#but then work takes the joy out of so many things so meh

[monty-glasses-roxy]

I’ve realised that Roxy is probably very experienced with forklifts given how many there are dotted around her Raceway and various other places. You can’t tell me she wouldn’t fuck around and find out with them at least once lmao

[artficlly]

the horselords of naraik [chapter one]

A quiet civil war has raged across the kingdom of Garwic for nearly three decades. The cruelty of the Duke of Garwic knows no end, bringing death and misery with each raid upon the lower-class. The horselords of naraik have fought to protect those suffering under the Duke's violence. The reader being the daughter of the duke is captured and held for ransom, only things are not as they seem. The reader can only hope that the horselords recognise her as a victim rather than a villain before it is too late.

Pairing: horselord!bucky x duchess!witch!reader

Warnings: huge selfharm warning, self mutilation, suicidal thoughts, violence, blood, death, swearing, yelling, angst, tension, animal death, mention of sickness, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: i've been sitting on this draft for months now. i thought i might as well get around to posting it, super rough i was gonna go back and rework it but meh. i've written most of this fic except for the last 1/2 chapters. so i'll post the other chapters while i work on the end. i'm aiming for 25kish in total but it's already sitting at 18k soooooo i might have an writing over my goal length lol. not proof read - sorry for any typos

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

The metal of the blade had grown warm, the handle sticky against your palm. The manor house stood silent, not even the footsteps of maids and footmen to disturb you. You fantasized about moments like these, alone with just the hardwood floors, velvet curtains, exotic rugs and ornate furniture. A moment to breathe alone with the blade, feeling every groove and indentation intricately carved into the handle. Your fingers would slide across the smooth metal, memorizing every gouge and how the smooth steel narrowed to a point. It was your mothers blade, an athame. 

Your eyes lifted, dark kohl lined eyelashes fluttering as you inspected your own reflection. The mirror was the length of you, maybe taller. A symbol of luxury - sculptured and carved designs twirling around the reflection were painted gold. You despised it. You despised most things about this place, the furniture, the people, the food, the etiquette but most of all you despised your father. You hardly even considered him that. A father was supposed to be kind, caring and protective. All you had ever known was his cruelty. 

You twisted the blade in your palm once more, admiring how the steel caught the light. A part of you sang at the sight of it, craving the sharp sensation. You wanted to feel the shooting, throbbing pain that engulfed you. A feeling of desire always consumed you when watching the way your skin would split apart and scarlet blood would bloom to the surface. Those wounds would save you. Blood wasn’t something to be feared, it was powerful and potent. The essence of everything - the piece that tied you to your ancestors. It could give as easily as it could take. 

The sigil you had carved below your sternum was long healed, raised white scars twisting their way across your skin. You missed the throbbing sensation as it healed, your little secret. A piece of savagery your father had tried to beat out of you but had once again been proved unsuccessful. It brought you joy to think of all the spaces across the manor house that you had hidden sigils - carved into the floor under rugs, furniture and at the back of wardrobes - so many pieces of evidence and so many warnings that his lessons weren’t working. Having that sigil carved into your flesh, that was the best of all. Right under your father’s nose. His work, his daughter, his property - despite all of his plans - was just another Idamiran Witch. 

Your gaze remained steady, fastened on your reflection. You hardly recognised who you had become, what your father had made you. The dress you wore was made of an expensive dyed fabric, lace and embroidery layered with precise detail. The sleeves and hem were long, hiding any amount of flesh beneath. The jeweled earrings, rings and necklaces were obnoxious and expensive. It made you sick, seeing such luxury placed upon you to be paraded around. 

Your hand jerked upwards, the tip of the blade pressed against your throat. Your stare was hard, heart fluttering wildly in your chest. The flesh at your throat bent beneath the sharpened tip as the pressure increased. You could do it, end this suffering with the power of blood. Your father wouldn’t hear about your death until he returned. So many months you had suffered, ripped away from all you knew. You had tried to adjust, tried to make sense of your fate. Now you knew it was useless, now you knew why you were here and where you would go if you continued to hold on. A fate worse than death, so death you would welcome. You could end it all, one final spiteful moment to prove you were not his. If you were to die, it would be at your own hand. The blade was mere seconds away from piercing the flesh when a piercing scream echoed through the silent manor. 

As soon as it came - it was gone. A thick blanket of tension washed over the halls as the towering structure fell silent once more. A sharp exhale left your nose, hand jerking back down to your side as your skin prickled in fright. Your own heartbeat thundered loudly in your ears, the rushing of your blood partially obscuring the sound of heavy footsteps climbing the staircase. 

There was another moment of quiet, hesitation creeping through the walls. You angled your body to face the heavy wood doors, watching to see if the handle would turn. Nothing. The silence became suffocating, your feet restless with worry and so cautiously you moved towards the doors. Another scream broke the silence, your hand hesitating over the door handle. The scream is met by another, and then another. The house became full of a symphony of screaming, shouting, violent thumps and the sound of wet slicing. The sound grew distant as if deep within the bowels of the house, the top floor silent once more. 

