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rafayelxsylusho · 2 days ago

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The land of no return part 8

Hello everyone!!! Thank you so much for the comments and all the love given to this fic ❤️❤️❤️

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"I once loved a flower so much that instead of picking it, I left it alone."

Zayne

Caleb leaned back against his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

"What exactly do you want, Zayne?" Caleb asked, his voice tinged with a note of impatience. "You show up here, unannounced, looking like you haven't slept in days..."

Zayne barely heard the criticism in his friend's tone. "I want to know how she is doing, she cancelled her appointment last week, with no reschedule date." He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, that he was overstepping boundaries, but he couldn't help himself. "After Elijah left..."

Caleb cut him off, his expression hardening "She is doing fine," he said shortly. "She is a big girl. Perfectly capable of taking care of herself."

He pushed off from the desk, straightening to his full height, a clear signal that he wanted this conversation to be over. "You can leave now," he said, a note of finality in his voice. "I have a lot of work to do right now."

Zayne's jaw clenched, a surge of frustration and desperation rising up inside him. He took a step closer to Caleb, his eyes flashing with a intensity that made it clear he had no intention of leaving until he got the answers he needed.

"I'm not going anywhere..." Zayne began, but Caleb cut him off again with a sharp, biting remark.

"You could have done with adopting that viewpoint two years ago"

"Do you know why Elijah left?" Zayne asked, his voice rising with a note of urgency.

"If I knew why, do you really think I would tell you?" he asked with a note of mocking incredulity in his voice.

He walked to the open door of his office, his hand gripping the handle tightly, a silent command for Zayne to leave. His posture was rigid, his shoulders tense, a clear indication of his growing irritation and reluctance to engage in this conversation any further.

Zayne, however, remained rooted to the spot, his eyes locked onto Caleb's face, a desperate, almost pleading look in their depths. He was pushing the boundaries of their friendship, knew that he was being a burden, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not when it came to her well being.

"I hate to pull this on you...but you owe me one, Caleb."

"You're really going to pull the 'you owe me' card right now?"He shook his head, a look of disgust on his face as he turned away from Zayne, striding back to his desk.

"She's a mess, alright?" he said shortly, his voice tight with an emotion he couldn't quite disguise. "She's hurting. Hurting like hell. Elijah leaving...it hit her harder than I think anyone realized it would."

He paused, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs as he struggled to find the right words. "She's strong, though. Stronger than you give her credit for. She's picking up the pieces, bit by bit, day by day."

"Caleb, I need her back" Zayne said, his voice raw with longing and regret.

Caleb's expression softened, the anger draining from his eyes as he looked at his old friend. The tension in the room shifted, the animosity giving way to a tentative, fragile understanding.

"I know, and I think..." Caleb began, his voice hesitant, as if he were wrestling with his next words. He paused, his jaw clenching as he tried to find the right way to express the truth he had been holding back.

"I think she still loves you, Zayne," Caleb said at last, the words coming out in a rush, as if he had to force himself to say them. "She's angry, she's hurt, but the love...it's still there. It hasn't gone anywhere."

"What if she hates me more?"

"She hates what you did, not you"

"I don't know what to do anymore"

"You chased her until you got her, so now chase her until you get her back. But if you screw up again, if you hurt her again..."

Zayne nodded at Caleb's warning, the gravity of the words sinking in like a stone in his gut. He couldn't afford to screw up again, not just because of the pain it would cause her, but because he knew his friendship with Caleb would be irreparably broken. And he had no doubt that Caleb's retaliation would be far worse than the single punch he had received before.

With a heavy heart, Zayne turned to leave, his footsteps echoing in the sudden silence of Caleb's office. He had taken only a few steps towards the door when Caleb's next words stopped him in his tracks.

"I will not get in the way this time," he said, a note of support in his voice. It was a small olive branch, a sign that perhaps their friendship could be salvaged if Zayne succeeded in his mission.

But then, with a glint in his eye and a smirk that was equal parts encouraging and threatening, Caleb added, "But I'm not so sure about the rest of her friends." It was clear that he took a dark delight in imagining the obstacles that lay ahead for his friend.

"Good luck."

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"Just because I carry it so well, it doesn't mean it's not heavy"

Y/N

It had been nearly three long weeks since Elijah had walked out of your life. The pain had begun to feel more familiar, like a constant dull throb that you had grown accustomed to. This heartache was different, though. This time, you couldn't blame anyone but yourself for the mess you were in.

As you sat at the bar, the dim lighting casting shadows across the polished wood, you found yourself contemplating the wisdom of drowning your sorrows in alcohol. A certain doctor swore by the numbing effects of alcohol, claiming it made the pain of a broken heart bearable. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and you were nothing if not desperate to feel something other than the constant ache in your chest.

The bartender, a man with a thick beard and a tattoo snaking up his arm, slid another shot of tequila in front of you. You didn't bother to ask how many you'd had already. Three, four, five? Who was counting? It was Friday night, and for once, you didn't have to worry about being at work tomorrow. Tonight, you could let yourself go, could indulge in the sweet oblivion that alcohol promised.

As you knocked back the shot, you couldn't help but think about how much your life had changed in such a short amount of time. Just a few months ago, you had everything you ever wanted a successful career, a home, and a man who loved you.

You glanced at your watch, realizing that Rafayel was running late, as per usual. He was probably running around the city, trying to find the hottest new bar. Rafayel always did have a flair for the dramatic. But tonight, his tardiness only gave you more time to wallow in self pity and drown your sorrows in cheap tequila.

The alcohol began to take effect, you felt a faint buzzing in your head, a pleasant warmth spreading through your limbs.

As you were about to down another shot of tequila, a firm hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, stopping your hand mid motion. Startled, you looked up to see who dared to interrupt your self destructive quest for numbness.

Standing beside you was the last person you expected to see, Zayne. Without a word, you unwrapped his fingers from your wrist, using your other hand to break his grip. Your skin tingled where he had touched you, a sensation that you both welcomed and feared. Swallowing the tequila shot defiantly, you felt the liquid burn its way down your throat.

You choked slightly, your eyes watering from the sudden onslaught of alcohol.

Ignoring Zayne's presence, you turned back to the bartender, your voice slightly slurred as you asked for another shot. "One more," you said, holding up a finger and gesturing to your empty glass. The bartender, sensing the tension between you and the man standing beside you, hesitated for a moment before pouring another generous measure of tequila.

You turned to face Zayne, your eyes narrowing as you searched his face for any sign of deception. The tequila had started to cloud your judgment, but not enough to ignore the coincidence of running into him here, of all places.

"Are you following me?" you asked, your voice sharp and accusing. You held the shot glass aloft, the lime wedge perched precariously on the rim. Without waiting for his response, you knocked back the tequila.

His face mirrored your own, a slight grimace flashing across his features as the memory of the alcohol's burn echoed in his mind. He had tasted it before, many times, when he had tried to drown his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle.

"This is a coincidence," he said, his voice unconvincing even to his own ears. He shifted his weight, running a hand through his dark hair in a gesture of nervousness.

You sucked on the lime wedge, the juice mingling unpleasantly with the lingering taste of tequila on your tongue. You made a face at the bitter combination, before fixing Zayne with a hard stare.

"Then why did my coworkers say they saw you outside HH all week?" you demanded, your words slightly slurred but no less accusatory. "And don't try to tell me it was just a coincidence, Zayne. I know better."

"I'm just worried about you"

You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you shook your head. "Well, I'm not yours to worry about," you retorted, a sharp edge to your words. You were tired of being a source of concern for Zayne, tired of being a problem that he felt the need to solve.

Glancing around the bar, you hoped to catch a glimpse of Rafayel, desperate for a distraction from the tension that had taken root between you and Zayne. But alas, your friend was nowhere to be seen, leaving you to fend for yourself in this awkward encounter.

Undeterred, Zayne slid onto the barstool beside you, his thigh brushing against yours in the close quarters. "Did you break up with him?"

You cut your eyes at him, a look that screamed, 'How dare you ask me that?' But even as the thought crossed your mind, the words spilled from your lips. "Maybe he dumped me," you said, a shrug of indifference in your shoulders.

Zayne chuckled "He isn't that much of an idiot"

You turned to face him again "Then what does that make you?" you asked, a challenge ringing in the words.

Zayne's fingers toyed with the small glass in front of you, turning it slowly on the bar's smooth surface. A rueful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a look of self deprecating honesty in his eyes.

"An asshole"

"That's right," you agreed, a note of grim satisfaction in your voice.

You leaned back on the barstool, crossing your arms over your chest as you studied Zayne's face. The alcohol had begun to blur the sharp edges of your anger.

"And yet, here you are," you said, "Why do you keep showing up, Zayne? What is it that you want from me?"

"I'm here because I can't stop thinking about you. Because every day without you feels like a day wasted. Because I'm going to fight for you"

Please Zayne, whatever it is we can work it out, you won't hurt me

"What if I don't want you to?"

Please don't leave...

"What if I don't care?" he countered, stubborn determination in his tone. "What if I can't just walk away and pretend that I don't love you anymore? You might not want me to try and win you back, but I can't stop myself from trying. I won't stop until I've proven to you that you mean everything to me."

Please

"Just give me a chance. One chance to show you that I'm not the same man who walked away from you."

I can't...2 words, 5 letters

You could only stare at Zayne for a long moment, his words hanging heavy in the air between you. The weight of them pressed down on your chest, making it hard to breathe, let alone formulate a response.

You fumbled for your wallet, your fingers trembling slightly as you pulled out two twenty dollar bills. You didn't trust yourself to speak, afraid that if you opened your mouth, you might say something you'd regret. So you simply placed the money on the bar next to your empty shot glass.

Without giving him the satisfaction of seeing the turmoil written all over your face, you slid off the barstool. The sudden movement made your head swim, a side effect of the alcohol and the emotional whirlwind you found yourself in.

You took a deep breath and made your way towards the exit, your heels clicking against the floor. You could feel the weight of Zayne's gaze on your back, could almost hear the unspoken questions and pleas that hung in the air between you.

As you pushed open the heavy door, the cool night air hit your face, a stark contrast to the stuffy, alcohol tinged atmosphere of the bar. You took a step forward, blinking in the sudden brightness of the streetlights, when you spotted the salvation you needed.

A cab sat idling at the curb, without hesitation, you made your way towards it. You needed to get away, to put some distance between yourself and the man who had once again turned your world upside down.

As you slid into the backseat of the taxi, you gave the driver your address, not trusting yourself to think clearly enough to give him directions. The cab pulled away, and as you watched the bar recede into the distance, you couldn't help but wonder if you had just made the right choice.

