#but EXERCISE??? it eludes me

[publicuniversalenemy]

okay so. okay. gotta figure out how to incorporate exercising and stretching for 10-15 mins a day in to my routine.

EXERCISES: 20 pushups 20 squat-presses with a 10lbs weight 20 bent rows with a 10lbs weight

STRETCHES: standing forward fold forward splits stretches modified hurdler stretch

[heavenly67]

skirt anatomy is NOT my thing

[starfallproject]

Tekken character vignette pt. 1

Characters: Kazumi, Kazuya.

Word count: 165.

Kazuya is asleep when Kazumi slips into his room in the middle of the night. Her child looks peaceful in sleep.

Kazumi kisses his forehead. She looks fondly at her son, tracing her fingertips on his face, her own bearing a brittle smile. Her fever spikes prevented her from seeing her little angel for the past few days.

As she goes to the door to make her leave, a quiet rustle stops her.

“Mom?” the question comes out uncertain, she looks back to see Kazuya sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Go back to sleep, dear. You need it for the morning training,” she hears herself say. Kazuya looks confused but nods drowsily, and lays back in his futon.

Her hands shake as she closes the shoji door, knowing that if she gives in to her desire to go back and gather him in her arms, she would waver.

Her fists tighten, she has a mission to complete. It was a long time coming.

[sexlapis]

my baby, my baby…

୨ৎ toji x reader

gender neutral!reader, reader is having a difficult time ;(, talks of depression, anxiety, nausea & headaches, soft!toji

wc: 1.4k

a/n: been feeling down & blue lately… craving the comfort of big man 💭🧸

masterlists

*

relief floods you as you walk into your cosy house, abruptly dropping your bag on the floor carelessly and throwing off your uncomfortable shoes. a tired and weak sigh leaves your mouth as you plod in the living room.

there is a weight of a long day that rests heavy on your shoulders, the tendons of your muscles wound up tight, as is the nauseous pit in your lower stomach.

the superficial, constant chatter with your colleagues and clients, having to skip lunch due to how busy it was, the never ending feeling of isolation and loneliness even around so many other people, the confining feeling of businesswear, the everyday stress, how everyone relied on your contributions that you believe to be insignificant and trivial, the now growing headache at the back of your head…

you are exhausted.

sadly for you, your anxious nature likes to make itself known all throughout your whole entire body, most commonly burying itself in your stomach and intestine, morphing into faux sickness and nausea that no amount of pressure point massages or medicine could solve.

you are exhausted.

this behaviour of yours has been going on for the past two months and toji, your sweet and observant husband, has obviously taken notice.

he notices your dark circles and eyebags, your more drowsy and slow demeanour, the irritableness, the skin-picking to the point of blood drawn and the hair pulling. to say toji is worried would be an understatement.

he is being more gentle with you, you can tell. it’s like he’s walking on…eggshells around you, not wanting to say the wrong thing in case you blow up or have a meltdown.

you’re not a fan of such treatment even though you are aware that if he acted in any other way, you probably would have snapped by now.

toji asks if you are okay, if you need anything, if you want anything.

and you. you say no and proceed with your picture perfect daily routine of meditation, journaling, exercise, consuming a healthy breakfast, diligently working your job and going to sleep at a normal time.

yet none of these are able to quell the hollow in the depth of your organs, the same hollow that runs through your veins, your arteries and right to your very core.

you fall onto the couch and lay your body across it, sinking into the softness and resting your head down on a pillow.

now, after this shitty day, you just want to cuddle with your big, protective husband who you love dearly.

your phone vibrates against your leg and you snatch quickly despite your enervation, wishing the notification to be a message from toji. toji will make this all better.

unfortunately, nothing about your day seems to be going to plan.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you read over toji’s message.

toji🐻🩷

gonna be back really late dont stay awake for me

a frustrated snarl escapes from your lips and you’re flinging your phone across the room in a fit of fury, that is quickly replaced with sadness.

your shoulders shake and you cover your mouth to hold in your loud sobs, tears trickling down the bridge of your nose and cheek, soaking the pillow you lay on.

even in the sanctuary of your home, loneliness does not elude you at all.

the pounding in your head eased slightly, just enough for you to find repose as the past weeks finally catch up with you and you fall into a deep sleep.

*

toji enters the house around ten thirty at night. he cracks his neck, removes his shoes and places his rucksack on a nearby chair. his foot catches on something and he stumbles before regaining his balance, hissing in annoyance and looking back sharply to glare at whatever tripped him up.

your work shoes.

he looks around on the floor and sees your bag on the floor nearby.

that’s odd of you. you do not usually leave a mess on the floor, especially in the doorway.

toji huffs. “‘the hell…”

he hangs up his jacket on the coat rack and walks in the living room, where he then finds you, asleep on the couch.

it makes toji sigh. he told you not to wait for him. so why did you so clearly do just that?

*

you feel yourself being shaken back and forth by the shoulder and toji quietly calling out your name.

“_____…_____, wake up…”

you groan, blinking your eyes open. the dryness of your throat, the cracked skin of your lips and the drool smeared on your cheek is enough to tell you that you’ve been asleep for quite some time.

toji is back. it must be ten at night by now, and you arrived home at five.

you had been asleep for five hours.

toji sits on the couch next to where you thighs are, the seat dipping with his weight and places a hand on your waist, “_____, i told you to go to bed and not wait up, didn’t i?”

you sit up and lick your dry lips, trying to find your words. you look down and fiddle with your fingers, picking at your skin, “no, i…i didn’t..i didn’t,” you interrupt yourself with a long yawn, “i didn’t wait for you..jus’ fell asleep.”

“fell asleep, huh? in your work clothes and on the couch? _____, you never do that.”

a hum from you is the response he gets and silence falls thereafter.

toji takes this moment to scan you over.

the deep lines of fatigue under your eyes, the frown on your lips, the dullness in your once vibrant complexion, the newfound slowness of your movements, the lost look in your eyes..

you were not looking too good.

“hey,” he says softly, ducking his head a little to get a look at your downtilted face, “you okay? what’s wrong? please just tell me.”

the concern and tenderness in his voice flood your eyes with tears, and you whimper, “everything…everything is just fucking shit.”

a hiccuped sob leaves you as you start to really cry again, all of your pent up emotions coming to surface and you let it all out.

and toji is cooing at you, shocked at your sudden weeping but swiftly wrapping his arms around you and scooping you into his lap, “oh, baby…”

you bawl into his work uniform as he cradles you in his lap, nuzzling his face into the top of your head while rocking himself back and forth, calming you down with sweet “sh, sh, shh ‘s” and “i know, i know ‘s”.

the tension in your body lessens with each tear that rolls down your face, the release of emotions overwhelms yet relaxes you all at once.

toji strokes your head and back, calming your erratic, hefty breaths and your quick heartbeat until your weeps gradually turn into sniffles and your whimpers turn into sad hums.

it’s quiet for a while as you settle with toji’s help.

toji is still caressing your soft hair when he speaks again, “‘that feel better?”

“…mhm.”

“okay.”

a beat of silence falls over the two of you, the only sound being the crisp crackle of the fireplace and your heavy breathing.

you feel your face heat up in embarrassment at your emotional breakdown.

this was all your fault, anyway. if you had spoken to somebody about your feelings and had been honest with toji from the beginning, then this would not have happened. but that’s just the special thing about you. bottling up all of your emotions, letting the water and waves rise until the dam cracks and bursts open, destroying everything in its path including yourself.

“sorry…i’m sorry,” you garble tearfully, “i should’ve..should’ve said something sooner…”

“don’t be dumb, ‘s fine.”

toji fushiguro, the comforter you are.

toji isn’t the most gentle or sensitive man, but he’s him. he’s toji, broken and scarred and soft toji and that’s all that matters to you.

you nuzzle into his broad neck, inhaling the now soothing scent of smoke, cigarettes and rubber.

the safety, reassurance and protection you feel while in his arms was immense and nothing compared to it. knowing toji will always have your back and will always be there for and never judge makes you feel a little worse for not telling him about your issues. toji understands.

“y’know we’re gonna have to talk about this, right? no more keeping this shit to yourself.” toji asks.

“yeah,” you sigh, already dreading the looming but necessary conversation, “yes, i know.”

“but we can do it another day. ‘think someone needs some medicine and some food. and good nights sleep in a bed,” he squints his eyes as he looks down at you, making you cower. you’re definitely not saying no to that, “how does some takeout sound?”

warmth rushes through your chest as you stare at his love-filled eyes and how the orange light flickers across his face, which holds a tender expression. you feel better already.

“yeah, that sounds good toji.”

a/n: i luv toji <33

[tavina-writes]

A Practical Discussion of Eligible MDZS Bachelors During the Second Life

So I keep seeing discussions floating around about like "why aren't any of these people married" and "are JC's standards too high?" and other assorted nonsense, so I have decided to put together a ranking of like "if a practical minded historical* woman wanted to get ahead politically with the LEAST amount of #suffering, what rankings would she give these guys." Because I've been really fond of @dangermousie's poll options, I'm calling this girl Potato.

*Historical fantasy more or less given that we assume that Potato is also a cultivator.

Jiang Cheng There are many reasons for this but 1) Jiang Cheng's in-laws consist entirely of (1) bratty nephew who doesn't even live at his house full time, 2) there are no other meddling in laws or sect elders given that Jiang Cheng is the only one! 3) he is reasonably good looking, well off, and has social status by this point in the story. Potato can probably win over a bratty nephew! Downsides include: if Potato doesn't like spicy foods oh dear, but honestly we don't know what Potato's spice tolerance is so it could still work out!

Nie Huaisang: Being married to NHS would be an exercise in perpetual embarrassment, and it's unclear if his budget line items ever since Da-ge died are any more detailed than "Summertime Sadness." There are worse people to marry, but why anyone (including Potato) would willingly choose to marry NHS for political benefit eludes me. He is ranked higher on this list than any Lan largely for the sake of "his mom was probably not in solitary confinement" and "there are likely no dietary restrictions present in his house." but the other downsides include "he's probably going to go INSANE" at some point but silver lining on that front is that he's really not a very good cultivator, so it probably won't be as bad as NMJ's insanity bender? Potato could rank him lower than any Lan options tbh.

Lan Xichen There are also many reasons why Mr. Zewu-jun is not an ideal marriage candidate for practical reasons but this largely has to do with his family. There's 33 favorite grandpas who seem to have opinions on the regular. The in-law trouble would suck tremendously. There's 5am wakeup calls and 9pm bedtimes and no meat or alcohol. There's like between 3000-4000 rules Potato will have to remember and actually follow! His mom spent her entire married life mysteriously in solitary confinement. #Yikes!

This seems like an unwise place to marry into. Potato could do better.

Lan Wangji See above except for the part where he doesn't even like Potato and only thinks about WWX all day.

Lan Qiren I am uncertain about Potato's investment in #HotDilfsInLocalArea but 3000-4000 rules and many of Zewu-jun's problems.

Jin Guangyao He's already married and he's never cheating on his incest marriage, and he has his ex's head in his bedroom closet. Also #Yikes. Potato could do better than this too.

Basically: Potato should either aim to marry Jiang Cheng or go to live as a hermit in the woods.

[bloodreinasbathwater]

The Art & The Muse

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Artist!Reader

a:n took me forever to post this because I thought it was so boring (overthinking) and my Nico fic has taken up so much time, but here she is the artist and Luke in the official part 1.

Masterlist Link

Summary: A struggling artist finds inspiration in the most unexpected place - a painting class which the famous Luke Hughes has joined. y/n is in awe at his beauty, finding herself fascinated by his masculine beauty.

Part 1

word count - 3500

Y/N's fingers gripped the charcoal pencil with practiced ease as she surveyed the blank canvas before her, a slight furrow in her brow. Around her, the chatter of the other students filled the air, but she found herself quickly tuning it all out, her focus narrowing to the task at hand.

In her mind's eye, she could already see the image she wanted to create: a solitary figure standing on the precipice of a towering cliff, their gaze lost in the vast expanse of the ocean below. It was a scene that had haunted her dreams for weeks, and she couldn't wait to bring it to life.

