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[cryptonewspod]

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[jjdoeswritings]

Clipped Wings

Chapter 1; what am I?

Percy Jackson x Daughter of Eros Reader.

NOT BETA READ.

You know, as far as funerals go this wasn't a bad one. They had air conditioning, the people were avoiding talking to you, and it was a relative you didn't even know.

You honestly had no idea why your mother had dragged you to such a shindig, she was always blabbering on about how you need to ‘socialise more’. How were you supposed to do that here? You had no idea. Hardly worth talking to the corpse, you'd never get a reply.

The venue was a somewhat classy, but not at all upscale funeral home. It would’ve been totally run-of-the-mill if not for the random statues scattered around. Your mother had said it doubled as a museum. What a peculiar combination. But one old thing is as boring as another you supposed.

Looking around, you couldn’t help but wonder, wasn’t calling it a ‘museum’ a bit of a stretch for a place full of neighborhood junk? Who wants to stare at an old, cracked fireman’s helmet and read about how some guy jumped into flames to save a family cat? You certainly didn’t. It felt like a pitiful attempt to make you feel proud of the poor, polluted dive you were unfortunate enough to be born into.

The air inside the funeral home was dry and stuffy, like no moisture was allowed in lest your dead great-uncle start growing mold. The wallpaper was straight out of the 1950s, picked, maybe, by a housewife who’d spend her whole life staring at it. It wasn’t cheerful. Just faded and tired, like it had outlived its purpose but no one had the heart to tear it down. The place itself wasn’t a total disaster, but the little things—like the small tear in the wallpaper in the far corner—never escaped your eagle-eyed attention.

Sighing you decide to go check out some of the so-called artefacts. A seldom visited collection of the most random miserable stuff you'd ever laid your eyes on. Everything, even if it was under protective glass, was clearly aged. Chipped or dust covered.

A part of you wondered how much the museum attendants must have cared to let these objects get in this condition. But a part of you reminded yourself that this was still more a funeral home than a historical centre.

The collection itself was paradoxical, vast and yet strangely empty. The same and yet so different.

One item in particular caught your eye. A jar that used to belong to a grandma in world war 2? Apparently she had used the jar to hold spices and had never hesitated to share the food she made with the hungry neighbours, particularly when rations ran low.

It was the type of story to try and get you to feel for your fellow man. To feel pleased of where you came from or maybe just to react like anyone would expect to a touching story.

Wow. They'll really do anything to try to get you to be even a little proud of this place.

Glancing back, you notice your mother deep in conversation with another woman from the block, passionately debating the “proper” way to cook miniature ‘meat’ pies. Your mom thought they were the greatest thing in the world. You didn’t. Even if someone who actually knew how to cook had taken over the kitchen, you wouldn't buy into that cheap beef and instant pastry propaganda.

Boredom had crept so deep into your bones, you were so bored it ached like hunger.

Who knew silence could starve you?

Settling for something a little less putrid than the aforementioned mini ‘meat’ pies you just toss a few small things onto your paper plate. At least these things were somewhat palatable. The food was clearly thrown together at the last minute. You could tell that nobody had the heart, or the time, to take proper care of this man's last day above ground. Like the man's friends and family had given up before they'd even started. Absolutely no way to go out.

“Not good?” A woman seemingly appearing out of nowhere interrupts awkwardly. Her voice is enough to bring you out of the self pity you had buried yourself In.

The woman's gaze settled on you. The prickle of discomfort that followed was almost instant. The way her eyes had locked onto your face, even from the side you could feel her sharp piercing gaze following every small movement. There was no use in pretending otherwise, she was stunning. Dark red hair fell dramatically as if it was a waterfall of mulberry locks cascading down her back and spilling just slightly over her shoulders. Long black nails, looking freshly polished, curled around her wine glass, her index finger tapping impatiently as if she was waiting for something to happen. The dress she was wearing was certainly a fashion statement. She wore a midi dress that hugged her form tightly, and if the rest of her outfit wasn't already defying the occasion enough. The deep plunge of her neckline left no doubt. Everything about her screamed that she wasn't a guest at this funeral.

You shake your head, a twinge of unease settling in your chest. “No ma'am.”

She laughs, her laugh is full but something about it sets off alarm bells in your head.

“I'm not nearly old enough to be considered a ma'am yet.”

‘You look it.’ You thought as tension started to creep up your spine swiftly.

“What's someone so young and full of life doing here?” There's a weird edge to her voice. You didn't like it at all. It sounded as if she had stumbled, quite happily, onto a field full of sheep after being stranded at sea for 20 years. Like she'd found her next well-rounded meal.

“My mother made me come” You rasp, almost too focused on the different drink options.

“Oh, such a pity,” she laments, her gaze finally shifting from the side of your face. You swear you see her lick her lips as your eyes flicker to take in the strangely sultry-dressed woman who clearly doesn’t belong at a random funeral home on Cygnus Row, New York.

“I'm the funeral director,” she adds out of nowhere. “Your family paid big bucks for this funeral, kid.” She almost sounds impressed. “Not that it matters. We all end up in the same place, after all.”

Was there something wrong with her?

“I suppose-” you start, but the words catch awkwardly in your throat. “I should probably go, my mom is waving at me”

It was a blatant lie. You were positive she was aware. The dark look she shoots you made you think so anyway. A sharp edge to her gaze warned you to not push further.

“Liar. Little girls like you shouldn't lie.” Her tone had dropped what felt like a million octaves. Low and dangerous.

A cold sweat runs down your entire body - then you hear it. The clicking. The sharp deliberate clicking of a high heel against the tile.

Only? You were certain there was only one heel making the sound. Which couldn't possibly be right.

Click. Thud. Click. Thud.

With every step, a shiver runs down your arms, making the hairs stand on end.

You don't dare glance down, terrified of what you might see.

Your pulse hammers desperately in your ears as the sound draws nearer and nearer.

Click. Thud. Click. Thud.

Resisting every urge in your body to look down, you keep desperately scanning the black adorned mourners looking for your mother. Where was she?

“No one can save you little hero… child of Love.” The words leave the woman's lips in what sounded like a mix of a sneer and growl.

You freeze as you let the words wash over you. Settling in your very being like a whisper slowly turning into a scream begging to be silenced. Threading itself into your bones. That was the last thing you were.

Click. Thud. Click. Thud.

The sound stops. You can feel her presence - less than a centimetre away from you.

Ignoring what she said was easy, especially when you glanced down and almost let out a blood curdling shriek.

“Go on then” she whispers, your neck hairs standing on end, her voice, slithering up your spine, cold and honey slick “wave back to mommy.”

But you couldn't bring yourself to look away from her feet. Or foot.

Her foot had a slick black glossy heel with an almost too perfect shine, whilst her other leg… had a hoof?!

You suck in a breath. Louder than intended, harsher than needed.

Trying desperately to not look at this- this thing in the eye your gaze darted around the room. Landing on a mirror-esque picture frame.

Her reflection was no longer the woman who had been standing beside you a mere minute ago.

It was ugly, tainted.

Her glowing eyes and teeth, too long - too fang like to be human. Her once flawless skin melting away to reveal her true form like a candle would throughout a long ancient night when electricity didn't yet exist.

Her grins reflected in the glass, her lips stretched far too wide for her smile to be natural. It almost looked as if it was almost tearing her face apart. Her red lip shade became more and more overrun by the blood pouring from the wounds that had reopened on her ugly scarred face.

“What are you?” Your tone is surprisingly steady. The words are remarkably unshaken. You don't know how you managed to remain sounding so aloof.

“It's who am i, girl!” She snaps, irritation burning in her glowing ember like eyes. it seems to anger her, funny she doesn't seem the type to care too much about grammar.

She couldn't be real.

This was just another tantalising thing - like the winged horse you saw back in second grade, or the man with 1 massive eye you spotted sleeping in cardboard boxes in downtown New York after a field trip.

Your heart was pounding in your ears. This couldn't be real. This wasn't real. No it was just a figment of your wildly overactive imagination.

You try to calm yourself down but she reaches out and grabs your arm. “It's too bad I'm not after you little demigod.”

You tried to process what she said. What the fuck is she talking about?!

She slowly backs away. Her every move felt more and more snake-like.

“Do not mistake my mercy for kindness half-blood.” her tone holds a warning. “There will come a day where you will not have the honour of me sparring you. That day… I will eat well.”

Okay so she is mad? But then again… where the fuck did her hoof come from?

“I'll be back soon, puppet. Until then.” you feel the brush of something against your leg.

It was a tail?

It was a fucking tail!?

The tail looked to be almost entirely formed of shadow as it almost seemed to be petting you goodbye, like you were supposed to be a loyal dog. But that feeling, the tail petting your leg, that was real. You felt it. You saw it!

What. The. Fuck.?

WHAT THE FUCK?!

Within the next second she was gone, and you remained frozen, hairs still on end.

Finding your mom through all these people was your top priority now. You needed to get out of here.

Finding her was more difficult than you'd imagined. Your heart was pounding so bad it blurred your vision and brought tears to your eyes. The room was still bustling from the aftermath of the funeral service, only making it harder to make your way through the maze of mourners. Panic had started to take up the root of emotion in your chest, but you eventually found her talking to the widow of the man who had died.

You promised yourself you'd apologise later. Right now you just needed to get out.

“Mom?”

She puts her finger up as she continues her lengthy conversation with the widow which is something she'd always do no matter where you were or who you were with. If there was a chance to talk to someone, she would take it.

“Mom?” it came out more desperate this time but she shushes you

“MOM!” you hadn't wanted to yell, especially at an old man's funeral. But you needed to leave now.

“Young lady I am talking-”

“There was a woman with a tail!”

She goes quiet. Her eyes wandering over the room after my yelling had caused a small scene.

She laughs politely and coughs “if you'll excuse us” Then she practically drags you out of the room and onto the street.

“Get in the car” she says, her tone sharp, almost bitter.

“Mom?” You tried, but even to your ears it sounds small and uncertain.

“We don't have time! Get in the car ___!” Maeve sighs, sliding into the driver's seat before slamming the door shut.

“What's happening to me?”

“You're awakening.”

You tried desperately to ask what she means, but her lips stay sealed. She had that look again — the deep wrinkles stretching around her face, the kind that only appeared when she was really stressed. You should know. You’d been causing her stress since you could walk.

“Get your things from the apartment. Only the most important stuff. Go. I’ll be here. And hurry up!” she barks when you hesitate.

You don’t even know what you were supposed to be packing for. So you grabbed a bit of everything. Essentials, definitely. Sentimentals, probably not. With a stuffed bag slung over your shoulder, you slide back into the passenger seat.

“What’s happening?” you ask again as she puts the car in drive.

She takes off without a word, but stays like that for a few minutes. The car was silent. Your mother looks to be considering what to say to you.

“You're half God, ___.” Maeve grips her steering wheel as if braving for the biggest storm ever known to man. She was right to.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you can't help but roll your eyes but the death glare she sends you is enough to make you send you one back.

“I'm serious. You're a demigod, sometimes known as half-bloods.” Maeve pauses, taking a breath through her teeth.

“Half-blood…?” Your eyes widened inexplicably “that's what that woman called me! The funeral director?”

Your mother shakes her head incessantly

“Not a funeral director… A monster.”

Now you have to laugh.

“Mom, you're being a little crazy.” You just hoped she'd reveal just what a funny joke she had thought it all was.

“Am I?” Her tone is hard again, perhaps harder than you'd ever heard It. It was enough to make you at least listen to what she has to say.

“When I was 19 I fell in love with a man..” She gulps, eyes flickering to you as she tells her tail. “He was a God. You're a half-blood. Half God half mortal.” She seems desperate to have you believe her

“Okay mom, if I am a so-called half-blood who's my father?”

She freezes, clearly uncomfortable. “I'm not allowed to tell you.”

“Well then.” You rolled your eyes, still convinced she was taking the piss.

“I made a deal okay? A deal I regret everyday but I kept it.. And if I break it now, gods help us both!” Maeve grinds her teeth anxiously.

“Wait mom, why would the gods be hanging around New York? And what gods?” she interrupts you

Her voice cuts through the tension like a knife.

“They move with the west. And to answer question 2, Greek.”

You frown, crossing your arms “So I'm half Greek?”

Maeve sighs through her nose, trying her best to keep patient. “Not exactly.. you're half divine energy.”

You shake your head laughing under your breath. “Absolutely none of this is believable to me.”

Maeve slams the brakes a little too hard at the red lights, causing both if you to jolt forwards. Her hands are clenched so tightly on the steering wheel her knuckles have gone ghostly white.

“Oh yeah?” she hisses, turning to face you fully now. “Well I didn't believe it either.. not then at least. Everything you've experienced your entire life, The fidgeting, the ADHD, the dyslexia. It's all because of who you are. You are a half- blood. Your brain is hardwired for ancient Greek, not English. And every single time! Every time you said you saw a pretty flying horse I had to lie to your face! Tell you there was no such thing! I had to send you to a therapist under the special recommendation of your teachers. Do you know how bad it would look if I didn't follow through and look like I wanted to get you ‘help’? When there was nothing wrong with you?”

A beat of silence, a sniffle from the woman driving. “Gods help me, I shouldn't have said that.”

You couldn't help yourself but to fall silent.

All those things you saw? All those doctors telling your mother you had a serious problem?

“None of the things I saw were made up?” You didn't realise it at the time but later on you'd see indentations on your palms from how tightly you were trying to anchor yourself back into your reality in any way you knew how. None of this could be true. Maybe this was still just a very bad dream.

No it couldn't be real.

It was all a prank and your mother was just going to leave you in New Jersey to die. That had to be it.

She wasn’t that cruel to just not tell you, right? She couldn’t be…

You know it wasn’t fair. Not really. But right now, fair didn’t matter. Not to you.

“If you’d told me the truth, maybe I wouldn’t have sounded insane every time I opened my mouth. Maybe I’d have known what to do.” you couldn't help but hiss out the end of your sentence. A whole life of somewhat normalcy? You had the chance to have that.

Maeve scoffs “They would've locked you up and thrown away the key, and I would've had to watch.”

She laughs bitterly, tapping the steering wheel “Look, I know I didn't do everything right and I definitely could've done some things better than I did. But I really have tried my best your whole life for you to be able to live a somewhat normal life.” her voice wavers a little “I always told myself that if you were loved and had food on the table then I was successful. I just needed you to grow up without the pain. You understand me don't you?”

“Yes.” The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but you supposed she did what she had to do. “Where are we going?” The question is considerably gentler now, even to your own ears.

“Camp.” Maeve breathes out a long sigh. “You'll be safe sweetie.” her eyes were sharp but also carrying a flicker of something deeper. Something sorrowful. Filled with trepidation.

“Safe?” You swallowed hard, the emotion thick in the back of your throat. “I don't even know who or what I am. How am I supposed to feel safe?”

Your mom lets out a cold chuckle “you'll figure it out, you have been since you were three.”

You hum absentmindedly, biting your lip “What If I can't this time?”

She shrugs, “Then you'll die.” The words hung heavy. Absolute. Something inside you wanted to ask more but you just couldn't. This was all too much.

The silence that falls, falls thick - stretching out between you and your mother so tightly it felt like it was wrapping around your throat. Heart pounding and head filled with new questions that demanded answers.

The silence that fell over your both was beyond deafening. With only the gentle hum of the engine running in the background your thoughts had begun to run amok.

You clench your jaw, emotion thick In your chest. “What if I - I don't know, what If I die? I can still die right?”

Your mom lets out a huff through her nose. Her eyes soften for a split second but then her voice drops low. “That's why you must fight. No one else will do it for you so don't even expect them to.” Her tone is final but softer than before.