Only time would tell if walking away from Zayne had been the smartest move, or if you had once again let fear and pride guide your actions. For now, all you could do was stare out the window, watching the city lights blur past as you tried to make sense of the tangled mess that was your heart.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"If you can't pick, flip a coin. Because for that split second it's in the air, you know exactly what side you want it to land on"

Months later

Zayne

Zayne stood at his door, surprised by the late night knock echoing through his home. It was pouring rain outside, the sound of it pattering against the windows a constant backdrop to the usual silence. He had been about to retire for the night when the unexpected visitor interrupted his plans.

Opening the door, Zayne found himself face to face with the one person he had been longing to see. She stood before him, her hair plastered to her head from the rain, water dripping down her face and onto her clothes. In her hand, she clutched a bouquet of roses, the same kind he had been sending to her house every week for months.

The flowers were a last ditch effort at trying to win her back, a desperate attempt to show her that he was sincere in his apologies and regrets. But it seemed that his efforts had been in vain, for here she was, standing on his doorstep, a look of frustration etched on her beautiful face.

"Stop this, Zayne," she said, tossing the flowers at his feet. They landed with a soft thump on his doormat, a soggy mess of petals and stems. "I sent them back for a reason, all these months. And now you send them to my job?"

Zayne opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he could utter a word. She shook her head, her wet hair whipping around her face as she turned to walk away.

In that moment, something inside Zayne snapped. He couldn't let her go again, not without a fight. Not without telling her everything he had been holding back, everything he had been yearning to say.

So he did the only thing he could think to do. He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her inside his home with a sudden jerk. The door slammed shut as he pushed her up against the wall, his hands gripping her shoulders tightly, the rain soaked fabric of her clothes leaving damp patches on the painted surface behind her.

"Just hear me out," Zayne pleaded "For fuck's sake Y/N, please just listen to what I have to say." He braced himself for her anger, knowing that he deserved every ounce of it.

She pushed hard against his chest, the force of it a physical manifestation of the pain and fury that had been building inside her for years.

" I don't..."

But before she could finish, before she could unleash the anger that had been simmering within her, Zayne covered her mouth with his hand. His fingers trembled slightly as he silenced her.

"I know you're mad at me," he said, his voice rough with feeling. "I know I hurt you, and I know I fucked up. I made a mistake, and to be honest, I hate myself even more for making you cry than you could ever hate me." His eyes searched hers, a profound sadness and regret etched into their depths.

Zayne's other hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped her angry gaze. "I'll never forget every single tear you cried for me," he vowed "I'll pay them all back, every single one. But we both know this isn't the end."

He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "Punish me, make me beg and crawl, make me wait and torture me by ignoring me. I'll take it, I deserve it, but when you're ready to forgive me, I'll be here waiting. It doesn't matter if it's next week, next year, or ten years from now," he murmured, "I'll be waiting," Zayne continued, his voice dropping to a fervent whisper. "Because you are it for me, Y/N. We belong together, and nothing, not even your anger or my mistakes, can change that."

As he spoke, Zayne's hand slid from her mouth to the back of her neck, his fingers threading through her damp hair. He leaned in closer, his forehead coming to rest against hers, their breath mingling in the scant space between them.

"I know I have to earn your trust back," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers with every word. "And I'm willing to do whatever it takes, to wait as long as it takes. Because you're worth it. You're worth everything to me."

Zayne's other hand slid down her arm, his fingers lacing with hers. He brought their clasped hands up to his chest, holding them over his heart as if to emphasize the sincerity of his words.

"So go ahead," he said, a note of challenge in his voice. "Hate me, ignore me, make me suffer for the pain I've caused you. But know this, I'll be here, waiting for the day when you can look at me without seeing the man who broke your heart. And on that day, I'll be ready to love you the way you deserve to be loved, for the rest of our lives."

Her lips were so close, so tantalizingly close that he could almost taste her. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to close the distance, to claim her mouth and pour every ounce of his love and longing..

But he held back, forcing himself to exercise the restraint he had once lacked. He knew that he couldn't take this step without her consent, without her active participation. It had to be her choice, her decision to bridge the gap between them.

So he waited, his eyes searching hers, silently begging her to make the next move. As he looked into her eyes, he saw them flicker down to his mouth, a momentary distraction that told him everything he needed to know. His heart leapt in his chest, a fierce surge of hope and anticipation coursing through his veins.

"Thank God," he breathed out, the words scarcely more than a whisper. They were a plea of gratitude for this second chance, this opportunity to make things right.

And then, before he could say anything more, he felt it. Her lips brushed against his own, nipping and teasing, a fleeting whisper of contact that sent a shiver down Zayne's spine.

He could feel the softness of her mouth, the warmth of her breath. It was a tantalizing preview of the passion that had once burned between them, a memory of the way she used to kiss him .

He endured the torturous teasing, his body tensing with the effort of maintaining control. Until, with a sudden boldness that made his heart race, her tongue flicked out to lick at his lower lip.

It was a subtle gesture, but it was enough to break the last of his restraint. A low groan escaped him as he pulled her flush against him,his hand gripping her hair possessively as he slanted his mouth over hers. The hesitation was gone, replaced by a deep kiss that spoke of a love that had only grown stronger in the time they had been apart.

His tongue delved into her mouth, stroking along her own, a sensual dance that quickly turned passionate. He kissed her like a man starved, a man who had been wandering in the wilderness and had finally found his way home.

The kiss deepened, turned hungry, turned desperate. Her moan, muffled against Zayne's lips, spurred him on, urging him to take more, to claim her completely. His hands slid from her hair to grip her thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he hoisted her up.

Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in close. Zayne groaned into her mouth, feeling her heat, her softness pressing against him.

He carried her, stumbling in his urgency, towards his bedroom. The hallway stretched out before them, a long expanse of polished wood and artwork. But the bed seemed too far, too distant.

Her hands fumbled with the hem of her shirt, yanking it up and over her head in one quick motion. Buttons popped in her haste, scattering across the floor. Before Zayne could react, she had his shirt in her grip, tugging at it desperately.

In a flurry of movement, Zayne shrugged out of his shirt, not caring as it joined hers on the floor. His hands slid under her skirt, gripping her hips, pulling her harder against him.

With a sweep of his strong arm, Zayne brushed everything off the desk in the hallway, papers, pens, a lamp, all crashing to the floor in a clatter. With the surface now bare, he sat her down on the edge.

Zayne's fingers found the clasp of her bra, unhooking it deftly and tossing it aside. His hands cupped the soft swells of her breasts, thumbs teasing over the hardened peaks.

She gasped as Zayne's hot mouth descended upon her nipple, his lips wrapping around the sensitive bud and suckling hard. Her back arched, pressing her breast more fully into his mouth as a sharp cry tore from her throat. "Please, Zayne..." It was a plea, a prayer, a demand.

She took him out of his pants and his cock throbbed, hard and heavy against her stomach. Her hands fumbled with her panties, shoving them to the side in a desperate bid to feel him, to have him inside her.

And then, with a thrust of his hips, Zayne buried himself deep inside her. A guttural groan ripped from his throat at the exquisite sensation of her tight, wet heat enveloping him.

He started to move, his thrusts slow but incredibly hard, each powerful drive of his hips rocking her body and making her breasts bounce enticingly. The desk creaked beneath them, a lewd rhythm accompanying their lovemaking.

Zayne's mouth never left her breasts, kissing, licking, biting at the soft mounds as he pounded into her. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, holding her in place.

She could only cling to him, her nails raking down his back, her heels digging into his ass as she urged him on. Each thrust struck deep, reaching places that made her see stars, made her scream his name into the relative quiet of his home.

It was a joining that felt both achingly familiar and thrillingly new, a coming together of two souls who had once known each other intimately, but with a depth of emotion and hunger that was more intense than ever before.

Zayne could feel every inch of her, every flutter and clench of her inner muscles as they gripped his thrusting cock. He could hear every breathless moan, every whispered plea and gasp of pleasure that fell from her lips. And he could see the way her eyes, hazy with lust and desire, gazed at him with a trust and longing that made his heart swell in his chest

He knew he had to slow down, to savor this moment, to pour every ounce of his love and devotion into each powerful drive of his hips. So he forced himself to rein in his urgency, to focus on the feel of her body, the taste of her skin on his tongue, the scent of her arousal perfuming the air.

He felt her body begin to tense beneath him, he knew she was teetering on the brink, just as he was. No words were needed, no explicit instructions given. They were both so attuned to each other's bodies, so desperate for release, that they moved in perfect sync.

As if reading her mind, Zayne's fingers found her clit, circling the sensitive nub with a pressure and rhythm that he knew would drive her wild. His mouth latched onto her nipple once more, suckling hard as he thrust deep and grinded against that special spot inside her.

"Zayne!"

Her walls clamped down around him like a vice, pulsing and milking his cock as she came undone. The sensation was overwhelming, the feel of her coming on his cock, her arousal flooding his shaft, pushed Zayne over the edge.

He buried himself to the hilt as his own release overtook him. His cock throbbed and jerked inside her, spilling hot and thick, painting her insides with his seed.

They clung to each other as the aftershocks rolled through them, their bodies trembling and shaking, their hearts pounding in tandem. The hallway was filled with the sound of their ragged breaths and the musky scent of sex.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the past, not the future, not the mistakes they had made. All that mattered was the feel of their bodies joined together, the knowledge that they had found their way back to each other.

There is another chapter after this, it will be the last chapter. More smut and fluff coming after all the angst.

@lioria @midiplier @gawa-ng-gabi

@certainduckanchor @asakiyu @crazyzombieblaze @roschea-arts @feralkuromi @redhead-maiden @zaynies-wifey @lorddyz @hoe-in-deepspace

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #lads x reader #lnds x reader #lads x you #lnds x you #love and deepspace reader #lads smut #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne l&ds #zayne lads #zayne li #zayne lnds #zayne #love and deepspace death and rebirth #main story: death and rebirth

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dragonmasterhiccup · 2 days ago

Note

Part of him did want to show Astrid his world. The other part of him was scared to. At least, scared to show her his pod. They didn't exactly like him all that much.

But, if they could find a way to get her there without them knowing she was human...it could work, at least long enough for her to get to see it. Then, he'd bring her home, back to the surface.

There was however the issue of the water pressure...

"I'll see what I can do. You've shown me so much here, I'd like to return the favor."

He leaned in again, closing his eyes, when a sudden shout caused him to pull away. His eyes widened at the old man's accusations, the merman at a loss for words as Astrid helped him get to his crutch.

Evil. Sea-devil. Creature.

It echoed in his mind, bringing back bad memories from his pod. His heart was racing, and he felt as though he couldn't get enough air.

Outside. He needed to get outside...