She shook her head, ridding herself of any new ideas for the time being. This painting class was meant to learn a new perspective, to master the art of realism that had eluded her for the past two years. Her company had been nagging her relentlessly to deliver a new collection, and she knew she needed to regain her focus.

The class had begun, and the instructor - a petite woman with a warm smile and thick accent - was busy demonstrating techniques for sketching the live model posing at the front of the room.

Y/N nodded along absently, her eyes flickering toward the model, but it wasn't long before her gaze was drawn elsewhere.

"Alright, class, let's start with the basics," the instructor said, her voice lilting with an exotic flair. "Pay close attention to the model's posture, the way the light hits their skin. These are the details that will bring your sketch to life."

Y/N hummed in acknowledgement, but her focus had already shifted. Three easels down, sat a man who had immediately captured her attention the moment he'd walked through the door.

His sandy brown curls peeked out from under a well-worn beanie, and his strong, angular features were enough to make Y/N's breath catch in her throat.

She knew she shouldn't stare, that it was rude to ignore the instructor's guidance, but she simply couldn't tear her eyes away. There was something magnetic about this man, from the way he held his charcoal pencil between calloused fingers to the intense focus etched into the lines of his face as he worked.

The instructor had moved on to demonstrating color mixing, but Y/N barely registered the words.

Before she could stop herself, Y/N's hand began to move across the canvas, charcoal leaving bold strokes in its wake. She sketched the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the mesmerizing fullness of his lips. Each line was infused with a reverence, a fascination that had taken hold of her very being.

As the instructor continued to walk the room, offering guidance and critiques, Y/N found herself falling further and further under the spell of this enigmatic stranger.

She should have been following along, observing the live model and honing her own technique, but something about this man had utterly captivated her.

The sharp planes of his shoulders, the flex of muscle in his forearm as he worked - Y/N drank it all in, her fingers moving with a fervor that belied her usual cool, composed demeanor.

This was no longer just a simple sketching exercise; it had transformed into an exploration, a quest to unravel the mysteries hidden within every inch of this man's captivating form.

Y/N's brow furrowed in concentration, her tongue peeking out from between her lips as she navigated the delicate shadows and contours of his features.

She knew, deep down, that this was a risky endeavor - what if he caught her staring? What would the other students think? - but in that moment, none of it mattered.

"Wonderful work, class! Now, let's move on to adding depth and dimension with shading."

Y/N risked another glance in his direction, her breath catching in her throat as she noticed him glance up, his intense gaze sweeping the room.

For a moment, their eyes met, and Y/N felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her. His brow furrowed slightly, as if he'd sensed her scrutiny, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Oh Jesus Christ, get a grip," she muttered under her breath, determinedly keeping her eyes fixed on her own canvas.

As the class wore on, Y/N found herself growing increasingly distracted, her sketches growing sloppy and unfocused. The instructor's critiques sailed over her head, her mind too preoccupied with unravelling the mystery of the alluring stranger.

Finally, the lesson drew to a close, and Y/N let out a quiet sigh of relief. Quickly, she gathered her supplies, eager to make a hasty exit before the man had a chance to notice her. But just as she turned to leave, a flash of movement caught her eye.

There he was, standing just a few feet away, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, suspended in a charged silence.

Then, before Y/N could react, he took a step forward, a curious expression on his face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and velvety smooth. "I'm Luke."

…

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath as she pushed open the glass doors of the towering office building, the sleek marble floors and modern decor greeting her with an air of cool professionalism. Squaring her shoulders, she strode purposefully towards the elevator bank, her heels clicking against the polished tiles.

As she waited for the elevator, Y/N could feel the familiar fluttering of nerves in the pit of her stomach. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation, she knew that much.

Her reps had been hounding her for months, pressuring her to deliver a new collection. It was the same old song and dance - her art was in high demand, and her company was eager to capitalize on her success.

The elevator dinged, and Y/N stepped inside, her fingers drumming anxiously against the railing as it carried her up to the 15th floor. When the doors finally slid open, she made her way down the plush carpeted hallway, the sound of her heels muffled.

Approaching the sleek wooden doors of her company's offices, she paused for a moment, taking another deep breath to steel her nerves.

"You can do this," she murmured to herself, before pushing open the doors and stepping into the reception area.

The secretary, a prim-looking woman with a severe bun, looked up from her computer screen, her eyebrows arching slightly at Y/N's arrival. "Ms. Y/N," she said, her tone clipped. "They're expecting you."

Y/N nodded, forcing a polite smile as she moved to take a seat on one of the plush leather couches that adorned the waiting area. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, betraying the anxiety that roiled within her. This wasn't the first time she'd been summoned to this office, and she knew it wouldn't be the last.

Time seemed to crawl by as she sat there, the tick of the clock on the wall the only sound that broke the stifling silence. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the secretary rose from her desk.

"They'll see you now," she announced, gesturing towards the ornate double doors that led to the executive offices.

Y/N rose on shaky legs, taking one last steadying breath before pushing open the doors and stepping inside. The plush, wood-paneled office was exactly as she remembered - imposing and intimidating, a physical manifestation of the power wielded by the company that controlled her artistic future.

Seated behind the massive mahogany desk were three stern-faced individuals, their piercing gazes fixed squarely on her. Y/N felt her heart hammering in her chest as she approached, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Thank you for coming, Y/N," the man in the center spoke, his voice level but tinged with a subtle edge of impatience. "We have some...concerns we'd like to discuss with you."

Y/N nodded mutely, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she braced herself for the impending confrontation. The three figures seated before her - the company's CEO, CFO, and head of marketing - regarded her with a disconcerting blend of expectation and exasperation.

"As you know, Y/N," the CEO began, steepling his fingers atop the gleaming desktop, "your work has been in incredibly high demand these past few years. Your paintings have become the talk of the art world, and our company has greatly benefited from your success."

Y/N felt a prickle of unease creep up her spine. She knew where this was heading, and it made her stomach churn with dread.

"However," the man continued, his brow furrowing slightly, "we've noticed a...concerning trend as of late. It's been months since your last major release, and our clients are growing restless." He paused, his steely gaze boring into her. "To be blunt, they're demanding new work. And that's where our concern lies."

Y/N opened her mouth, scrambling for a response, but the CFO cut her off with a raise of his hand.

"We've been patient, Y/N, but our patience is wearing thin. You're our biggest asset, our crown jewel. And frankly, we can't afford to have you sitting idle." He leaned forward, his expression grim. "There's been...talk of other artists who may be able to provide the output we need. Artists who are hungrier, more prolific than you."

Y/N's heart sank like a stone. She knew exactly who they were referring to - Jacob, a rising star in the art world whose bold, innovative style had been the talk of the industry for months. He'd been aggressively courting her company, and by the sounds of it, they were seriously considering his overtures.

"I...I understand your concern," Y/N managed, hating the way her voice wavered. "But I can assure you, I'm working on a new collection as we speak. In fact, I have one more painting to finish, and then I'll have the entire series ready for you."

The three executives exchanged a loaded glance, their expressions unreadable. Finally, the CEO leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, that's...excellent news, Y/N. We're pleased to hear it." He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "Of course, we'll need to see the completed works as soon as possible. You understand the urgency of the situation, I'm sure."

Y/N nodded mutely, her mouth suddenly dry. "Absolutely. I'll have everything ready by my deadline."

"Wonderful." The CEO rose from his seat, his two colleagues following suit. "We look forward to seeing what you've created. Don't disappoint us, Y/N."

As they filed out of the office, Y/N felt a heavy weight settle in the pit of her stomach. She'd lied through her teeth, and they all knew it. But what choice did she have? Her career, her very livelihood, hung in the balance. She had to deliver, no matter the cost.

…

Luke’s pov

Luke pushed open the front door of the apartment he shared with his older brother Jack, the familiar sounds of chatter and laughter immediately greeting him. However, as he stepped inside, the first thing that caught his eye was an unfamiliar figure curled up on their couch beside Jack.

She was a striking woman, with fiery red hair that spilled over her shoulders in lush waves. Her features were bold and angular, with a nose that seemed slightly disproportionate to the rest of her face. Luke couldn't help but stare for a moment, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Hey?" he said quietly, the lilt in his voice making it sound more like a question than a greeting.

Jack perked up at the sound, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips as he lightly pushed the woman off his shoulder. Turning around, he draped his chest over the back of the couch, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Lukey! There you are," he exclaimed. "How was the class?"

Luke glanced down at his hands, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "Uh, it was fine, I guess," he mumbled. "I, uh, actually met a girl there."

Jack's grin widened, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. "A girl, huh? Do tell!"

"It wasn't that serious," Luke hurried to clarify, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I just...I caught her staring at me a couple times, that's all."

"Ooh, a secret admirer!" Jack crowed, practically bouncing in his seat. "Way to go, bro! So, what's she like? Is she cute?"

Luke shrugged, fighting the urge to fidget under his brother's intense scrutiny. "I don't know, I didn't really get a chance to talk to her much. She seemed nice, I guess."

Jack let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in exasperation. "Typical Luke, always so reserved. Come on, man, give me the juicy details! What did she look like? Was there any, you know, chemistry?" He waggled his eyebrows again, and the woman beside him giggled coyly.

Luke felt his cheeks burning, suddenly wishing he could just disappear. "I don't know, Jack," he grumbled. "She left before I had a chance to ask much, it was just a painting class, that's all. Nothing special."

"Aw, don't be like that." Jack reached out and gave Luke's arm a playful shove. "You gotta put yourself out there more, bro. How else are you gonna meet someone?"

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the woman beside Jack piped up, her voice sugary sweet. "Maybe I could help you with that, handsome."

Luke blinked, his gaze snapping to her as he realized she was addressing him. "Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," he mumbled, mentally kicking himself for his lack of social grace.

The woman giggled again, batting her eyelashes coyly. "I'm Amber. It's so nice to meet you, Luke."

Both Luke and Jack shared an incredulous look, their brows furrowing in matching expressions of confusion.

Luke stood still, his shoulders tensing as he registered Amber's words. "What do you mean by that?" he cringed, his tone laced with suspicion.

Amber giggled again, seemingly oblivious to the brothers' discomfort. "Well, I just thought maybe I could help you find a special someone," she purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "After all, a handsome guy like you shouldn't be single, right?"

Luke's features soured into a sour expression as he awaited her answer. "I, uh, I'm not really looking for -"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up," Jack cut in, holding up a hand. "Are you trying to set my brother up or something?"

Amber turned her gaze to Jack, seemingly delighted by the interruption. "Well, I just thought it would be fun! You know, double dates and all that."

Luke felt his stomach twist with discomfort. This was the last thing he needed - some random woman trying to play matchmaker. He opened his mouth, fully prepared to shut down the idea, when Jack beat him to the punch.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but that's not really our thing," Jack said, his usual easygoing demeanor laced with a subtle edge. "Luke's not interested in that kind of setup. He likes to do his own thing, you know?"

Amber's face fell, a brief flash of disappointment crossing her features before she quickly schooled them into an overly bright smile. "Oh, I see. Well, that's a shame." She reached out, placing a hand on Jack's arm. "I'm sure we could still have fun, though, right?"

Luke watched the exchange with a mixture of relief and mild disgust. He'd never been one for the whole dating scene, and the thought of being set up by some random woman he'd just met made his skin crawl.

As Jack and Amber continued to flirt, Luke took the opportunity to slip away, muttering a hasty excuse about needing to unwind from the painting class.

Once he was safely ensconced in his room, Luke let out a long, weary sigh. Sometimes he envied Jack's ability to charm just about anyone - it would certainly make his own romantic life a lot easier. But for Luke, the whole dating game just felt like more trouble than it was worth.

With a shake of his head, he flopped down on his bed, fully intending to avoid the living room for the rest of the evening. The last thing he needed was to get roped into some bizarre double date scheme. No, he was perfectly content to just enjoy the rest of his day off in peace and quiet.

…

Y/N pushed open the door to her loft apartment, panting heavily as she battled to keep her armful of supplies from spilling. The large canvases she was carrying ruffled against the fabric of her coat, the bottles of paint and brushes clanking together with every step.