In the unsettling quiet, you feel your gut twist in fear. You recognised the sounds of a slaughter, you had repeated it so many times in your mind. Every night you would try to sleep and hear the screams again and again. It haunted you, but as haunted and suffocating as the manor house was, this was not another dream. If the house was truly under attack, you would need to move to safety. It would not be long before the room was searched, you would need to hide. Your hand settled over the doorknob, a numbness settling over your mind as you recognised you must disconnect in order to survive. Before you can act, you jolt backwards in fright as an ear-splitting scream sounds from directly outside the door. The sounds of scuffling and grunting ensue, only growing silent as a loud thump sounds outside the door. Breath held, you listen cautiously to the sounds of shouting and banging rattle the walls, thundering steps storming back down the staircase, barking out orders to those below. 

Slick, crimson blood pools from beneath the door, staining the polished wood below. You stare at it in numb acceptance for a moment, watching as the puddle reaches the tip of your shoe. You had seen blood pools like this before during the Grawic Raids, sticky deep red liquid flowing from lifeless bodies. Whoever was on the other side of the door was not alive, you knew that to be true. 

A creeping sensation of grief begins to consume your body, a shuddering breath leaving your lips. You squeeze your eyes closed, head pressed against the cool wood door as you hear the screams continue below. Your hand trembles around your mothers athame, bile rising in your throat. Behind your eyelids all you could see was memories of the past, vast fires that consumed villages whole, bloodied screaming children clinging to the lifeless bodies of their mothers. You could see your mother, face covered with soot and ash. Run. Run! She had screamed, pressing her athame into your palm. Something between a sigh and a sob leaves your chest, steadying your hand as you twist the door handle. 

You can’t let your grief consume you, can’t let your fear paralyze you like once before. You are numb as the open door reveals the crumbled body of a maid – Sylvia had been her name. Her mouth is open in a silent scream, throat slashed open. Her maids uniform is stained crimson, her hands weakly curled around her neck like she had attempted to stop the bleeding. Another body. Another face imprinted into your mind. 

You don’t allow yourself to dwell on it long, forcing your feet to step over the body. You swallow a dry lump in your throat, creeping across the landing to one of the nearby rooms. The upstairs had grown eerily quiet, the only sounds being shouting and laughing echoing up the staircase. You squeezed the blade tighter in your palm, peeking into one of the rooms. The door had been shoved open, furniture overthrown. In front of the fireplace the firepokers had been knocked over, staining the wood floors with ash, coal and wood scattered across room. You remind yourself to keep your breathing shallow, keeping your panic to a minimum as you quickly examine the papers scattered across the floor. 

You didn’t expect these men were looking for papers or money - rather they would be looking for your father. The accents of the men sounded like they originated from southern Grawic. Perhaps from The Enghin Plains or The Valley of Empyrean. These men were angry, fuelled by revenge not greed. You didn’t dare let your mind wander to who you dreaded it might be. No, with any hope it would just be disgruntled southern farmers. 

With any hope you could hide, survive this attack. Your father would assume you were taken or killed during the attack – this could be your escape from this place. The months of contemplating death left your body like a shuddering breath as you considered your next move. 

A floorboard behind you creaked and you spun around. In the doorframe stood a slender, lean woman. Her face was pulled into a delighted sneer, red hair loose with bits of braids framing her face. You flinch backwards, noting the white and blue war paint lathered onto her exposed skin and straps of leather which held countless weapons. No, it couldn’t be, The Horde never traveled this far north. 

A soft grunt leaves your lips as she prowls forwards, striking you with her fist before you can react. You hit the floor hard, twisted onto your stomach. The pin in your hair clatters to the floors, hair unraveling down your back as you brace your palms on the hardwood floor. The redhead woman laughs, catching the attention of someone nearby. You can make out the sound of boots, planks creaking beneath the weight. 

“Take her downstairs.” A man rasps, voice deep and gutural. Your gaze files across the room, noticing a maid who is hidden beneath the bed parallel to you. Her hand is pressed over her mouth, muffling the breaths and silent sobs that escape her. You stare at the tears flowing down her cheeks, gasping as you claw and crawl away from the woman. 

Your mother’s athame had slid across the floor, slipping from your hand at the woman's blow. It is too far for you to reach in time, you can already feel the woman stalking towards you once more. Instead, you twist your body, seizing a nearby fire poker which had tumbled to the floor in front of the fireplace. It wasn't sharp, but it would do to fend off your attacker. 

Spinning yourself around, you strike the metal fire poker across the woman’s face. She grunts in pain, stumbling backwards into the chest of the male. He chuckles in surprise, his short blond beard flecked with blood and braided with bits of bone. You scramble to your feet, stumbling over your long skirts as the man slides his axe into its holster. 

“She got you good, Nat.” He says to the redhead woman, voice deep and thick. Her amused sneer had turned into a look of rage, cradling a bleeding cheek where the skin split at your blow. You raise the fire poker at the blond man defiantly, arching an eyebrow as he chuckles at you once again. “Fine. I’ll take you downstairs.” 

He is twice the size of you, a hulking mass of muscle, paint and scars. His blue eyes survey you with a look of amusement, quickly closing the distance between the two of you. Your intended strike doesn’t land, his large palms catching the tip of the fire poker and easily twisting it from your grip. A yelp leaves your lips as he snatches you by your waist, hauling you over his shoulder with little strain. Your palms brace against his muscled shoulders, trying to push yourself from his grip as you kick and struggle wildly. Across the room, the maid under the bed decides to dash from the room while the two attackers are distracted. 