Using the crutch, he hurried out as fast as he could, with only Phlegma seeing him escape.

The door was left ajar as he continued on down the massive stairwell.

A spell. He'd never put a spell on Astrid, let alone drag her to the depths. That wasn't who he is! Even then, that wasn't how his magic worked. He knew he'd have to go back eventually, but that was to be temporary. Hiccup wanted to live among the humans, but if they would only see him as some trickster creature, could they ever truly accept him?

The sun was low, lower than he thought it would be. He had to get to water before moonrise, he knew that. But where? He still had to keep the end of his tail dry.

🐟

He didn't make it.

Hiccup had gotten the human clothes off, and just as he was about to climb into the wash basin, his tail returned, leaving him stuck in the grass.

Flopping over to his back, he let out a frustrated groan. "Why can't things ever be simple," he wondered aloud, hands in his hair and his eyes closed, "she's a human, and I'm a merman. I should have expected that it wouldn't be received all that well..."

Astrid, the best warrior on Berk. And Hiccup...the cowardly merman who ran at the first sign of trouble.

His hands lowered to cover his face. "She deserves better..."

"I'm not so sure about that," said a voice from above. Startled, Hiccup opened his eyes to find Phlegma standing above him. Her arms were crossed, a basket of banging on her arm. "Aye, you shouldn't have left. You missed quite the spectacle. But, Hiccup?"

She knelt down, looking him in the eye. "What my daughter deserves is someone who loves her, cherishes her. You may be part fish, but you fit that bill."

Hiccup shook his head, "She's a warrior. She shouldn't be with a coward."

Phlegma paused before motioning for him to give her his tail. He curled the end of it towards her, and she began to change the wrappings, "Hiccup. I get the feeling that something caused that reaction of yours. It wasn't just Mildew, but something else."

Hiccup didn't respond, averting his gaze.

"Hm. I thought so. Something also tells me that you can be quite brave when the situation calls for it. I don't know how you did it, but you befriended a dragon. That takes bravery, lad."

"You're both young. You both have a lot to learn. But don't be so hard on yourself, Hiccup. Even mermen deserve love, you know," she gave him a soft smile, tying the new wrappings after applying some salve.

"Astrid is inside, worried about you. I told her to let me speak with you first," she rested a hand on his shoulder, and he finally met her gaze. "You did nothing wrong, Hiccup. Mildew, he's just looking to cause trouble. He always has been that way. If you had stayed, you would have seen just about everyone come to your defense. Axel and Astrid were the most vocal."

Gathering the supplies, she got to her feet. "I'll send Astrid out to you. I'll see you in the morning, dear."

Without another word, she left, leaving Hiccup a bit speechless as he stretched his fins out.

A moment later, he heard hurried footsteps approaching. Looking over at his girlfriend, he said, "I, I'm so sorry I ran off like that, I can explain..."

After a long training session, all Astrid wanted to do was cool off on the beach. Maybe a tiny swim, even though the ocean was so cold at this time of year. She pushed through the brush and staggered down to the shore.

Only to find a boy lounging in the shallows.

“Oh!” She dropped her axe in the sand. From his bare torso, she assumed he was naked. “Sorry! I didn’t know someone else would be…here…” as the apologies flowed, she realized from the waist down, he had green scales and a pair of fins.

No wonder she hadn’t recognized him.

“No way…” she inched closer. “A real mermaid! In the flesh! Are the stories true?” She stamped down her overwhelming curiosity for a moment to give him a stern point. “Don’t try anything fishy, mermaid. I’m very capable of protecting myself, got it?”

((I saw the prompt and went feral, hope you don’t mind))

[X]

Hiccup started, the water around him splashing as he sat up straight in surprise, before he moved a little further back, his cheeks flushed.

"No, sorry, I, I shouldn't--" Ducking his head, the merman awkwardly held up a hand, "Usually no one comes here..."

But his movements only caused his tail to briefly break the surface, emerald scales glittering in the sun for a moment before dipping below the water again.

Firmly, he responded, "Merman. I am a merman. And no, don't worry, I, I wasn't going to try anything...I know you'd probably kill me if I did..."

Clearing his throat, he ran a hand through his hair, which had partially dried in his time sitting in the shallow water. "What, what stories are you referring to?"

He knew, or at least had a gut feeling about what she was asking, but he wanted to hear it from her. She appeared wary, but not fearful. Maybe these humans didn't have the same fears of his kind like the others?

#threads #partsypants #merman au

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rosiesrroses · 3 days ago

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Hey!! Since you’re taking requests could I possibly ask for a Yuki x Reader? Just a cute date night where the two of you cook together? I’d love to see Yuki get a little more love ♥️

Motsunabe ~ yt22

in which: reader makes yuki his favourite childhood meal to cheer him up

paring: yuki tsunoda x fem!reader

warning(s): just fluff! (and this is not proofread btw! and i just realized i didn't completely fulfill this request but this is the fist thing that came to mind)

word count: 473!

My love for u is ever lasting, it will last until eternity ends~

You and Yuki have both been waiting for this week off.

You really wanted to spend time with him again and you could see he needed a break.

You offered to pick him up from the airport, but he insisted on driving himself.

And even though he didn’t say it out loud, you knew he needed some space to breathe and some time to himself before returning to your shared apartment.

You didn’t argue, instead you decided to surprise him.

That evening, you stood in the kitchen, grocery bag on the kitchen island and your phone open on a recipe his mom sent you earlier.

Motsunabe. His favourite childhood meal.

You asked her a few days ago and she replied almost immediately and you read through it about six times before even starting.

The apartment was soon filled with the scent of garlic, chives and simmering broth by the time the lock clicked and Yuki stepped inside.

His hoodie was up, dragging his suitcase behind him with a tired look on his face.

“Hey,” you said softly.

His eyes found yours instantly, and the tiredness softened just a little.

“Hey,”

He kicked his shoes off, left his bag by the door, and made his way over to you without another word. You met him halfway, wrapping your arms around him as he melted into your touch.

You held him for a while, the stove humming in the background.

“Welcome back,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair.

He let out a breath, his arms tightening around your waist.

“I, um… I made dinner,” you said softly, suddenly shy.

He looked up at you, “Yeah?”

You nodded, letting go of him so he could see the bubbling pot on the stove.

“Motsunabe,” you said, “Well, my best attempt at it,”

He blinked, clearly not expecting that. He slowly walked over, peering into the pot, and just stood there for a second. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and for a moment you thought you messed it up.

“You made this?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“Your mom helped me, kind of,” you said with a small smile.

He looked between you and the pot, his expression softening a bit more.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” you said gently, “You’ve had a rough few weeks and I thought maybe this could cheer you up a bit,”

His gaze lingered on you for a few seconds before he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your waist again, pulling you into his chest.

“Thank you,” he murmured, kissing your temple.

You held him tighter, “Don’t thank me yet, you still have to taste it,”

He pulled back, giving you the realest smile you’d seen on him in days.

“If it’s made by you, then I already know it’s good,”

my masterlist ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

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juudesgirl · 2 days ago

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The Space He Chose - Jude Bellingham (Part 1)

It had been almost four weeks since Jude ended it.

Y/N still remembered the exact moment — the way the light had faded behind him as the sun set through the Madrid skyline, the way he’d stood awkwardly in their apartment, hands in his pockets, voice low, like he was reading a pre-rehearsed script.

“I need to focus. On the game. On my career. I can’t give you the time you deserve. I don’t want to keep failing you, Y/N… I think this is the right thing.”

She hadn’t argued. Because what could she say to someone who had already made up his mind?

She’d nodded. Swallowed the lump in her throat. Packed quietly. Left the place that had once felt like home with just a suitcase and the aching echo of goodbye.

Now, back in Birmingham, Y/N walked through the city streets wrapped in her navy trench coat, scarf snug around her neck, trying to push the chill away — the one in the air and the one inside her chest.

She wasn’t meant to be out long. Just picking up a book from her favorite indie bookstore. A little corner of comfort she used to visit with Jude whenever he was home — before Madrid, before everything changed.

She was halfway to the till when she heard it.

“Y/N?”

She turned, heart immediately skipping.

Denise.

Her soft brown eyes sparkled the same way they always had. Next to her stood Mark, tall and composed as always, and Jobe, taller now but still carrying that mischief in his grin.

Y/N froze, breath caught between surprise and heartache.

Denise’s face lit up. “Oh my God! Look who it is!”

And before Y/N could even think, Denise had wrapped her in a warm, tight hug. The kind of hug that used to feel like home.

Mark smiled warmly. “What a lovely surprise. How’ve you been, love?”

Jobe grinned. “Didn’t expect to see you here. You’re back for a bit?”

Y/N offered a tight, polite smile, her fingers gripping her tote bag just a little harder.

“Just visiting some old places,” she said gently.

“Tell Jude we said hi,” Denise said cheerfully. “And please tell him to finally reply in the family group chat. We’ve been trying to get him to commit to a date for the next family dinner, and all he did was react to our message with a thumbs up emoji!”

Jobe laughed. “Seriously, when you’re with him, just grab his phone and type out a reply for him.”

Y/N’s smile faded slightly. The lump in her throat returned.

She took a breath. Now or never.

“I’m… I’m not with Jude anymore.”

Silence.

Denise’s expression faltered. Her brows lifted, a stunned softness taking over her face. Mark blinked, his hands slipping into his coat pockets. Jobe stopped fiddling with the book he was holding.

“What… what do you mean?” Denise asked softly, almost cautiously.

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling her heart hammer in her chest. “We broke up. About a month ago.”

Jobe looked between them all, utterly confused. “Wait, what? Are you serious?”

Y/N nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. It… wasn’t my choice.”

Denise’s lips parted, eyes glistening. “Oh, sweetheart… what happened?”

Y/N held their gaze for a moment, then looked down at her hands. She didn’t want to cry in this bookstore. Not again. Not in front of them.

“You’ll have to ask Jude,” she said quietly. “He… he said he needed to focus on football. That he didn’t have space for anything else. For me.”

Mark looked away for a moment, jaw tight. Denise’s hand instinctively reached for Y/N’s, squeezing it.

“I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to you all,” Y/N said, voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been such a huge part of my life these past few years. And I love you all so much. Truly.”

Her voice cracked.

“I just didn’t expect my last time seeing you to be… like this.”

Denise blinked quickly, as if pushing tears back. “You don’t have to say goodbye, you know. You’re still family to us.”

“I know,” Y/N whispered, offering a sad smile. “But I think… I need to let go. Completely. And I think this is part of that.”

There was a long silence.

“I’m really glad I ran into you today,” she continued. “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I hadn’t had the chance to see you. To tell you in person. And to thank you. For everything. For letting me be part of your world. For treating me like one of your own.”