Frustration etched across her features, Y/N kicked the door open wider, accidentally dropping the heavy canvases to the floor with a dull thud. "Shit!" she cursed, quickly bending down to scoop them up and push them further into the apartment, letting the door slam shut behind her.

Her steps were heavy as she plodded over to the kitchen island, unceremoniously depositing the bags of art supplies. With a weary sigh, Y/N shrugged out of her coat, hanging it by the front door before flipping on the light switch, casting the spacious loft in a warm glow.

As she crossed the room, her gaze was immediately drawn to the massive painting that dominated one wall. With a flick of a switch, the mechanical blinds whirred to life, pulling back to reveal the stunning, yet hauntingly emotional work.

Shades of deep blue and mossy green swirled and blended together, creating an almost hypnotic backdrop for the central figure - a woman, her body draped in chains that seemed to constrict and bind her. The pain and anguish etched into her features was unmistakable, tugging at Y/N's heart.

Y/N stared at the painting, her brow furrowed in deep contemplation. She had been working on this piece for weeks, pouring her heart and soul into every brushstroke, every carefully rendered detail. And yet, something was still... missing.

Crossing the room, she reached out to trace the outline of the woman's face, her fingertips skimming the textured surface of the canvas. She knew this painting was important, a powerful statement on the weight of societal expectations and the struggle for personal freedom. But the emotions it evoked in her were complex, a tangled web of frustration, sorrow, and a deep, primal need to break free.

Y/N's gaze drifted to the discarded art supplies on the island, her mind racing as she considered her next move. As Y/N set to work, carefully selecting her paints and brushes, her thoughts inevitably drifted back to the enigmatic man she had encountered in her art class - Luke.

Try as she might to focus solely on the task at hand, the memory of his striking features and captivating gaze kept creeping into the forefront of her mind. She shook her head, chiding herself for the distraction.

"Get it together," she murmured under her breath, dipping her brush into the rich ultramarine paint. "You have a deadline to meet, remember?"

And yet, despite her best efforts, her mind kept circling back to that fateful moment when Luke had approached her, introducing himself with a warm smile. Y/N felt her palms grow clammy at the mere recollection, her legs beginning to bounce up and down in a nervous fidget.

She had been so caught up in her own work, so consumed by the need to finish her painting, that when he'd come over to speak to her, she had panicked. The words had stuck in her throat, her tongue feeling thick and clumsy, and she'd barely managed a coherent response before practically fleeing the scene.

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, trying to push the memory aside as she focused on blending the paint on her palette. "It was just a stupid class," she chided herself. "You're a professional, for heaven's sake. You can't afford to get distracted by some...some pretty face."

And yet, even as she tried to convince herself of that, a part of her couldn't help but wonder about Luke. Who was he, really? What was it about him that had so thoroughly captivated her, even in the brief moments they'd interacted?

Shaking her head, Y/N turned her attention back to the canvas, her brush gliding across the surface with renewed determination. She didn't have time to dwell on these silly daydreams and flights of fancy. She had a job to do, a deadline to meet, and a company that was counting on her.

Still, as she worked, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder if she might cross paths with Luke again. And whether, this time, she'd have the courage to truly get to know him.

…

Tag List <3

@dasiysthings, @mileyraes

[hyvyinjie]

JUST LIKE A DREAM.

TW! manga spoilers.

bittersweet! wistful.

t. muichiro x gn. reader.

HE FOUND HIMSELF ENSNARED IN THE RAPTUROUS EMBRACE OF A PLAIN, UNADORNED NOTEBOOK. its pristine pages beckoning him to whisper tantalizing secrets.

seating himself in the seiza style-his limbs folded gracefully—he wielded a quill like a maestro's baton, while his other hand languidly cradled his cheek-a solitary pillar of repose in the vast expanse of contemplation.

with a sigh of resignation, he embarked upon the wondrous dance between ink and parchment.

...hey.

he paused, his countenance adorned with a mask of impassivity, concealing a tempest of thoughts within.

why, he mused, did he feel compelled to extend his greetings to a humble sheet of paper?

yet, a flicker of ephemeral memory flickered through the corridors of his mind—a faint echo that whispered of customs and courtesies, of beginnings and origins.

though he found himself adrift in the enigma of it all, he yielded to the notion that a simple "hello" would serve as the key to unlock the labyrinth of his newfound routine.

anyways..

that butterfly lady gave me this.

i don't know why, she just did.

he blinked, his brows ascending with a subtle grace, as a revelation had alighted upon his consciousness like a silken butterfly.

i don't know why, she just did.

actually, i do.

she gave me this because she said that journaling..

it'd help me with my memories somehow.

if i recall correctly..she told me to write down anything i figured is worth noting, saying it'll help me 'treasure' it or something.

as he neared the culmination of his literary pilgrimage, he sighed yet again, his breath a gentle zephyr that whispered secrets to the dull room.

whatever. it doesn't matter.

the final words dripped like honey from his quill, an offering to the vast expanse of time and oblivion. yet, even as he penned the denouement of his day, a knowing knowledge clung to his intellect—one he had unfortunately grown accustomed to.

i'll forget about this, anyways.

on the contrary—to his own astonishment—he found himself ensnared within the confines of familiarity, as if destiny had conspired to recreate the tableau of days past.

an unexpected sense of accomplishment fluttered within his being, though he nonchalantly brushed it aside, for its allure held no sway over his seemingly impassive demeanor.

wow.

this again.

never thought i'd actually come back to this.

i guess that person was just so weird that i instantly went here subconsciously.

and yet—a query lingered, teasing the fringes of his consciousness.

how did he manage to recall the precise location where this artifact had been bestowed? his gaze faltered, searching the surroundings with an air of detachment, even as his countenance remained stoic and unyielding.

alas, pondering the intricacies of remembrance proved an exercise in futility.

the answer—it seemed—resided in the glorious mist of poorly scrapped away details.

in reality, for—in a moment of abandon-he had actually just left this vessel exposed upon the very table that bore witness to its initial unveiling.

with that profound comprehension nestled in the recesses of his clouded mind, he simply blinked before returning to the task of diligently jotting down the words he had momentarily paused, delicately inscribing the words that had eluded him mere seconds ago—fully aware that they would soon inevitably slip from his memory.

a pensive cloud descended upon his countenance, casting a shadow upon the dainty tapestry of his thoughts.

his brows, like twin sentinels of vexation, furrowed once more, mirroring the tumultuous musings that swirled within the depths of his mind.

speaking of which, what's their deal anyways?

he simultaneously pondered, his memory a fragmented mosaic that teased the edges of his recollection. who exactly was this vexing interloper that had managed to impede upon his path? the tendrils of remembrance danced just beyond his grasp, tantalizingly close yet frustratingly distant.

bothersome brat getting in the way like that.

the realization dawned, an ember of understanding amidst the haze. it seemed that this individual, by the mere virtue of their skills, bore the mark of a fellow demon slayer. though their intentions remained obscured, he acknowledged that their presence, even as an ally, posed an inconvenience.

yet, he couldn't help but acknowledge that the situation would have been far more dire had they been an unsuspecting civilian thrust into the fray.

"had I not intervened, you would've gotten hit instead."

the echo of their words reverberated within his mind like a daunting scene, conjuring a vivid portrait of their visage. a flicker of irritation danced in his eye, an involuntary twitch that betrayed his lingering frustration.

at least that weirdo refrained from whining and coercing me into helping them seek the aid of that butterfly lady.

even still—a veil of perplexity settled upon his thoughts, shrouding his mind in a haze of bewilderment. the actions of that imbecile confounded him, defying all logic and reason. how dare they insinuate that he lacked the agility to evade the blow? and even if he hadn't, was it not just another day, with the ebb and flow of danger an ever-present companion?

furthermore, the question lingered like a specter; why did they possess such fervent concern, enough to willingly absorb the impact intended for him? a cynical frown danced upon his lips, for he harbored a deep-seated suspicion that their motivations were rooted in a desire to don the mantle of heroism.

ordinarily, such trifling matters would have been dismissed with a mere shrug, relegated to the realm of inconsequential distractions.

and yet, that singular event, like a pebble tossed into a still pond, sent ripples coursing through the depths of his being. it stirred a dormant fire within him, kindling a smoldering embers of annoyance that refused to be extinguished.

the enigma of their actions gnawed at his consciousness, an incessant itch that demanded his attention. why did their interference provoke such a visceral reaction? what lay beneath the surface of his irritation? the answers eluded him, concealed in the murk of his own introspection.

eventually, a flicker of relief danced upon his countenance, as if a gentle breeze had brushed away the creases of consternation etched upon his features. for, in this fortuitous moment, salvation arrived in the form of ginko, his loyal companion, his assigned kasugai crow.

entering the room through the open window with a graceful flutter of ebony wings, the avian harbinger announced his imminent departure towards yet another mission, a clarion call that whisked away the tendrils of disquietude that had begun to take hold.

had he been pondering for that long?

he blinked, extending a hand adorned with purposeful gentleness, he bestowed upon ginko a few aimless caresses to the sleek feathers that adorned the crow's head. a momentary respite amidst the chaos, a fleeting connection between two souls bonded by the trials of their shared endeavors.

and then, with a seamless transition, his expression reverted back to its stoic neutrality, a mask of detachment that shielded the depths of his thoughts.

his gaze, once adrift and almost forgotten, refocused upon the near-forgotten notebook that lay before him—its pages, blank with very few words but brimming with the promise of untold tales, unlike before—it now beckoned him with an irresistible allure. who’s to say that this encounter, this outpouring of his thoughts upon its parchment, would be his last? the question lingered, suspended in the air, as if the notebook itself whispered of secrets yet untold.

however—a hint of exasperation tinged his thoughts once more, a testament to the minutes squandered upon this wearisome endeavor. the weight of time wasted settled upon his shoulders like an oppressive burden, threatening to drown him in a sea of regret. had that butterfly lady bestowed this upon him merely as a means to pass the hours in such a pitiful manner?

what’s with everyone pissing him off lately? a disapproving click of his tongue resounded, accompanied by an inward huff of frustration, as if to dismiss such thoughts as inconsequential.

yet, even as he brushed aside the notion, a lingering seed of doubt remained. the origins of this diversion, this seemingly trivial pastime, stirred a restlessness within him. but he swiftly quelled the rising tide of contemplation, for there were matters of greater import to attend to.

with a languid motion, his hand lazily fell back to his side, a symbol of resignation to the inevitability of his next mission.

ginko—ever attentive—observed his movements with unwavering focus through her beady eyes.

as he rose to his feet and walked away without a word, she hastened to follow, a silent guardian ensuring he treaded the correct path this time.

perchance, had he paid greater heed—he would have discerned the inadvertent significance he ascribed to that encounter.

possibly, if he could decipher his emotions amidst the shroud of negativity, he would come to comprehend the profound influence this ostensibly unavailing—or so he perceives it to be—undertaking continues to hold within the recesses of his hazy recollections.

a sense of weariness pervaded his being, his form slouched over the table in an exhausted posture. his arm, draped atop the surface, cradled his lower face in a gesture of weary surrender.

heavy-lidded eyes, devoid of their usual sharpness, stared blankly at the notebook before him, its pages a repository of familiarity and untapped potential.

his restless fingers found solace in the quill, an instrument of creation and expression. yet, instead of purposeful strokes, they engaged in aimless fiddling, a subconscious act of seeking comfort in the familiar. the quill danced between his fingertips, its weight and texture grounding him in the present moment.

as time trickled by, his hand slowly maneuvered with deliberate relaxation.

the quill hovered mere inches above the pristine expanse of the paper, its poised tip a conduit for the thoughts that swirled within his mind. the ink droplets within the quill began to fall, each one a testament to the passage of time and the stillness that enveloped him.

then, with a leisurely descent—the quill found its mark upon the page, leaving behind a trail of ink as he transcribed the words that lingered in his thoughts. beginning another silent conversation between the depths of his mind and the blankness of the paper.

if i had known that i’d be assigned with that idiot on the mission, i wouldn’t have even waited for their arrival.

eh. i guess they were somewhat useful..for baiting the demon.

the words upon the page bore the unmistakable mark of apathy, as if they had been woven with little to no effort. lines connected words haphazardly, yet he remained unperturbed by their disarray.