The city blurs past the car window as the two leave the city. The tall skyscrapers, slowly morphing into trees the longer the two of you stayed in the car.

As the thoughts in your head started spiraling out violently you felt a cool wave wash over you. It wasn't pleasant. Almost as if you were sweating ice. The thoughts seemed to whirl faster, almost surrounding you entirely.

They accelerate, trapping you where you stood. The tight feeling in your chest that had been forming now without a doubt noticeable, pressing down so hard that it felt like you wouldn't ever be able to escape.

As you get further and further away from the city your mind gets engulfed deeper and deeper by your own thoughts.

The soft almost rhythmic sound of the indicator fills the cool air of your mother's car. Smooth and steady and almost maddening.

Click click click

The sound was mind numbingly incessant - the only thing keeping time as your world spun out.

You just didn't understand.

This was so confusing. The type of confusion that breeds frustration all too quickly. The type of confusion that's born of you wanting so badly to understand something so desperately that the effort only twists things further out of your reach.

Your fingers tingle as they start to fiddle with whatever they could find. In this case the fluffy lining of your mother's budget customisation of her leased car. Breath caught in your throat as raindrops hit the windshield. Your chest felt so tight. Your ribs felt like they were about to collapse around your heart.

You dug your nails into your palm, not too hard, just enough to feel something. Just to ground you. The world outside presses in, the leather of the seat against your back, the faint smell of your mom's perfume, the ceaseless clicking. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Then let it go.

Then again.

Then nothing.

All those thoughts that had previously tormented your mind had vanished in a span of a few careful breaths.

Your thoughts no longer screamed at you. Instead, they recoiled, shrinking away - distant and unreachable.

Your mother coughs, trying to catch your attention “We're here.”

You look out past the car window, it was just a hill? What?

“Get your things, we don't have all day.” Your mother sighs before getting out and grabbing your bag from the back seat of the car.

You mumble a small thanks as you accept your bag. “There's nothing here?”

“You'll figure it out.” Your mother responds half heartedly as she climbs back into the car.

You watched as she gears up to leave. You yap gently on the window, suddenly desperate for an answer to a question you'd been wanting to ask for a while.

“Did I ruin your life mom?” you question. Tightening the strap of your backpack. You couldn't bear to look in her eyes.

She sighs, almost contentedly “Good luck sweetie.” before revving off back the way they had come.

You listened as your mother's car faded out of sight. The hum of the engine is no longer in earshot.

Looking up at the hill you take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

[megangovier]

The Night Walker

a/n: for you @toxicanonymity thank you for all that you do🥺🫶🏻

Wc: 934

Pairing: Dark! Michael x sub! fem reader

Summary: You're walking through the alleyway at night, turning a corner a sharp pain shoots up your neck and knocks you out.

Warning: 18+ only // drugging // handcuffs // Fdom - Fsub // choking // tied up // dub-con // Msub - Mdom // P in V // multiple cream pies // cheating // glove kink // fingering // kidnapped // masked man // pussy eating // spit kink // degradation // slapping // BJ // praising // riding // doggystyle // daddy! Kink //MDNI

All fictitious ♥️

It's currently 11:30pm and you're strolling through the streets, tears rolling down your face and anger boiling up in your system. Work has been so stressful; you couldn't get a five-minute break. The boyfriend now ex didn't help with contacting multiple women behind your back, you were together for 6 months and that's how he treated you, wishing you just disappeared into thin air and just be left alone for a lifetime. You were 3 blocks from your house heading inside an alleyway, turning a corner that's when a sharp pain shot up your neck, feeling drowsy you fell into someone's strong arms. Lifting you up bridal style, heavy footsteps in the distance a sound of a vehicle door opens, and darkness grows over.

1 hour later..

Head full of stinging hornets, pain behind the eye's groans left your lips. Trying to move you couldn't, hands were cuffed to the bars of the bed, feet were tied with silk, eyes widening with fear. Looking around there wasn't much, just a few things here and there nothing worth using to release yourself from the handcuffs. Wriggling around on the bed, trying to shake free from the cuffs nothing worked, heavy footsteps pounded on the creaking floorboards of the staircase pretending to fall asleep he opened up the door and closed it. Walking towards you, a grin appeared on his face. He knew you were pretending to be asleep, so he slowly ran his fingers up your heated thighs.

A soft moan escaped your lips, red faced and eyes opening you looked at your kidnaper, he was wearing a white mask, white shirt and black latex gloves that your eyes fell onto. They looked so good on him, the way the veins showed on his forearms and the tattoo on his wrist it was just so attractive to stare at, and he knew you were getting off on this. Just by how wet your pussy was getting and the way your body reacts to his touches, your body shouldn't be acting this way around a man you don't know or never met. You were becoming a whiny mess under his fingers, pumping faster into your wet cunt noises echoed into the walls, a growl left his throat.

Releasing your hands and feet from restraints, Michael pulled your thighs closer to him, his forming bulge grinding against the pillow he slid between himself and the bed. Pulling his mask up, he spitted onto your already wet cunt making it clench around air "fuck, look at you slut, already wet for me, how disgusting and pathetic of you" a whine left your lips. You've never felt like this before, not even with your now ex-boyfriend, he's never made you feel this good, the way Michael is sucking and nibbling your clit or the way he's curling his gloved fingers inside you reaching that sensitive spot of yours. Toes curling and eyes rolling you were in ecstasy; you were so close.

"Michael. I'm going to - " mouth opened, saliva dripping out the corner of your mouth, eyes closed and legs shaking, your body convulsed into an out of body orgasm. Panting and sweat dripping from your face Michael didn't give you time to recover he slid his hand around your throat and slammed his cock into your mouth "oh god, you're so tight, good fucking girl, take it all till your jaw locks" a gurgle moan left your throat causing Michael to groan "who's my good little cum slut, oh those birthing hips of yours, I need to fill you up with my hot seed" you needed him inside you NOW! your jaw was starting to hurt, and you wanted him to breed the fuck outta you.

Removing his cock out your throat, he lied on the bed and you hovering over him "It's so big, will it fit?" a growl left his throat "I'll make it fit, if I have too" taking his cock in your hand, you tease him a bit with sliding it over your warm pussy "don't tease me! fuck me alrea-" eyes rolling back, grabbing your hips roughly skin slapping and balls deep a groan left your lips. "See you can take it all, I knew you could slut, now put your hands on my chest and fuck me harder, like your life depended on it". Doing what he told you, his fingers digging into your sides "good girl". A hand slid around his throat, fingers slightly squeezing the sides of it "just like that" his hand wrapped around your wrist, his eyes darkened on yours.

"Oh god, please choke me harder" doing as he says Michael's cock was throbbing inside you "going to cum huh, come inside me daddy" aura changed inside him, flipping you over on your hands and knees pounding you from behind "say that again, I dare you!" a smirk fell onto your lips "cum inside me daddy" growls and chest heaving he pushed you down into the mattress, your head in the pillow "oh yes, just like that daddy, fuck me like your personal fleshlight, like I'm your filthy Porn star". Michael was so close; you wanted your stomach to swell with his babies "I'm so close slut, now I want you to cum with me. In 5. "that's it, you're doing so well" 4. "you're so pretty, you can do this 3. "Such a pretty girl, so drunk on my cock" 2. "Atta girl" 1. "Cum for me Now princess" legs shaking, eyes rolling at the back of your head you came all over his cock. "Good girl"

[wihellib]

WHB, Nightmare Passes, and Value

This is going to be a long post.

It would cost me $72.94 real life dollars if I wanted to possess Beel Bath. For that price I would get:

Solomon Seals: 300 (6 pulls)

Lesser (Red) Keys: 210 (7 ten pulls)

Greater (Gold) Keys: 250 (5 ten pulls)

Solomon’s Tears: 168 (Enough to Promote one character 4/4 times and another 3/4 times)

Pie Piece Choice Chest: 40 (Not enough to upgrade one character’s skill to level 5, which needs 60 pie pieces)

Pie Choice Chest: 50 (Not enough to upgrade one character’s skill to level 8, which needs 160 pies)

Devil Gummy Choice Chest: 10 (Easy to farm, so useless)

Beel Homescreen Buttons: 4 (My Devils, Text Messages, Secret Club, Dark Sanctuary)

Beel Bath Artifact: 2

Beel Bath Card: 1

*These numbers don’t include the free tier that anyone can get.

Now, if you want people to spend an amount of money on your game that’s comparable to the full price of a AAA game (good for many, many hours of fun) then you have to make it worth their while.

This is what I would change to the Nightmare Pass to improve its value:

The Items

Give 500 Solomon Seals (1 ten pull), since 6 pulls is such an odd number. Greater Keys have much less value than Lesser Keys, so, to compensate, it should be 300 Lesser Keys (10 ten pulls) and 100 Greater Keys (2 ten pulls).

They already give a good number of Solomon Seals, so it can be kept like that.

The entire pies system needs to be reworked. It’s absurd how much it costs to upgrade character skills, especially when we have no way of farming pies. So, I’m just going to ignore this part, and just say ‘Do Better’.

The Gummies have extremely low value since it’s so easy for us to farm them, so the Gummy Chests needs to be removed from the Pass and replaced with something else. There are a lot of options, like nightmare pancakes, or advanced candy choice chests, etc.

In regards to the Homescreen buttons, I think that’s a great, unique way to add value to the Pass. However, this is only the case when they are unique buttons. For this Pass, the buttons you get are just of normal Beel, they are not his Bath versions. The problem is you can get all other normal King versions in the Nightmare Pancake shop. This is not fair. Full stop. It punishes Beel fans for no reason. So, the Pass should give unique versions of the buttons instead, and normal Beel buttons should be in the nightmare pancake shop.

You should also get a unique frame.

The L Card

Now, onto the star of the show, the L card. You have to do something to set these cards apart from the others. Give me a reason to spend money on this card when I can get the others for free.

The easiest thing to do is to always make the cards explicit. The full cock and balls and oh look there’s a butthole. Make them obscene. This obviously wouldn’t work for mobile app users, but PrettyBusy should be pushing more and more people over to EroLabs anyways. They need to figure out a way for people to transfer their accounts and then go all in on EroLabs so they don’t have to worry about censorship.

Something that would add huge value to the nightmare passes is if the L card’s story was voiced. Not fully voiced, the side characters wouldn’t be, just the main guy on the card would be voiced. I understand getting voice acting is expensive. But this wouldn’t have to be every card on the pass and when it was, they could increase the price a little bit.

Also the L card should be fully evolved if you buy it. Currently you can only buy the card once and have no way of getting more copies to evolve it. So an easy way to add value to the card is to have it fully evolved (i.e. more powerful).

The Character On The Card

Moving on to which characters should be featured on the nightmare pass. I am adamant that none of the Kings should be on a nightmare pass ever.

The main love interests of WHB are the 7 Demon Kings. The others get a sex scene in the main story and maybe some flirty texts/interactions, but that’s it. I really don’t think any of the main love interests of a game should be completely paywalled.

The nightmare pass works best and is the most fair when it’s a once-in-a-while thing (every 3-4 months) and is used to showcase characters that are not the main love interests, like Gabriel and Juno.

This way also has more potential for making money. It’s like, “Hey, I know how much you love Andrealphus or Minhyeok, and you’re sad you’ll only get one sex scene with them and no fancy art, but what if we told you that you could… if you buy these nightmare passes.” People would jump at that way more than a non-explicit card of Beel that’s very similar to other cards that you can get for free. The nightmare pass is devalued in this case.

Finale

So far PrettyBusy hasn’t said anything about the controversy surrounding the nightmare pass. There is a strong chance that they will ignore it completely. So, please keep the pressure up and keep sending them emails (be professional, not bullies) expressing your displeasure with the current state of WHB.

[hostclubau]

By Any Other Name

This is an x reader, multi-ending, otome style story.

fem!reader

Summary: Your life is hell, and your parents abandoned you to a literal loan shark. A near death experience has changed the trajectory of things, but is this a blessing? Or an endless fall into things far worse than you had before?

Content Warnings: The host club has an After Hours that's effectively a brothel. There are BDSM themes and the exploration of a lot of kinks. Foul language, canon levels of violence, mature audiences only.

Chapter 1: Loaned Out

Your feet hit the pavement, spurring you forward through the tangle of streets. This was your city, but it was his too, and the only hope you had at this point was to either get yourself so lost he couldn’t find you, or get yourself to the nearest Marine Station.

Frankly, you’d almost rather take your chances with the fish-man. Marines were next to useless as far as you were concerned, and the only use they had was that most people wouldn’t shoot you in front of one.

You weren’t entirely sure if Arlong was most people or not.

Leaping over some boxes in a back alley, you turned in mid-air and darted down a different alley when you landed. Running errands for that stupid shark had at least paid off in the sense that you were capable of running for a lot longer than most people.

When you were strictly forbidden from fighting, it was a life or death skill to have.

You might be trying to dodge Arlong until his temper cooled now, but more often than that you were running from his competitors, the marines, and people who knew you worked for him. They were all idiots, and not because you could slip away from them easily, but because hurting you wasn’t going to do anything.

Arlong was more likely to throw your body in the river if you got your ass beat, than he was to see you patched up after. Probably grumbling the entire time about how much money you were costing him yet again.

Fucking loan shark.

Slowing down you take a look around and realize you’re in a part of town you don’t know well. It looked like it was almost central downtown, which was well outside Arlong’s turf. It also meant that whoever was in charge of this area was probably not going to be friendly to you.

Arlong always said that downtown was more trouble than it was worth. He didn’t trade loans with people who lived or worked around here, and he didn’t offer protection for any of the businesses. You usually avoided the area too, even if a delivery would be a little faster, but only because the city’s main Marine Office was here.

Well, looking out for marines was easy enough, especially if you stayed off the main street. Alleys were alleys no matter what city or island, so it didn’t really matter to you. Slipping back into the narrower paths you meandered through the back lines of downtown.

You’d took off from Arlong’s threats just after lunch, and with the sun lower in the sky it was probably closer to seven or eight. You might be able to find a street vendor and get something greasy and filling for dinner, and then sleep somewhere out of sight. Tomorrow he’ll be calm again, or calm enough, and you can deal with him then.

The blow to your face was a surprise.

You put your arm up as you stumble backward, nearly tripping over your feet. The punch had drove your cheek into your teeth, and you could already taste copper as you lean against the far brick wall and look up to see Arlong.

“Got tired of trying to catch you when you’re bad.” He snarls, holding up his snail box and showing you the tracker app that was running on it. “Technology’s a real bitch.”

“I completed the job,” you reply, struggling to speak clearly as your cheek’s already swelling. “I don’t get why you’re pi-.” You stop yourself. “Upset. Boss.”

“The job,” he says, breathing in and giving you a terrifying grin. “Was for you to deliver the package without being seen.”

Your stomach knots. If he’s mad, and that’s why, then someone or something clocked you. Otherwise he wouldn’t waste his energy being pissy.

“… What saw me?” You question carefully.

His brows raise. “Oh? Not going to argue huh? Finally wising the fuck up.” He straightens, tapping his snail box again until he brings up a still picture of you. It’s grainy, but the sequence of images show you dropping off the box and walking away.

It was pretty obvious it was you, but only because you and Arlong knew what you looked like. There wasn’t a shot of your face, and you weren’t wearing anything to mark you as a part of anyone’s crew. It’s a struggle to keep your expression neutral, but smart mouthing back at him right now wouldn’t help you.