The blond man is moving quickly, strides long as he quickly carries you from the room. The last thing you see is your mothers athame discarded on the floor, alongside the ash and scattered paper. Blood sprays across the yellowing papers as the redhead woman throws an axe into the back of the retreating maid. You don’t see the maid connect with the floor, instead only hearing the deranged screaming and wet thumping as the redhead woman butchers the wailing maid in a fit of rage. 

Your struggling stills, a sense of nausea consuming your body as the man descends the stairs. Maid’s and footmen’s bodies line the staircase and halls, blood making the hardwood floors shiny and slick. You can’t find the words to speak or to protest what is happening. Instead, you find yourself trying not to slip back into memories. The smoke, the screams, the sticky blood across your skin. Behind you the redhead woman is descending the stairs, scraping her bloody axe along the railing of the staircase.

The front doors to the manor had been thrown open, the butler brutalized in a pool of blood. The foyer is filled with shouting and laughter, reality only snapping into place as pain bites your skin. The blonde man dumps you onto the floor, teeth clattering together as you slam into the hardwood. You scramble to your knees, cautiously watching as large, hulking, muscled men and women circle you like vultures. You recognise the paint that decorates them, the bits of bone and colorful beads that are woven hair and beards. Beyond the doors, a herd of saddled horses stand in the garden having trampled the flowers and bushes. 

You had seen these people before, only at a distance or in the height of battle. Like many people of Grawic, they despised your father for his poor leadership and tendency to default to violence. During the Grawic Raids, these people had provided aid to many villages victim to the cruelty. They had supplied men, weapons and food. Although many whispered of their presence in fear, it was clear that The Horselords of Naraik were a good people, until you were on the other side of their wrath. The Horde may have smiled kindly on you in Idamir, but in these decorated luxury silks and encrusted with jewels? They would despise you. 

“Found this one upstairs, Buck. Gave Nat a good blow.” The blond man calls out, standing close as you survey the gathering crowd. Your hair, now loose, spills around your waist. You use the strands to partially obscure your face, your gaze darting as you access your options. There was no use in running or fighting back – you would be dead in seconds. 

“Let me kill her Bucky, I’m sure she would squeal.” Nat hisses from nearby, you shudder as you feel her creep closer. Her axe is in hand, dripping with blood and chunks of flesh. You dip your eyes before you can see her face, holding your tongue between your teeth to stop yourself from sobbing. Another face for the dreams that plagued you – the young maid pressed beneath the bed, silent tears streaming down her face. 

“Who is this?” A new voice grunts, the foyer falling quiet. The air in the room shifted, the speaker commanding a sense of respect and power. You dare to let your eyes flutter upwards, clenching your jaw to stop any emotions leaking forth. 

The commanding man steps forward, the crowd parting to let him through. Tall and muscular as the blond man, he stands shirtless. His exposed nature allows you to see the muscles that ripple beneath, scars flecked across his sun kissed skin. One large, raised scar dominates them all, curving around his left shoulder and arm. He is decorated with the same lathered blue and white paint, an axe holstered at his hip and a curved sword in hand. His chest, neck and face are speckled with blood, dark stubble lining his defined jaw. His hair a dark brunet, dusting above his shoulders. Although it is pushed back, only a few strands falling into his face, you can see the bits of bone and colorful beads braided within. His azure eyes bore into you with interest, kohl lazily smudged around the socket in a messy contrast to your own kohl which was delicately lined. 

He prowls forward slowly, assessing you with a predator's gaze. “The duke's wife is dead, and I have heard of no replacement. I would say a governess, but I know his son is fully grown. You’re not a maid, you are dressed like nobility. Who are you? An unfortunate visitor? A mistress?” 

You hold his gaze, nails digging into your palm. Even if mere hours ago you had been contemplating slitting your own throat, you were afraid. The deaths the horselords had delivered upon the maids and footmen were a mercy – quick and brutal. You had heard stories of the ways these men tortured the nobility they captured. They despised the upper class for all they had done – consuming all the food and wealth while the lower class starved and suffered. They despised your father for not acknowledging the thousands that endured famine and plague, instead killing any who protested or fought back. 

“She was carrying this when I found her.” Nat says breaking the tense silence, handing your mothers blade to the brunet man. He eyes the blade with a tilt of his head, callused fingers running down the smooth metal. 

“It’s Idamiran make,” Bucky hums, eyes lifting as he points the blade at you. “You’re the Dukes illegitimate daughter.” 

You remain silent, nails digging deeper into your palm. You use the pain to ground yourself and steady your breath as the horselords circle tighter. Your eyes flick between the crowd, a fixed gaze observing the sneers, flashes of metal and splatters of blood. They did not know the full story – no one did. No one even knew you were the daughter of the Duke until he came to claim you. You would receive no pity, no kindness. If anything, the horselords would despise you more, a simple Idamiran girl turned Duchess. They would never imagine how you might have suffered, the way you would imagine turning the blade in against your own skin. They would only see you as another whore, ready to sell herself for wealth and glory without a care for the other lower class citizens of Grawic. 

“Tell me, is your mother hiding in the house as well?” Bucky asks, waving your mothers blade in the direction of the stairs. He seems annoyed that you are silent, accepting of your situation rather than wailing for mercy. You supposed the horselords liked it when the nobility begged, only to watch the life drain from their eyes. 