a mere blink was his response to the warm embrace of the rising sun's rays streaming through the window, causing him to momentarily shield his eyes. his lids fluttered, adjusting to the light.

shifting slightly, he raised his head, casting a glance towards the window. the sight of the morning's arrival beckoned his attention, a gentle reminder of the passing hours that had slipped away unnoticed.

would you look at that... it's morning already, and i haven't even managed a wink of sleep yet.

a yawn escaped his lips, an involuntary reflex brought forth by the weariness that engulfed him.

craning his head to the right, he raised a hand, fingers reaching out to massage the tense muscles at the back of his neck. the physical sensation provided a fleeting respite from the mental strain that weighed upon him.

tearing his gaze away from the luminous frame of light, his attention returned to the page before him.

the letters—now seemingly slid onto the page without care—formed words that appeared smudged or messy. yet, his response was one of detached observation, his eyes trailing along the inked lines as if merely skimming their surface. his mind adrift in a sea of fatigue and contemplation.

a wistful breath escaped his lips, carrying with it a tinge of reflection. to think that in the end, he found himself aiding them, joining forces with those he once regarded with a mix of skepticism and reservation. vague memories of their coordination and shared battles flickered in his mind, a testament to their surprising competence.

irony hung in the air, as he ever-so begrudgingly acknowledged the decency of their skill, granting them the credit they deserved.

but to say that he still harbored a grudge would be an overstatement. time had a way of blurring the sharp edges of resentment, softening the sting of past grievances.

he had moved on—or at least strived to do so—simply because he no longer wished to expend mental energy on such affairs.

of course, the reasoning behind their initial encounter still eluded him. the circumstances that had brought them together remained shrouded in mystery, a puzzle piece that refused to fit neatly into the larger picture.

yet, despite this lack of understanding, he had chosen to extend his assistance.

it was a matter of reciprocity, an unspoken agreement that demanded the return of the favor. they had aided him, and so he, in turn, had done the same.

but let it be known that his actions were certainly not born out of deliberate intention. it wasn't a calculated decision to seek their gratitude or favor. no, he had been driven solely by his sense of duty, a commitment to vanquish the demon that had threatened their lives. their expressions of gratitude that followed were—in his perception—unwarranted and unnecessary.

don’t get him wrong, it wasn't a matter of rejecting their appreciation out of disdain or arrogance. it was simply a matter of perspective. he saw his actions as obligations fulfilled, his purpose aligned with the task at hand. the gratitude they offered was an unexpected byproduct, an outcome that held little significance in the grand scheme of his mission.

unbeknownst to him—his head gradually dipped lower, a subtle surrender to the weight of exhaustion. his eyes, utterly heavy with weariness, would occasionally flutter open, a futile effort to rouse himself from the encroaching grasp of sleep.

but little did he know, there existed a vast realm of his true intentions beneath the surface of his consciousness, waiting to be explored, waiting to unveil its secrets—a landscape of an undiscovered reality and hidden depths lay dormant, longing to be discovered.

yet, in his current state, he remained oblivious to the elusive wonders that lay within.

oblivious to the possibilities that awaited him, he continued to battle the encroaching embrace of sleep, unaware of the treasures that could be unearthed once he relinquished his conscious hold.

but perhaps, in due time, the mist would lift, and he would come to realize the vastness that lay hidden within, embracing the unknown with open arms and truly delving into the depths, and alas reaching a benevolent understanding of his own subconscious.

soon enough, he found himself absentmindedly twirling a petal between his fingers as he entered the room. his focus remained fixated on the delicate blossom even as his hand closed the door behind him, and even as he made his way towards the mirror.

gradually, he lifted his gaze, his eyes settling on the flower crown adorning his head. the sakura petals, masterfully intertwined, caught his attention, their beauty captivating his senses.

with an almost contemplative look, he then raised the petal he held to eye-level, keenly studying its intricate details.

of all people, who would have thought he'd be adorning something as whimsical as this? it seemed that over time, through some inexplicable force, he had found himself repeatedly crossing paths with an individual he had once deemed a nuisance.

bizzarely, he discovered that he often engaged in small conversations with them—or rather—they spoke while he found himself lost in his own thoughts as usual, staring at the wispy clouds.

however, that habit of his had not lasted long with them.

he recalled a time when he unexpectedly began sparing a not-so discreet glance for the person who stood beside him, whilst internally pursuing his own musings while they carried on with their activities.

perhaps it was because he secretly wished for their presence to vanish? he had made his feelings abundantly clear, even voicing his desire to be rid of them. yet, they stubbornly persisted, undeterred by his dismissive attitude.

and so, he had resigned himself to their constant presence, reluctantly accepting the fact that they would be a part of his daily life.

today, it was he who stumbled upon them—a reversal of their usual encounters.

he couldn't help but note the uncharacteristic silence that enveloped them, a departure from their usual chatter.

enveloped in a realm of heightened intrigue, his inquisitive spirit awakened. his gaze, like a wandering star, was drawn to the focal point that held their rapt fascination.

with an arched ascent, his eyebrows mirrored his amazement. majestically poised, a resplendent tapestry unfolded before him—a bountiful cherry blossom tree, its branches bedecked in resplendent blooms. the sakura petals—akin to balletic maestros—pirouetted gracefully through the air, composing a symphony of ethereal enchantment.

in that instant, he comprehended the rationale behind their entranced stare. the vision of the grand cherry blossom tree, its delicate petals dancing with elegance, possessed an irresistible charm that surpassed his customary indifference. it stood as a tableau of organic marvel, another spectacle capable of evoking a latent response within him, even if he had not fully embraced it until now.

blinking in a manner reminiscent of an owl, he returned to the present moment.

ultilizing both hands, he delicately removed the flower crown from his head. unusually, he handled it with an exceptional tenderness, treating it as though it were a fragile treasure he was determined to preserve with utmost care.

however, inexplicably, he decided to place it adjacent to his notebook. then, his attention shifted back to the petal he had held throughout the entire process, and a subtle downturn of his lips coupled with a slight furrowing of his brows betrayed his disappointment.

the petal appeared slightly crumpled... perhaps he should have focused on it first before removing the crown?

his head instinctively tilted as he contemplated the past. unbeknownst to him, the fact that he was investing such reflection into a... gift—as they had claimed it to be—went entirely unnoticed.

an idea flickered to life within the recesses of his mind, though it may not have been grand in scale.

with a sense of purpose, he resolved to safeguard this newfound notion within the pages of his trusty notebook instead of just noting them down much like the previous, yet now said to be countless of times he did so. it wasn't that he had no intention of exploring the idea further; rather, he held a silly belief that by preserving the delicate petal within its confines, he would be able to summon fragments of today's events whenever he cast his gaze upon it.

it was, undoubtedly, a risky endeavor.

the transience of memory and the fragility of moments made such attempts at preservation inherently uncertain. yet, undeterred by the potential pitfalls, he was determined to give it a try.

there was a spark of hope that momentarily alighted within his ever-so dull eyes as he carefully placed the petal between the pages, allowing it to find its place amidst the inked words and scribbled thoughts.

in his mind, the notebook was like a vessel of recollection, the doorway through which he could access the essence of that particular day.

with each passing glance, he believed he would be transported back to the sights, sounds, and emotions that had colored his experience. it was a belief steeped in a touch of magic, a genuine desire to capture the essence of fleeting moments and keep them alive in some tangible form.

of course, he understood the inherent risk of such an endeavor. memories could be fickle, subject to the passage of time and the distortions of perception—that he knew all too well, yet, he couldn't resist the allure of the notion, the tantalizing prospect of preserving a piece of today's events within the pages of his notebook.

thus, he closed the notebook—sealing the petal within its protective embrace. only time would reveal whether his whimsical idea would bear fruit. but for now, he carried a glimmer of anticipation, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, he had found a way to capture the essence of the present and carry it with him into the future.

one day, on the verge of departing for the swordsmith village, he found himself casting a final glance around his room.

as his eyes scanned the space, they landed upon a particular object resting undisturbed on the table, alongside a vibrant, circular rosy crown. yet, his gaze lingered upon the sight of the flowers, a momentary pause in his preparations.

was there something he was forgetting?

he brushed off the thought, convincing himself that it was nothing of importance.

or was it?

perhaps a faint inkling nagged at the back of his mind, suggesting that there was more to it than he initially believed.

without realizing it—he was drawn across the room, his steps guided by an unseen force.

he found himself crouching down near the designated area, his hand reaching out to flip through the pages of his notebook. however, his action was halted as his eyes caught sight of a roseate petal nestled within the notebook's pages.

curiosity sparked within him, and he raised an eyebrow as he gingerly plucked the petal from its sanctuary. absentmindedly, he twirled it between his fingers, a gesture that felt oddly familiar, inducing a sense of déjà vu.

but where had he witnessed such a scene before?

as he pondered, a realization dawned upon him. It wasn't a memory of witnessing someone else engage in this action; rather, it was he himself who had performed it.

a surge of recollection washed over him, memories resurfacing from the depths of his mind. the twirling of the petal, the sensation between his fingertips—these were gestures he had made before, though their significance had slipped from his conscious grasp.

In that singular moment, the forgotten fragments of his own past intertwined with the present, weaving together a tapestry of connections that transcended time.

recognition dawned upon him with a sudden clarity. it was from that day—the day where a sensation so tender and poignant stirred within him, almost like a bittersweet ache, evoking a warmth that eluded his understanding, leaving him unable to grasp its true essence.

the memory resurfaced, vivid and potent, as he held the petal in his hand. it was a symbol—a relic that carried the weight of a significant moment, a moment that had shaped him in ways he had yet to fully comprehend.

as his gaze shifted between the delicate petal and the floral circlet, he couldn't help but acknowledge their significance. they were gifts, given to him by that same person whose presence had once been a source of annoyance, but had since become intertwined with his life in ways he never anticipated.

a subtle flicker of a smile danced across his features, fleeting yet unmistakable.

it was a ghost of a smile, evoking a sense of warmth and nostalgia. just like that very same day, beneath the sakura tree.

after a few more contemplative moments, he gently placed the petal back within the pages of his notebook. it was an act imbued with a renewed sense of curiosity and introspection.

as he carefully tucked it away, he recognized that this petal held more than just a fragment of his present—it also served as a tether to his past.

standing up, he straightened his attire, smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed during his moment of reflection.

leaving the room behind, he stepped forward, his footsteps carrying him away from the familiar and towards the villa—yet, as he ventured forth, he carried with him the knowledge that within the depths of his own experiences, there were secrets waiting to be unveiled. these hidden truths, veiled within the recesses of his own identity, held the potential to guide him closer to understanding who he truly was.

muichiro’s brows knit together, his eyes narrowing slightly as he winced, perusing the passages he had penned not long ago—but in that period, he found himself at the nadir of his existence, akin to a vessel housing an empty soul, where the flicker of life seemed to wane within him.

immersed in the depths of his own written words, a wave of self-critique washed over him. the realization of his perceived deficiencies bore down heavily upon his psyche.

was my prose truly so lackluster?

his countenance contorted into a visage of melancholic discontent. he couldn't help but introspect on his conduct and acknowledge the impoliteness he had exhibited. it pained him to recognize the echoes of his late twin brother within himself, bearing the burden of both his loss, and their shared flaws.

a tinge of remorse lingered as he ran a hand through his hair, grappling with the repercussions of his actions.

yet, amidst the remorse, his spirits gradually ascended as he reminisced on a separate recollection—the instant when he emerged from his coma, their unwavering presence by his side.

that memory bestowed a glimmer of solace, softening his somber expression. they had been dumbfounded, incapable of containing their emotions upon witnessing his awakening.

in that fleeting moment, they had clung to him fervently, as if he were their vital lifeline. though their embrace—much to his dismay—had swiftly slackened upon realizing his frailty, the impact of their initial response eternally etched in his consciousness.

reflecting upon that juncture, a smile graced his lips. he held no remorse for his instinctive reaction to embrace them, despite his own corporeal anguish.

a gentle flush tinged his cheeks as he sensed that familiar flutter in his heart, impelling him to tilt his head inquisitively.