Her eyes welled.

“Please take care of each other. And Jude. Even if he pushes you away a bit — just remind him he’s not alone.”

She leaned in and hugged Denise tightly. Then Mark. Then Jobe.

And then she stepped back.

“Goodbye,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

And with that, Y/N turned and walked out into the cold grey afternoon, blinking back tears, her heart breaking quietly all over again.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham fics #jude bellingam fanfic #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham one shot #real madrid #jb5 #jb22

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arrimorr · 2 days ago

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Hello, sorry for the random question, but I’m wondering if тыква sounds alright as a name to a native Russian speaker? I’m working on a story and at one moment, a Russian character gets very attached to a magic pumpkin (she sees it as a son, it’s complicated) and I want her to give it a name but i have no idea where to start!

Hi! OH this is fun. Honestly, it really depends on the context. In English, pumpkin is a word often used as a term of endearment, while in Russian its rare to use an initial form of a noun to adress another living being without it sounding too rough or straight out dehumanizing (there are words that allow that, Sun, for example, but those are rare.) You need to add a special suffix to the words for it to work. For example, in the past it was really popular to name dogs "friend", but no one would say it like друг, it's always дружок, which is a softened form of the initial word. Like buddy in English.

In Russia it is also rare to name someone by their species title. Returning to dogs - it's like calling a dog...well...dog....funky stuff. You can endearingly use the softened version of the word when you feel mushy, like calling a dog doggy, but this doesnt work like a name and usually you would address someone going from some detail or association you have with them. For example - my dog is ginger so my mom calls him рыжик (which is a softened form of the word рыжий).

So, the word тыква (pumpkin) sounds too rough if the intent is not to insult the pumpkin character. It has a softened version - тыковка, BUT this stuff is too sappy to use all the time, and I would advise to leave it as a word of endearment, while, for an actual name think about some words you associate with pumpkin. Can be something related to shape, color, the way it grows, anything. Idk...Солнце (sun) because it's round and orange, Росток which is a little plant, stuff like that. There are a lot of words you can think of if you sit with it for a bit.

I know this stuff is difficult, especially suffix part of the whole idea, so if you want you can pitch me some of your name ideas so I would say if they need softening and what suffixes to use in this case, because, sadly, there is no singular grammar rule for these bastards

( also, as a small detour, you may find useful that this softening stuff also kinda applies to regular names, I don't know how you called your character, but in Russia most names have different forms, for example, Michael is only used in serious or impersonal conversations, softened version of it - Misha will be used with friends and family, a softened version of the softened version Mishen'ka will appear if you want to be very tender, and rudimentary form Miha can appear if someone wants to be very informal. What I mean is you may also want to look into that if you gave your chafacter a Russian name. This stuff often appears even in cases where other forms were never initially in the design. My name is Alice, but my family calls me Alya. I tense when I hear my full name in the family setting, because it signifies the serious tone of the conversation)

#god this must be so confusing im sorry

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glxssy-the-first · 2 days ago

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1x1x1x1⚔️x depressed!reader hurt/comfort

Requested by Anon, reader goes by They/them. 1x is genderfluid and goes by all pronouns.

TW: Themes of depression, bedrotting, and su1c1d3

May be OOC

[Name] laid on their bed, staring at the ceiling like they've done so many times before. They felt worthless. like they were just another person on this world that nobody really knew about or would care about.

Sometimes they didn't want to even move from their bed. Just wanted to stay in their room all day. Other times- they felt like they shouldn't be here to begin with. Maybe they should help themselves leave this realm if nobody was gonna help them.

They turned over onto their stomach, lifting up their phone and going onto their phone. Scrolling through it. Just seemed like the same thing again and again. Life seemed boring nowadays.

Knock knock knock

Someone was at the door.

"What?" [Name] responded to the interruption, maybe a bit brashly.

"Open the door" It was 1x. "They told me to come check on you."

You huffed. Of course it had to be the embodiment of literal hatred knocking at the door to see if you were doing fine. Of course it had to be.

𝄞✦⟢𓂃⋆｡‧˚ʚ⚔️ɞ˚‧｡⋆𓂃⟢✦𝄞

They stood outside, waiting and listening as you got up and saw the door handle turn. Next thing she knew, you stood before them. Hair all messy and looking tired and burnt out.

"You've been in there for a while." He crossed his arms as they looked down at you. You weren't extremely short, you were just up to her shoulders. "Why haven't you come out? At least to eat or something?"

You sagged your shoulders, looking off to the side. You forgot to take care of yourself, didn't you? "I-It's just...nevermind, its nothing. I'm just resting" You turned back to return to your spot on your bed but 1x caught your shoulder.

"Someone doesn't 'just rest' for almost an entire day." They spat, forcefully dragging you out of your room and sitting you down. "Also, you look like a mess. Tell me what's going on."

You opened you mouth to protest, but was cut off by another demand to tell you why you were spending you're time inside your room and not coming out.

You caved. "I feel worthless. Happy?" She narrowed his eyes, knowing that wasn't everything.

"Okay, okay. I'm just...I don't feel like doing anything anymore. Life feels boring." You admitted. You would think the embodiment of hatred would just brush your feelings off, but instead, they picked you up

"Heard enough, you're gonna get something to eat." He left no room for defiance and carried you to a small table, forcefully sitting you down once more. After a few minutes, they set down a PP&J for you to eat. Not exactly a meal, but at least it's something.

Surprisingly, you started to eat it without much complaint. It felt like a blessing to your stomach, which you just now realize was BEGGING for something to eat.

"...Thanks" You mumbled.

She nodded, giving you a pat on the head. "Listen, whether you like it or not, you need to take care of yourself. Even if life seems bland, you need this for yourself. At least try to be fine. Take care." They said before walking off

...

Maybe life wasn't that bad when you have people by your side.

#forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken x you #forsaken x y/n #1x1x1x1 forsaken #1x1x1x1 x reader #1x1x1x1 x you #roblox game #roblox forsaken #roblox #hurt/comfort

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chosotallgf · 17 hours ago

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NEEDY WIFE

Husband!nanami kento x pregnant f!reader

Warnings: little fluff, nsfw, bj, pregnancy

kento arrived home exhausted after his third overtime shift this week, he been working extra hard these past few past months because he knows you both are expecting.

Ever since you told him the news he been on top of his game making sure you are well taken care of and everything is good with you and the baby.

Even when you first had morning sickness he would wake up from his beauty sleep in the middle of as soon as he heard you throwing up in the bathroom to be right by your side rubbing your back gently and kissing your head saying everything will be fine.

seeing him come home with bag under his eye you knew you wanted to help your husband in some type of way. Watching him strip down to his boxers gave you a great idea to help him relax for the night.

“How the day at the office Kent?” you walked slowly up to him putting your arms around his tense shoulders. Kento smiled as when he felt your touch and felt you pressed up against him

“typically boring day, how’s our baby doing? Is she behaving?” You both don’t know the gender yet but he sometimes like to think it’s already a girl. “I got to eat plenty today and no throwing up either finally”

“Good that’s what I like to hear” he says as he bring his face closer to kiss your neck than your lips. As the kiss got more aggressively he picks you up walking back and falling on the bed allowing you to be on top, letting his tongue in and returning the same energy causing you to moaned in his mouth.

You decide now is the perfect the time for your little surprise. pulling back from the kisses making kento wine a bit from the loss of your touch. “Honey?” He said confusedly. You felt the budge in his pants getting hard.

“Just lay back and relax Kent, don’t t worry about anything else” as you Unbutton his pants not even waiting a sec in between, you got straight to giving him a few strokes up and down his dick.

Getting to tease him was your favorite part as you swirl your tongue around his tip causing him to start breathing heavy. While Also making sure you make full eye contact with him the entire time. Deciding to go fully down because that wasn’t enough for you.

“Fuck sweetie” was the next thing you heard from him. He Grips the side of your face to help him control himself not wanting to cum too fast for his beautiful wife. no, he needs to enjoy this moment fully.

You picked up the pace a bit bobbing up and down, saliva already starting to run down all of your chin from your mess. Kent was getting close and your moans over him wasn’t helping at all.

That was it you thought, he was about to cum. griping your hair gently Kento hips buckle and finish in your mouth. Than Pulling out making your mouth make a pop sound, He placed his hands on your cheeks bringing you back up to him to wipe around your mouth

“you don’t know how much I missed those lips around me, thank you i truly don’t deserve you” he pleaded to you showering you in more kisses

A/N: kinda got lazy towards the end but oh well! I finally figured out how to use dividers so hopefully the fics would be looking more aesthetically. I’m thinking about making a part 2 about the gender reveal.

Likes, rebolgs, and comments are appreciated!!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami fanfic #nanami smut #nanami #kento nanami #jjk smut #jjk x black reader smut #fanfic #jjk #jjk x you #chosotallgf

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cosmowgyral · 2 days ago

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With You through every Season ~

(5th Anniversary Story Event - Me and You, Always)

▪︎ Gilbert von Obsidian

this is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. creative liberties have been taken. all content belongs to cybird. reblogs are appreciated but do not repost. hope you enjoy!

story is from gilbert's pov

~chapter 2

Emma: If I’m going to make your heart skip a beat—

In the small pool, so symbolic of summer, Emma’s hand gently cupped my cheek.

Her face leaned in—and just when I thought she might kiss me, she suddenly gave my cheek a playful bite.

Emma: This kind of thrill is much better.

Gilbert: Oh?

(So my little rabbit gets excited when someone bites her cheek, huh.)

(Feels like a totally different kind of thrill than a ghost story, though…)

Gilbert: So this is your idea of how to spend the summer?

When I bit her cheek in return, a shy, bashful smile bloomed across her face.

Emma: This is our own way of spending summer.

Emma: It’s hard to feel the seasons here in Obsidian, after all…

Emma: So I thought… maybe we could start making our own little traditions like this, together.

(So that’s where this is going, huh.)

Emma: ...You don’t like the idea?

She didn’t miss it—the faint flicker of hesitation, the subtle shift in my expression that hinted at discomfort.

Gilbert: Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?

(That wasn’t a lie.)

Gilbert: It’s just… something new to look forward to.

(I... really wasn’t lying…)

As the gentle summer came to an end, Obsidian slowly began to fall under the assault of a harsher, more unforgiving climate.

Gilbert: ……

Roderic: ...Prince Gilbert, please refrain from taking your frustration out on your cane.

As I walked along, I finally earned a complaint after repeatedly poking at Roderic with my cane.

But the moment I smiled and let the tip dig in just a bit, the protest vanished from beneath the hood.

Gilbert: She’s been holed up in the kitchen all this time, completely ignoring me.

