Pogue's parents...they only ever communicated with the Parrys when one of the other Sons served as a middleman, because those two disapproved of everything Pogue loved, all after abusing him for years. & Cass's mom & her husband were assholes. Jayn didn't want her kids dealing with any of that because of her.

"...I was going to say something before Monday, I swear..." She couldn't bring herself to look up & see her wife's shocked or angry or disappointed expression. To know she hurt Cass...anyone who hurt Cassia Keller (well, Cassia Danvers legally) was a horrible human being. "I'm scared. For the kid, for me having all the symptoms--I know that's selfish, but I am--how are we even going to raise them? I'd get maternity leave, obviously...Pogue doesn't even go in all the time now, but he has to sometimes...Caleb's always busy, or at least exhausted...& you wouldn't have work off unless you took vacation time..." But all that felt like an excuse.

It felt like the whole world was frowning down at her, grumbling about how much of a coward she was & how so many people wished they could be in her position.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

#jkw: thread #astral-athame #thanks for the ask! #pregnancy mention tw #tw: pregnancy mention #pregnancy tw #tw: pregnancy #up to you if you want to do a 1-response thing...I just didn't want to write Cass's reaction to something this big #& obv it's not canon since it's not an RP thread but it IS how Jayn would feel esp since it's a surprise

[worldwright]

Good evening ! ill be reading crackships after the day i just had bc wtf

I finally could get my meds, had some issues regarding that, but my usual pharmacy was nice enough to not care and just handed me my meds for free (im not paying for those things, they don't work at all but i still need to take them)

Im so exhausted, I cant ;-; dont wanna be tomorrow, have a very important call that's useless i have to answer

I KNOW what I'm thinking about kinda sounds bad and is NOT a good idea AT ALL, but I just want to make another attempt, same as last time, just to get some rest for fuck's sake, don't feel rested since September and no news about the psych ward (i think they didn't actually add me to the waiting list, i know it's bad to insinuate that but it's france, everything mental health related is some real shit so it's not that farfetched)

but alas, i cant do that again, because first i like walking, second im waiting for 4 important things (my id, one of the two things i need for 'free' healthcare, the bad i ordered, and finally my doctor's eyes' appointment that i finally have, omg, ill be able to finally have some glasses that fit my eyes, oh do i want them now)

ugh, why am i dealing with so many medical issues, oh yeah i have free healthcare bc france but good lord would it kill them to actually do something that works for once ??????

also, unrelated, someone asked me if i sold or if i knew someone who sold drugs when we were on the bus, that was fun ngl. why would i go do smth illegal when i can be high with my prescribed meds if i dose them right lol

Have a wonderful morning my friend !

goddamn isn't it. so fucking fantastic. that nobody takes mental health seriously unless there's obvious tangible attempts at literal death. that being said you better fuckin not. who will kick the asses of the dickwads managing the psych ward if you don't

obviously I don't expect you to go commit violence lmfao, but like. spite

lol my manager keeps dropping more projects on me. it's like yeah I was confident I could finish those four drawings in time but now there are six. oh you have another one? bitch

I gotta start taking advantage of my medical insurance lol. I switched to a different plan that's ostensibly better, but it takes money out of my paycheck so like. I'm gonna go use that goddamn health insurance. funny how that works. luckily there's a clinic literally one block from my apartment

it's supposed to snow this weekend.... I need to stock up on groceries in case I get locked in (oh no how terrible, having to stay home oh nooooo lmao)

ughhhhh I need to move closer to my friends!!!! I cannot live alone I keep making too much food!! and I'm notoriously bad at eating leftovers!! looking at apartment listings is keeping me alive until I can fuck off out of Seattle

(not that I hate seattle, it's just too far from friends. also it's loud)

hope you have a wonderful and relaxing evening!!

#pen pal