“that feeling again...” he mused—this time, aloud—as he rose a hand to the region where his heartbeat, almost amplifying with its errancies—resided. his gaze descended, fixated upon that enigmatic yet captivating feeling. curiously pirouetted in his eyes, a pure and guileless yearning for comprehension.

he contemplated the prospect of unraveling the enigma at the butterfly mansion, where he might unearth the veracity behind this inexplicable sensation.

maybe, it was naught but a lingering malady, an unseen affliction that had eluded his awareness. he mulled over the displeasing notion, recognizing the imperative to illuminate the puzzle that lay dormant within him.

little did he fathom the profundity of what lay ahead, the intricate tapestry of emotions and connections that awaited him.

if only he comprehended the significance of that flutter in his heart, the profound impact it would wield upon his odyssey.

several weeks had elapsed, and once more he found himself clutching his notebook, as if it were an extension of his being.

resting against the wall, he clasped the item firmly in his grasp, his gaze wandering towards the window as he settled into a seated position. with his knees drawn up to his chest, they formed an improvised tabletop, providing a stable surface for him to write on.

the room was bathed in the spill of moonlight, bestowing upon it a tranquil luminescence that infused the scene with ethereal allure. positioned at the precipice of the empty page, his quill poised like a delicate dancer, he sensed a surge of anticipation welling within him.

it had been a while since he had last visited the notebook, let alone written in it.

initially, this realization held a tinge of sadness. however, he began to view it as a form of success—a testament to his growth and progress—he no longer needed the notebook as a vessel for his memories, as he had learned to hold them within himself without the fear of them dispersing from his mind.

although he had been reluctant to let go of the notebook in the beginning, fearing that he would regress to his former self, he gradually grew accustomed to relying less on its pages. this change was thanks to a certain someone who had provided him with remarkable encouragement and support along the way.

speaking of that someone..

a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he reminisced about the unfolding events.

at long last, he had mustered the courage to convey his heartfelt gratitude to them for rescuing him on that fateful day of their initial encounter. in retrospect, he finally recognized how his own negativity had obscured the fact that his concern and guilt had driven his actions, leading to harm befalling their well-being.

with the weight of unexpressed appreciation lifted from his shoulders, a profound sense of contentment and relief settled within him.

it felt really good.

and relieving too. i’m glad to finally be able to appreciate them properly now.

the words resonated within him, echoing the profound impact this newfound expression of gratitude had on his relationship with them as he lowered his quill onto the waiting page, he began to write, capturing the essence of his gratitude in ink. the words flowed freely, a testament to his newfound ability to express his appreciation and to cherish the moments that had led him to this point.

in that quiet room, with the moon as his witness, he continued to write, allowing his emotions to spill onto the pages, creating a tangible record of his gratitude and the growth he had achieved.

naturally, he expressed his gratitude to shinobu as well, for she was the catalyst that set the entire endeavor in motion.

however, he couldn't deny that his experience with that particular individual had left a deeper impact on him, resonating within his being in a way that he couldn't easily dismiss.

we made origami today.

was if their first time? i wouldn’t believe it at all if they said yes, they did amazing.

the corners of his mouth lifted even further, a radiant smile spreading across his face. pride swelled within his chest as he reminisced about the moment when he, much like they had done beneath the sakura tree during the day—left his creations with them as a souvenir—a heartfelt gift.

his eyes fluttered, lids half-lowered, as his smile softened. the memory of their laughter resonated in his ears, a joyful sound that echoed through his mind. it was a honeyed melody, harmonious and timeless, etched into his memories like a cherished tune he would never grow tired of.

in that moment, he felt a deep sense of connection and shared happiness. the blossoming of their laughter and their appreciation had filled him with a profound sense of fulfillment.

i made them laugh, their smile truly is adorable.

i want them to stay happy.

an undeniably childish wish.

..i wanna be the reason they do.

a selfish, yet reasonable desire.

i could just say it outright, but...

his thoughts trailed off, contemplating the words he longed to express.

his heart swelled with a mixture of emotions, and yet, there was a hesitancy that held him back. the idea of openly conveying his yearning to be their source of joy brought forth an inexplicable feeling, a blend of anticipation and seldom vulnerability.

with a heavy sigh, he leaned his head back, seeking a moment of respite.

however, to his dismay—he misjudged the distance and inadvertently hit the wall with more force than intended. the impact elicited a wince and a deadpan expression as a wave of discomfort washed over him.

“ouch..”

rubbing the back of his head with his free hand, he closed one eye, gritting his teeth in response to the pain. regret filled his thoughts as he berated himself for not considering the consequences of his actions.

"just why didn't I take that into consideration?" he muttered, a tinge of frustration evident in his mellow voice.

it was a momentary lapse, a reminder of the fallibility that resided within him. the physical discomfort mirrored the emotional unease he felt, a reminder that expressing his feelings came with its own set of risks and uncertainties.

no, he had abandoned his initial notion of visiting the butterfly mansion to have his ‘condition’ assessed. as due to being one of the hashiras, it was now his duty to train the lower-ranked individuals, aiming to help them awaken their own marks while enhancing their abilities.

in essence, he found himself devoid of the time needed to pursue his plan. although it was indeed a missed opportunity, he chose not to dwell on it excessively.

besides, none of his attributes seemed to have weakened, so he simply disregarded the occasional peculiar sensation blooming in his chest whenever thoughts of them arose, dismissing it as a mere figment of his imagination—a hallucination.

he let out a resigned breath, a sense of acceptance washing over him. his hand fell back to his side, but as he blinked, his gaze followed a petal as it slipped out of his notebook's grasp, gracefully descending onto the floor beside him.

his mouth formed a small "o" of surprise, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. he blinked thrice, processing the unexpected turn of events. however, his features soon softened, morphing into a tender expression as he retrieved the fallen petal.

solicitously cradling the delicate leaf between his fingers, he twirled it once more, marveling at its beauty. the petal really did hold a certain allure, captivating his attention and stirring memories within him.

"it’s as beautiful as i remember..” he whispered softly, a touch of nostalgia coloring his voice. in that simple petal, he found a reflection of past beauty, a reminder of moments that had touched his soul.

as he held the petal, he couldn't help but reflect on the transient nature of beauty and the fleeting nature of time. just like the petal, moments of beauty come and go, leaving only memories behind. yet, in that fleeting beauty, there is a sense of profound appreciation and wonder.

while the world could be cruel, he yearned to bask in the fragments of ephemeral glory and find joy in the fleeting moments. he’s now understood that life was a continuous stream of passing experiences, and he made a conscious effort to cherish each and every memory that crossed his path.

in the midst of this realization, an idea sparked in his mind—a realization that he had never written about the day beneath the sakura tree.

how had he overlooked such a profound and cherished memory?

a surge of exhilaration and eager anticipation flowed through him as he envisioned immortalizing that extraordinary day within the sacred confines of his notebook. the memory, a veritable trove of exquisite beauty, served as a poignant emblem of life's fleeting nature and the timeless significance of shared experiences.

with a determined resolve, he opened the notebook to a fresh page, his quill poised to bring the memory to life through ink. the sakura tree, with its delicate blossoms fluttering in the breeze, held a significant place in his heart. it was a sanctuary of beauty, a haven where he had experienced a profound connection with another soul—with them.

….

as the final words pirouetted gracefully upon the page, he tenderly closed his eyes, his velvety lashes caressing his cheek in a delicate dance. in this ephemeral interlude, he granted himself a stolen breath, a cherished opportunity to savor the essence of the memory once more. the day spent beneath the resplendent sakura tree had been etched with profound artistry upon the sanctums of his heart, and now, like a cherished relic, it had found its eternal dwelling within the cradle of his notebook's pages.

a contented smile graced his visage as he delicately sealed the notebook shut, its once blank canvases now adorned with fragments of his existence—a treasury of treasured recollections.

on that day, they looked exactly like a dream—all i’ve wanted, all i’ve ever needed.

the parchment succumbed to the deluge of your cascading tears, becoming drenched and sodden, as if thirstily drinking in the sorrow that overflowed from your heart. with a poignant gaze, you traversed the final passage, each word a painful reminder of the bittersweet victory that had come at the cost of his absence.

weariness weighed heavily upon your eyes, threatening to seal them shut, yearning for respite from the harsh grip of reality. your trembling lips contorted, caught in a delicate dance between joy and sorrow, forming a wistful smile that held the essence of longing. in the sanctuary of your other hand, cradled with tender reverence, lay the very petal you had once bestowed upon him. under the caress of the sun's gentle rays, it gleamed like an iridescent gem, casting a luminous glow that illuminated your tears, turning them into shimmering crystals of anguish.

geto, one of the many sentinel who had witnessed the entwined trial of your beloved and tanjiro, could offer naught but a humble bow, his head lowered in utmost deference. he understood the futility of his desire to provide solace through an embrace, recognizing the unfathomable depths of the pain that gripped your soul. as you clung tightly to the notebook he had dutifully delivered, he stood as a silent witness to your inconsolable sorrow.

in the realm of young love, tragedy often unfolds with a poetic grace.

like a tapestry woven from wisps of a dream, your intertwined forms swayed in the breeze, as if caught in the ethereal embrace of destiny. and as the wind whispered its gentle secrets through the tendrils of your existence, the memory, forever enshrined, would reside as an indelible impression within the chambers of your collective memories, transcending the boundaries of time and spanning an unfathomable infinity.

[flowersforchoso]

—saccharine.

a domestic ficlet (?) sub-zero x f.reader

bi han couldn't believe it. no, refused to believe his ears.

when you approached him, palms slicked with trepidation and uttered those words in the form of a question. he looked at you with seriousness, searching for any hint of deceit in your countenance but finding none, which was all the more preposterous.

"do you like me bi han?"

was this a joke?

he married you. had a child with another on the way, and you still thought so little of his feelings? when did it all start?

"how does your mind conceive such ridiculousness?" he settled for an interrogation of his own, making you bite your lip and look away, unable to withstand the heavy gaze of your husband. the broken eye contact unnerved him, so he sought your face: calloused fingers gripping your jaw to draw attention back to him, which made you tense but concede nonetheless.

"answer me" he demanded, voice stern with an undercurrent of impatience that had you cowering in fear. you couldn't help it. despite being married, bi han still intimidated you.

"i- i just- just wanted to know since you- you barely ever tell me that you... love me"

"don't get angry please" you appeased to deflect any ire even though, he never got angry with you. he could be... abrasive but that was his default temperament towards everyone and you, his wife, was no exception.

bi han sighed then released his hold, realizing your emotions were getting the best of you. and since you were pregnant, being hysterical came with the territory, which led to a mental scolding for not exercising enough attitudinal restraint

he was not the most affectionate man, no bumbling lovesick fool. still, he couldn't deny he was hurt by your doubt of his love for you, especially in this delicate condition. he saw the error of his ways and strove to correct them by dispelling false notions that had taken root in your mind. so he leaned in, barely audible, to tell his truth

"i can never be angry at you. you know that. your question eludes me is all"

the anxieties that wreaked your body seemed to vanish when you heard those words, making you hum. he caressed your cheek before kissing you: toned arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his frame to deepen it. you let out a muffled moan, which he wholeheartedly swallowed as you clung to your sturdy pillar—while his hands glided about, caressing your body's plumpness. the barely visible swell of your belly not going untouched either.

when he withdrew from you, his eyes were alight with an intoxicating passion that held promises of things to come

"i will remind you of my love for you" he murmurs as he gently carries you towards the shared bed. his intentions clear, and the anticipation thrilling to you.

[hometownrockstar]

Hello Mr. David Lynch, if you don't mind I would like a moment of your time to propose an exciting new capital opportunity for you. Please put yourself in the shoes of a potential customer for this exercise: you have been working hard all day but can't seem to get through the mysteries of your work that elude you, and everything seems like a puzzle you simply cannot grasp the nature of quite yet. You're at the grocery store, but every product is benign and hiding secrets behind it's colorful and simple exterior. You need a snack that will sate your hunger for answers while providing that relaxing, intoxicating flavor of a good cup of coffee. Then, from the corner of your eye, you spot it.