Roderic: Lady Emma is simply devoted to preparing something delicious for you, Prince Gilbert…

Gilbert: Still doesn’t mean she should be ignoring me, does it?

Gilbert: I don’t care if it’s harvest season or whatever—so food matters more to her than I do?

(Ever since autumn started, she’s been locking herself in the kitchen every spare moment.)

(Even though she’s the one who said she wouldn’t leave me lonely...)

Roderic: By the way, Prince Gilbert—where exactly are you heading…?

Gilbert: The kitchen.

Roderic: You mustn’t.

Gilbert: Why not?

Roderic: Lady Emma reminded you several times, did she not?

Roderic: She was very clear—you mustn’t peek inside until she says it’s okay.

Gilbert: I sat through that ridiculous meeting earlier, didn’t I? The least you can do is be on my side.

Roderic: Even so…

Gilbert: Hmm? What is it?

Roderic: ...Lady Emma, she...

Gilbert: What is it? I can't hear you.

Roderic: ……My sincerest apologies, Lady Emma…

Crushed by guilt, Roderic stepped aside, and I made my way into the kitchen alone.

What greeted me was a gentle sweetness in the air—and Emma, fast asleep with her head resting on the counter, sitting in a chair.

(Ah… no wonder she wanted to keep this place off-limits.)

As my eyes wandered, I saw all kinds of sweets lined up—likely test batches of her creations.

Beside her lay a well-used notebook, filled to the brim with cute little doodles and densely packed writing.

(Looks like a recipe journal. Was she planning some kind of autumn tea party...?)

Carefully, so as not to wake her, I turned the pages.

Test Batch 1: Sweet and tasty, but too much sugar—bad for the body, so no good.

Test Batch 2: Cut too much sugar, not tasty… need to find a better substitute.

Test Batch 3: The sweetness is just right, but if I can’t scale it up, he might not be satisfied.

(Really now… how can you go this far for a villain like me?)

(You didn’t have to try so hard just to give me “autumn”...)

--flashback--

Albert: Gil! I found some beautiful autumn leaves. Want to make leaf crafts together?

--flashback ends--

(…When I’m with you, I end up remembering things I’d rather not.)

(Why is it that the kind people around me are always trying to gift me the seasons...?)

Emma: Mm..

I stopped turning the pages at Emma's slight stirring.

Thankfully, she showed no sign of waking.

(......)

(…Back in Rhodolite, wasn’t autumn all about celebrating the harvest and eating together?)

(Obsidian has no such traditions… but still—)

The next day, I left a note that read,

"Since you're ignoring me, I'm bored—so I'm off to conquer the world."

Emma burst into the lab, panic written all over her face.

Emma: Gil! Please don’t do anything reckless—!

Emma: …Wait, what?

Gilbert: Heehee, if you’d been just a bit later, things might’ve gotten really interesting.

Emma: What… exactly are you doing?

[Chapter 1] [Masterlist] [Chapter 3]

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri gilbert #ikepri gilbert translations #gilbert von obsidian #ikemen prince translations #ikepri translations #ikemen prince gilbert #d: strangergraphics #イケメン王子

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peekofhistory · 2 days ago

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Hi! Love your Tumblr! I'm fascinated by the fact that you are in China making and playing the Guqin, I was wondering if you can share a bit more about yourself and your background and why you decided to move to China? Like a self intro (that you're comfortable sharing). Thanks and have a nice day!!

Hello :D

How I ended up in Yangzhou learning to make/play the Guqin is a rollercoaster of a story xDD

As for my background, I was born in China (Beijing) and moved to the US when I was around 6 yrs old (my mom had moved several years earlier and I went to live with her). From the start my mom emphasized I can't forget I'm Chinese, because that's where I'm from and where my family's from, so she put in a lot of effort teaching me Chinese. She even had a colleague send over elementary school textbooks from China so she could teach me Chinese at home. She also got recordings of some Chinese TV shows and she'd watch them with me, explaining each episode and giving me information on that period of history.

Back then there weren't that many TV shows in China, and the ones we could access in the US were even less, so it was mostly classics shows like Journey to the West (1986), Dream of the Red Chamber (1987) and Romance of the Three Kingdoms (1994):

That really planted the root for my interest in Chinese history and culture. Especially in the case of Romance of the Three Kinggoms that was based on the actual Three Kingdoms period in Chinese history, it made me aware of how long China's history was and how rich and colourful it was, all the incredible historical figures, the battles of the past, the stories, etc.

Later on I also became interested in Chinese Opera (mainly Peking Opera, Huangmei Opera, and Shanghai Yue Opera):

We moved to Canada after a few years and stayed there until I graduated uni. I then went to Japan to work for a few yrs.

When I returned to Canada, it was 2018 and I found myself having to start all over career-wise. My experience in Japan really didn't help me at all when job hunting in Canada, and I ended up doing a few entry-level jobs in healthcare (office admin work). Then Covid and I lost my job, found another job about a year later, but still entry-level.

It was actually during the Covid break that I found out I could buy Hanfu fairly easily now. Throughout my time at uni and in Japan I didn't really check Chinese websites so I didn't know much about what was happening in China. During the Covid break, with nothing else to do at home, I found Taobao and realized the pretty clothes I adored in TV shows as a child I can now buy :D I went a bit crazy at first and ordered a whole bunch, but at the time I honestly didn't know too much about Hanfu aside from long robes, large sleeves, criss-crossed collars. But it was fun to wear them out (once lockdown ended) and actually feel like the characters I once saw on TV:

The job I had just before I came to China I actually really enjoyed, the work itself was fulfilling, the pay wasn't great but OK, and my co-workers for the most part were pretty good (my direct supervisor was great, I really, really enjoyed working with her). Unfortunately there was some changes to staffing in the office and the workload became really bad. I found myself literally having nightmares about work, and crying driving to and from work everyday. I decided I needed to quit. It was taking over my life 24/7, I was constantly tense and dreaded having to go to the office every morning.

At this point I'm in my late 30s and I took a few months to think about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Either look for another regular office job that may or may not be better than the last, or try something completely different.

At the same time, I decided to take the chance to visit my family in China. Without a job, I could visit for a longer period of time (otherwise I could only get 2 wks paid vacation). I remember my mom mentioned during one of her visits to China she had met a master of woodblock printing (雕版印刷/diaoban yinshua). It was the first form of printing invented, they would carve out pages of text (or images), put ink over top, then print it onto paper:

This was even earlier than movable type printing (活字印刷/huozi yinshua) where each character was printed on a separate block so you could arrange them as needed:

This master's workshop took in apprentices and would offer free housing and food. After a certain amount of time, once the apprentices' work reached a certain level, they were even given a salary for their work.

I thought that sounded like a great plan. I didn't explicitly come to China with the goal of finding a place to do an apprenticeship, but I was aware this sort of opportunity was available, and it aligned with my interest in Chinese history and culture.

When I arrived in China last year I spent a few months visiting my dad and other family, before I ended up in Yangzhou.

There were some emotional ups and downs in between, I did find a woodblock printing master, I started to learn a bit with him, it didn't work out, etc., etc. But essentially I found myself in Yangzhou with nothing to do.

Yangzhou is quite famous for Guqin (there's an entire street here dedicated to selling Guqin...although it's a bit of a tourist trap ^^;;) , and I thought I could find a teacher to learn how to play the instrument at least. I had bought a Guqin years ago in Canada, but was always too busy/lazy to actually learn/practice it, but now being free everyday I decided I could do some sort of intense course. While scrolling through the Red Note app looking for Guqin teachers I came across a post of a teacher looking for students to learn how to make+play Guqin, with the option to live at the workshop and have housing and food covered:

And my eyes lit up.

That was how it all started :D

The biggest obstacle is honestly some family members. Growing up abroad, I've never really had a close relationship with any of my relatives in China. I've also never had to navigate the complicated family relations that Chinese families can sometimes have. If I were to go to any other country in the world to learn something, none of them would say anything, I don't think they'd even think about it, but because I'm in China a lot of them suddenly feel they need to express an opinion about my decisions, lol. Some don't like my interest in wearing Hanfu, some think I'm crazy learning something that "no one else these days is interested in", some think I'm immature/irresponsible not finding a 'regular' job and 'wasting' my time. Luckily, none of them live in Yangzhou so aside from a passive-aggressive text message/phone call once in awhile I can do my own thing 😁💖

#asks #guqin #古琴 #斫琴 #making guqin #personal

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runforthehillsbestie · 2 days ago

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Sympathy For The Devil

Part 6 - home in the stars

Read the story context and warnings here

It's been four days since you arrived at the Hewitt house, and today's weather is the hottest it's been yet. Luda Mae is fanning herself as she rocks on the porch, the rocking chair squeaking with each push of her foot. Her twin stitches are thin and spidery at her hairline.

"Mercy, it's hot enough to fry an egg out here," she says, and she's probably not wrong.

The mid-morning sun is glaring down with a viciousness that causes even the birds to go still. Nothing but a hiss of dry wind now and then, which only serves to stir up warm drafts and somehow make the heat even worse. You're dressed in cut-off jean shorts and a white spaghetti strap top that you found in the closet. It's washed, but there's a huge stain on it.

You're not wearing a bra and Monty has tried just about everything to get a look at your nipples through your shirt, much to your annoyance. You rest your head against the porch railing and gaze out over the unused farmland that's now covered in weeds and dry grass. The air in the distance shimmers a bit.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Luda Mae questions.

"My mother used to get cranky when the weather was hot," you murmur.

"I don't blame her," Luda Mae says. "Feels like hell opened up."

Just then an unfamiliar figure comes into view around a rusty old truck parked down by the fence, trudging up to the house with a basket tucked under their arm. You tense at the sight of the stranger, but they're approaching with ease like they know this place. Uncle Monty's dog confirms this by wagging his tail once, then flopping his head back down on the floorboards with a groan.

"Oh, look," Luda Mae says. "If it isn't Henrietta!"

Oh, you recall hearing that name before.

"It's quite the day, isn't it?" The small woman says with a smile as she comes to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

She has a long-sleeved cardigan on despite the heat and the dress underneath is faded grey from being worn and washed and hung out in the sun. Her feathery, short hair clings to her sweaty forehead.

"Who's this?" She looks at you curiously.

Luda Mae says your name like it's familiar on her tongue, as though she's known you forever.

"This is a first," Henrietta says with a blink. Her voice is soft and hesitant.

"We're keeping this one!" Luda Mae says, leaning over to stroke your hair.

You give Henrietta a weak smile.

"Here." She extends the basket to you. "A little gift to welcome you to the family."

The basket is full of green beans. You burst into a spontaneous laugh.