“No. She died in the Grawic Raids.” You speak for the first time, your accent nearly as thick as theirs. You both originated from the southern lands of Grawic – though your accent hailed from the west - rather than the eastern Plains of Naraik. Your father had tried hard to lash out any rolled ‘r’s, rid you of your throaty and guttural pronunciations.

“And so you came crawling to the Duke to claim your inheritance?” Bucky says with a sneer, creeping closer. You lift your chin defiantly, strands of hair finally moving to reveal your face fully. 

“I did not willingly come here, if that is what you are implying.” You reply curtly, eyes narrowing at the towering brunet. The horde bristles, a murmuring capturing the room. Bucky doesn’t seem to believe your words, brows lowering into a scowl. 

“You seem quite comfortable and willing, wearing their silks and jewels.” He observes, gesturing to the expensive fabric which pools around your legs where you kneel. You press your palms onto your thighs, watching how the crowd grows conflicted. Maybe if you were younger, more naive, you could have believed maybe these horselords could have helped you. They had saved Idamir once before, but you knew they would never believe you. Even if you were Idamiran, born and raised in the small village, you were still of your fathers blood. They would kill you just for that. Your blood, so potent and powerful, was also your curse. 

“You shouldn’t speak of things you don’t understand.” You finally utter after a long pause. Bucky chuckles, lips curling into a sneer once again. The rest of the horde chuckles alongside him, restlessly shifting their weight, looking between each other with heartless smirks. Bucky slides the athame into his belt, knuckles growing white around the tilt of his sword. There was no winning this situation, it was easier to offer no further information and let death claim you. You could only hope they would make it quick. 

“You even speak like them.” Bucky snarls, which is met with agreement from the horde. He points the tip of his sword in your direction. “Tell me, where are your father and brother?”

“They are away on a hunting trip.” You are slow to reply, tongue feeling thick in your mouth. You are unsure of how to interpret Bucky’s next moves as he places the sword under your chin. You resist the urge to close your eyes, to let memories over your mothers face and touch consume you as the cold metal pressed into your skin. It wasn’t supposed to end like this – you were supposed to die by the athame. One final ritual – one final insult to your father. 

“And when do they return?” He asks, voice low. You look up at him through your lashes, swallowing thickly as the tip of the blade traces down your throat. 

“Not until the end of the month.” 

“Pity. And what a shame that they left you unguarded like this.” The tip of the sword dips to your chest, pulling tight one of the lacing strings that lay in line across your cleavage. Your chest heaves with a sharp intake of breath, heels of your palms digging deeper into the tops of your thighs. His eyes are dark, pupils blown as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.  

“Tell me, is it true that your mother is a witch? That she put a love spell on your father to gain riches and nobility?” He asks, blade pulling down each strand of lacing down the front of your dress, until it finally stills over your stomach. You hold your breath, silent. 

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, they listen.” You utter, eyes flashing in warning.

Bucky chuckled darkly, running his tongue over his teeth as he looked at the blond man. Whatever spell you had held over him was finally broken. He pulled the sword away, a sharp exhale leaving your lips as you nearly slump over as some of the tension leaves your body. Bucky doesn’t offer you a second glance, instead barking out orders. 

“Tie her up. We will hold her for ransom. Maybe that will finally get the Duke's attention.” 

xxx

The rest of the day had been spent on horseback, wedged between the pommel of the saddle and the hulking body of your captor. The Horde were nomads, never staying in one place longer than a few days. They traveled with the seasons, sticking to the rivers and lakes during the warmer months and further south into the plains during the colder months. This party was a smaller one, meaning the men and women who traveled this far north were a part of a hunting and raiding party. Although their camp was large you knew an even larger camp lay in the Plains of Naraik awaiting their return. 

You had clasped your bound hands around the horn of the saddle, steadying yourself with each sway of the horse's stride. Bucky had one hand lazily splayed over your waist to hold you in place, hardly paying attention to you as he continued to direct orders and laugh with the blond man. It hadn’t taken long for you to decode the dynamic of the horde – Bucky being the leader and the blond his second. The blond – who was oddly familiar – was named Steve. Through the ride you and Steve had exchanged uncomfortable glances, like you were both trying to place the recognition. Ever since your father had taken you, you had been isolated in the manor until you could be made into an acceptable lady for society. If you recognised Steve from anywhere, it would have been from Idamir. The Grawic Raids had spanned nearly three decades - the horselords involvement nearly two. You could have met Steve or any of the horde in the past without realizing you would meet again under such circumstances. 

You had been silent the entire ride, and continued to stay voiceless once the herd eventually returned to the small encampment. The camp was as you imagined, a collection of colorfully dyed tents which bustled in the wind. Horses grazed nearby, manes and tails braided with painted symbols lathered into their coats. Despite it being a raiding party, many women and children roamed around, greeting the returning riders. At the center of the camp stood a large campfire, women using it to cook food and boil water from the nearby river. Near the edge of the encampment stood a small blacksmith tent which had been constructed around a sturdy sledge which held the forge. The forge reminded you of Idamir, glowing embers and steam. Idamir was known for its blacksmithery as equally as its witch healers. 