Twin Peaks brand chips, with the inviting visage of none other than Special Agent Dale Cooper, in the flavor of that illuminating Twin Peaks coffee that helped Coop solve all the mysteries of the town. But if coffee is not to your liking, we have several other flavors in production, such as: Laura Palmer's Sea Salt and Vinegar, Leland Palmer's Buffalo Ranch, Audrey Horne's Honey Habanero, and of course for a limited time, The Black Lodge: Fire Hot Jalapeño Walk With Me. If this interests you, Mr. David Lynch, then please get back to me and I'll have my secretary arrange a meeting.

[highlycosmic]

a writeblr re-introduction

About me:

Hi, my name is Atlas (they/them); a twenty something year old, aspiring storyteller, living in London. I write and draw sometimes.

What to expect from his blog:

Aside from the copious memes, there will be character biographies, world building exercises, writing prompts, and the occasional illustration. Currently working on the same project this blog started with 5 years ago, revolting to think about but that’s what happens when you pick up an old hyper-fixation you just can’t seem to let go.

What’s your project?

I’m so glad you asked, the working title is Where Souls End, a fantasy adventure novel set in the afterlife.

Quick Pitch:

The Aether, neither heaven nor hell, but rather, a single afterlife.

Human souls are shaped by the lives they lead, moulded by experiences and bonds shared with others but are doomed to start again, losing every connection they’ve built at the death of their human body. Trapped within an endless cycle of reincarnation, simply being reborn again and again until a soul becomes powerful enough to break free of that cycle, only then are they reborn a final time to live an eternal, limitless life in the Aether, regaining every memory, piece of knowledge, and bond experienced in the human world.

Mavis is reborn into a world completely unknown, memories that were meant to return elude her mind as she navigates a world struggling to maintain stability. She finds herself in a miraculous town where everyone is suspiciously happy for a world in turmoil. Although, after her arrival, things begin to turn strange. Souls start going missing without explanation and Mavis quickly finds herself at the root of suspicions as she uncovers the tarnished history of this town and its inhabitants.

I’m excited to get back into this - hope you’ll support whatever this brain churns out!

[dasenergi]

it’s very out of the blue, but I feel like you might have an answer: do you mind sharing a way to ground or open your sacral chakra? I was told that might be something I need to work on but engaging with it eludes me

Hello, Friend,

First, let’s clarify a few concepts:

Grounding refers to becoming more centered in your body and present in the moment. It's about connecting with the earth to bring your energy down from the upper chakras and distribute it evenly throughout your body. Grounding stabilizes and connects you, forming a foundation for removing blockages and allowing energy to flow freely through your chakras.

Opening a chakra, on the other hand, is about activating and energizing the chakra.

As a reiki healer, I have worked with clients who have experienced different blockages — overactive (which can feel hot) and underactive (which can feel cold) chakras. In my experience, while reiki and sound baths can support chakra healing, the most significant progress happens when clients actively engage in their own healing process. This work requires patience, consistency, and commitment to a daily practice.

I am curious why you specifically mentioned the sacral chakra. Understanding your experience with this chakra could help identify what might be blocking it and how best to balance it. Below I will speak in broad general terms about my experience with grounding, the sacral chakra, and ways people recommend to balance it.

The Sacral Chakra: Creativity, Emotional Expression, and Sensuality

When the sacral chakra is unbalanced, it can manifest in various ways:

Emotional instability Insecurity and anxiety Addictive behaviors (overindulgence) Resentment and guilt Lack of creativity Feeling unmotivated Lack of desire

When this chakra is balanced, you feel emotionally grounded, creatively fulfilled, and physically vibrant. You are inspired, creative, sensual, passionate, playful, energetic, joyful, balanced, and connected.

Grounding Techniques When I work with clients on grounding, we usually use meditation, breathwork, and visualization.

Tree Visualization/Meditation: We hold hands, close our eyes, and synchronize our breathing. I then guide them to imagine themselves as a tree, with roots extending deep from their feet into the earth. They feel the energy from the earth rising up through their roots, stabilizing and centering them. Their arms and hands become branches reaching for the sun, feeling its nutrients invigorate them. They imagine their branches swaying in the wind, taking in carbon dioxide, and releasing oxygen back into the atmosphere. Their body is the tree trunk, feeling strong, connected, and supported — energy flowing freely.

Barefoot Walking: Another effective grounding technique is walking barefoot on natural surfaces like the earth, grass or soil. Whether it’s a walk in a park, forest, or beach, this direct connection with nature can be incredibly grounding.

Connecting with Nature: Touching nature, hugging trees, talking to plants, and listening to their responses are other powerful ways to ground. Gardening can also be a deeply grounding practice, even if its just potted plants inside of your home. If you don't have any plants, visit a plant nursery and become a plant parent. If you are nervous about being a plant parent, start-off with a small succulent. They tend to be easier to care for, although a few have died while in my care.

Physical Exercise: Physical activities like swimming, walking, or going to the gym can help ground your energy and bring awareness to your body.

Water Connection: Water is especially beneficial for grounding. Whether it is taking a dip in a stream, river, ocean, spa, swimming pool, or even a bath or shower, water can help you reconnect and stabilize your energy. Practice luxurious bathing. Water is my personal #1 healing & spiritual practice. (It is not out of the ordinary for me to take 3 showers a day.) If I don't swim every day, I feel it. I just got back from a multi-week silent meditation Buddhist retreat in the mountains, and I brought with me a glass bottle of my swimming pool water to anoint myself everyday. (I also used it to water some of the trees and plants around that I was connecting with.)

Dance: Movement is another way to ground yourself AND release blocked energy. Don’t worry about how you look—just move! Create a playlist of three songs that get your body moving, and let your body guide you. Dance as if no one is watching, allowing your intuition to lead the way. (Here is a link to a Spotify playlist of songs for intuitive dancing.)

Sensory Connection: Engage in activities that bring pleasure and engage your senses, like:

Enjoying a favorite meal mindfully. Turn off the TV and electronic devices. Close your eyes and take your time to chew slowly, savoring each flavor as it unfolds on your palate. Pay attention to the sensations of eating, how the food feels in your mouth, and how your body responds to it. Allow yourself to be fully present, appreciating the nourishment and pleasure that each bite provides.

Mindful Tea or Coffee Drinking. Make a ritual out of it. Pay attention to the sound of the water boiling, the aroma as it brews, and the warmth of the cup in your hands. Sip slowly, savoring each flavor note and texture, and allow yourself to be fully present in the experience.

Textural Exploration. Spend time exploring different textures with your hands. This could be anything from soft fabrics, like silk or velvet, to natural textures, like stones or leaves. Close your eyes and really focus on how each texture feels against your skin, allowing yourself to be absorbed in the sensation.

Opening & Balancing the Sacral Chakra involves a combination of the grounding techniques (above) and also some suggest the below:

Color and Crystals: Some believe that the sacral chakra’s association with the color orange means that eating orange foods (like oranges, carrots, mangoes, and cantaloupe) or carrying orange crystals (like Amber, Carnelian, Orange Calcite, Gold Tiger’s Eye, and Moonstone) can help balance it. This also includes wearing orange clothes, perhaps a new orange scarf or shoes? October is coming up!

Yoga Poses: While I am not trained in yoga (and only practice sporadically) certain poses are often recommended for opening the sacral chakra, such as Mountain Pose, Tree Pose, Warrior Pose, Crescent Pose, Goddess Pose, Forward Bend, Bound Angle Pose, Triangle Pose, Pigeon Pose, and Butterfly Pose. Aromatherapy: Mindful breathing with scents. Using essential oils like jasmine, sandalwood, ylang-ylang, orange, or patchouli can also support sacral chakra healing.

Creativity: Expressing yourself creatively is key to sacral chakra health. Write, draw, paint—let your creative energy flow. Even if you are not feeling particularly inspired, just start. A single brush stroke or word on a page can lead to more. Make creativity a daily practice, whether it is doodling, writing a sentence, or something else.

And probably the most important recommendation on how to balance your sacral chakra—

Emotional Exploration: Since the sacral chakra is closely tied to your emotions, consider exploring any underlying emotional issues or traumas that might be contributing to the imbalance. Journaling daily, therapy, or talking with someone you trust can be powerful tools in this process.

Even though I tried to be as thorough as possible above, I should note that I am NOT actually an expert in the chakras. I disagree with the common western belief that there are only seven chakras. I believe that there are A LOT more. Each finger has at least four! Chakras are energy vortexes. And I have a lot of opinions about them.

But like I mentioned above, doing the grounding work that I mentioned along with a daily practice, should help you.

If you want to come off Anon and send a personal message, I will be happy to provide more thoughts on the subject specific to your circumstance.

[lamemaster]

Matters of Stamina (Glorfindel x Reader)

Pairing: Glofindel x Reader

Genre: fluff

AN: I have human pride, sue me idc :)

"We elves have always been known for our faithfulness. Consider the story of Luthien who defied fate for the sake of Beren," you mused, inwardly struggling to recall the name of the elf seated before you. You were quite certain he had some connection to Anaire, Nolofinwë's wife, but the name eluded your memory no matter how hard you tried.

If only you could remember the name, you would have reminded the elf that even among the elves, there were instances where individuals prioritized their own desires over the happiness of others. Thingol, for instance, had subjected Beren to a daunting quest driven by his own greed, endangering the happiness of his own daughter. However, you chose to exercise restraint, not wanting to offend another of your beloved's kin. By Eru, Glorfindel had shit ton of kin!

Marrying the renowned Balrog slayer, you had come to expect such bouts of elven pride. Elves did have a tendency to take boasting to another level when it came to their lineage. But your love for Glorfindel was unwavering, and you held him in the highest regard. Love came with respect and honor, and you did not require anyone to remind you of the magnificence of your beloved.

What puzzled you, though, was why showing respect for elvenkind seemed to necessitate belittling your own kind. Did men need to be diminished for elves to shine brightly? But what good would an argument during such joyous times yield? You wouldn't want Glorfindel to bear the weight of your choices.

Resigned to your fate, you nodded in agreement to the huffing Noldor before you. "Yes, indeed, it is a great honor," you replied, scanning the room for Glorfindel who had promised to bring you a drink. It had been a good thirty minutes, and since then, you had been stuck with the elf whose name continued to elude you which barred you from politely excusing yourself in hopes of escaping the awkward conversation.

"Although," the elf began, "I must say, it must be challenging for your kind to commit like us firstborn, for men do not bond in the same way as elves do." You stared directly at the elf in front of you, incredulous at his earlier statement. "It is understandable that your love is more fickle than ours. I just fear for Glorfindel..." The smug smile on his face made you contemplate throwing a punch, but you refrained from doing so. Mustering a pleasant smile on your face, the kind that your loved ones dreaded you acknowledged the duel of words the elf initiated.

"I agree there is indeed a lot Glrofindel and I must work on for our marriage to work," the Noldo beamed at your admission.

Leaning in close, your voice took on a sincere tone, and the elf mirrored your actions, eagerly anticipating the gossip you were about to deliver. Seizing the moment, you waited for him to take a sip of his drink, creating a perfect atmosphere of dramatic anticipation. And then, you dropped the bombshell, struggling to contain your laughter. "I wonder if your kind can keep up. We men… we have more stamina, and well, you know how elves are," you gestured vaguely, pretending to understand their limitations.

The Noldor's reaction was priceless, his drink spewing forth as he choked in surprise, caught off guard by your audacity. The hall fell into a stunned silence, the heightened elven senses ensuring that everyone had heard your revelation. Ignoring the disapproving gazes fixed upon you, you feigned a morose sigh, pretending to be engrossed in the embroidery of your gown. You were fairly certain one of those glares belonged to your seamstress somewhere in the crowd.

To your surprise, the Noldo remained rooted to his spot, rather than storming away in a fit of rage. "How much?" he managed to ask, his eyes widening with surprise and disbelief.

"Five to seven times a day," you whispered, using your fingers to motion the number, relishing the sight of the elf's eyes losing focus as his mind struggled to process the information.

"But it is all right, a small price to pay for love, isn't it?" you leaned back, breaking away from the trance you had cast upon the entire room. The elf sitting across from you nodded stupidly, and you restrained your laughter. Well, this was the price Glorfindel would pay for subjecting you to the painful conversation for the past half an hour.