“… Sorry.” You settle on the simple apology over any kind of argument. It doesn’t matter how grainy it is. It doesn’t matter that your own mother wouldn’t recognize you. All that mattered was that he didn’t want anyone to see you, and you were seen. You’d been dealing with him enough years at this point to know anything more would be an excuse.

You weren’t going to grovel, however, because there was nothing useful on those stills.

“Sorry?” He prompts and grunts something akin to a laugh. “Sorry might’ve worked before you ran through downtown to avoid me, little runt.”

At nearly seven feet tall, Arlong towers over you, and his large hand gathers most of your shirt at once, as he lifts you easily and shoves you harshly against the wall. “You’re never going to pay back what you owe as a runner.” He tilts his head, leering at you in that way he does every time he tries to convince you to do more lucrative work.

“I can tack on five grand for the inconvenience, and patch job.” He indicates your swollen check with a nod of his head. “Or we can write that off as the price of on the job training and pretty you up. Much as you humans pretty up, anyway.”

“I think I’d rather be a runner.” You grunt, the soles of your shoes scratching at the brick as you struggle to find leverage.

Your father, seas take him screaming, got into debt with Arlong when you were a kid. Dear sweet dad worked for the fish-man for a couple years before he took your mom and bounced. Or Arlong killed them, you couldn’t really be completely sure one way or the other.

With mom and dad gone, and the debt still on Arlong’s books, you were hired.

Aside from barely giving you enough money to live on, while working you to the bone, Arlong hadn’t paid much attention to you. Until recently. Maybe you hit some magic number in age, or one of his clients took a liking to you, whatever the case, he was getting pushier and pushier about turning you into one of his Dolls.

The idea of getting paid to fuck didn’t bother you.

The idea of having 80% of your earnings stolen by Arlong, who only wanted you to change jobs so he could make more off you, bothered you.

Arlong falls silent for a while, and you can feel your stomach knot. The look on his face is never a good sign. He’s irritated and what little good humor he might have had a moment ago is evaporating at an alarming rate.

“Don’t be like that,” his voice is flat, save for a slight tone of disappointment. “Really think about it. You’ll never pay off your debt as a runner.”

Even with him taking most of your earnings to pay off your debt, you would have more income. You’d be able to save up, and even have a chance at freedom. Assuming you didn’t screw anything up.

Wait.

“… I’ll never pay off my debt regardless.” You reply just as flatly. Realization had long since dawned on you the nature of this game, but there was a sudden clarity this time. There were no more slaves, not even for the nobles, not since the dragons were slain over twenty years ago.

Arlong had found another way to go about it.

Sure, you could turn him and his bullshit in, but you took a risk that the marine you reported to wasn’t already in his pocket. If they weren’t, and the risk might be small so it could be worth trying, but you’d be going down with him too. No one would give a shit that the illegal things you did were because you felt trapped.

It would be your own fault for not turning him in sooner.

Frankly, it wasn’t a comforting prospect to think about ending up in prison where Arlong would have far more reach than you’d have protection. Even as a runner you made him money, more than he spent on keeping you alive at least. It was more job security than some folks had, so you didn’t want to complain.

“That’s no way to be.” He laments, patting the side of your face. “I’m sure you’ll get-.”

“Every year I manage to pay you forty thousand berries.” You interrupt him. You shouldn’t have, you shouldn’t be talking, you most certainly should not be talking like this. “My dad’s debt was two hundred and fifty thousand berries, and I’ve been working for you for well over ten years. That’s over four hundred grand even with all the additions… boss.”

Arlong lets go of you, and you barely manage to keep your feet under you. He’s mad. At this point you’re going to earn yourself a lot more than a swollen cheek, and that’s probably going to cost you some random amount tacked onto your supposed debt.

You sigh, releasing your own frustration into the air. There wasn’t enough fear in you right now, just cold sure understanding, and anger.

Now that you’ve started its like the flood gates have opened, and you can’t muster the self-preservation needed to close them.

“Every couple months or so, something always seems to come up to tack more onto the debt. It doesn’t matter what the excuse is, the point is the principle hasn’t gone down in... fuck, nearly twenty years.” You shrug, an incredulous, clipped laugh escaping you. “It’s never going to go down. Even if you put me in a sexy suit and let your shady clients sniff my pits, it’s still not going to go down. You’ll just charge me for the sleazy dress-hurk!”

Arlong’s hand is around your throat, and the force with which he grabs you bounces your head off the bricks. You can barely breathe, your head’s throbbing, and the bricks are scraping your back through your shirt as he lifts you up roughly against them. You could swear his eyes are glowing red he’s so angry, and you aren’t sure what it was you said.

You expected you were pissing him off, but this is more akin to rage.

“Little bitch grew a pair of balls when I wasn’t looking, huh?” He snarls, driving his fist into your side. The hooked swing sends a sharp pain through you and knocks what little air was left in your lungs out. “You think some weak little cumshot can talk to me like that? Gonna stand there and tell me I’m charging you unfairly, yeah?”

He loosens his grip for a second and you suck in a pained breath. You know you should be using the precious oxygen to beg for forgiveness, but maybe this was it. The limit of what you could take. You’d been running for hours, and you were hungry enough you just didn’t care.

“Gonna… really… try an’… say you… aren’t?” You manage to choke out the words, but there’s spots on the sides of your vision and your lungs are pitching a fit again. Blacking out might be the last thing you ever do, and a small part of you wanted to succumb to it. Just be done and over with it all.

What would tomorrow bring anyway?

“You fuckin-.”

“Arlong.” A woman’s voice reaches you both and you see Arlong’s eyes widen before he looks away from you. “Don’t murder someone by my club.”

The words are enough for him to release you. This time you can’t keep your feet under you and crumple onto the ground. Gasping and coughing, it takes you a moment to recover, and both the mystery voice and Arlong seem okay with giving you that time.

You get yourself set up against the wall, opting to stay down on the ground rather than try to stand, and look around enough to see the most elegant woman you’ve ever seen standing on a raised platform. It looked like the back exit to a business, a smaller man door with the words ‘Employees Only’ stenciled across it.

It was only maybe four or fives steps up from where you and Arlong were, but she looked like she was untouchable from that far up.

A puff of smoke leaves her lips and your brain catches up enough to see the long cigarette between her fingers. The edges of her bob hair cut curl up, framing her face perfectly. She’s tall, slender, and dressed casually, but you’re left with the distinct impression she could salt and burn the ground Arlong was standing on.

And he knew it.

“I’ll buy her debt.” She states, taking a slow drag on the cigarette.

“What?” Arlong almost growls the word.

She exhales. “You said so yourself. She’s got balls.” The grin on her face is comforting, but you can’t shake the strange feeling that two demons are currently haggling over who will own your soul. “I like that.”

“You don’t even know how much it is, Shakuyaku.” He grumbles.

She laughs. “You think that matters? Leave her here, Arlong. Come by tomorrow in the morning with your books, and we’ll settle the balance.”

You notice Arlong’s fist tighten, but the angel on the balcony doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. He glares down at you for a second, but doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even mouth anything as far as you can tell.

Not that he’s in a position to try and force you to turn down whatever’s being offered.

From one taskmaster to another, as far as you were concerned. The angel on the balcony only had your attention for the moment because she probably saved your life.

“You can call me Shakky,” she begins, pausing to take another drag before letting the smoke out in a slow exhale. At the very least she was more relaxing to be around than Arlong. “Can you stand?”

The question catches you off guard, and you blink dumbly a couple times before you reply. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Alright. If you get dizzy, sit back down.” She commands, taking out a snail box. She’s not watching you, but at the same time she is. Using the wall you get to your feet, but your head swims and so you just let yourself sit back down.

“I’m out back, we have a patient too dizzy to walk on her own.” She speaks in the same even and relaxed tone she’s been using from the start. You didn’t think your situation was anything to get excited about, but you wondered idly if she was ever anything other than calm. “Tell Blackleg I expect his best meal.”

She hangs up, tucking the box away and returns her focus to her cigarette. There’s silence between you that doesn’t feel heavy or awkward, but you also don’t really know where you stand. With Arlong you’d simply stay there quietly until someone came along.

Honestly, with Arlong, you’d be trying to walk no matter how dizzy you felt.

“What happens now?” You hazard the question. It’s safe enough, and you need to understand how this lady operates.

Shakky lets out another slow line of smoke and offers up a warm smile. “Our head doctor’s going to tend to you. The shift’s lead chef is going to make you something to eat, and depending on the doctor’s orders you’ll probably go to bed after that in one of the guest rooms.”

She stubs the cigarette on the railing as the door behind her opens up. A tall man steps out, and looks over at you before heading down the steps. His dusty blonde hair is pulled back into the ponytail, and he’s wearing a button up dress-shirt and slacks. There’s a noticeable scar on his forehead over his eye, but it looks like it was stitched well.

He frowns once he gets a decent look at you. “Any loose teeth?” He questions, and after you probe with your tongue you shake your head. “Feel like you’re going to vomit?”

“Not right now.”

The frown twitches into more of a smile. “Injuries anywhere I can’t see?”

“Mm.. M’back, probably.” You mutter. “Hit the bricks more’n once.”

“I’m going to shine a light in your eyes,” he explains, pulling out a small pen light, and checking your pupil’s reaction to it a couple times on each eye. He hands you a thermometer. “Under your tongue, however you can without it hurting.” He says, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead briefly.

“You should be good, but that’ll give me a more accurate reading. May I have your hand? I want to check your pulse.”

After a second’s pause you hold your hand out. He gives you thanks and then presses his fingers against your wrist for a moment, going quiet as he concentrates on his counting. Once he’s done he pulls the thermometer out and checks it.

“Nothing concerning enough to warrant the hospital.” He turns toward Shakky. “I’d like Law to scan her,” he stops and turns back to you. “If you’re okay with that. It’s a devil fruit ability, but it won’t do anything to you. It’ll just let Law know if something’s wrong that I can’t see.”

“Uh… sure?”

“Alright. I’ll get him after we get you inside and settled.” He offers you a warm smile. “My manners are awful, young miss. My name’s Hongo, if you’re not against it, it would be my pleasure to carry you inside, since you’re not feeling well.”

“I, um, I…” You stop, pressing your lips together and look over at Shakky. She’s smiling, and you can’t tell if she’s giving you permission or not, but there’s no signs of irritation on her face at all. Turning back to Hongo, you consider asking him to just give you a hand walking, but he’s a good bit taller than you.

It’s probably easier for him to just carry you. It’s not what he’s offering that has thrown you, honestly, it’s the way he offered it.

“Sure.” You aren’t sure what you expect, and accept the little medical bag he hands you before he scoops you up like some damsel in distress. Being treated kindly was wild enough, but to be carried like you weren’t just a sack of potatoes was… different.

You didn’t want to get used to it. Good things were always just a veneer. Something pretty to hide all the shit underneath no one wanted you to see. If nothing else, you had to give credit to Arlong for being ugly right up front.

But if these two wanted to feed you and let you sleep somewhere nice for a couple days, you weren’t going to say no.

[beerok23]

The Trouble with HELL (10/19)

A GO Podcasters/Investigators AU (rating: eventually E)

The Trouble with HELL by beerok23

Summary:

Award-winning true crime podcast Va-voom, sorted! has been on hiatus since his author, Anthony Crowley, has published his first murder mystery, Murder on the M25. When his associate Nina begs him to follow a story on a train crash, he meets PI Aziraphale Eastgate, and he soon realises that the charming Apparition in tartan is the real voice behind his favourite podcast, Mr Fell's Mystery Haven. Crowley can't possibly imagine that Aziraphale is starting his own true crime podcast to investigate the same story. Feeling the pressure of competition, Crowley goes back to his first love and wages a Podcast War against the angel until they both realise that the case is bigger than they originally thought. With so much at stake, will they keep working against each other, or will they put their differences aside and learn to trust one another to uncover the truth?

Chapter 10/19: The Craving (8.3k words)

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have dinner with Sam and find out more about Celestial Dairy and Hereditary Havoc. After an unfortunate misadventure, the sexual tension between them is off the charts (and not easy to defuse). When they take a tour of Celestial Dairy, they meet the CEO and find a new lead to follow.

Excerpt from Chapter 10:

After freshening up a bit, Crowley found Aziraphale in the lounge, his laptop already opened on Zoom and– for fuck’s sake, what’s he doing naked?! (Well, the angel wasn’t really naked.) But he might as well have been, given the bow tie hanging loose around the collar of his shirt, which (Crowley didn’t fail to notice) was unbuttoned at the top. Moreover. Rolled up sleeves. The. Bloody. Forearms. It was the second time Crowley risked his life that night. (Both times because of a heart attack, but at least this time he would die a happy – aroused – man. A little embarrassing, maybe, but oh, so worth it.) Crowley would give literally anything to feel those arms wrapped around him, maybe whilst Aziraphale planted a drowsy morning kiss on his shoulder after Crowley had spent a night riding his– Oh, fuck. A pair of FUCKING GORGEOUS ARMS is enough to initiate a catastrophic train of wet fantasies about the angel. (He was ridiculous.) “Oh, there you are, dear,” said Aziraphale, acknowledging his presence. “Would you mind sitting with me, so that we can call Maggie and Nina?” When Aziraphale typed, Crowley could see his tendons flexing (arms arms arms). Seriously, he should reprimand Aziraphale. Tell him to cover the most pornographic thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. (Ideally before he passed out.) “Crowley?” Great, how long had he spent imagining Aziraphale’s arms enveloping him in a passionate embrace without uttering a word? (Was he still able to speak?) “Ngk. Make the call,” he eventually said, sitting beside him. (Which didn’t render him totally incapacitated, shut up.)

Read Chapter 10

Start from Chapter 1 💜

[binding-vows-in-silence-crept]

to live or not to live, that is the question: Chapter 1

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Characters: Gojo Satoru, Itadori Yuuji, Megumi Fushiguro, Kugisaki Nobara Genre: Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst Rating: Teen (for swearing) Category: Gen https://archiveofourown.org/works/64415398/chapters/165385138 Itadori Yuuji decided how he wanted to die at fifteen years old. At sixteen, he is ready to face it. In a different age, a different decade, Gojo Satoru had held the life of another soon-to-be-dead 16-year-old determined to shoulder the world. History repeats itself in bad poetry. However, Amanai Riko is not Itadori Yuuji and Itadori Yuuji is not Amanai Riko and maybe that is a good thing. Once everything is over, Gojo Satoru can only hope that he will not end up with the corpse of another child in his arms. OR Alternate summary: Itadori Yuuji is sentenced for execution. His friends won't let him angst about it. Featuring lots of hugs, lots of love, a beach episode, a birthday party and a choice.

The day Itadori Yuji takes his final breath will be a day not too warm, nor too cold. The kind of day that condemned men on death-row can only dream of. Cherry blossom petals – as pink as his hair, pirouetting on a lazy, indolent breeze. The scent of flowers and the promise of an approaching summer wafting through the forests and shrubs, past Tengen’s barrier and into the barren classrooms of Jujutsu High. The sky will be a beautiful baby blue, clear and cloudless. Spring will end, and with it, Itadori Yuji. But unlike the season, he will not be back the next year, or the year after that, nor the year after. Never again. 

Spring is a good season to die, Yuji decides. 

The execution date – debated, pondered over, scheduled and finally set in stone – is 21st  March, despite only nineteen of Sukuna’s twenty fingers churning in his stomach, listless and leaden. Miraculously, there have been no sightings nor traces of the twentieth finger. As if it has vanished from existence at the eleventh hour. 

This is, of course, ridiculous because the very reason that Yuji is being executed is because it is impossible for Sukuna’s fingers to vanish from existence.