The women eye you with a cautious interest, noting your expensive clothing and bound hands. They rightfully keep their distance, instead congratulating the warriors on their kills. You allow your eyes to wander, committing the scene before you to memory. The camp had no walls, instead guards posted at lookout fires further out. There was a small forest to one side, centered around the side of the river. In order to escape you would either have to bypass the lookouts through the grazing horses, or attempt to cross the rapidly flowing river. Both options also weighed on the likelihood of you escaping your binds and reaching the outskirts of the camp. You felt defeated and exhausted from the day's events - these recent months had made you a pessimist. Nat who sat on her mare nearby watches your wandering gaze, lip pulled into a snarl. 

“You should have blindfolded her, they say witches can enchant you with just their eyes.” She says to Bucky, gesturing to you. Bucky gives her a long look, grunting as he dismounts his stallion. 

“You really think she is a witch?” He asks the redhead with a chuckle, hands gripping your waist as he roughly hoists you from the saddle. You manage to catch yourself before your legs buckle, a part of your dignity left intact. It had been months since you had ridden, your muscles aching and sore from the long trek. 

“Well, if she is anything like her whore mother… I would want to be safe.” Nat replies, an amused smirk stretching across her lips as you glare at her. She leans forward in the saddle, spitting a glob of saliva at your feet in insult. Bucky is quiet, fingers finding your chin as he forces you to look at him. 

“I don’t think she is. She is too little… and weak.” He muses examining your eyes, Nat barks out a laugh in response. Your gaze dart between the two of them, Nat giving you one last sneer before she guides her chestnut mare away. You watch her leave, listening as Bucky commands a nearby warrior to retrieve a length of rope. 

“You are so quiet, do you never speak? Not a single word the entire ride – usually the nobles scream and cry for their lives.” Bucky asks, you take a step backwards. Your back is flush against his stallions flank, the horse as still and calm as Bucky corners you. “Do you think yourself better than everyone?” 

You consider staying silent and biting your tongue in protest. Instead you exhale sharply, holding his piercing gaze. “I am not afraid of death.” 

His stare darkens, only breaking as he nods a silent thank you to the warrior who retrieved the rope. He winds the rope between his palm and fingers, it reminded you of the way your father would weave the end of his whip through his palm. Bucky tilts his head as he examines you with a predatory gleam. “Then I will make you afraid.”

xxx

Your mothers face was smeared with ash, blood pouring from her temple. Around her, the village burned. Women and children screamed, retreating to the river where they were slaughtered by Grawic soldiers on horseback. In the distance, a crack of a whip pierced through the mayhem.

‘You must run, you must hide! He is coming for you, he will take you. I know it. I know it to be true!’

The blade was cool in your palm, the sounds of horselord’s battle cries echoing throughout the carnage. Warriors with swords and axes weaving through the bodies and burning piles, blood splattered across their bare chests, bloodlust dizzying their vision. 

‘But how can you know Mother? How can you know he will find me?’

You cried to her, reaching out for her warm embrace. Further behind her, a blond man sat astride a white stallion among the smoke and flames. The stallion's coat was stained red with blood, the man’s chest heaving as he held his axe in an unshaking fist. 

‘I have seen it. I had a vision. You must run. Run. Run!’

Run!

You jolt awake, chest and stomach straining against the rope tied tightly around you. It was early in the morning, the sun had not yet risen. A chill has set in overnight, a layer of dew developing over your clothes and skin. Your neck and back stiff from your sleeping position - tied directly against the trunk of a tree. Your hair damp and tangled, bits of bark and moss having fallen onto you during your sleep. 

Eyes adjusted to the darkness, you cast your gaze upwards to the stars. The sky was clear, allowing you to see each twinkling light in detail. The Idamiran people used the stars to track the change of season, using it as a guide for sowing crops and calling in livestock from the wilds. Your mother had taught you how to navigate with the stars, every night since your capture by the horde you had tracked your journey south east with the stars. 

“You talk more in your sleep than when you are awake.” Steve grumbles from nearby. He sat hunched over the fire, whittling a piece of wood with his knife. 

The past few nights you had always been left with a rotating selection of guards to watch you. During the day you would ride with Bucky, at night you would be left to sleep while tied to a post or tree. Steve had quickly become your favorite guard, he was quiet and paid little attention to you. Nat was the worst, mocking and sneering at you for hours while you glared. Many turned a blind eye when she struck or kicked you - you hadn’t been able to change your clothes since your capture but you knew there would be bruises along your skin. 

“I cannot help it.” You reply quietly, shuffling in place as you leant your head back against the trunk with a sigh. 

“What do you dream of?” He asks, back still facing you. He doesn’t even spare a glance, instead engrossed in his small carving. 

“Death. Faces of the dead. Visions of the past.” 

He muses on your words for a second, before casting a side-long glance at you over his burly shoulder. His eyes are dark without the glow of the fire, just peeking over the furs that he had wrapped over his shoulders. “I remember you from the raids. I don’t know why I did not place how I recognised you before.”

You had placed it together too, but hadn’t spoken a word of it. That night, when your mother had told you to run, you hadn’t. You had found her body, skewered upon a spear in the center of the village. You had screamed and sobbed next to her body, only releasing her when Steve had scooped you up. He had forced you onto his horse, dragging you away from your mother as he told you to be quiet. Soldiers of Grawic still crawled, executing anyone left alive. The two of you had weaved through bodies and burning buildings, the menacing sound of the whip looming closer and closer.