The Noldor, still recovering from his momentary shock, stared at you with a mixture of disbelief and bewilderment. The smugness had vanished from his face, replaced by an expression of wide-eyed surprise. The room buzzed with stunned silence and hushed whispers as everyone struggled to process the audacious revelation you had just made.

Unable to contain your mischievous smile, you savored the victory in this playful battle of wits. Gradually regaining his composure, the Noldor managed to speak, his voice tinged with disbelief. "But… but that's… quite impressive," he stammered, his eyes still slightly glazed over.

You shrugged nonchalantly, maintaining an air of innocence. "Well, it's a matter of stamina, as I mentioned. We humans are renowned for our endurance, after all."

A few chuckles and snickers rippled through the room, with some onlookers struggling to contain their laughter. Glorfindel, finally returning with your drink, shot you an amused glance, clearly relishing the unexpected turn of events.

Rising from your seat, you took the drink from Glorfindel, intertwining your arm with his as you leaned your head on his shoulder. "Oh, my beloved, rest assured, I will always love you, no matter what," you said, evading the obvious question written on Glorfindel's face, and steered him away from the bewildered Noldor.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Will you write me a poem about what it feels like to know you won’t exist anymore?

Sure thing, but it might be a little self-indulgent:

From the branches above you,

swaying just out of reach,

teeming with leaves and flowers

they hold out in mockery,

there are things that mock you

in ways that you have learned,

until you

live your life in mockery,

you don't think of it anymore.

They once were so appealing:

memories, good and bad,

love, drugs, sex, friendship,

mountain streams, the stars above,

the distant, winking promise

of all the things left to be done.

You used to spin stories

of what you would be

and at the time, it seemed

that a lifetime would let you get there.

And then you finally found it,

the one thing you had always yearned for.

You discovered a world

of wonder,

and this made you feel

you knew better now.

A world of more wonder

than you could ever know

except by exploring,

by feeling each moment

again and again, on purpose,

saying to yourself

you must not let yourself

stop caring.

Until you thought you'd had it all,

everything you could ever want,

resplendent in its fullness,

the one thing you had yearned for,

the one thing that had always eluded you,

and yet, now that you'd gotten it,

it was like you'd been cheated,

you had become something else,

what it was and what you wanted

were now separate, different things.

Without it you were lost.

You thought you could fix the problem

by moving forward and backward in time,

now and then and again and again,

you could flip things over,

and maybe you could make it all

out of the same, familiar ingredients,

if you just reran

this one thing

this one event,

whatever you'd learned

it was the event that made you,

to unlearn the world

that was shaped by it,

to unlearn love

and everything else

it had shaped,

until you came back to the present

in the same place you'd begun,

only then could you sleep,

only then were you safe.

You'd always found it hard

to unlearn what you'd been told

and you'd decided

you were not going to do it anymore.

So you always knew

that things would never be alright,

that the world was never right,

that it would always be unfinished,

that everything was off-key

and you could not be forgiven

for being what you were.

Your life was always going to be,

from start to finish,

an exercise in how

to go about things wrong,

to think things were alright

when you were about to be told

that you were not.

You expected to find yourself

living all the same things

all over again,

just in a different order.

You had always been the one

who felt left out,

who spent his days

just waiting for them to end,

who came to this place

just by chance.

And so you'd come to this place

at the end,

all by chance.

You thought,

maybe that is it,

maybe that is what it feels like

to know you won't exist anymore.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

hello 😁 was wondering if u had any snippets u would like to share on this lovely day 🤲

lovely anon thank you for asking! feels like i’ve posted a lot of snippets lately but you made me go dig around, so here’s a lestappen one:

————

Charles shifts on his side of the bed and props himself up on his elbow. He looks excited. Max knows this is not always a good sign.

“I saw this thing on Twitter—” Charles says.

“You are on there too much.”

“I know, but let a celibate man have his indulgence, oui?”

“Celibate.” Max mutters, knowing what they do together is nothing of the sort.

“We are basically monks now. Besides the sex, obviously. And anyway, you are distracting me from the point. It is an exercise. Getting to know each other better, this type of thing.”

“Okay. And?”

“It is a list of questions to ask each other. But for now I only want to ask one.”

“Zeg eens.”

Charles looks very serious suddenly. Eyes big like dinner plates. Max quite likes when Charles is like this. Like a dog with a bone. He would make a good hunting dog, Max thinks. But a friendly one. One that would run the pack down and exhaust himself until the thing gets done. The Scuderia is his herd, in a way. Always an errant sheep to be chased, but he knows Charles likes his purpose, likes doing his job, even if the WDC continues to elude him. Max knows, because he has been there before too, chasing and chasing until his dream was fulfilled. That was before he knew there was another dream he wanted, close to his grasp. A dream he now has in his hands, lucid and real and touchable in his own bed. Whether it is more complicated because Max is the obstacle to Charles’s WDC is a problem for another time.

Charles leans in, engulfing the view in front of Max. “You must answer this honestly, yes?”

“Sure.”

“What are you afraid of?”

————

[k9authorwolf]

Lucid Dreams- Bucky Barnes x Autistic!Enchanced!Reader (Part 01)

Summary: The cradle of sleep continuously eludes Bucky. Nightmares tormented him every night. But a chance encounter with an unknown woman draws him into the dream realm. Granting him the peace he so desired. But he longs to see her again. His dreamgirl.

Disclaimer: The reader's autistic traits are based on my own. Every autistic person is different with their own different traits. So please do not assume every autistic person is like this.

Inspiration: Lucid Dream by Owl City

Bucky jolted awake from another nightmare. Covered head to toe in sweat, his heart rate extremely high. He was in his apartment, on the floor in the living room with a bunch of blankets and his pillow. The TV on low playing some crappy old sitcom from two decades ago was the only light in the room. Bucky groaned in frustration as his hands went to his short hair. He hadn’t had any decent sleep in weeks. Nothing but nightmares.

He was so tired.

The lack of sleep was affecting him during the day, shuffling through the streets as if he were undead. Fueled by reflex and muscle memory. How much longer was this going to go on?

“How have you been sleeping?” Dr. Raynor asked. But Bucky didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. He just kept staring blankly out the window, his vision doubled occasionally with exhaustion. In the corner of his eye he saw Raynor grab the notebook with frustration. His anger spiked, “Like shit okay! I’ve been sleeping like shit! Happy now?!” He exclaimed. The pen stilled in the therapist’s hand as she eyed him. “Have you been doing those sleep exercises I recommended?” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yes, every single one. And not one of them made a damn bit of difference!” All these “new age” methods were ludicrous in his opinion. Scented candles, meditation, listening to some ancient sounding new age music. It was too weird for his taste. A glass of smoked whiskey and a good book was enough for him, more realistic.

Bucky sat through the rest of the session harboring anger. His frustration over the lack of sleep he was getting was pissing him off more everyday. Everynight he’d stay up as long as possible. He'd eventually pass out but he’d be up in less than four hours from a nightmare.

Walking back to his apartment the sounds of the city had become droned and melded, in his exhausted hazed mind it was like the world was fading away. He passed the little coffee shop on his route, it showed up a few months ago. Seemed to be fairly popular with the young crowd. Whatever. He just wanted to go home.

“OOF!”

Someone bumped into him. “Sorry!” They left before he could see their face. He couldn’t really see clearly through the haze in his eyes. He looked at where he felt the person’s hand touch him, on his sternum. He felt a warmth coming from it as if the hand was still there. He grasped the end of the hoodie and pulled it towards his nose, he sniffed. Coffee. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans wafted into his nose. The roasted smell made his mouth water. Fresh coffee. Maybe he’d brew up a pot when he got home.

Finally his apartment was in sight, and so was someone. Sam. The new Captain America sat on the steps of his building. Clearly waiting for him. On approach Sam stood up, “Raynor called me.” He said. Bucky rolled his eyes in annoyance, “What are you my nanny now?” Bucky snapped, fishing out his keys. “She told me about your sleep problems. I just wanna help man.” He was so sick of this. People thinking they can just walk into his life and without indirectly telling him he’s a wreck, a psychological tire fire, a monster who must obey like an obedient dog! “She knows nothing about me!” Bucky was getting more and more angry. “Buck, we're just trying to help.” Sam placed his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. But the former Winter Soldier shoved it off as if he had been burned. “SHUT UP!” He yelled. He turned to Sam, “You wanna help Sam? Then leave me alone! You have no idea how all this is for me! Everything I’ve done! And until you do, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” He yelled with all the anger that had been pent up inside.

He turned and entered the building, leaving Sam behind. Once inside everything hit him.

Why did he do that? Sam was just trying to help, like the good friend he is. And Bucky lashed out. He pushed his friend away. His only friend left. Bucky leaned his head back on the door as his face began to tremble and hot tears pooled in his eyes. He banged his head on the door in an attempt to punish himself. He slid down to the floor as sobs began to emerge from his throat. He was all alone. That’s what he does, he pushes and alienates all those close to him. Afterall it was his fault Steve left. Bucky berated himself thinking Steve abandoned him because he had enough. Bucky’s sobs echoed in his apartment. He was so tired. Why couldn’t he sleep? He just wanted to sleep.

Later that night, Bucky’s eyes were red and swollen from sobbing out his frustrations. He wished the world would just swallow him up forever. It was past midnight now, the smoked whiskey he poured two hours ago was almost finished. The astronomy book in his hand was half done. Since being freed, astronomy had become his favorite thing to catch up on. He could recall memories from his childhood where it’d be late at night, his parents and sisters would be tucked in and asleep while he snuck up to the roof to find all the constellations he could see. And get lost in thoughts over what may be beyond that sky and those stars. Now with all the satellites and space stations he was more enthralled than ever.

He yawned, he couldn’t see straight anymore. He wanted to sleep but he knew what would happen in a few hours. He needs to sleep. He stripped down to his boxers, his dog tags dangling against his bare chest. He looked at the spot where he had been touched earlier that day. It felt hot but not in a painful way, there were no marks or anything but he felt the heat seep deep inside him. Maybe he was hallucinating.

He laid down in his pile of blankets on the floor, the TV was on low. His head resting on the pillow. He took deep breaths trying to relax his mind and think of anything other than the impending nightmares he’d face later.

What would it be like to float through outer space? He wondered. Where nothing mattered. The problems he faced everyday would just melt away. Just him and the endless horizon of stars.

He slipped into sleep.

Weightless, Free, Peace, and warmth. That’s what Bucky felt, he’d never felt this before.

I am a light sleeper

But I am a heavy dreamer

He opened his eyes. And to his wonderment saw an endless sky of stars and colorful nebula clouds. He was floating in outer space. Yet he could breathe and there was no lethal cold. It was warm. Like being wrapped in a soft blanket or embraced by someone. This had to be a dream. It felt so amazing, sure he was just floating but it felt so free, so peaceful. He wanted to touch the nebula clouds, he reached his hand out unsure how to move himself forward. But with the thought of moving forward he slowly floated towards the cloud.

My imagination gives me wings

And I can go anywhere

His hand went through the cloud and it moved with his hand. Following his every movement as if he was controlling it. In a spur of childlike wonder he quickly flicked his hand and the cloud followed. Dazzling wisps of bright colors and starlight followed his hand creating an ethereal dance of light and wonder. Bucky’s heart soared with warmth and happiness. He wanted to see more. With a quick thought he floated up.

And when I wander away, to some other place

I'm suddenly there, way up in the air

Where passenger trains catch fire and fill the sky with flames

And that black rabbit of death

Wakes up in a breath, of beautiful dreams

My heartache it seems, so terribly vain

Where fire and diamonds fall like rain 

He reached out to grab a star. In his hand it was small yet bright. Like a firefly. He held it with care. It was like he could do anything. Go wherever he wanted. Nothing could tear him away from this feeling. His self hating thoughts, his tainted mind. It seemed so far away like no harm could come to him here. Here in this realm of dreams he felt safe.

Do you believe in endless miracles?

Do you believe in the impossible?

Do you believe sleep is a time machine?

Do you believe in curiosity?

Do you believe in what you cannot see?

Do you believe life is a Lucid Dream?