Yuji strongly suspects where it is. Or rather, who has it. The Higher Ups know, because they always know, or maybe because the location of the final finger is little less than an open secret to everyone involved with the individuals in question.

Gojo Satoru only smiles guilelessly when pressed for progress.

Yuji is grateful – the extra months bought for him are a gift. But stalling does not work forever, and the undercurrent of impatience is a palpable living entity beneath the noses of all the ancient old men. Ages in numbers Yuji will never catch up with.

Ryouman Sukuna is nothing with a single finger , one of the higher ups had proclaimed. Yuji thinks of the King of Curses toying, provoking, teasing the special grade curse with all the ease of an alley cat playing with its food, before ripping out Yuji’s heart and leaving it thumping against unforgiving, concrete asphalt. It is wiser to have the vessel eliminated along with the nineteen fingers. Nineteen fingers in hand are worth more than the one in the bush, or so the saying goes.

The originally decided execution date had been 15th March. The Ides of March . Never let it be said that the higher ups did not appreciate theatre. Or poetry.

“No,” Satoru Gojo had announced loudly, his voice cutting through the room; the tribunal’s collective eyes snapping to him. Loud silence. No one dared interrupt and not for the first time, Yuji marvelled at how much space his sensei took up. A creature larger than life, effortlessly commanding attention and respect from everyone in the room. “Yuji-kun’s birthday is on 20th March. Let the kid celebrate his 17th year. Another week won’t hurt.”

The uncomfortable reminder of Yuji’s age and youth had the old men fidgeting nervously, looking away. Or maybe it was the weight of his teacher’s sharp smile and piercing blue eyes raking over everyone one by one, glowing angry and haunted and luminescent in the dim, indoor lighting. Satoru Gojo’s fury is a rare beast to witness, and it was strangely heartwarming to see it bare its fangs for him .

There are arguments, but in the end, it is a futile endeavor, as impossible as touching stars to refuse a request from Gojo Satoru.

This is a good death, he thinks. A proper death. More than he deserves, really. There are far worse, far less noble, far more painful, far less dignified ways to go in this world. (Junpei screaming wide-eyed and afraid before transforming into –)

Perhaps not a death his grandfather wanted for him. But a death he has chosen.

Sensei will be kind about it. Yuji is not afraid of pain, but it is comforting to know that his last moments will be swift and sans suffering.

Itadori Yuji decided how he wanted to die at fifteen years old. At sixteen, he is ready to face it.

---

Within Yuji’s mind, Ryōmen Sukuna remains uncharacteristically silent.

—

oOo

—

Itadori Yuji doesn’t  have many plans for the last week of his life. He does, however, know for certain that arguing with Kugisaki Nobara is not one of them.

This is irrelevant because Kugisaki Nobara does not care about plans or intentions. Especially those concocted by people named Itadori Yuji

“A cheesecake is not real cake!” She yells.

“Who cares if it is not real cake!” Yuji yells back. “I want to eat cheesecake on my birthday, what’s wrong with that? ”

Your shift ends in an hour , Cashier Hinaka thinks, counting bills behind the counter of the small bakery. She has lost count of the money thrice, owing to all the shouting coming from table seven. 

“Cheesecake is pie.” Kugisaki informs him, matter-of-fact, like a priest explaining sacred ancient commandments to a child. “Nobody eats pie on their birthday.”

The bakery is empty because it is 3:00 am. The three shouting kids–or rather, two shouting kids, the third one seems to be playing some game on his phone – are not disturbing any customers. This is tragic, because Cashier Hinaka cannot remove the kids from the premises for disturbing staff. Her brother smirks at her from the kitchen.

“It’s my birthday! I can eat whatever I want! Besides, who says cheesecake isn’t real cake anyways ? It has cake in the name!”

“A strawberry has berry in its name! That does not make it a berry.”

“How did we get to strawberries – we were just talking about cake–”

Cashier Hinaka wonders if she can file noise-cancelling headphones as a business expense.

“You are a menace to society! I bet you eat pineapple on pizza too!”

“So what if I eat pineapple on pizza? You shouldn’t be gatekeeping pizza. Also, excuse me, but I am a menace to society! That's why I am being executed!”

Hinaka is very out of touch with modern generation slang. The kitchen continues to snicker at her suffering. She had thought her brother was getting the short end of the stick when he had been assigned dish-washing duty.

“Guys,” Fushiguro Megumi and Cashier Hinaka’s personal savior interrupts, finally looking up from his phone. The Snake onscreen dive-bombs into its own tail and dies violently with a loud splat.  “You two idiots! You realize that you can get both cheesecake and cake for your birthday right? And buy whatever you want to eat in the week preceding it?”

“We… can do that?”

Fushiguro shrugs, then goes back to playing Snake. “Gojo-sensei’s credit card won’t mind.”

The two idiots blink. The concept of buying multiple desserts for a special occasion is novel to both Itadori Yuji, raised in expensive Tokyo and supported only by an elderly grandfather’s frugal pension and Kugisaki Nobara, raised in the rural countryside too isolated to find any bakeries or fast food chains within easy access. 

They both look at Fushiguro, (raised and spoiled rotten by a teenager with too much money and no qualms about spending it) as if he has hung the stars in the sky and told them the secrets of the universe.

“You are a genius Fushiguro,” Itadori Yuji states. It would be more of a compliment if it was said by anyone other than Itadori Yuji. Then, he wraps himself around Fushiguro like a silken scarf and nuzzles against his cheeks.

Fushiguro does not pull away, and endures the assault with the stoic stillness of a warrior who knows how to pick his battles.

Cashier Hinaka sighs in relief for the blessed silence and thanks her guardian angel.

Kugisaki snaps a photo with a grin.

----

It strikes Yuji that this is the last chance he may have to eat cheesecake. Or cake. Or pineapple on pizza. Or anything really. Suddenly, he has the incomprehensible urge to drive by every single fast food restaurant he knows to try out their entire menu. Memorize the tastes and textures and sounds and… Does he remember what the first bite of a McDonalds burger taste like? This feels like important information he ought to know. Ought to remember. He will never eat another burger after all.

Belatedly, he realizes he is still clinging onto Fushiguro. Fushiguro, who is pointedly not returning his hug. Who is pointedly playing Snake on his phone. Who is pointedly making no attempts to remove him.

He will never share barely-tolerated hugs with him again. He will never have another dumb argument with Nobara again.

Yuji can admit that he is prone to wishful imaginings of the future. But his daydreams have never been tinged with melancholy, like the one he has now. Perhaps it is a symptom of realizing one’s mortality.

Both his friends, twenty five years-old, shopping together. It is a familiar enough sight for the teenage version of them too, thanks to Kugisaki. Except not familiar at all. His own absence is glaring in his vision.

He wonders who will be around to carry Kugisaki’s plethora of shopping bags. Maybe Fushiguro. Odds are 50/50 on him indulging her whims, or leaving them behind for some poor cashier to find. It depends on the weather, his mood, and how much Gojo-sensei has annoyed him that day.

His friends, thirty years old. Laughing and watching movies together. Maybe they’ve got partners. Maybe they’ve got kids. Maybe they’re planning on kids. It is hard for Yuji to imagine what the thirty-year old versions of his friends will do in their spare time. Jujutsu? What do thirty-year old people even do as a hobby?

His friends, fifty. This is even harder to imagine. Wrinkles and grey hair. They kneel under a warm kotatsu table, playing mahjong in a candlelit, old-fashioned lounge.  Happy reminiscing about their lost childhood friend.

Their friend who will never grow older in their memories. Who will be pink-haired, forever etched with a baby face and clear skin.

Yuji pinches his cheeks and wonders if there is a procedure to grow wrinkles in two days.

Fushiguro shifts, as if sensing his roiling, storm-brewn thoughts. He puts an arm around Yuji, who wonders if Sukuna has somehow escaped and overturned the cosmic order of the world. Because Fushiguro is hugging him back . A little awkwardly, with one arm. Then he remains in the awkward pseudo-one-armed-hugging position while playing Snake with one thumb.

Yuji breathes.

… This is okay. He can be content with the image of his two favourite people in the world talking about him decades after he is gone. Hopefully with fond memories, even as he becomes a blip in their infinite, ever-expanding lives. Maybe Fushiguro will play Snake at fifty too.

Never maturing. Never aging. Forever sixteen in their heads.

“Say, Itadori-kun,” Kugisaki calls out, snapping him out of the spinning thoughts in his head. “What do you want to do for your birthday anyways?”

Oh right. Forever seventeen. He keeps forgetting.

---

Ryōmen Sukuna’s silence is louder and says more than his annoying, bloodthirsty chatter ever did.

---

Gojo-sensei does as Gojo-senseis tend to do in their natural habitat. He teleports to Yuji’s dorm and perches on his window-sill like a canary in the middle of the night and nearly scares Sukuna out of him.

“I’m taking a week off!” Sensei says cheerfully, with the backdrop of Jujutsu High’s rippling, endless grasslands and the backdrop noise of Yuji’s racing heartbeat. The moon hiding behind his head casts a white rim light on his white hair. His dark violet uniform blackens most of outside . From Yuji’s bed in the darkened room, he almost looks like a floating head.

 This visual would not be flattering on anybody except Gojo Satoru. Gojo Satoru, on account of being Gojo Satoru, pulls it off.

A moment of calm after he finally processes the floating head and his heartbeat slows down. Another moment where he processes what has been said. Then his heartbeat races even faster.

“A–A week?” Yuji squeaks out, desperately trying to convince his own heart that it is running a marathon, not a sprint. Despite Sensei’s reputation as lazy and irresponsible, it is a well known fact about the jujutsu world that Gojo Satoru never takes a day off. Something about single-handedly shifting the balance of the war against curses and humans. Something about endless cajoling, bribes and deals and job benefits and stipends. Something about unbreakable terms of contract and stipulations and clan politics. They went over the topic with a substitute teacher in Jujutsu-history when Kugisaki had asked why Gojo-sensei was so rarely around to teach them actual theory.

“A week!!” Gojo-sensei speaks in exclamation marks, as if he has not broken a dozen terms of service and doomed all of jujutsu society to a week of pain and misery and death.

“But…But why?”

“Because you are going to die!” Sensei says, not answering, with all the tact and sensitivity of a bulldozer hurtling face-first into a pregnant woman. Or those Hollow Purples he had demonstrated to Yuji in one of his practicals. The man’s abilities are an apt metaphor for his personality.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“They want to detain you! Tie you up in a chair and lock you in a room for the week. Something about being dangerous and a flight risk I don’t know! I didn’t pay attention” Sensei is still speaking in exclamation points and not answering the question. His smile is a little scary. Yuji thinks if he removed his blindfold, his eyes would be glowing a terrifying ocean blue, like they do when he is mad.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Yuji asks, partially because he is genuinely curious and partially because he would like to avoid thinking about the ramifications of that statement.

“Mmm!” Sensei hums in exclamation marks too and continues to not-answer. “Do you really want to spend your last days in that room Yuji-kun?”

They both know what he means by ‘that room.’

Yuji thinks about the dark, candle-lit cell he had first awoken in, surrounded by walls and towers of talisman. The scent of incense, salt, grief and terror. Cruel, coarse rope lashing red wrists rubbed raw behind his back.

“I won’t resist,” he says, which is also not an answer.

“Mmm, I’m sure you won’t.”

Yuji has no idea what his teacher wants from him, or why he has shown up at his window at midnight to tell him about his vacation plans and his future prison or why he keeps waiting patiently and looking at him with that blindfolded teacher-gaze of his, like how he looks when he is waiting for Yuji to figure out a lesson by himself. Yuji resists the urge to say I don’t know like a child.

“What does that have to do with –” Yuji starts to repeat for the third time before he gets it. “... Oh. ”

Sensei’s scary smile morphs into a more genuine one. He makes a finger gun with two hands and points them both at him, “Bingo!”

“You don’t need to do that for me, Sensei.” Yuji says, earnest and wide-eyed. Arguing against himself spawns a lump in his throat suspiciously shaped like fear, but he does not stop. “I’ll be okay.”

Sensei laughs like that is the funniest joke he has ever heard. “For you? I do nothing for other people. Only myself,” he says, like a liar. “Besides, when they heard that I was volunteering for guard duty, the old geezers quickly changed their minds and were all ‘ sukuna’s vessel has demonstrated exemplary control so far’ and ‘ such extreme restraint is not necessary’ and ‘ Gojo Satoru you’re so awesome’”

“Really?”

“ Eh. Maybe they didn’t say that last one. But they were all thinking it!”

Yuji blinks, “So… you’re taking a vacation because you feel like it?”

“Yep!” Sensei says, continuing to talk in exclamation points. At least he gave him an answer that time.

Yuji thinks about Sensei’s fierce protectiveness at the tribunal. The bristling and sharp smiles and predatory, luminescent blue eyes. Thinks about bits and pieces of jujutsu gossip, muttered secrets through Shoko and the second-years and thinks about his latest lesson in jujutsu history. Thinks about how maybe Sensei is the only one strong enough to execute certain people (certain people like him ), even when he doesn’t want to.

…Atleast he gave an answer that time. Even if it wasn’t a truthful one.

“People will die…” he says half-heartedly. Wondering if maybe his teacher came to him so Yuji could dissuade him against his vacation idea. That does not sound like Gojo-sensei at all. 

He still has many questions for the man. What do you plan on doing with a vacation? Why at this time? Is it my fault? Will you regret executing me? He thinks he can figure out the answer to half of them.

Gojo-sensei pulls both legs over the window sill and invites himself over into his dorm. Effortlessly navigates through the pitch black dark until he is leaning over Yuji’s head, nose-to-nose. Sensei is not in the habit of respecting other people’s personal space, especially for someone hoarding an infinite amount of it for himself.

He ruffles his hair, then drapes himself around Yuji’s shoulders like an affectionate cat. Sensei is all about physical touch, just like Yuji, who melts in the embrace.

His teacher makes a thumbs up gesture with the hand not around Yuji’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry your soon-to-be-executed head about it Yuji-kun! I have many very competent students covering for me you know! On account of how great of a teacher I am! Students who are not scheduled to be executed. Well, most of them anyways! The world will be fiiinee without me for a bit.”

…And… Yuji, despite popular opinion, is not actually dumb and he can see what his teacher is trying to do and…

“Okay,”

He lets him do it anyway. Just this once.

Gojo-sensei grins wide-toothed. “We are going to give Yuji-kun the best last days of his life!”

More exclamation points. One statement. Yuji had not asked a question that time, and yet all of the ones in his head have been truthfully answered.

---

Ryōmen Sukuna does what Ryōmen Sukunas tend not to do in their unnatural habitat. He lays still and sleeping and dormant. This development continues to be as reassuring as it ever was. Which is to say not at all.

—

—

Seconds go by with the tortuous, gliding pace of a garden snail, lingering on each tick for too long a moment, waiting for a beat, a sign, a pin-drop, before reluctantly moving on to the next instant. Minutes are quicker, but still too slow. Hours whittle away, weathered and faded, while days upon days disappear into oblivion, Seconds too soon, and days too fast.

Time is one of those things. Too short and too long. Viscous and unyielding when watched and a katana through butter if not lavished with attention. 

Itadori Yuji wonders where it all went.

15th March comes and Yuji’s lifespan slips into the negatives. Like a child who has had his final exams postponed, Yuji is pathetically grateful for the days his teacher stole.