The two of you hadn’t made it far, his stallion downed by an arrow to the chest. You still remembered the animals' pained screams, the way Steve had muttered a prayer as he slit the creature's throat to end its suffering. He had tried to save you, drag you to safety. Your father had been too quick - recognising you for your looks. A near replica of your mother. He hadn’t been looking for you, rather described it as a blessing in disguise that he had run into you. Your mother’s visions had come true, despite her efforts to stop the wheel of fate. That night the whipping sounds you had heard finally had a face. Your father had stood there, a cruel smile etched into his face. Blood had dripped from the barbed tip of his whip, leaving you wondering how many had suffered at his hand. Steve had escaped with his life, fought off by the force of Grawic soldiers. You however, had been captured and taken to the manor. 

“It does not matter now. It is the past.” You say dismissively, staring into the distant camp as some of the women and men began to rise. The horses needed to be readied early in the morning, or else the horde would not be able to travel a sufficient amount of land throughout the day. 

“I believe that you are telling the truth, about how you were taken against your will. It does not mean that I will stop Bucky from killing you.” Steve says, you bite down on your tongue as you cast him an annoyed look.

“I wish he would get it over with, I am sick of sleeping tied to a tree.” 

Steve shakes his head with a slight chuckle, breaking the serious scowl he usually held. “We are awaiting news from your father over the ransom demands.” 

It would take weeks, if not months to hear back from your father. The ransom note would not reach him until the end of the month when he returned from his hunting trip. The lands of Grawic were long to traverse, taking weeks at a time to reach the northern point to the southern. It could be months from now before the ransom was finally settled, or if not until you met the release of death. 

Across the camp, you watched as the camp began bustling once more, the sun breaking the horizon finally. You let out a soft groan as the sun hits your skin, allowing the warmth to soak into your stiff joints. The people of the horde barely spared you a glance as they worked saddling the horses and putting out fires. Nearby, the blacksmith was working on dismantling his tent. You stared at the back of his head hard, recognising the dark brown locks and shorter frame.

“Peter?” You call out before you can think better of it. Steve twisted where he sat and looked between you and the blacksmith in confusion. Peter turned around, a confused look dominating his features as he looked for the source of your voice. As he stepped closer, abandoning the tent pole he had been holding, his confused look melted into one of surprise. 

A genuine smile crossed his boyish features, brown eyes softening as he closed the distance between the two of you. As your name slipped past his lips in a surprised gasp, a momentary cautious glance was sent in Steve’s direction as Peter kneeled next to you. Steve grunted in a mixture of acceptance and annoyance, holstering the knife he held. 

“I’m sorry - when they said they had captured the duchess I didn’t think they meant you!” He expressed, worried eyes searching the length of rope binding you to the tree. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, leaning forward in your restraints. 

“After that final raid, I knew I had to get my aunt to a safer place. The horselords offered me protection if I worked as a blacksmith for them.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Peter was close to your age, a couple years younger than yourself. You had both grown up in Idamir, Peter apprenticing as a blacksmith while you helped your mother with her work. 

“How is your Aunt? Is she still unwell?” You question, observing his clothes. He didn’t dress like the horselords, instead clothed in a loose cotton shirt and pants. He didn’t decorate his face with kohl, paint or braid his hair. You imagined his leather apron and belt would be stored safely away with his forge while traveling.

Peter’s face fell into a frown, a sigh escaping his lips as you tilt your head with a look of worry. “She still has the cough, it worsened after your mother… I was sorry to hear about what happened to her. She was always kind to me.”

Steve eyed the interaction from his post, body now fully turned to observe you both. “Thank you… I… it means a lot. Have the healers here been able to help May?”  

“They’ve tried, but it hasn't been as successful as your mother’s remedies. It’s worsened due to all of the travel I think, these last few days she’s developed a fever that will not break.”

“I can help her. I mean, I can try if you bring me herbs.” You say, leaning closer. 

“You would do that? Are you allowed to do that?” Peter asked, glancing at Steve who answered with a shrug. 

“As long as she remains tied to that tree, I don’t see why not.” Steve replied, glancing over his shoulder at the camp. “Be quick, we ride within the hour.”

CHAPTER TWO

[restlesscrybaby]

jack x spoiled reader? liek the kind that almost requires constant attention and pampering and will make it EVERYONES problem if they dont get it

GAAAH literally perfect for him bro no idea.

~ JACK HORNER X SPOILED! READER ~

~ 'Do it my way.' ~

~CONTENT WARNING :

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you first met Jack, it was by fate. More of, not by fate. But.. by inconvenient chance.

Your grandparents were rather rich people. Higher-ups, you could say.

How he met you, was by your grandparents asking him to marry you. Rich to rich, yknow? Oh, he thought it was easy.

Some kind of tax benefit or money from it. There was money alright.

But there was another thing at sake. His sanity.

Once you got married off, your grandparents practically hitched a ride and booked it. Almost like two new teens who just got married and are ready to get away from some terrible family.

Of course, he assumed it would be easy.

But there you stood. The bust of your dark lavender dress swooped over your breasts, having no sleeves whatsoever. You wore a white scarf, adorned by fluff and beauty all around, looked like some kind of.. White tiger print? Eh. Towards your neck area, you pulled off MULTIPLE pearl necklaces, that all were just.. Gorgeous. The dress swooped down your curves, ending in a train behind you. A slit formed in the dress, to allow your leg to stick through, my oh my. Your heels were one of many you owned, maybe about 6 inch pumps, meh, he didn't pay too much mind to care anyway. Your hands and forearm were hugged by a white, silk glove. Truly, divine. His eyes sized you up, before peering up to your face. You adorned red lipstick ( if you don't like lipstick skip it :D!! ). He didn't pay much mind, he didn't care. You were some disgusting--...