He suddenly heard music. It was getting closer. Was there someone else here? He looked and saw in a burst of ethereal color, a woman. Running on a stream of white starlight that grew to catch her steps. Nebula clouds and stars followed her as if she were guiding them. Her (y/h/c) air flowed behind her like a curtain as she ran. Dressed in a black tank top and underwear of the same color, she was happy as she ran on the stream of starlight. Earbuds were tucked into her ears with their cords disappearing into nothing. Bucky could hear the music from them. As clear as day. The woman turned her head to look at him, she smiled brightly as if she had been looking for him. Her (y/e/c) eyes, brighter than the stars that followed her, gazed at him. Beckoning him. She was so beautiful. Like a Goddess of Dreams. With a quick flick of her hands she sent another stream of starlight his way. It flowed under his feet pulling him forward to follow the woman. Nearly losing his balance he gradually moved his legs to run on the stream. 

This was amazing! He was running on starlight! He looked at the woman again, her smile was bigger and brighter. She raised her arms high as she looked at him cheering him on. He ran with her on the stream of starlight exchanging glances. She pointed ahead of them, the underside of a swirling galaxy. She sprinted ahead of him and breached the galaxy in a burst of stars and colored dust. Like a mermaid surfacing. He wanted to do it too. He sprinted. Breach. Breach. BREACH! 

Well that's how you study the stars

That's how you study the stars

And that's how you know 'em by heart

Life is a Lucid Dream

He pushed through the galaxy floating up and up with the stars following him. The brightness in his chest radiated. He never felt so free. So happy. So content. He breathed deeply in peace as he floated. He opened his eyes and stared at the swirling galaxy before him. He wanted to stay forever. His dog tags floated before him. Above him he saw the woman again, delicately drifting towards him with a soft warm smile that made his heart flutter. She reached out and cupped his cheeks with such tenderness his eyes drifted shut at the warmth. “Time to wake up.” Her voice echoed with such grace and softness it made the angel's of old sound tone deaf. And with a soft kiss to his forehead he was enveloped in a warm bright light.

I am a light sleeper

But I am a heavy dreamer

When Bucky opened his eyes again, he heard the sounds of the city. He stared at the ceiling. He was back in the real world. He smiled at the memory of his dream. 

He sat up, he felt well rested. Looking at his watch, it was past 6 in the evening. He had been asleep for sixteen hours. With no nightmares. He felt amazing. His mood shifted when in the corner of his eyes he saw a glowing blue light over his sternum. Ethereal blue light in the shape of a delicate handprint lay on his chest, the fingers ending at his sternum. Radiating a soft warmth. It faded slowly into him. He felt a wave calm wash over him as he thought about the woman in his dream. Did she do this? Did she give him that dream?

He needed to find her.

He had to see her again.

[simmerlibby]

TS4: Generational Ties Challenge

Hello everyone! My name is Libby, and I’ve been an avid player of The Sims 4 for six years, starting when I was just 14. Now at 20, I’ve accumulated approximately 7500 hours delving into the vibrant world of The Sims 4 – yes, that’s quite a marathon! My passion for the game inspired me to craft a challenge that mirrors the way I play. I’m thrilled to share this challenge with you and would love to see your gameplay experiences, so please feel free to post any screenshots of your journey!

Generation 1: The Valiant Guardian

In the heart of StrangerVille, you stand as a symbol of steadfastness and dedication. Your readiness to engage with the StrangerVille Mystery is a testament to your deep-rooted love for kin and country. With your loyal dog by your side and a sense of brotherhood that strengthens your resolve, you are set to unravel the enigmas, embodying the spirit of unity and determination in every step of this intriguing adventure.

Generation 1’s Traits

• Bro: This Sim is all about camaraderie and brotherhood. They’re the one everyone counts on, always ready with a joke or a helping hand.

• Dog Lover: A loyal dog at their side, this Sim understands the unspoken bond between human and pet, nurturing a friendship that’s as steadfast as their spirit.

• Active: For this Sim, fitness transcends a mere pastime; it’s ingrained in their very existence. Constantly active, they embrace each day with a jog at dawn or a spontaneous exercise routine.

Generation 1’s Aspiration

StrangerVille Mystery: Motivated by a desire to safeguard their family, they are resolute in uncovering the hidden dangers that lurk within the town.

Generation 1’s Career

Military: In uniform, they serve with distinction, embodying the courage and resolve that are the hallmarks of their character, driven by a deep commitment to the ideals of unity and protection that resonate within them.

Goals for Generation 1

• StrangerVille Savior: Uncover the secrets of StrangerVille, completing the mystery that shrouds the town.

• Military Ascension: Climb to the top of the military ranks, showcasing unparalleled dedication and valor.

• Nomadic Legacy: Relocate your family three times, each move marking the birth of a new family member and a new chapter in your legacy.

• Peak Condition: Excel in the Fitness skill, ensuring you are in prime physical condition, and master the Dog Training skill, which mirrors the strong bond with your devoted canine friend.

Generation 2: The Family's Keeper

As the eldest child and the unifying force among their siblings, this Sim has known a life of constant change. From one base to another, they’ve gathered a mosaic of experiences but yearned for the one thing that eluded them: stability. Now, with a worldliness that belies their years, they seek to create a steadfast home—a sanctuary where roots can delve as deep as their love for family, and where their children can soar to new heights, nurtured by the legacy of excellence and the strength of their shared bonds.

Generation 2’s Traits

• Neat: This Sim is the epitome of order and cleanliness, finding peace in the meticulous care of their surroundings.

• Family-Oriented: Family is the anchor of this Sim’s life, and every action is infused with love and dedication to their kin.

• Loves the Outdoors: Their backyard, a personal sanctuary, resonates with their deep love for nature, offering solace in the gentle whispers of the wind and the soothing rustle of leaves.

Generation 2’s Aspiration

Super Parent: Embracing the heart of family life, they are the guiding force in their children’s lives. With every action, they shape a future of kindness, discipline, and love, ensuring their legacy thrives through the character values they instill.

Generation 2’s Career

Freelancer: Adapting to the flexibility of a freelance career, this Sim tailors a life that bends with their family’s needs, aligning seamlessly with their values and aspirations.

Goals for Generation 2

• Scholastic Excellence: Guide all children to achieve A+ grades and engage in extracurricular activities, fostering a legacy of academic and personal growth.

• Super Parent: Achieve the Super Parent Aspiration by fostering a home where love, learning, and guidance are the cornerstones, empowering the next generation to continue the family’s enduring legacy.

• Siblings’ Keeper: Maintain a close-knit relationship with each sibling, making it a priority to visit them at least once every week to preserve the enduring connection of the family.

• Skilful Steward: Achieve expertise in both Gardening and Handiness to craft a home that is not only sturdy but also warm and inviting.

Generation 3: The Free Spirit

In the pulsing heart of San Myshuno, where the city’s rhythm beats incessantly, resides a Sim who has boldly navigated their own path. Eschewing a legacy steeped in academic excellence and the weight of family expectations, they have chosen the unassuming role of a Salaryperson. And now, as they navigate the complexities of an unexpected pregnancy, they find their resolve and desire for autonomy more vital than ever, affirming their commitment to live life strictly on their own terms.

Generation 3’s Traits

• Nosy: This Sim’s inquisitive nature stems from a childhood with little privacy, leading to a blurred understanding of personal space.

• Outgoing: This Sim’s sociability is a response to their sheltered upbringing, seeking out friendships that offer the peer connection they’ve always craved.

• Cat Lover: Their feline companion is their confidant, the one “child” they’ve always wanted.

Generation 3’s Aspiration

City Native: As a city native, San Myshuno is not just their home but their playground, a stark contrast to their homebody parent’s lifestyle.

Generation 3’s Career

Salaryperson: This Sim enjoys the simplicity of a straightforward desk job, which provides the financial stability they need to embrace a free-spirited lifestyle amidst the vibrant hustle and bustle of city life.

Goals for Generation 3

• Unexpected Parenthood: Experience an unforeseen pregnancy and maintain a distant relationship with your child, emphasizing independence over intimacy.

• Wellness Whisperer: Master the Wellness skill with your cat for serene, solo rejuvenation. This pursuit of personal well-being is your path to a harmonious life, shared quietly with your purring companion.

• Urban Explorer: Fulfill the City Native Aspiration by immersing yourself in the rich tapestry of experiences that San Myshuno presents, from it’s towering skyscrapers to it’s colorful street markets.

• Spice District Settler: Embrace the vibrant life in a cozy apartment in San Myshuno’s Spice District, your home until you reach the wise age of an Elder.

Generation 4: The Artful Heart

In the ceaseless rhythm of San Myshuno, a Sim forges their destiny with bold strokes of creativity. An Art Lover, shaped by the absence of a parent, finds solace and expression in the canvas’s embrace. Their heart, a mosaic of passion and yearning, seeks a Soulmate to fill the void and share in the vibrant tapestry of city life. As a Painter or Freelance Artist, they channel their deepest dreams into art, crafting each piece as a beacon for the one who will complete their world.

Generation 4’s Traits

• Art Lover: This Sim discovers inspiration and allure in each color and brushstroke, igniting their creative spirit.

• Creative: As a wellspring of imagination, they not only breathe life into their art but also harbor an earnest desire to share their creative expressions with the world, transforming the vast expanse of our shared reality into a canvas that reflects the depth and vibrancy of their artistic vision.

• Romantic: Hopelessly devoted to the pursuit of love, they dream of a muse to revel in the rich splendor of life’s palette.

Generation 4’s Aspiration

Soulmate: With a heart yearning to fill the void left by an absent parent, this Sim seeks a love profound enough to complete their life’s tapestry of passion.

Generation 4’s Career

Painter or Freelance Artist: Blending their fervent passion with a clear vision, they masterfully wield the brush to encapsulate the emotions of life, creating a portfolio that forges a profound connection through the artful canvas.

Goals for Generation 4

• Family Expansion: Embrace the vibrant tapestry of family life, as you welcome the laughter and energy of at least four children into your heart and home.

• Soulmate Aspiration: Embark on a heartfelt quest to fulfill the Soulmate Aspiration, weaving the threads of romance and art into a bond that completes your life’s masterpiece.

• Painting Skill Mastery: Elevate your craft to new heights, achieving mastery in Painting that reflects your deep commitment and artistic prowess.

• Celebrity Status: Ascend to the echelons of fame, securing a three-star celebrity status that honors your exceptional and widely acclaimed paintings.

Generation 5: The Environmental Visionary

Inheriting your family’s legacy, you stand at the crossroads of personal ambition and a commitment to meaningful change. Whether as a Politician or an Eco Innovator, your dedication to crafting a sustainable future is steadfast. With charisma and a heart attuned to the environment, your leadership is a tribute to the creative spirit instilled by your parent, who honed your need to make a difference in the world. Your home stands as a sanctuary, echoing the enduring legacy you’re advancing, and sparking inspiration for generational transformation. Each of your actions crafts a narrative of hope, laying the groundwork for a brighter, greener tomorrow.

Generation 5’s Traits

• Ambitious: This Sim is passionately committed to scaling the summits of success, not just for personal glory but as a homage to their forebears’ aspirations. They are steadfast in their pursuit to forge a legacy that will pave the way for a brighter, more sustainable future for all ensuing generations.

• Outgoing: With a magnetic charm, they draw others into their grand vision for the future.

• Green Fiend: In homage to their heritage, they possess an innate talent for fostering growth, whether in the garden or within the bonds of kinship.

Generation 5’s Aspiration

Master Maker: This Sim is motivated to create a future that marries innovation with environmental stewardship, galvanizing a network of creators to build a world that is both sustainable and brilliantly inventive.

Generation 5’s Career

Politician or Civil Designer: Whether shaping society through policy or protecting the planet, their career reflects a commitment to leaving a lasting impact.

Goals for Generation 5

• Skill Mastery: Attain proficiency in Fabrication and Logic, exemplifying a synthesis of innovative creation and thoughtful reasoning.

• Aspiration Achievement: Fulfill the Master Maker aspiration, steering both family and community towards a future of innovative sustainability and collective creativity.

• Family Reunions: Host three gold-level Family Reunions, celebrating the unity and achievements of the generations.

• Career Accomplishment: Complete either the Politician or Eco Innovator career, driving change and leaving a sustainable mark on the world.