[district23gourmet]

Gimme restaurant recommendations.. Idk, top 5 in the city

you came to the right place that's my job

5. Any Seven Association Café - One time I submitted a request to enter a Seven Association Building to review thier Café. I'm assuming they didn't run a background check because they accepted it and granted me a guest pass. I used to think they were exaggerating how good their coffee is, but nope, they've got brews so good I considered a career change. I'd rank it higher if you didn't have to be a part of the association to dine.

4. HamHamPangPang - The HamHamPangPang in District 9 is by far the best one. It's a good stop for lunch. I'd rank it higher, but it's a little overrated, if I'm honest? Like, it's good, but I've met people who are kind of insane about this place, swearing it's the only good place in the city. Calm down.

3. De Mar Teahouse - A small place in Quercus Village, District 11. I went there a long time ago and even though they don't serve much with meat, their breakfast options blew me away. Very kind owner too, hope he's doing good. Absolutely worth the trip.

2. Marlin Port Club - A huge place in the District 21 backstreets. It's a bit of a hassle to access, but it's not like you need a specific career to access it (COUGHsevenassociationCOUGHwhosaidthat). It's an amazing place for socializing with a mesmerizing atmosphere. They've got good music, good interior design, and you bet the drinks dinners are to die for. I personally recommend trying one of their ice cream dessert options if you get the chance.

1. Pierre's Bistro - You wanted "anywhere in the city" so for the sake of variety, I'm only including one District 23 establishment. With that on mind, there's no competition with Pierre's Bistro. Their specialty, meat pies, are easily my favorite food of all time. They've been closed for a while, but when they re-open, you bet I'm making a beeline straight there.

[tk-duveraun]

12/? Luo Binghe is SO NORMAL about Shen Yuan

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 (here), 13

Read up through even numbered parts on Ao3

Shen Qingqiu's sneer would have been super effective against an actual disciple, but since Luo Binghe was, still, an adult stuck in a child's body he only felt the need to stomp his foot in anger. This was a real threat!

"Disciple Luo must have quite the opinion of himself to think he found a weakness this master did not. Has becoming a personal disciple of Shen Qingchun perhaps given him ideas above his station?"

"Jiu-ge! Enough." Shen Yuan waved his fan at Shen Qingqiu in Luo Binghe's defense. Truly, it was enough of a gift to make him forget the dirt and spiderwebs caught in his hair. "Disciple Luo should clean himself up and then report to this Master's office."

Luo Binghe washed up quickly. He didn't throw the robes away. If nothing else, the embroidery could be used for the outside of qiankun pouches or other accessories in the future. If he was still hell bent on seducing Shen Yuan as soon as possible, he would have appeared with his hair down and slightly wet to coerce his wife into helping, but sadly he used qi to finish drying his hair and then tied it up neatly himself.

Once inside the Bamboo House, Luo Binghe prepared tea. He left it on the table before Shen Yuan and then sat pointedly away from both his master and the table with his clothing impeccable. He had considered leaving tea preparation to another disciple, given the specifics of the Original Goods' seduction attempt, but Shen Yuan so obviously preferred his tea that he'd conceded the point.

"Can this Master assume Disciple Luo retrieved his Ning-shijie's kittens?" Shen Yuan said. He lifted his cup of tea and closed his eyes as he enjoyed the fragrance. His serenity could truly stop wars. IRS Fandom had called him Xianxia Helen of Troy and they were right.

"Answering Shizun, the kittens have been reunited with their mother in the girls' dorm." Luo Binghe looked directly, but politely at Shen Yuan. Every inch of his posture was perfectly tailored to not evoke those memories. Even if Shen Yuan didn't notice consciously, he remained relaxed.

"Good, good. Now, as to the array… Is Disciple Luo aware this Master is a master of arrays?"

Oh. It seemed so obvious in hindsight. A complex array under the floor of an array master's house.

"Ah… This Disciple…" Luo Binghe had woken up in a fucking array not too long ago. What an idiot. "That is to say, Shizun is best known for his interests in beasts and creatures."

Shen Yuan chuckled behind his open fan, but the crinkled skin around his eyes was a revelation. "Indeed. Shen Qingqiu controls the narrative in and around the sect and ensures people only remember what he wants them to. It's a critical part of Cang Qiong Mountain's defensive strategy."

"This Disciple has much to learn," Luo Binghe said. He'd really been leaning on his adult knowledge from the modern world. Having finished university had really given him a big head. This world was different to its foundations. Given how expansive his sight line was from Qing Jing Peak he wasn't even sure the world was round.

And, perhaps, he hadn't been giving Shen Jiu enough credit. His primary role in IRS was "cockblock" and he was, by intention, a deeply unpleasant person to be around. Thinking about it, that was likely another layer to his scheme. If everyone perceived him as a petty bastard, even if he was also that, they wouldn't look to see if he was doing anything under the surface.

It might be worth trying to foster a better relationship with Shen Jiu. Sure, Luo Binghe had experience from the trenches of the IRS forums, but this world was full of people salivating over his wife; he would need to train diligently.

Shen Yuan cleared his throat, instantly snatching Luo Binghe's full attention.

"Now, Disciple Luo must consider carefully, did anyone else become aware of the array under this Master's home?" Shen Yuan's gaze was sharp, piercing and unusually serious.

It took a moment, but Luo Binghe realized his meaning. He shook his head. "This Disciple is able to… sometimes prevent the dream demon from monitoring him directly. He is not currently able to observe this Disciple."

Shen Yuan's entire body relaxed at once. He set down his fan and took a sip of tea. "Good, good."

"Shizun, the array… What is…"

"Nothing Disciple Luo need concern himself with." Shen Yuan again picked up the mantle of teacher. Every switch of his demeanor was amazing to watch. "Disciple Luo is only a child and should focus on his studies."

"Of course, Shizun."

"Now, if Disciple Luo has energy, he should repair the siding so that nothing else thinks to make a home under this Bamboo House. If not, instruct Ming Fan or one of the others."

"This Disciple will see to it." Luo Binghe stood and gave his respects before leaving.

He needed the manual labor to put his thoughts in order. Shen Yuan not leaving the sect alone and protecting his house with such a powerful array were surely connected. Did Shen Yuan know he was in a world where everyone and most things wanted a bite of his peach? Unlikely, given how he acted with Liu Qingge, interactions Luo Binghe had seen first hand.

He no longer trusted anything he'd read in IRS. Snowballing had either written the shallowest possible story on top of intense world building or the System was playing games. Either way, IRS wasn't a reliable source.

Which left the question: what was Shen Yuan afraid of? In the memory, Shen Yuan hadn't recognized Linguang-jun's name when Luo Baixiao said it. But if it was Linguang-jun Shen Yuan feared, the demon may not have identified himself in the past.

But then why would he accept his suit in a future arc?

Luo Binghe frowned at the wood in his hands. There was no circumspect way to copy down the array under the Bamboo House. It was too large and too obscured by the insulation for it to be copied quickly. And even if he somehow managed to draw it out, it was possible Shen Yuan created it himself. It would be near-impossible to figure out what exactly it did or guarded against.

Luo Binghe sighed and patched the hole.

[nostalgicnarrator]

𝙾𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚖𝚎𝚗

───── ☾ ⍟ ☽ ─────

Word Count: 7496 Parings: Thorn X Bilbo Description: Bilbo keeps on stirring up trouble and Thorin needs to slow down before he gets hurt.

───── ☾ ⍟ ☽ ─────

1 / 2 / 2.5 / 3

Note:

I always forget the format I do for these things… anyway, I love this story, and this third chapter as really taken its time to be made. I had help from @midnightstar789 you better go over there and love them or else. I probably wouldn’t have posted this chapter at how fast I was doing it alone.

───── ꧁✪꧂ ─────

The train rattled beneath him, each clank of the wheels, each creak of the train, it all felt like nails on a chalkboard to Bilbo’s ears, horrible and painful and he wanted it to stop. He leaned more against the edge of the train car's roof.

His eyes were rapidly scanning the fading horizon, searching for something in the dying light of day.

Truthfully Bilbo wasn’t sure if he was expecting Thorin to leap out at him from some unknown shadow or if he was hoping to see his right-hand man.

Bilbo’s chest felt tight as his adrenaline still ran through him like an echo of a gunshot. He shook his head as the last few moments of the evening replayed in his mind: Dwalin and his right-hand man tumbling from the back of the train car and Thorin slipping off the side of the car.

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut trying desperately to stop from remembering that sickening thud Thorin’s body had made, how he waited for what felt like too long to see if Thorin would move, why he cared so much.

Bilbo shook his head harshly, trying to make the thought go away. For anything else to take its place.

He forced himself to think through the steps of his plan and how it’s worked out so far. Well, mostly. Okay, maybe not at all.

Honestly! How was he supposed to know that it’d all go pear-shaped so quickly? Oh, he liked pears, maybe he could steal some of Lobelia’s hand pies.

Then he nearly slapped himself, food really shouldn’t be his main concern. The plan, right? Yes, it wasn’t perfect, he was convinced no amount of planning would ever make a plan go off without a hitch, especially his. But how the hell was he supposed to know that, the sheriff would– oh that sheriff!

Bilbo’s lips tightened, that stubborn, infuriating, pig-headed fool of a Sheriff. That–that stupid frustrating idiot lawman! Blibo hated him, hated him for all that he was worth!

But damn if he didn’t admire that man’s persistence. Thorin was like a burr stuck to his heel, uncomfortable and not wanted.

But while there was a part of Bilbo that couldn’t help but respect that drive, then another part of him, the honestly smarter part was terrified of it.

He snapped his eyes open at his sudden thoughts. Bilbo cursed under his breath. Thorin, shit, there’s no way in hell he wasn’t far behind. He couldn’t get comfortable, he had to move, and fast.

A knot twisted in Bilbo’s stomach, as he pulled himself away from the edge and made his way toward the front of the train.

Bilbo knew better. He may not have known the sheriff long but he’s heard the stories. Thorin was known for slipping away from worse than falling off a train, and if Bilbo didn’t find his right-hand man soon, he'd be flying one wing down.

If Thorin caught up with him, if Bilbo couldn’t find his right-hand man, well… Bilbo knew sheriffs, he has interacted with his fair share of them.

If he got caught, if Nori paid for Bilbo’s sins…

But the plan hadn’t fallen apart completely, yet, Bilbo knew if it did, there would be no escaping it. And he’d be damned if it wasn’t him hanging from a noose.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ☁︎︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Thorin grumbled, adjusting his horse’s saddle with a rough tug. The black Appaloosa stood still, her white-spotted back gleaming in the heat. Thorin had named this horse Storm.

Once, when his nephews were younger, they asked “why?” He told them; “because she created a storm unlike any other he’d seen.” That she had chosen him to be her rider. Despite what some think, he wasn’t entirely spinning stories when he said that.

Thorin can remember the day he found her as vividly as he remembered the births of his nephews. He had been looking for a horse, but none caught his eye. He searched, and searched, but no luck seemed to find him. He had even gone to a few other towns and their stables in hope of finding his perfect horse. Then, like a crack of thunder, there Storm was.

She had broken loose from her stable hand, the boy was hardly strong enough to hold her ropes. She was having a fit, bucking and kicking, she was like a twister.

Thorin watched in a strange awe as the young stable hand got kicked into a trough and another was nearly run over as she made a break for the stable door.

Thorin was amazed at how fast she was, how quickly she had broken free. He wasted no time going after her. She wasn’t hard to track, any person he asked would point where they saw her running off to, and if that wasn’t enough clue, the destruction in her wake was.

She had torn a path through that town. If Thorin was a poet he’d likely have said something clever about her, but he wasn’t, nor did he think himself clever enough to do so even now.

He found her in some farmer’s barn. The man had shakily grabbed him and told him there was a beast loose, a beast, his storm to chase. He never understood how or why she cornered herself like that. She could have run to the fields, the forest even, but instead, she had found a barn.

Before he knew it he was inside, he watched as she rear back, snorting and fussing. Nowadays, on the rare occasions when she gets like that, he lets her have her tantrum.

She kicked her front legs at him like she was trying to shoo him. He had to take a few steps back to avoid being caught by her hooves.

He did his best to calm her, to talk to her; slow and steady. Just like how he was taught.

He offered a hand out so she could smell him, once she did she seemed to calm completely. It was strange, she had nuzzled into his hand and relaxed, like some large weight was off her shoulders.

Thorin was brought out of his thoughts when Storm snorted at him and flicked her ears in frustration. Thorin knew it was her telling him she didn’t appreciate all the tugging and pulling.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her, he patted her back softly. “Sorry girl, didn’t hurt you, did I?” He rumbled softly. Storm snorted again, shaking herself off.

At least she’s not as angry as she was after the train incident, she was snorting and huffing and wouldn’t let him do much but touch her.

That damn outlaw, that damn…, damn, thief! A thief is what he is, a damn thief! Ered wasn’t in the best condition, especially not financially! There’s one bank in this forsaken town and all the reserves are gone because of a damn outlaw he couldn’t handle! Thorin should have gone after Bilbo by now, he should have had that outlaw strung up and hung, but his sister...

Christ… his sister, Dís, just wouldn’t let him take off. No matter what he said, no matter how much he wanted, she was worried about his injuries.

And that’s exactly why the boys are distracting her at the moment.

He hoped it worked this time, she’d had taken his ear the last three times she caught him trying to sneak out. Thorin was very sure it got more and more painful each time, and honestly, he swore his ear was still throbbing.

So, Thorin had been stuck in his sister’s house for a week. The only joy he had was the knowledge that Dwalin was worse off than him. But not in the sense of physical he means, Dwalin’s brother had him basically bedridden.

At least Dís was nice enough to let him wander around. For the most part anyway

Kíli had kept him more or less updated on what was happening around town. While Fíli filled in as Sheriff for the time being, that was more for show than anything. It wouldn’t look all too good if a town went sheriffless.

Thorin winced, he was ripped from his thoughts again by a sharp pain. He paused to find his breath. His ribs throbbed and he grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut he leaned against Storm.

Every breath Thorin took sent fresh waves of pain shooting through his body. He suddenly wondered if his knees would buckle. Storm shifted a bit at his sudden weight, but she didn’t move away from him. He didn’t know how long he stood there, nor did he care.

That throb slowly turned into an ache and Thorin could breathe again. He pushed himself off of Storm, though he didn’t let go as he stood. Storm did her best to stay still, to look back at him.

She gave a soft snort, one Thorin had come to learn means “slow down.” He looked up at her and gave her a soft smile. Thorin hoped his ribs were well enough for a ride, or this was gonna be hell.

Thorin froze for a moment when he heard the familiar sound of heavy boots and hooves crunching on the dirt of the road. Thorin sighed as he turned around.

It was Dwalin and Honey. Honey was Dwalin’s light brown Thoroughbred. Strangest horse Thorin has ever met.

Thorin remembered when that old farmer swore up and down that, that horse was one of the bravest horses he had ever seen, but brave horses aren’t afraid of butterflies, at least in Thorin’s opinion.

Dwalin was very clearly looking for him, Honey was happily plodding along.

Dwalin hadn’t spotted him and Storm yet, maybe he could just sneak away, but that thought died as quickly as it came when Honey nudged Dwalin’s shoulder and Dwalin looked over.

The deputy rolled his eyes as he walked over to Thorin, almost hurriedly. “Going somewhere?” Dwalin’s voice was gruff. It wasn’t meant as a question; Thorin knew that much but he answered anyway.

Thorin quickly decided on, “After Bilbo.” As his response. That didn’t seem to help his case as Dwalin gave him a hard look.

Dwalin huffed and gently patted Honey’s neck. “You’re not going after that bastard alone. We do this together like we always do.”

Thorin could feel his face settle into a glare, but Dwalin didn’t even flinch at the look. Storm shifted uneasily.