"Oh, I used to hate these when I was younger!"

Henrietta's smile fades, and her face goes blank, like the face of a mannequin.

"You don't like them?"

"Oh, I do! Um, thank you," you say hastily, and the smile returns to her face like the sun from behind a cloud.

"Good," she says. "I should go. I need to look after the baby."

"Take care of yourself, now," Luda Mae says.

Henrietta turns and shuffles back the way she came, clutching her arms around herself as though she's cold.

"Is she family?" You ask.

"Something like that," Luda Mae says. "Give me half of those beans. If we snap 'em now we'll have something green for dinner. Some sort of stew, I'm thinking."

The screen door slams and Sheriff Hoyt marches onto the porch with his rifle balanced against his shoulder, like he too has had enough of the heat. "I'm gonna go shoot us some game."

Luda Mae snorts. "What are you going to shoot, Charlie?"

"Eh, I'll find something. We're running out of meat as it is. Where'd those beans come from?"

"Henrietta. I'll have to repay the favor later and send something by," Luda Mae says, snapping a bean.

Sheriff Hoyt tromps down the stairs and gets into his car. The engine rattles and then coughs to life. You watch the car pull away, resting your chin on your palm.

"Where's Tommy? I haven't seen him all morning," you say several minutes later.

"I have him mending some things for me down in the basement. I'd have done it myself, but it makes my head hurt," Luda Mae says. As if she can guess your thoughts she adds, "You sit here and finish up with those beans, girl. Then you can go to him."

You blush and dig back into the basket, poking your thumbnail into a bean and yanking out the stringy part.

"You know, it's good of you to treat him so kindly," Luda Mae murmurs after a while. "He ain't ever had that before."

"He looks scarier than he is," you reply, lifting your shoulder in a shrug. "I'm good at figuring out how people are on the inside."

"Well, that's far more than I can say for those children he used to go to school with," Luda Mae tuts. "Nothing hurts the pride more than rejection."

You look up. "Did he ever try to befriend them?"

"I think he knew his place long before anyone tried to put him in it." She shakes her head and rocks some more, lost in her thoughts.

You're also thinking of your childhood. You never had anyone throw rocks or piss on you like Jeremy said they'd done to Tommy, but there had been other things. Mean words the other kids would throw your way, the filthiest curses they could come up with because they thought it was funny to see how it made you blush bright red. The boys would grab you in places they shouldn't, asking if you had scripture verses rolled up and stuck in there. It was a mercy when your father decided to start homeschooling you at twelve, just as puberty started to hit you.

You bite down your tongue until the sting of pain anchors you back in the present, on the porch you're perched on. You take a deep grounding breath. You'll take being here over being back with your father. By the time you're done with the beans, your hands are sticky and smell like crushed leaves.

"What do I do with them?" You ask as you stand with the basketful.

"Soak them in some salt water and just let them stand until we need them," Luda Mae says, getting comfortable in her chair and closing her eyes. You do as she has asked, leaving the pot of salt water and beans on the stove for later.

You wash your hands and dry them hastily on your shirt before you head down to the basement, easing the heavy door open. You hear the rhythmic clatter of a sewing machine. Surely it would be better to sew in natural light, but Thomas probably finds it more comfortable down here. It's also far cooler, you realize as you make your way down the stairs. The pleasant change in temperature livens you up and puts a spring in your step. Tommy is sitting at his work table. He glances up, his eyes dark and searching.

"Hi," you murmur.

He grunts and spins the wheel some more, leaning in to examine the work he's engrossed in, his grubby fingers turning over the material. You inch a little closer so you can watch. His movements are comfortable and familiar and he handles the sewing machine with ease. The needle stabs through the fabric in a blur. After a few moments, he holds up the pillowcase. The tear has been neatly sown together and it looks almost as good as new.

"Did Luda Mae teach you?"

He nods, glancing at you again, perhaps wondering why you're down here bothering him while he's trying to work.

"Can I help?"

He tilts his head.

"I know I'm not very good at sewing, and I don't know how to use the machine, but I can patch up small holes?" You say hoping you can stay here a while longer.

He remains quiet, thinking.

"There's nothing else to do." You admit. "I'm bored."

He lifts his hand to his jaw and scratches, then he points at the chair in the corner, the same one Charlie made you sit on for your 'punishment' on the second day. You drag it over and set it at the side of the worktable, glancing at him to see if he's okay with that. He plucks a pair of plaid boxers from the pile and holds them out to you. There are a myriad of small holes approximately where the balls should be. You can't help but snicker.

"Are these for Hoyt? What on earth does he do with them?"

At least they're clean, you think to yourself, picking up a needle and proceeding to spend an entire minute trying to thread the damn thread through.

You steal a glance at Tommy to find that he's watching you, one big forearm resting on the table. You jump as you somehow manage to prick your finger and look back at the needle.

"Dammit," you mumble quietly.

He reaches out and you flinch out of habit, anticipating a pinch on the arm for your failure.

"Sorry," you mumble.

He takes the thread from you and lifts it to his mouth. You see a pink flash of his tongue through the mouth hole of the mask as he licks the end of the thread. Then he takes the needle and slips the thread through on the first try and hands it back to you.

"Thanks." You hunker over and dutifully get to work.

Your work is hardly perfect, but the threads are sturdy and will hold. You fall into a rhythm, and when you're done with what you're working on, you go to another piece of fabric. A shirt. Too big for Hoyt and too big for skinny old Monty. There's a single tear in the back.

This is one of Tommy's shirts.

You get to work on it, putting in extra care and trying to make it as neat as possible, trying to guess what could've made that tear. Something fairly sharp, like scissors, maybe, because the edges are barely frayed. You're so engrossed in your work that you startle when Tommy hooks his fingers under your chair and drags the whole thing closer to him. You peer at him over your eyebrows, a silent question on your face. His palm presses against the middle of your back, applying pressure.

You pause with the needle half-pulled through the material, trying to guess what he wants. You soothe your dry lips with a sweep of your tongue. Your gaze darts between his legs, almost subconsciously. He catches your jaw and you look up at him in confusion. This time he presses one hand to your shoulder while the other nudges your back, applying pressure from both sides and forcing you to straighten. He grunts and turns back to his work. You were bent over like a shrimp, you realize. Your mother used to scold you for that. Tommy was correcting your horrible posture.

"That's sweet of you." You reach out to touch his forearm, and he huffs and plucks your hand away, pointing to the shirt.

He wants you to carry on. This is an important task and you're not going to distract him from mending every single item in that basket. Intrigued, you watch him. There's no way you can't tempt him to take a break and do something else more interesting, right? You surreptitiously drop your needle on the floor.

"Oh, whoops. I guess I'll have to get that," you say dramatically.

Your knees thunk softly against the floor. Of course, you don't need to do all that just for a needle. You could've just reached down and picked it up. Instead, you crawl under the table and get comfy between Tommy's legs, scratching your nails gently against the worn fabric of his pants. The sewing machine comes to a rattling halt as he pauses. Boldly, you press your cheek against his knee. He smells like musk and salt and iron, a scent that is slowly becoming familiar to you. He leans back in the chair and looks over his stomach, down at you. His hands rest against his thighs, fingers twitching idly. You take one of those paws and press it against your face. You want him to touch you, you have the sudden urge to be close to him, a pull so strong it makes your eyes water a little. His fingers fan out, mapping your face. His fingers pluck and squish at your cheeks and smooth over your eyebrows like he's memorizing you.

You don't close your eyes, not even when his fingers get dangerously close, brushing over your eyelashes. He takes your jaw and turns your head to the side, callused fingertips following the curve of your ear downwards, pressing lightly against the vein that thumps just underneath your jaw. A warm feeling settles in your stomach. You want to take the initiative for once and suck him off just because you can. You barely manage to cup his bulge before he's suddenly standing and lifting you off the ground with him, his hands hooked under your armpits. The world spins for a moment before he deposits you neatly back in your chair. He gives you the needle and a ragged dishcloth to mend and pats you on the head with a heavy, awkward hand. Your mouth drops open, realizing you've been put to work again.

"Hey," you protest.

The air that puffs out of his mouth almost sounds like a laugh. After that you're content to simply sit in companionable silence, your drifting mind lulled into a state of calm by the rhythmic whir of the sewing machine. Sitting with him is also fine, you decide. Half an hour later the peace is broken by the distant yelling voice of Sheriff Hoyt.

"Tommy!"

Tommy cocks his head, listening.

"Get your ass out here!"

Tommy's chair scrapes back as he stands. The ground trembles with the weight of his steps. He grabs a wickedly curved metal hook from the wall and bounds up the stairs, the quickest you've ever seen him move. You scurry after him into the bright sunlight outside the house. The sun is still high in the sky. You're expecting some kind of trouble, so when you see Sheriff Hoyt casually standing there with his hands on his hips, you pause. Tommy looks confused as well, sweeping the area with his gaze. There are no intruders to be found. It's just Sherrif Hoyt with a piece of rope in his hand that leads to the neck of a comically round brown cow. Reality seems to cleave in two. This can't be.

"Daisy?" You gasp in amazement.

At the sound of her name, the cow perks up, dragging the Sheriff forward as she trots up to you. You come down from the porch to sling your arms around her damp, warm neck. It is Daisy!

"This cow is yours?" Sheriff Hoyt gnaws on whatever is in his mouth and spits on the floor. "How can that be? You live round these parts?"

"In the next town over," you say. "It's pretty far from here, though. I didn't even know Fuller existed."

Sheriff Hoyt startles like he's been shot. "I thought you came from someplace far, Missy! Why didn't you say anything?"

"You never asked," you reply, petting the short velvety fur of Daisy's neck.

His eyes narrow and he thumbs the gun holster at his hip. "You got somebody?"

"No." Your response is short and dry.

"Any family?" He prods.

You laugh, the sound flat and dark. "My father probably hopes I'm dead. No one is going to come looking for me."

"Hmmm," he scrutinizes you. "So you're all alone."

"Which is what you want, isn't it?" You meet his eyes.

"You'd better hope you're telling the truth," he replies. "'Cause it won't be too hard to put a bullet in you yet."

"What's all the noise for, waking me from my nice nap," Luda Mae mumbles as she steps out onto the porch, squinting. "A cow? Where'd you get that?"

"It was wandering around on the edge of town. Looking for water, I'll bet," Sheriff Hoyt says. "Well, I got us supper."

"We can't eat her!" You protest. "She's mine!"

Sheriff Hoyt raises his scruffy eyebrows. "You wanna rethink those words, girl?"

"I-I mean, she's pregnant," you shrink under the Sheriff's cold eyes, feeling a chill pass over you despite the heat. "If we wait until she calves then we'll have two cows."