... No money haver!

Your looks weren't too shabby. Meh.

He expected more, honestly. Pssh. He could dress better.

But, you took notice to your new 'hUsBaNd.' UGH. Your parents married you off to him?... This disgusting--...

No money haver!

Of course, you kinda liked how he looked... You slid your way towards him, your hips swaying side to side, you knew how to always get your way.

You were spoiled.

You stopped infront of him, as you easily cocked a little grin at him, keeping it as private as you could. But, you dropped it, as you practically prepared for war on his mind.

You stuck your bottom lip out, in a pout. Oh, you always got your way with these moves. Your eyes widened, into a doe like shape, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

You asked him, pleaded with him if he would take you out to the fanciest diner in town, Goosey Ganders Geese and then take you shopping to the fanciest shop in all of the town, the Magic Wand Boutique.

But, somehow, your big, cute, pouty face and your sweet, yet so sultry, voice didn't work on him.

He looked at you, as he sized you up once more. What? What was this moron doing?

He placed a large hand upon your face, as he pushed you out of the way. He turned on his heel and began to walk, as you stumbled to the side.

"Get out of my way." He scoffed towards you, as his brows raised in joy. Heh. It was fun to be mean, he couldn't lie.

You stopped, standing there with your hands awkwardly by your side, and your jaw clenched tightly shut.

What?

That worked on everyone, why not him?

Was he insane?

Delusional, maybe?

Was he beat in the head?

Of course, you needed the attention, you craved it, you went out of your way for what you wanted.

You pleaded, you stole, you cried, you did any acts you could to get what he wanted.

But, he never gave in. Never pampered you, nothing.

Of course, until he got with you.

You got everything you wanted.

Oh, that little lizard thing that one soldier had?

It was in a jar, waiting for you upon a shelf specially for you in his room.

You wanted that outfit that had diamonds melted and encrusted into anynpart of it they could have?

Done and there's 3 just incase.

You wanted a vacation?

How's Far, Far Away sound?

Some men messed with you and they didn't leave you be?

Don't worry, 'leave it to me'.

Of course, he practically treated you like a queen.

Such as at a dinner. You sat beside him, in a matching outfit like his.

Of course, in your own.. Special way. But you sat politely... You took notice to a girl's rings, oh you loved them. How the gems formed hearts, how some of the gems were a dusty pink and some were a bright blue, oh they were so pretty.

So, you grabbed onto Jack's coat sleeve, as you looked up at him, saying his name in a tone thay signaled immediate need.

But..

He told you to wait.

You...

WAIT?

Ha! Who does this fool think he is?

Oh, of course, you needed your act.

Tears slowly slipped into your eyes, feeling the pain well her eyes up. You crossed your arms, turning your torso away from him to look away from him. You let out a sniffle..

He had been talking, before his head turned to you, now worried as to why you were crying.

"Ohh, sweetie pie, why are you crying?" He cooed out, his sappy tone was typically only used for public situations. He did love you, but he needed to be better at dating than anybody else in the room.

"You don't love me anymore.." You whimpered out, as you pulled up your knee and hugged onto it, a sad little huff escaping your nose.

To much of..

Everybody's surprise.

He suddenly grabbed your free hand, bringing towards his plump lips. They cupped, as he planted a firm kiss upon the back of your hand. His other arm went and placed his hand upon the underside of your upper arm. He moved up, planting another firm kiss upon your wrist.

"Oh, Y/N," He cooed out, as he planted more kisses, moving up your forearm to your elbow. His one hand still holding yours, "Don't say that.. I love you so very much.." He hummed, as he went up your upper arm, before he reached your shoulder. Til he reached your cheek, planting a nice, firm, kiss upon it.

But, in your ear, you heard a familiar rumble.

"Don't say that shit again outloud. Only make a scene when it's good."

But, you only grinned, happy to now have his attention.

Of course,

People thought it was insane!

He spoiled you!

If you didn't get what you wanted, you'd raise hell and high water for whatever it is you pleaded for!

But if you wanted someone fired. Theybwere fired.

If you wanted someone killed. They were killed.

Any magic object, yours and done upon your personal shelf ( one you probably cried for ), any dress, suit, heels, shoes, flip flops, purse, wallet, bedsheets, jewelry, pillows, stickers, stockings, petticoats, sketchbooks, any and everything was gotten for you.

Oh you've ruined many. Many lives.

But actually falling in love with Jack?

Ha!

...