“No,” Thorin grumbled. “You need to stay here. I’ve already put you through enough–”

Dwalin cut him off with a sharp grunt. “Put me through enough?” His brow furrowed, and he stepped closer puffing out his chest. “You expect me to sit here, twiddlin’ my thumbs, while you go get yourself killed? Ain’t happenin’ Thorin!”

Dwalin poked Thorin’s chest hard as he spoke, Thorin forced the involuntary noise of pain down. Dwalin seems unaware of the pain he has caused as he continues to glare at him daring him to disagree. Thorin squared his shoulders before he spoke, “Dwalin, you’ve done more than enough for me. This isn’t your fight.”

Dwalin’s eyes narrowed. “Ain’t my fight?-“ and he gave Thorin a look, Thorin knew what the look meant. What he said was the dumbest thing Dwalin had heard in a long time. “Ya kiddin’? Thorin this is my fight as much as yours-”

Thorin grits his teeth as he interrupts, “No Dwalin you don’t understand!” He pleaded with the deputy.

Dwalin didn’t let him continue that thought though. The deputy growled as he spoke, “Thorin Oakenshield, you listen to me, you pig-headed bastard! I can’t sit back and watch you try and kill yourself. I’ve seen ya hurt too much already.”

Thorin opened his mouth to answer only to get a glare in response. Thorin knew Dwalin was right. But the idea of dragging him into another mess twisted something deep in his chest. For once, Thorin wanted to shoulder this alone.

Thorin waited too long to say anything, Dwalin’s shoulders dropped, and he took Thorin’s arms and squeezed them lightly, “This isn’t about favors Thorin! You're my brother– not by blood, but by badge! this isn’t me repaying some sort of favor!”

Dwalin paused to let Thorin speak but when he said nothing Dwalin continued. “Think of Dís, she’s lost one brother. I don't know if she could stomach losin’ another, Thorin. We made a promise, remember? To bear our burdens together, and there’s no way I’m lettin’ you ride out alone.”

Thorin couldn't stop himself from just staring at his deputy. He doesn’t know how long he stood there but when Dwalin started to look worried, Thorin knew this argument would never end till he gave in.

“Thorin..?” Dwalin rumbled and Thorin was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of the worry in Dwalin’s voice.

He groaned and sagged. “God damn it, fine, fine! Alright-” Thorin glared at Dwalin. He shrugged the deputy’s hands off and poked him in the chest, Thorin continued, “But we do this on my terms!”

Dwalin grinned widely and patted him on the back, Thorin began to mildly wonder if Dwalin is trying to kill him as pain shot through his chest again. “As long as it means we’re doing it together.”

Thorin muttered every curse he knew under his breath, then threw himself into Storm’s saddle. She shifted beneath him but settled once she felt his weight. Dwalin followed suit, mounting Honey with ease.

Thorin glanced over at him, Dwalin was looking better than what Kíli had been saying. Maybe the boy was just trying to make his uncle feel better. Maybe he was just being dramatic, Thorin decided quickly he didn’t care.

Thorin then briefly wondered if he looked as disheveled as he felt. After a moment a faint smile crept onto Thorin’s face as he nudged Storm into a trot. “You’re as stubborn as an old mule, you know that?”

Dwalin chuckled. “Takes one to know one.”

Thorin rolled his eyes but said nothing.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ☁︎︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Thorin grimaced when Storm shifted more as she trotted along. The sudden movement had Thorin pushing down a whine he felt clawing its way up his throat.

“Yer sure we ain’t headed in the wrong direction, Thorin?” Dwalin grunted, Thorin turned to watch the deputy roll his shoulder anxiously.

Thorin found himself shrugging. “I can only imagine. We probably ain’t all that far.”

“Ya can only- ya don’t fuckin’ know?!” Dwalin growled and Thorin rolled his eyes.

“We don’t have many options, Dwalin. It's to follow the damn tracks and hope we find that damn town and can ask around, or wander our happy asses back home.” Thorin said as he gestured to the open plains in front of them, the sun dipping lower in the afternoon sky.

“Or do you wanna go back to those abandoned train cars? Fair warning we’re nearly out of supplies.” Thorin snapped at Dwalin.

He knew they were both just hot and hungry, and he doubted Dwalin would turn around now. They had crossed paths with the forgotten cars a while ago, all they managed to find in those cars were a few broken whiskey bottles, a half-empty bag of old Toby tobacco and a seemingly forgotten pipe.

Outside was a bit more helpful, a few tracks leading away from the cars, heading east down the track. it was hardly enough to point them toward Briar Town. But it’s all they got, it was the closest town, and they needed food and rest.

Thorin knew a little about Briar. Bofur and Bifur came from there, they told him a good bit in passing, particularly to warn him away from visiting it.

As far as he remembered the town was just an old town that had lost a lot of its relevance when the mines dried up sixty-ish years ago. It was still there, more used for transport than anything else.

Why they thought it a bad idea for him to go there is beyond him. But they needed supplies and they needed answers, hopefully they can get both there.

“Somethin’ just doesn’t sit right with me,” Dwalin muttered as he reached down and patted Honey’s neck when the horse shifted uneasily.

Thorin rolled his eyes, “nothing ever does.” Thorin grumbled. Dwalin smacked him upside the head and Thorin whipped around to glare at him, while rubbing his head and fixing his hat.

He supposed he had to admit that Dwalin was right, something about the way Briar loomed not far now set him on edge.

It wasn’t too long before they neared the town, he could feel the hair on the back of his neck raise as the uneasy quiet of people settled between him and his deputy.

The streets of Briar seemed to shrink around them. Eyes peered out from behind tattered curtains, quick whispers flitted through doorways before slamming shut, weary of the new faces in town.

Thorin tipped his hat to a little boy who waved kindly to them, only to watch the mother drag the boy inside, shooting the lawmen a look that sent a chill down Thorin’s spine. This wasn’t wariness, it was fear.

They slowed when they neared a more rundown general store. Thorin looked to Dwalin as the man swung himself down off Honey, he tried the door, it was locked.

That’s that plan out the window. Dwalin huffed, Storm snorted and tossed her head agitatedly, her ears flicking. Thorin reached down to pat her neck, “easy girl, you’re okay,”

Thorin looked around the now desolate streets as Dwalin saddled back up. “That’s fucking great. What the hell are we supposed to do?”

Something catches Thorin’s eye before he could answer. He looked away from Dwalin, and stared at a particular dark alleyway. He swore he saw eyes stare back.

“Thorin.”

He could swear those eyes seemed familiar.

“Thorin!”

But he couldn’t place why he thought that or whose they would be.

“THORIN!” Dwalin’s voice cut through his thoughts, he had pulled Honey in front of him forcing Thorin to look at his deputy

“What!?” Thorin yelled as he tried to look back at the alleyway. But the eyes were gone.

Dwalin grumbled and nudged Honey into a trot, Storm followed after without a nudge or command. “What are we gonna do?”

Thorin looked around again, this time for an answer, a building caught his eye and he tipped his head to it and both men pulled their horses to a stop.

The old swinging doors did little to hide the ruckus. Thorin nudged Storm forward, stopping her again at an old hitching post. Dwalin trotted up beside him.

Thorin looked to Dwalin before they both dismounted. Dwalin was quick to throw himself off Honey and tie him to the hitching post.

Throin slid himself down from Storm carefully. His ribs throbbed a bit, and Thorin felt ill. When his boots hit the dirt beneath him he couldn’t stop the grunt of pain as it escaped.

Thorin quickly turned to Dwalin to see if he noticed or was watching. What He saw was Honey nudging Dwalin’s shoulder with a soft whinny, eyes wide and expectant, as if asking for treats or a scratch.

Dwalin sighed, a hint of affection laced his voice as he muttered “Not now, ya big baby,” the deputy muttered, ruffling Honey’s mane before turning his attention to the saloon. Thorin couldn’t help but chuckle at the two of them.

Thorin watched Dwalin as he looked at the building, Thorin cast it his own glance; peeling paint and rotting wood gave the building an aura all it’s own.“Real nice lookin’ place,” Dwalin rumbled.

“It looks like a place folks go when they don’t want to be found. If anyone knows anything about Bilbo, they’ll be here.” Thorin said he took a few measured breaths trying to will the pain still in his chest away.

Dwalin shoved the doors open, basically storming inside. Thorin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he followed after his deputy, his eyes scanning the room quickly for anything or anyone out of the ordinary.

The saloon was a dimly lit place, the thick scent of stale beer, he’s going to pretend it’s only beer anyway, cheap booze and sour sweat hung in the air.

The patrons looked like they belonged to any other old backwater town; hired hands, gamblers, and ranchers. Ratty, unkempt just like everything else.

But, then, Thorin’s gaze found a group of three men, almost better kept. Not well kept, but better off then the rest. One was broad, maybe muscular, another lanky and hunched like he was trying to hide himself, his hair a blonde that felt vaguely familiar, the third looked younger, smaller with dark almost black curls, he seemed far too jittery.

They were nearly in the center of the room, it seemed like others had been sitting around them before Thorin and Dwalin walked in. He kept the small group in the corner of his eye. Despite trying to hunch in on himself, the blond’s face was more or less visible, it almost seemed familiar, but he couldn’t remember why and keep an eye on Dwalin at the same time.

Dwalin did not do much looking, in fact, he made a beeline for the bar, glaring at the bartender. The man was cleaning a glass keeping his eyes down, he was a little better kept like the three other men.

“We’re lookin’ for some men, ridin’ with a feller named Baggins. You seen ‘em?” Dwalin asked roughly.

The barkeep paused what he was doing, the man casted a long sideways glance at Thorin and Dwalin, looking them up and down gaze lingering on their badges. The man’s expression hardened as he returned to polishing the glass in his hands, offering no verbal answer.

“I’m fuckin’-” Dwalin started to say before Thorin grabbed his deputy’s arm and stepped forward more.

Thorin leaned against the counter with a faint smile. “We’re not here to cause any trouble mister,” he said evenly. “Just lookin’ to talk.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw the three men shift uncomfortably. Dwalin, finally looking around the saloon’s interior, noticed them too.

To Dwalin jittery means suspicious. The deputy growled as he stormed towards the three. “You three know something.” It was more a statement than a question.

“No sir, we know nothing sir.” The broad brown haired boy answered. He was young as well, Thorin decided as he turned to follow his deputy, by his voice.

Dwalin growled and slammed his hands on the table making the smallest boy jump. “Don’t lie to me boy-”

“We’re not lying sir.”

Dwalin ignored the broad shoulder boy and turned to the smallest boy, the youngin seemed to finch under the hard glare of the deputy. “Talk. You know something”

“He doesn’t sir-” the broad shouldered boy tried- Thorin begins to wonder if he needs to step in.

“Am I fucking talking to you kid?!” Dwalin yelled and Thorin stepped forward, he needed to calm his deputy before-

The broad shouldered boy stood to meet the deputy, “leave before we make you-” anger prominent on his face. Almost like a shot, Dwalin’s fist crashed into the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling out across a table.

Chaos immediately erupted. Chairs scraped, bottles shattered. Thorin ducked a swing from the lanky blonde, his ribs screaming as he twisted.

Thorin’s breath caught in his throat as the lanky man swung again, much faster than before. The man’s fist connected with Thorin’s side.

His vision blurred and the pain in his ribs flared so intensely he nearly dropped to his knees. He gasped, fighting to stay upright, gripping the edge of a table for balance as the room spun around him.

Thorin couldn’t afford to fail- not now, not with Dwalin counting on him. Thorin grunted as he grit his teeth and forced himself upright, he jabbed the lanky blonde in the gut, hard. The man doubled over, gasping roughly.

Thorin grabbed him by the shirt collar and drove his knee into the blonde’s face. The younger kid from the group had backed up from the table, he seemed to suddenly realize that he was now outnumbered and the young boy made a break for the swinging doors.

Throin cussed as he followed the boy pushing past the people who half heartedly blocked the doors. Throin’s ribs throbbed painfully as he stumbled off the walkway to follow the fleeing man.

Storm pulled against her reins, neighing with concern as he ran past her as fast as his ribs let him after the man.

He was heaving for breaths, forced to pause in the middle of the empty street attempting to wait out the increased burning pain of his ribs. He wondered idly if- oh, okay that’s the ground.

Throin felt someone lead him down onto the ground, their very indistinct voice buzzed above him. Throin snapped his eyes open dizzily. When had he closed them…?

Dwalin knelt in front of him holding his upper body up easily, “Thorin- Thorin, what’s wrong? Just breath-”

“N-no, don’t stop, go go. He’ll get away-” Thorin managed out, he grit his teeth as pain shot back through him, he was starting to feel dizzy again. Dwalin just stared down at him, Throin looked up and grimaced as he shouted “Dwalin!”

“FINE! Don’t move from there do you hear me? Don’t move.” Dwalin demanded and Thorin nodded and Dwalin gave chase down the street, following the younger man.

Throin took a few deep breaths, he cussed under his breath before pushing himself up. He had to keep up.

He shook his head and quickly followed after the two men. Throin made it to the alleyway he saw the two turn down.

Just in time to see Dwalin slammed the kid against the wall, his fist raised as if to hit him. “You’re gonna tell me what I wanna fuckin’ know,” the deputy growled.

“Dwalin!” Thorin yelled, stopping Dwalin in his tracks. Thorin’s ribs screamed in protest as he took a step forward, but he forced himself upright. “We don’t need him half-dead.”

Dwalin whipped his head around to glared over his shoulder at Thorin, his fist still posed. “I thought I told ya ta stay there! Damn it Thorin you're gonna hurt yourself more!”

Thorin looked at Dwalin for only a moment before he took a step closer turning to the terrified young man. He softened his tone as he spoke, he was hoping to calm the boy back down.

“Hey, sorry for my friend here he gets a little uppity when he’s not havin’ a good day. We just need some information.” Thorin said, The young man looked between the two lawmen, his eyes landing of Dwalin’s still raised fist.

Thorin put a hand on Dwalin’s fist and lowered it when he noticed what tge kid was looking at. “Why don’t ya tell us what ya know, hmm?”

The boy's lip trembled as he spoke. He sounded like he was nearly crying. “I-I don’t know! It wasn’t me that let the Sackvile’s chickens out I swear!”

“Sackvile’s chickens?” Thorin’s brows furrowed, he looked at Dwalin trying to make sense.

Dwalin frowned. “The fuck is a Sacksvile?”

“Does this Sack-vile– have any interest or connections with Baggings?” Thorin asked, ignoring Dwalin’s question after realizing he wasn’t going to be much help.

The young man swallowed hard. “We-well, not really unless you count Loilbela but nobody trusts that thieving-” then the young man paused before going back to blubbering, Thorin vaguely wondered if the boy would start crying. “P-Please let me go misters! I ain’t done nothin’ please-”

Thorin sighed and looked at his deputy. Dwalin look at him for a beat before both men looked back to the boy as he blubbered again.

Thorin rased his hand a bit letting go of Dwalin’s arm. “Now son, we ain’t gonna hurt you–” Thorin tried to explain but he didn’t get far.

The sheriff was quickly interrupted bag a “O, for the love of god!” Before Dwalin knocked the kid out with a solid punch to the jaw, letting the kid slump down against the wall.

Thorin shot Dwalin a disapproving glance. “Was that really necessary?”

Dwalin snorted. “Yes, unless you like the cryin’. Now, sit down somewhere, I’ll handle him.”

Thorin gave him a glare as he plopped down on a crate at the end of the alleyway, the nearly nighttime air felt cooler now.

Thoin closed his eyes as he leaned back against the wall.