Sheriff Hoyt grins. "Persuasive, ain't ya? You could sell a porno to a priest if you had a mind to!"

"So we won't butcher her?" You ask cautiously.

"Nah, we'll wait." Sheriff Hoyt strolls towards the porch steps. "Besides," he says, leaning in to hiss in your ear, "Veal tastes much better than some dried-up old cow."

He clomps up the stairs and calls over his shoulder, "Tie her out in the field. Plenty of grass to fatten her up!"

You take the frayed rope collar and tug at it. Daisy is fully grown now, but she follows you all the same, just like when she was a calf herself. Your boyfriend had bought the bony little thing as a birthday present for you and it was the one nice thing he ever did. Having her with you now feels like a gift from heaven. You sniffle, trying to keep from crying.

"Don't listen to that crusty old man, Daisy. Nothing is going to happen to you."

You lead her to an old post and tie her up there, crouching to murmur sweet little nothings into her ear utterly delighted to have your animal friend. Thomas watches from where he's standing by the house, absentmindedly scraping his thumb against the sharp edge of the metal hook he no longer needs. Never in his life has he seen anyone care about a cow. As far as he knows, all they're good for is the slaughterhouse.

* * * *

Dinner smells heavenly, but now that you know what meat you're having, it dampens your hunger.

"Why don't you say the grace tonight, dear?" Luda Mae asks.

You clear your throat and rattle through the Grace. Luda Mae looks surprised at how easily it comes to you.

"Well, ain't that a regular sermon!" Sheriff Hoyt sneers. "You sound just like a preacher."

"My father was something of the sort," you say, and then you wish you could take it back.

Why do I ever open my mouth, you wonder to yourself.

Sheriff Hoyt doesn't care, but Luda Mae is excited, asking you what your favorite book in the bible is. The answer is automatic, Psalms. You have the whole thing memorized, pretty much. From there she asks about your favorite chapter, then the verse. The memories begin to resurface, and you can almost feel the pain in your knees again from kneeling on the hardwood floor and reciting the Psalms. It was one of your father's favorite punishments. Somehow he always knew when you'd stopped kneeling properly and would stomp into the cleaning closet to yank you back onto your sore knees. When you grew older you realized he would often watch you through the keyhole, and that's how he knew. For the longest time you really believe he was like god and knew everything.

"Dear?" Luda Mae says.

"Yes?" You blink rapidly and look at her.

"Eat your food. Everything, now. You need the strength."

You swallow hard and look at the meat you've been served. The pieces are fried, lying in a glistening pile next to the string beans, which are salty and buttery. Sheriff Hoyt is eyeing you, licking grease from his lips.

"You go on now," he says. "You need the protein. Of course, if this doesn't suit your tastes we've got ourselves a nice cow out there. Tommy can butcher it up real nice for you."

Those words feel like a fist that wraps around your heart and squeezes.

I can't, you think to yourself, but you're mechanically spearing a piece on your fork and lifting it to your mouth. I'm doing it for Daisy. Dear, innocent Daisy.

Sheriff Hoyt watches you like a hawk as you chew. You can tell he's waiting for you to choke or push your plate away. He's itching to punish you but he needs a good excuse to do it. You try to think of anything other than the slightly tough meat you're chewing on.

You dart a glance at Tommy but his head is bowed over his food. He has stopped putting his face in his food after Luda Mae scolded him twice for eating like that in front of you, but he still forgoes the utensils, choosing to eat with his hands instead. He doesn't balk or hesitate at all. How could you forget what he is? Hot tears spring to your eyes.

I hate you, you want to blurt out. I hate all of you horrible people.

But you don't. You pick at another piece and chew it halfway before you choke it down. Sheriff Hoyt finally grunts and looks down at his plate. You eat about half before you really can't manage anymore. Nobody says anything though, and the rest of it goes to Uncle Monty's dog.

After dinner, the house grows quiet. Uncle Monty is in the living room, leafing through magazines of skimpily clad women, and Sheriff Hoyt and Luda Mae are in the kitchen arguing about something. Tommy is off somewhere, and you wonder if it'll be pushing your luck if you go to find him. You're still contemplating this when you see the dark, fat shape of Daisy moving through the grass, the rope trailing freely from her neck. You know how she likes to run off whenever she can all too well, so you push open the door and go out to snag the rope. She blinks her long-lashed eyes at you, grass sticking out of her mouth as she chews leisurely.

"How dare you look innocent," you murmur. "You chewed through the rope."

There's a fenced area just a little further out where she'll be safe for the night and you won't have to worry about her escaping. You begin to walk her there. The moment you walk out of the pool of light coming from the house the front door crashes open and Tommy comes storming out. He looks angry, and he's coming right at you. You're reminded of just how huge he is as he easily covers the distance in a couple of strides. He could squash you by accident without even trying.

"Tommy," you say warily. "I wasn't trying to run, I swear. Daisy got loose..."

The rope slips out of your hand and the troublemaking cow in question begins to walk off, but you barely notice, distracted by the large man who looks like he's going to square up with you and knock your teeth out. Well, maybe not, but you never know. You've had your fair share of men who are nothing like who they pretend to be. Your brain is flipping between freezing or fleeing. You take a step back and stumble on a loose rock. The rush of adrenaline from almost falling kicks your brain into flight mode. You burst into a disoriented jog to nowhere in particular, just away.

Tommy chases you with a low growl. You're running simply because you're not sure what will happen if he catches you, now that you've made him angry. The noises rumbling out of him are the promise of your undoing. You only manage to take a couple more stuttered steps before he grabs you, his fingers locking around your upper arm and pulling you up short. Your ears ring.

"No," you shriek, "let me go!"

You flail like a fish on a hook, digging your feet into the ground. Your shoulder pops as you strain to pull away. You're back in that cramped, musty cabin, teeth chattering as your furious father rattles you like a doll. That was always the awful part, how you were unable to get away. He was bigger than you, and could nearly throw you across the hall if he wanted to... A sharp slap on your cheek grounds you, and you just stand there and blink dumbly at the man in front of you. His chest is heaving and his dark brown eyes are filled with something. Concern that he's broken you somehow. You're shocked. You've never panicked this badly before.

"I..." Your mouth opens and closes, but no more words come out.

You're present again, standing in the stifling heat of an early evening, crickets chirping and fireflies blinking in the grass. A brief wind flutters Tommy's hair and he pats it down, then reaches out and rubs your cheek like he's attempting to soothe away the slap.

Sorry, his touch seems to say, I didn't know what else to do, how else to reach you.

You stare at each other. Impulsively, you throw your arms around his stocky midriff and bury your face in his chest.

"I'm okay," you mumble, and you mean it.

For a long moment, Tommy stands absolutely still, then his arms curl around you and pull you closer. Contentment creates a safe bubble around you and for a moment you allow yourself to relax and let go of everything but him. Up at the house a door slams, and your eyes blink open just in time to see Sheriff Hoyt disappearing inside. A twinkle high above catches your attention. There's not a single wisp of cloud in the sky tonight, so the stars look like a glittering blanket wrapped around the Earth.

"Look at the sky, Tommy," you sigh. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Tommy doesn't look up, though. He looks at you.

Inside the house, Sheriff Hoyt is scratching an itchy spot on his neck and glaring out the window.

"So are they lovebirds now or what?" He demands. "Look at that whore, cozying up to him."

"Leave them be," Luda Mae says pulling the curtains over the window to block his gaze.

"She's gonna make Tommy go soft," he mutters, squinting through a hole in the threadbare drapes.

"Well, Tommy could use some softness," she replies, idly touching a hand to her neck. "I've never seen him like this. Not that I can remember anyway."

"Seen him like what, all weak in the knees?" He scoffs.

"At peace."

Part 7 - (Coming Soon!)

@typicalchaos, @slut4acotar, @lovelymindescape, @dabisnympho, @thetoastghost222, @night-shadowblood-writes2, @erosmutt, @lilaclichh and @jillian-mill asked to be tagged! I'll add anyone else who asks <3

@runforthehillsbestie

#my writing #leatherface #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #slasher x reader #x reader #reader insert #slasher #slashers #slasher boyfriend #fem reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction writing

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changingplumbob · 3 days ago

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Second Round - Day Five (3PO) 1 of 2

@lostinsixam, @igglemouse, @simstagramsomeone, @daedriyth, @ashubii, @simscici - Sim creators and writers

Bright and early, the household wakes up. Room order was randomised with Jerrica and Lara getting the ground floor rooms. A wheel was spun for type of shower the contestants would have (opportunity for energised, flirty or inspired moodlet) and whether they would brush their teeth (possible confident moodlet). Once they are finished getting ready they're sent to breakfast. Autonomy is toggled on and room doors are locked.

The order the contestants arrive at breakfast matters a little. Deanna compliments each of them in the order they arrive. Those who are talked to early seem to have more chance of fitting in autonomous socials with Deanna. They might fit in a joke, flirt or gossip between her complimenting others.

Jerrica was first to breakfast today, she and Deanna deciding to share a hug before catching up.

Jerrica: How have you been?

Deanna: Busy. You all get days off but I don't. It's pretty non stop

Jerrica: Never underestimate the power of a good nap

Deanna: *chuckles* Oh Lara I keep meaning to say I love your jacket

Kennedy: It's real clever how it matches your hair

Lara: Aww, thanks you two. I do worry that I have a more limited wardrobe than some

Callie: You don't need a big wardrobe if you like what you have

Kay was last to breakfast, but she has some good moodlets on board!

Kay: Ohhh pancakes! Let me at em let me at em

Deanna: *chuckling* I hope they're alright. I figure you could probably make better

Abigail: Are pancakes baking or cooking?

*moment of silence*

Jerrica: My bisexual self says both is good

*laughter*

Kay: *while eating* Motion seconded

Lara: Do I have time for a quick swim before the challenge?

Deanna: *checks time* Yes, it's almost an hour and a half before they want us there

Abigail: You sure you can't tell us what the challenge is

Deanna: *hesitates* If I told you what it was you might leave

Abigail: *gloomily* That sounds so promising

Kay: It's alright Abby, it'll be an adventure

Kennedy: Did you pick this one?

Deanna: I did not. And I've not really done it myself

Kennedy: *gasps* Horse ridin'? Is it horse ridin'?

Kay: Horses are cute! Those ones at the shelter looked so sweet

Jerrica: If it was that surely it would have been an option for skill time

Kennedy: *sighs* You do have brains

Callie: Not necessarily. I mean we never got an option to work on our singing

Amidst the chatter Abby takes herself off to a mirror in the hall.

Abigail: Come on Abby, I know we woke up gloomy, but we can push through. Look how you did with karaoke. And you've already had your date so you don't need to stay positive all day... just the next few hours. Then we can come back and wallow in peace for a bit

Lara and Abby both return to the group at the same time. Lara feels refreshed from her swim while Abby has enough good moodlets now to quiet the negative ones. Callie had headed upstairs to play juice pong... although she didn't actually invite anyone so it came to nothing.

Kay: I love this movie

Deanna: Sorry Kay but they need us on set in ten. Time for a costume change

Abigail: Time for what now

Deanna: You'll have to put on your active wear

Jerrica: *sarcastically* Hooray

Kennedy: *quietly* Please be horse ridin'

Devin: Hello everyone and welcome to Tartosa Gym. Today's challenge was picked by our pa, who is a fitness fan. Each of you has been tasked with completing the beginners endurance challenge on the rock wall. Fastest time wins. Good luck everyone

Devin hands it over to Aaron who gives a brief tutorial on how the rock wall works. It operates like a vertical treadmill, ticking over as contestants get closer to the top. Aaron takes everyone through some pre climb stretching to warm up, we need to be safe after all.

Aaron: I've picked this challenge because love is a marathon, not a sprint. You have to keep putting in the work if you want it to thrive. I'm looking forward to seeing who wins

Devin directs everyone to the right walls and the cameras position themselves.

Aaron: Any guesses who might win this one?

Deanna: Most of the 3PO group are... how would you say it... indoor cats? I think Kennedy might have an advantage with her love of horse riding. She's probably the most athletic

Aaron: Care to tell me who you want to win?

Deanna: *smiling* Nice try, I'm not doing that pa

Jerrica: I'm willing to give it a try, but my lack of athleticism may not help me out much here.

Lara: Wow, that sounds awesome! I love a good adventure, but at the same time, I worry about the girls... Will they be okay with it? I bet some of them find the challenge a bit scary...

Abby: *gulp* ... I don't think my noodle arms are saving me from this one *nervous laughter*

Callie: I just hope I don't hurt myself!

Kennedy: Well, I climbed trees growin' up. How hard can rocks be?

Kay: *big wide eyes* Oh, uhm, well. I'm not the strongest here so this should be interesting.

The challenge is under way! Everyone starts off strong but the wall can be devious. Kay falls to the ground first, followed by Kennedy. Kennedy however sticks the landing. Next out of the running is Jerrica, who is surprised to land on her feet. Then lastly Lara falls on her butt, with a big oomph.

The only two who manage to complete the rock wall are gamer Abby and clumsy sim Callie. Abby completes hers in 23.87 seconds. Callie takes 25.15 seconds. Abby technically scoops the win but with a date under her belt we'll be giving her some bonus points. The date will be Callie's.

Kennedy: Rocks are NOT as easy to climb as trees...

Kay: I probably should work on my fitness skill...

Kennedy: We could go on some jogs on our days off

Kay: We could... or we could stay indoors and bake. I'd love to hear more about your horses and you can't exactly tell me if we're jogging

Kennedy: Fair enough

Lara: My hands and arms are a bit sore... I really wasn’t made for this sport, but it was fun anyway!

Jerrica: Its nice to try new things even if i'm bad at them...

Lara: The falls reminded me of those funny videos online of people trying to climb and slipping with their hands, which made me laugh a few times during the challenge

Jerrica: ...now to go soak my hands in ice water for a year

Lara: There's a sauna downstairs. Maybe we can stay since we're not going on dates

Jerrica: I like that plan. I like that plan a lot

Villa renovation by @paracosmic-sims Gym build by @hashimasims

#DatingDeanna #DatingDeannaRound2 #sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr

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writing-for-life · 3 days ago

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The Weight of Goodbye

Dream’s SoM-meetings with Hob Gadling, Lyta & Daniel Hall and his subjects

Sorry not sorry for using this one again, because I’m Jon J Muth’s no. 1 fan, plus it helps me to get over Kelley Jones’ art which I find… challenging 🤣

I’ve been thinking about The Sandman #22 for our reread, and while there are many gut-wrenching issues, this is one of the most quietly devastating ones. It’s a bit like Dream writing his will while pretending he’s just going on a business trip (and of course we get something similar again later on in The Kindly Ones 🥺)

The Speech to His Subjects

Dream addresses the denizens of The Dreaming before departing for Hell. He frames it a bit as instructions for his absence (and sounds super awkward when admitting he made mistakes—it’s honestly like car crash TV), but the emotional undertones suggest something far more permanent:

He tells them about how to maintain the realm if certain situations arise (like him not coming back, either because he dies or because he gets captured) and presents it like contingency planning (for lack of better term). But the truth of the matter is that he’s putting his affairs in order. The formality of it, the careful way he addresses potential concerns: This isn’t just someone covering all bases, this is a ruler preparing his kingdom for the real possibility that he won’t return. And it’s the first time we get told, in no uncertain terms, that if he gets destroyed (his choice of words, not mine), another aspect of Dream will take over.

[Also: Is it just me who thinks that Kelley Jones draws him at his most beautiful when he’s vulnerable? Because some of his other artistic choices are… well, definitely choices 🙈🤣]

What truly gets me is the narrative use of Matthew. He’s concerned, but he doesn’t grasp the hint of finality in Dream’s tone. And at this stage, the reader may not either (we need to remember that we didn’t have the type of hindsight we have now back when the comics first came out; we didn’t know how the whole run would end). So Matthew is, once again, a stand-in for us, the reader (that always makes me think of The Wake, and even after decades, I’m still not over Matthew's speech and his grief). It doesn't help that we’re starting to see their growing bond, and the cracks in Dream’s armour he hid only a minute ago when everyone else was still there:

“I wanted to stick around. Do you mind?” “No.” 😩

The Meeting with Lyta and Daniel

Dream’s visit to Lyta Hall and baby Daniel often gets brushed to the side a bit, and without the knowledge of what’s going to happen, I get it.

But of course we do know what has already happened in The Doll’s House. Even there, it was painfully obvious that Dream, at least on some level, had plans for Daniel. So yeah, this is not a social call; he’s checking in on his replacement (for lack of better term). They have a bond because Daniel was conceived (show)/gestated (comics) in the Dreaming. It’s not Morpheus who gives Daniel his name—it’s most likely Daniel who told him his name.

Lyta’s discomfort throughout the scene isn’t just about supernatural entities dropping by unannounced, or about her deep-seated hatred of Dream because she considers him responsible for Hector’s death. She knows, on an intuitive level, that he is marking Daniel in some way because he already told her back in The Doll’s House that he’ll one day come for the child. At the same time, he’s acknowledging here that this might be the last time he sees the child for a very long time, and that he means Lyta no harm (“today” 🙄). And maybe that’s the only explanation for this:

Because I don’t know about you: If a strange guy whom I deem responsible for my husband’s death tells me the “true” name of my yet unnamed child, I'd certainly not consider that name and smile about it happily…

Hob Gadling and the Toast

Dream appears to Hob in a dream, and that’s a deeply significant choice. He could have met him in the waking world just like Lyta, but instead, he chooses to visit Hob in his own domain, where he has absolute power. But he doesn’t really use that power here, other than for getting in contact in the first place. He rather reveals something that could almost be considered vulnerability:

That’s the same Dream who stormed off in a huff in 1889 because Hob dared to suggest they were friends. The same Dream who tentatively acknowledged that friendship in 1989. The same Dream who now decides to say goodbye to the one person he actually considers a friend. For someone whose entire existence is built on pride and hierarchy, this shows character growth. But it also shows how desperately alone he really is, and that he doesn't want to be a burden to anyone (and that's compounded to the umpteenth degree when they meet the next time 😔).

But there’s subtext here that’s even more heartbreaking: Dream is settling his accounts. He’s making sure that if he doesn’t return from Hell, Hob won’t spend the next century wondering where Dream is, or if their friendship was real. By choosing to appear in Hob’s dreams, he’s giving him something lasting: a memory. And many of us know that this will be one of the cornerstones of Sunday Mourning.

The tragedy is that Hob doesn’t even truly realise this is a goodbye, and he hopes he’ll be back “eventually”. He's happy to have seen his friend, even if it was "just a silly dream"...

Patterns...

When you read these three sequences together, you can't help but see that Dream is systematically saying goodbye to the, at least at this point, three most important cornerstones of his existence: his successor (Daniel), his one true friendship (Hob), and his realm.

This isn’t the behaviour of someone who expects to return unchanged from his mission. This is someone who understands that going to Hell to demand the release of an ex-lover he condemned 10,000 years ago is likely to have consequences he may not survive.

Which brings us to the most important question of this issue:

Does Dream already know he will die?

I don’t think he knows, at this point, specifically how or when. But I think he does understand that his existence is reaching some kind of conclusion. The family intervention, the guilt over what he has done to Nada which makes him return to Hell: They’re really only the culmination of ten billion years of accumulated mistakes and regrets, and it’s only going to get worse from here.

The paradox is that Dream is finally ready to change, but change is antithetical to how he perceives himself. So perhaps, on some level, he understands that real change might require becoming someone else entirely. And that is something I think he does know at this point.

What makes issue #22 so powerful is how it recontextualises everything that comes after. When he eventually faces his final choice in The Kindly Ones, we can look back and see that he was already preparing himself here (and if you know me, you will also know that I staunchly insist he already made an, albeit subconscious, choice in #8). Maybe it’s a masterclass in dramatic irony: Dream thinks he’s being practical with making his contingency plans. But we can see him subconsciously preparing for an ending he hasn’t yet acknowledged to himself. But he also has...

Kelley Jones’ Art

I just briefly want to brush (no pun intended) on how Kelley Jones’s art reinforces these themes. His Dream is somehow always in shadow, even if it’s just his face. There’s a weight to him in every panel, a sense of someone carrying an enormous burden. I am generally not a fan of Jones' art (sorry), and I find his constantly changing Dream difficult to get used to (but I guess that's the point, and I totally get it on a conceptual level). But one thing stands out to me: The way he draws Dream against various backgrounds (Lyta’s apartment, the dreamscape with Hob, the throne room) consistently makes him seem isolated, separate, already partially absent. Even when he’s surrounded by other people/beings. But maybe I'm just reading too much into it…

Anyway, to put it all in a nutshell: The real tragedy, but also the deeper meaning of The Sandman, is that Dream tries to make amends for a lifetime of mistakes, only to discover that some changes require transformation so complete that the self doesn’t survive the process. But in metaphorical terms, the death of the ego is also a beautiful and necessary thing…

#the sandman #sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob gadling #lyta hall #daniel hall #season of mists #the sandman comics #the sandman analysis #character analysis #sandman meta #kelley jones #jon j muth #sandman art #sandman x art #queue crew

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