The throbbing in his chest had begun to lessen as Dwalin tapped his cheek. Thorin looked up at him, the deputy he had the young man over his shoulder tied up.

Thorin sighed at him as they started to head out of the alleyway and to their horses.

Suddenly a finely dressed man approached them, he he looked off down the road a bit before flicking his eyes to the boy on Dwalin’s shoulder.

Thorin furrowed his brow he liked at his deputy before back at the man, Dwalin had his brow raised.

He looked far better dressed than anyone else they’d seen. He looked at the two of them and smiled.

“Sheriff and deputy I presume?” the man greeted after clearing his throat, tilting his head to them.

Throin glanced at Dwalin again, “uh…, i suppose word travels fast around here huh?”

“Yes well,” the man said before clearing his throat again. “-Bilbo’s right-hand man,” he started with no warning, the man pointed down the road. “He isn’t far. I saw him ridin’ east.”

Dwalin furrowed his brow and squinted at the man, he opened his mouth to say something but Thorin interrupted.

“Thank you sir.” Thorin said and the man quickly nodded and scurried away.

Dwalin looked at Thorin when he began walking to the horses again, “the hell just happened.”

“We got our lead…” Thorin said as he threw his leg up over Storms saddle.“Dwalin you should head back to Ered with that boy I’ll go ahead-“

Dwalin glared at him as he threw the boy on the back of honey. “Absolutely not, not with you like that.”

Thorin gave his deputy a look, he nodded to the boy. “We can’t drag that boy-“

“Too damn bad.” Dwalin grunted as he threw himself into Honey’s saddle.

Thorin opened his mouth to protest, but the second he saw his deputy glaring at him, he snapped his mouth shut.

Thorin sighed and tugged on Storm’s reins and gave her a soft nudge.

This was gonna be a long night.

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The road felt as if it would stretch on forever. All there was left to do was follow deer trails, cutting through nearly barren hills or the lands of forgotten homesteads and farms. They were hardly what Thorin would have called standing, almost completely taken back by nature.

He knew this area was once large farms stretching from one house to the next, a community of people who had no issues with anyone, would give you anything if you so much as asked for it.

Thorin doubted its truthfulness, but he had heard that the people from this area would eat nearly 7 meals a day because they had so much food. No one really knew what happened to them, and Thorin supposed no one ever would.

The crisp nip of night started to cut against them as the shadows began to stretch out, like a cat in the midday sun. They were still passing through the forgotten farms and fields, still tracking their way though the rolling hills.

The darkness gave the place a strange otherworldly look, it made a shiver find its way up Thorin’s spine.

Thorin wasn't sure how long he had been riding beside Dwalin, but it had to be well after dawn, three days ago now…?

Thorin cringed at the way the dust clung to his skin and clothes, he could taste it, there was nothing but dust to kick up and he wondered if it would ever wash off.

Thorin’s eyes narrowed against the sun as it dipped lower and lower in the sky. A painful jolt has Thorin gritting his teeth and sucking in a slow deep breath.

It was beginning to become impossible. All he could feel at every strange shift of Storm’s saddle or change in terrain was a fresh stab of pain, rippling through his chest.

Thorin glanced back at Dwalin and their prisoner. The boy they still had with them, was bound by rope as he walked slowly behind Honey.

The lad stumbled when he slowed more than the slack in the rope allowed. Honey shook his head and made a noise of displeasure. The boy was getting tired and so he was getting slower.

But so were the horses, Dwalin had taken the kid off of Honey’s back some hours ago, tied the kids hands up and then to Honey’s saddle.

Thorin knew that the Honey probably didn’t much like having a man tied to the back of his saddle.

Now, Thorin won’t lie, though he tried to talk Dwalin out of making the kid walk, he hadn’t tried very hard. The kid had been talking about Bilbo the entire ride until then.

Thorin was very close to just tying the lad up to a tree and leaving him there, but as he did, he remembered his nephews. The kid couldn’t have been much younger than them.

They would be doing the same as this boy was, threatening to get him or that they would be saved soon by him. Thorin felt guilt crawling up his throat and he looked away as the boy stumbled again.

He could also feel Dwalin casting him a sideways glance, Thorin couldn’t see it but he could almost imagine how Dwalin’s brow furrowed. Dwalin adjusted himself atop Honey before clearing his throat loudly.

Thorin knew Dwalin wanted to say something and Thorin continued to ignore him, gripping Storm’s reins as they rode.

After a mile, Dwalin finally decided to do something, he pulled Honey to a stop in front of Thorin and Storm, the young man tripping over himself to keep up with the horse’s sudden speed, the poor lad all but collapsed to the floor.

“Thorin,” Dwalin said as he gave Thorin a look. “Ya look like hell, come on, off the horse.”

Thorin gave Dwalin an unimpressed look, “I told you-”

Dwalin interrupted him with a groan, the deputy leaned back in his saddle. “Thorin, yer ribs are killin’ ya. I can see it plain as day, hell I bet the kid can see it too, right boy?”

“Well-” the young man said as he struggled himself upright, Dwain interrupted whatever the boy was about to say.

“See? And I know ya gotta be feelin’ it by now. You’re barely sittin’ upright.” Dwalin said as he motioned to Thorin.

Thorin immediately straightened in the saddle, wincing slightly at the movement. “I’m fine,” Thorin rumbled, suddenly finding it harder to take a full breath.

Dwalin’s frown deepened as he quickly dismounted Honey, moving to Storm and taking hold of her reins. “Yer nothin’ close to fine. Yer ribs have got ta be hurtin’, stop acting like an idiot.” Dwalin’s voice was firm, stripping the argument before it fumbled its way out of Thorin’s mouth. “We stop here. Now get off that damn horse.”

Thorin clenched his fists, glaring down at Dwalin, all Thorin could do was glare, anything more and he couldn’t concentrate on making himself breathe.

The pain was unbearable and for a moment, Thorin’s vision swam, the world tilted more than it had, the heat and exhaustion finally seemed to catch up with him.

Thorin knew Dwalin saw it, the deputy reached his hand up fast as a shot, grabbing Thorin’s underarm and pulling him lightly. “Get off the horse, before I pull you down.”

Thorin stayed silent for a moment, blinking the blurriness from his eyes. He could see Dwalin’s face, twisted worry.

Thorin simply started sliding off the horse, Dwalin made a noise Thorin would say was akin to panic, he was quick to help Thorin down.

Thorin tried to hide it, the grimace that crossed his face as his boots hit the ground. Thorin stumbled into Dwalin. “Alright, yer alright” said a voice, it took him far too long to realize that it was Dwalin.

No… No, the voice was too soft for Dwalin. Thorin leaned heavily against Storm as Dwalin pushed him gently into the side of her.

He struggled to steady himself, the pain throbbed through his ribs like a strike of a hammer.

Dwalin waited a long moment before he led Storm off the road and into a shaded patch of trees. He helped Thorin down against the tree

“Remember to breathe Thorin.” A voice rumbled above him and Thorin nodded gently. The air was cooler there, he didn’t feel so sticky, so suffocatingly hot. The air smelled thick of oaky earth. It was quiet, he’s pretty sure he likes it quiet.

“I’m setting up camp– just, breathe Thorin.” Someone, no, Dwalin, grumbled as he disappeared from his sight.

Thorin slumped against the tree, watching as the sky darkened, his ribs screamed at him despite his best efforts to breathe as shallowly as possible.

A thump next to him jolted Thorin, his eyes opened, when he had closed them he couldn’t remember.

The boy, still tied to Honey, flopped over, sitting on the ground next to Thorin. Thorin watched the boy, blinking bleary eyed. Dwalin gave the kid a look then promptly went back to setting up camp.

Thorin watched the boy blankly then to Thorin’s increasing displeasure spoke again and far too loudly for his aching head, “Mr Bilbo’s gonna get me, he’s gonna come free me and give you all hell for this.”

Dwalin snapped at the boy quickly. “Alright, that’s it,” he growled, pulling a rag from his bag. “One more word outta you, and I’ll gag you, do you fuckin’ understand me?!”

The boy opened his mouth as if to protest, Dwalin shook the rag at the boy raising a brow, as if to tell him to try it. The boy clamped his mouth shut.

Dwalin’s voice became a distant murmur as Thorin’s exhaustion caught up with him once again, he grunted when he heard someone say his name. But he couldn’t understand as the steady thrum of pain was already pulling him into a hazy sleep.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ☁︎︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Bilbo slipped carefully off of Myrtle, his boots hitting the pacted dirt of the road with a muffled thud. He patted Myrtle’s neck as he scanned the darkened horizon.

The shadows stretched long and thin under the moonlight, and the faint rustle of fallen leaves stirred in the wind.

Behind him he heard Nori dismount, by the sounds of it in one fluid motion landing lightly next to her, barely making any noise on the hard packed dirt.

“Where did Otho send them?” Bilbo murmured, his voice barely louder than the rustling leaves around him.

Nori shrugged, his eyes darted toward the road ahead before taking Daisy’s reins and walking her off the road, hiding her in the tree line. “‘Down the road’s all he said before I rode out to find you.”

Bilbo let out a frustrated sigh. “Helpful.” He grumbled as he followed after Nori, leading Myrtle next to Daisy on the side of the road.

Nori smirked faintly, shaking his head. “What do you expect? Man’s married to Lobelia.”

Bilbo snorted. “Fair point.” His lips thinned as he adjusted his hat and pulled his bandanna over his mouth hiding his face once again. “Let’s find my boy, then.”

Nori nodded, pulling up his own mask as he followed Bilbo as he took the lead down a nearly invisible deer trail, their boots crunching softly in the leaf litter.

Both men moved with practiced silence. The moonlight painted eerie patterns on the ground, casting shadows that seemed almost alive.

Bilbo hated being this close, this close to-

Suddenly a voice shook Bilbo from whatever thoughts he was having.

“Bilbo,” Nori whispered, pointing out a faint, flickering glow. It seeped through the gaps in the trees affecting the shadows the moon was causing.

Bilbo crouched low with a nod and Nori followed. Bilbo’s eyes were hardly sharp in this darkness. He squinted as he peered at the distant firelight.

The camp was really close to the road, they probably would have walked up on it if they had continued down it earlier, why on earth did they set up camp there?

Bilbo looked at Nori, and decided the man seemed to be thinking the same thing, if the look they shared meant anything.

The fire crackled faintly as Bilbo studied the shadows shifting around it. There was a large shadow stomping its way around camp. Its heavy voice carried over the stillness.

Bilbo moved closer to try to get a better view. Bilbo could make out the large form of Dwalin, he was speaking but the words were lost to the distance.

Bilbo watched him quietly as the deputy moved toward a tree, crouching briefly before stepping aside.

And there, in the firelight, was Frodo.

Bilbo’s breath hitched. His nephew was slumped against the tree, he looked so small like that… he looked battered and bruised despite the low light. The flames danced over his pale face.

Bilbo clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms angrily. He felt his low simmering rage begin to boil rapidly yet cooled by a dousing of shame at the sight of his nephew possibly bruised by the lawmen hunting him, causing his hands to tremble with the bottled emotions.

Nori’s sharp intake of breath beside him was the only reason he stayed still.

“Boss,” Nori whispered cautiously, he moved to put himself in front of Bilbo. As if that would stop him. “Keep your-”

Bilbo interrupted immediately, his voice low and terrifyingly calm. “I’m going to go get him.”

Nori frowned, his worry plain. “Bilbo… think this through. What about-?”

“Thorin’s sleeping,” Bilbo snapped, “and that deputy is leaving.” His gaze flicked briefly to the firelight, Nori looked as if to check.

Bilbo moved forward, but Nori grabbed his arm. “And how are you so sure it’s gonna stay that way? What if you get caught?”

Bilbo paused for a beat. He tilted his head to Thorn laid up against a tree. “Look at em. See how he’s breathin’? His ribs are hurt- probably from the train.” Then Bilbo pointed off to where Dwalin stomped. “And he’s leaving- and if you keep holding me here, we'll lose the chance.”

The distant firelight glinted in the darkness, Nori narrowed his eyes as he searched Bilbo’s face, the right hand man shook his head and looked away back to the camp.

“God damn it, fine!” Nori said through gritted teeth letting go of him, the right hand man pointed at Bilbo and glared at him. “But make it quick. I’ll keep an eye out for that idiot deputy.”

Bilbo grinned widely, despite Nori not being able to see it, the man huffed and pushed Bilbo. The outlaw slipped forward, moving quickly in the shadows of the woods.

Each step was quick and silent, his boots found the soft patches of dirt between the scattered twigs and leaves. Bilbo hardly had to think as he placed his feet.

As the firelight grew closer, horrid snores cut through the otherwise silence like a gunshot. Bilbo wondered if he even had to be quiet at all

He stood a little taller as he carefully walked through the camp. He looked off again in the direction that he was sure Dwalin had gone. He didn’t hear him, or see him

Bilbo moved quickly, he knelt beside his nephew, “Frodo,” he whispered as he tapped the boy’s cheek.

The boy stirred, his eyes opened quickly. And for a brief moment, confusion covered his face, but a look of relief and disbelief quickly swallowed the confusion. “Uncle?”

“Shh,” the outlaw hushed, he moved his hands in front of him and motioned for the boy to keep his voice low. “Let’s get you out of here, alright?”

Frodo nodded quickly, and Bilbo began cutting the bindings around Frodo’s wrists. He broke through the rope quickly and let it fall away.

But as he began to help his nephew up, he heard a click behind him. Slowly he turned to look, finding a gun pointed right at him, a very angry looking sheriff holding it leveled at his chest.

Bilbo took a quiet breath before tilting his head. “Well, howdy sheriff. How’s them ribs?”

───── ꧁✪꧂ ─────

Note: I think this is pretty good, once again dramatic cliffhanger. I love me some drama. Anyway. A serious big of thank you to @midnightstar789, I don’t think this would hav been done without them. Please do read they’re stuff, give them love and a big thank you to @shurikthereject for letting me take their au idea.

[starstriix]

hi star! i really love your work!

what are your favorite ships overall?

Hiii!!

I obviously mainly fixate on jock, but I'm really open to a lot of pairings. Though tbh, this may be the one fandom where I don't really care for any mlm ships at all?? (Not that I mind them) It's mainly wlw or het ones.

I'm pretty much open to most canon pairings too (duncney, aleheather, etc), but I don't care for gen 1 as much in general so I'll tell you a few gen 2/3 ships I've liked:

Obviously I'm cool with zoke, and samkota was super super cute. I actually don't mind Dott either, I think it's pretty fun and very reminiscent of the 2012s (Dott fans are like siblings to me. They could never make me hate you) Shasmine was pretty much the main thing I remembered from watching PI when I was younger, so it's cool in my book (also height differenceee)

For Jo, I pretty much like the concept of most Jo x female character ships (brick is the only man I see her with. Think of it as the bisexual who mostly likes women and one very specific type of man). Jomaria makes sense to me, Jo/Dawn is pretty neat and I can see the appeal in Jo/Zoey but I really enjoy them as best friends, lmao. Also Joeather is funny as shit but I don't see them being an ACTUAL couple.

Dawn/Zoey is a really good one I've seen, I like em being weird girls together. It's a super cute concept, and they actually had decent-ish interactions in canon. We need more weird girls in our lives. Dawnkota and Dawnmaria are rarer ones I've only seen a few times, but I think they're neat and worth exploring as well!

I don't really ship them but can we PLEASE talk about Zoey and Dakota's interactions. "Hold me? 🥺" and then Zoey proceeds to awkwardly look away THEYRE SO FUNNYYY

Ella/Sammy is super sweet :) though the concept of Ella/Scarlett is SUPER cool too. Especially the ship name,, "Poison apple"?? Brilliant. Alsoo...Scarlett x me because she's hoWHAAAT WHO SAID THAT?? WHO SAID THAT

I've seen Sky/Lightning in fics and I honestly think it's neat?? The matching names are really cute, too. We love jocks in this household. I also think Scott and Zoey would be interesting as a pair, though I don't see much content of them. Same with Zoey x the system (minus Mike and obviously Chester). AND Zoey x Anne maria??? I genuinely have no idea how I've never seen content of those two together. I thought it'd be a bit more popular.

And of course,, Lightning x his muscles. Best ship, you can't change my mind.

[rainbowdelicsunshine]

can you do 1 & 8 (the Halloween asks) for Tigger + Petunia ?

1. Do you & your F/O decorate your house? If you have an idea of what it looks like, show us!

I would imagine that Tigger's Treehouse is DECKED out in Halloween decorations, he even got those Jack-o'-Lantern fairy lights hanging around from the ceiling

It's pretty much what you'd picture when you hear "Cottagecore Halloween", kinda looks like this (at least vibe/lighting wise)!

Since Petunia lives in a Strawberry Bush, she can only put down a decorative rug she made for the occasion, leave some decorations at the front of the bush's entrance and enjoy!

(will also have some strawberry themed Halloween stuff around as well)!

8. If your F/O is from a series that has a special halloween episode, please tell us about it and how your S/I fits into it!

For Boo to You Too! Winnie the Pooh: Petunia's Costume is your Average Generic Witch Costume (Dark Purple and Green Trim to be exact) and she loves to be scared and scare people on Halloween as much as Tigger does

And Song I Wanna Scare Myself is now a Duet with Petunia We Wanna Scare Ourselves!

And at the end of the episode, Petunia bakes up JackoLantern Shaped Strawberry-Apple Pies, Pastries, and Strawberry-Apple Cider for the Whole Hundred Acre Woods!

For the Heffalump Halloween Movie: She's dressed up as Tigger's Trusty Sidekick Mega Petunia (her costume is a red and green superhero costume with a small yellow cape and a strawberry shaped mask) and she gets paired up with Tigger by Rabbit in the beginning part of the movie!

She's the one who made and came up with her and Tigger's costumes as well!

When Rabbit hands out his veggies as a replacement for the candy, Petunia gets handed radishes (cuz to Rabbit, they look like strawberries enough), and she's kinda pissed about it since she feels it's passive aggressive on Rabbit's part lol

And at the end of the special when Tigger and Petunia see their JackoLantern Versions of Themselves: Tigger compliments Petunia's JackoLantern Head saying "Hello Gorgeous"! while Petunia says to Tigger's JackoLantern Head "Hello Handsome"! after him!

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

Soso sorry this took so long to come out my good dear friend o mine, I had to watch both Halloween Specials in order to fully answer the question at hand so it took a while on my end!

I really really hope this is worth the wait, please let me know of any feedback you have!

Please come back again soon my friend and have a wonderful evening!!

[mistressmochalo]

Karamatsu not narcissus (analyse of character part 1)

[Dear reader, you are reading the translation of my original text into English, I hope I didn't mess up the translation too much😅]

Karamatsu is always given this short description. This constantly raised doubts in my mind; in my opinion, although he has some narcissistic traits in his behavior, he is far from a real narcissist.

I decided to look into this issue and did a little psychoanalysis of the character.

Narcissism in psychology is part of the dark triad, which implies negative character traits characterized by malicious intent and a detrimental (sometimes destructive and dangerous) influence on others.

First, let's figure out what narcissism is. I will consider this term at two extremes: as a character trait and as a mental disorder.

Trait. A narcissist is a person with high self-esteem, inclined to exaggerate his talents and achievements, self-centered (aimed at satisfying only his own needs, without focusing on the feelings of other people). As a rule, they tend to manipulate other people to achieve their goals and satisfy their own needs. Empathy is either weak or absent. Cold and sometimes cruel cynics.

Narcissistic personality disorder.

An extreme and painful manifestation of narcissism that develops into a mental illness.

People with NPD consider themselves special, exaggerate their abilities and achievements, exalt themselves in front of other people by belittling and devaluing others. It is important for them to be an object of admiration. They are very sensitive to criticism, since their high self-esteem is very fragile, they are extremely dependent on the opinions of others. They react to a negative assessment aggressively and with contempt, or with condescension and withdrawal into complete denial. Incapable of love and empathy. Narcissists have a vague self-image and invent an ideal persona that everyone should love. For a narcissist, being less than perfect in the eyes of others is unbearable and painful.

From my experience of communicating with such people, I can say that narcissists are cunning bastards, their true nature is difficult to recognize right away. They know how to put you at ease, lull your guard, they flatter you, praise you, show interest, not forgetting to mention how lucky you are to meet such an amazing person like them. And you unconsciously begin to believe them. Then devaluation, manipulation, emotional swings and gaslighting come into play. If you don't notice the trick in time, the narcissist will destroy you.

Their grandiosity is mostly a lie in which they themselves sincerely believe and this reaches the point of delusions of grandeur. With delusions of grandeur, it is simply impossible to convince a narcissist of one’s own imperfection.

So, narcissistic personality disorder is characterized by:

• A persistent pattern of behavior with a sense of self-importance, a need for admiration and a lack of empathy.

This pattern appears when the following signs are present:

• Exaggerated, unreasonable sense of self-worth and talents (yes)

• Preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited achievement, influence, power, intelligence, beauty, or ideal love (yes)

• Belief in your own specialness and uniqueness (yes)

• Need for unconditional admiration (yes)

• Exploitation of others to achieve one's own goals (no)

• Feeling of the right to special treatment (possibly partially)

• Lack of empathy (none)

• Envy of others and the belief that others are jealous of them (possibly partially)

• Arrogance (no)

So, many points coincide and we can say with confidence that Karamatsu is really a narcissist, but I will give you arguments to refute this statement.

1. He never manipulated or belittled or devalued other people. He cannot be called arrogant and cynical.

2. One of the fundamental traits of a narcissist is weak or absent empathy. Karamatsu has demonstrated more than once that he is capable of compassion. In 1s in the "flower fairy" ep, he feels pity for Chibita and for the blind girl in 2s 18ep, stands up for Jushi in 1s 24 ep, in 3s 5 ep he was ready to give up on the girl from the pharmacy, seeing Totti's progress in communicating with her, feels sorry for Totoko in 3s when she is depressed about her failed idol career. The narcissist can feign compassion, but in the examples listed there were cases where no one saw him and there was no point in pretending.

3. Despite praising himself (even alone with himself 3s 25ep) he is well aware of his position as a NEET and a virgin, and accepts the fact that he is at the bottom of the social ladder. He acts demonstrably self-confident only around family and friends, but when confronted with other people who are higher in status than him (that is, he recognizes that ordinary people are higher in status than him) (1s sp, 2s beach episode, first film) his self-confidence evaporates. A true narcissist never admits that he is inferior to others.

His unhealthy self-esteem and belief in his own exclusivity are just a mask and self-hypnosis, which already calls into question his status as a narcissist. In addition, there is one important point that is worth mentioning, namely the prerequisites for becoming a narcissist.

Narcissists are people with deep psychological trauma rooted in childhood and adolescence when the child’s psyche is very malleable.

Children of 3 types of parents become narcissists: absentees, when parents do not care at all about their child; parents are sadists, who can also be narcissists (heredity and adoption of the parent’s behavior model also play a role here), upbringing is accompanied by mental and/or physical violence; overprotective parents who plant in the child’s mind the idea that he is the best and unique. Karamatsu does not have these prerequisites.

Thus, I can confidently state that Karamatsu's narcissism is only an image, a fictional personality created as the opposite of what he was like during his school days.

But I won't dwell on this. Assuming that Karamatsu's behavior is not entirely a game, then we can assume that he really does have a personality disorder, namely... continue in part 2

[apriltempleos]

october 2nd 2024: some code stuff

preacher: the original idea behind "APRIL" was that she would be able to pull up word strings from the templeOS god word app on command – this was supposed to be her primary/only function.

we're going to put up a post on templeOS later because it's completely fascinating and i've been obsessed with it for a while, but for now what's important to know is that due to some decompiler issues, it's not really possible to run templeOS on the raspberry pi which is the computer that we are using. scott's here to explain this at length – find a detailed technical explanation below the cut.

scott: Initially I was gonna start coding the whole program in Python starting with the godword random prophecy function. But then after looking into how the original godword program worked on the og TempleOS worked, with FIFO (First-in-First-out) queues, of which I was pretty unfamiliar with, I decided to code the bulk in C because I know C a lot more than Python and the queues seemed easier to implement in C. Pi allows both Python and C coding languages naturally anyways so why not.

The original TempleOS was written in a variation of the C/C++ language called HolyC by Terry A. Davis who wrote the language variant and compiler himself. Because of this, it's hard to decompile it manually to look at source code, or to run it on certain machines. Because of this I couldn't run the actual godword program or TempleOS on the raspberry pi so I knew I was gonna have to recreate the godword function as close as I could (which I initially called "heresyword" lol). After some research, I found one of the only breakdowns of how TempleOS worked by Xe Iaso [1].* They have such a good breakdown of the whole operating system thats really context inclusive and even includes extracts from Terry Davis' actual comments on how TempleOS works which are really hard to interpret actually. * (preacher: btw, i highly recommend everyone read this link. it really does a great job of explaining everything and once again, templeOS is endlessly fascinating so i think it's really worth the read. see the picture below for an example)

So from Xe's blog I found that TempleOS has a public global class called "God" that is used in several areas of the operating system. For godword it loads all words from the database Happy.txt into a separate array and then uses random entropy bits from several areas, including an "internal microsecond stopwatch" and data form keypresses, to choose random words from the word variable and loads them into a FIFO queue, printing them one by one when needed. I was initially gonna recreate this FIFO queue and all these random entropy bits but decided it to be too much complicated work for little result so just decided to generate random words from the Happy.txt using the cpu clock for entropy and save them to a separate .txt file to be called and read later on, acting in place of the queue system.

Sidenote: Xe's blog also had the Happy.txt file which was really useful and which I also realised was just every single word from the King James Bible.

[e-b-reads]

Books of the Month(s): Nov + Dec 2024

It's not that I was too busy with work (or even school) in November/early December to do a wrap-up; I was too busy reading. Now I've emerged a little from my self-imposed reading break (as in, a break from everything else to read) and can write about what I read and enjoyed!

(BTW this is how I managed to hit over 200 books this year, after all. No, I'm not sure how I read 34 books in December either. I swear I spent some time not reading.)

Emma (Jane Austen): Had the urge to reread, and I'm glad I did! Honestly I feel like Emma gets a little more flak than I personally feel she deserves (in, like, people's analyses, not in the text) for being interfering and wrong about people. She is interfering, obviously, but in a way, that's part of her skillset - she uses it all the time with her father (and presumably with servants as she runs her household). And she's mistaken sometimes, but so is everyone else when they're certain she's going to be heartbroken over Frank Churchill. Anyway. Also I really like how Knightley and Emma are friends first.

The Alpine Betrayal (Mary Daheim): OK so this series is part of how I managed to read so much at the end of last year. Emma Lord is the owner of a newspaper in Alpine, Washington (a small former logging town) in the 1990s - early 2000s. (The books are set when they were published - except the last few, published in the 2010s and all set in 2005.) She's also in her 40s and the mom of a college-aged (to start) son. This is an alphabetical series, as in The Alpine Betrayal is the 2nd book, and The Alpine Zen (which is not at my library!!) is the 26th and final book. I thought I'd read, like, the first handful, and then I just kept going. I still think I'll make a separate post about the whole series, so I'll just say I picked this book in particular because I think it shows you several things I liked about the series as a whole; it's set in a small town, but not a perfect cutesy one - loggers are out of work and mad about it, characters (including recurring and main ones) have a variety of realistic flaws. Not perfect books, I'll write more in the separate post if it ever materializes, but worth a look if you're interested in the subject and setting!

Every Crooked Nanny (Kathy Hogan Trochek/Mary Kay Andrews): This title is book 1 in a mystery series I picked up on the rebound from the Alpine series (it's much shorter), and it's another one that straddles the line nicely between cozy mystery (youngish woman running a business, fun recurring characters, consistent setting, though it's Atlanta rather than a small town) and something more realistic/gritty (the youngish woman is an ex-cop and PI running a house cleaning business, so the recurring characters are people like her chain-smoking mom/business partner and a variety of cleaning ladies of various ages, races, and socio-economic status; racism is acknowledged and sometimes argued about; there's just a general realistic, diverse cast of background characters including those in realistically shitty situations). If you know any other mystery books/series that hit that sweet spot, I'll take suggestions!

[treadmilltreats]

Don't settle

I can't understand why we settled. We settle for a job we don't like. We settle for things, and we settle for people and relationships.

You can't find a job, so you settle for the first one, even though you hate it and it makes you miserable.

People settle in relationships all the time...

I can't get why some people don't want to be alone, so they will settle on the first person that comes along, afraid they won't find someone else.

I have friends who are beautiful, smart, kind, and funny, settling for dirt bags, with no jobs, who are living off of them. While they are at work, these guys are sitting in their homes, eating their food, doing nothing to help out. Really, are you kidding me?

Or the woman who lets a lying, cheating man back over and over, getting hurt every time.

Do you not have a mirror? Do you not see your value like I do? Do you not see this incredible woman you are? So why are you settling?

The same goes for men. Yes, I know good-looking, rich, smart men who stay in a relationship where they are miserable, mistreated, and belittled. Again, why?

Why do they insist on going back when they know nothing changes when nothing changes?

They have so much love to give. They are great dad's, great son's, terrific friends, so why do they not know their own self-worth?

You need to wake up and see what we see. You need to know it's okay to be alone than to be in a relationship that you're dying in. Trust me, happiness is so much better.

Yes, it's scary out there. Dating sucks and some nights are lonely, but the peace you feel inside is worth it all. If you truly have the one for you, it will be a fifty-fifty relationship. You will not be put down, taken advantage of, or lied to and cheated on.

They will build you up, tell you you can do anything. They will be your biggest cheerleader. They will be there for you to tell your secrets to, to depend on, you will feel loved and you will do the same for them. If they are not doing all of that, then they are not the one. Move on, get out, and start over!

For most of us, this is the second part of our lives. Most of us have lost loved ones. I have lost too many, and it makes it very real that this time we have is precious and way too short to be unhappy. It could be over tomorrow, and here you spent the last year, 10 years, or 20 years being unhappy, really?

Not me! I want to live each day like it's my last. I want this peace and joy I feel at this moment to last a lifetime. If I get to share this life with a wonderful man, that would be incredible, but I refuse to settle. I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life than settle.

That's a bold statement, you're thinking. Yes, it is but if you felt the peace and joy I feel and then have it taken away like I had after not trusting my institution, you would realize that you will do anything to get it back.

So, today my friends remember, I will not be settling and neither should you. Look in the mirror, see what I see, know your worth, and expect nothing less than you deserve. Life is too short!

Fill your life with people you love and who love you. Improve yourself, get interests or hobbies. Volunteer, exercise, find new friends, but fill it with things that make you happy!

Always remember how many people love you and will be there for you, take the step to be happy with yourself, and don't settle.

"Be the change you want to see,"

@TreadmillTreatsCheck out my daily blogs @ https://treadmilltreats.blogspot.com/?m=1

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The Blessing in Disguise.... revealed

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