You definitely give him a run for his money.

~~~~~~~~

Surry me wrote this while eepy so it isn't too long

Please enjoy and I will try to add on more <333

[wolfnesta]

Hello! Can I pick your brain for a moment? I’ve finished all of ACOTAR, and I really do enjoy nesta. She’s real and raw. But I guess where I’m kind of stuck is why she was always spending feyres coppers that she worked for, was it retaliation? Or was it because she was angry at their dad? I hope it’s okay to ask, maybe I just need to reread ACOSF?

I’m honored anon! Since you mentioned acosf I’m thinking you mean when Nesta is drinking and getting rent money for free right? If you mean at the beginning of acotar I believe SJM didn’t have anything in mind for Elain and Nesta other than to make the reader pity Feyre and then later SJM tried to give that behavior meaning by saying Nesta did it out of hatred to make her father get up and do something 🤷🏻‍♀️ I’m kind of meh about that whole thing.

If you mean in acosf, Nesta’s depression seems to make her feel outcasted ‘…had only been able to stand and watch them all, their joy and closeness, as if she were looking in through a window’ and also resentful— with Elain ‘Elain could make her own choices. And had chosen to thoroughly shut the door on Nesta. Even as she fully embraced Feyre and her world.’ and Feyre ‘How could she explain the tangle between her and her sister? The self-loathing that threatened to consume her every time she looked at her sister’s face?’ and also suffers from what seems like ptsd ‘Some days, the sheer dread and panic locked Nesta's body up so thoroughly that nothing could get her to breathe. Nothing could stop the awful power from beginning to rise, rise, rise in her. Nothing beyond the music at those taverns, the card games with strangers, the endless bottles of wine, and the sex that made her feel nothing but offered a moment of release amid the roaring inside her.’ All of which leads to alot of self hatred ‘every damning thing Rhysand thought of her was true— and she’d known it long before he had shadowed her doorstep. … Better to spend her time the way she wished’ (also the many times Nesta insists she ‘failed’). Plus the whole idea that Nesta has never had a choice in her life even pre poverty years ‘So your mother took Nesta creative joys and twisted them into a social climbing arsenal?’ I want to say those are the over all reasons Nesta turns to this harmful behavior. It interesting to me that SJM made sure to include that last part of Nesta’s life in her story because, though I feel like all the unresolved hate for her father is important, I would’ve thought we would also see Nesta heal from her mother and grandmothers mistreatment. But alas.

I want to add a personal note that it was heavily disappointing for me how SJM definitely knew how to portray these difficult aspects of mental illness but then she did what she did to Nesta and I’m like, okay wait no this is awful. This can’t be the same author that is able to show Nesta pushing family members away, not coping well, turning to alcohol and still make it seem that the very people that are supposedly ‘helping’ her can forcibly isolate her, slut shame her, physically threaten her, take her on a suicidal hike, show little to no care for her well being, take all of that and make it seem justifiable. Just. How do two wrongs make it right? Like it can’t be the one and the same author taking this good thing and then adding that to it .Nesta’s self loathing, anger, and her lashing out is an honest nod to how mental illness can manifest itself and I’d give SJM kudos for that except I realize this part of the story that you’re asking about anon was added purely to degrade Nesta instead of for realistic reasons and it’s visible in the way she has her mains react to Nesta. SJM was able to bring all this rawness to the table then butchered it. I know this ask isn’t about the topic here but anon I think you would benefit alot from reading the post because my dear @ae-neon is so much better at articulating a lot of the issues going on in those initial moments of acosf.

Anyhow, I hope that helps ❤️

[biblioflyer]

Picard s3e10 "The Last Generation"

I laughed, I cried, I cheered, but I'm not free of conflicts.

The artificial constraints of a 10 episode season are something I really feel acutely. So I'll start off with an acknowledgment: if OG Picard fans are furious, I get it. I don't share your anger, but I do understand it.

Spoilers ahead.

I broadly agree with the creaky older fan sentiment that in many ways Season Three is what Season One should have been. Primarily in that the absence of the rest of the main characters and centering Picard and Picard only and, to some extent, Data, was a disservice to the rest of the TNG ensemble.

A flaw that was rectified in Season Three. However, by rectifying it in Season Three and then committing to the story they were going to tell in the amount of minutes they were going to tell it in, a grim sort of triage inevitably was going to take place. The victims overwhelmingly were the characters and storylines of Seasons One and Two.

That was neither kind nor fair.

I won't pretend I didn't love this season. But I also was aware of and frustrated by what was missing because I am committed to the ideals I started this blog on: these are my self conscious reactions, reflections, and introspections rather than objective truths I live and die by and demand others validate, lest they be deemed "not real fans."

Now I myself will not be buying a ticket for the Matalas hate train. I think there was an awareness that a lot was being left on the cutting room floor to cater to fans like...well, me, and an attempt was made to offer an overture to a possible sequel series not unlike a "sorry for your loss" bouquet.

Should you view that as a fair consolation prize for only addressing Seven and Raffi's relationship with a couple of quips and an action movie one liner? Or literally forgetting Elnor?

Were I in your place, I probably wouldn't. But I sincerely hope we get that sequel show so that proper amends can be made.

Hopefully it will also include Worf so that the DS9ers can get justice for Jadzia.

Although, I am a bit pessimistic that its going to happen even with the overwhelmingly positive reception. Two overlapping ship focused shows seems unlikely unless Enterprise-G is a metaplot driven narrative show while Strange New Worlds is episodic with light sprinkles of meta. A prospect that I am kind of meh on. Season Three proves that you can do a season long narrative and it not get too bloated or convoluted and deliver a satisfying finish, but I don't know that its enough for me to trust the concept of the 10 episode version of a classic Trek two parter going forward. Five times burned, twice shy.

For those keeping score, that's seven seasons of serialized Trek with five that I think were not well executed overall, not unforgivably so, but they definitely had a clumsy adolescence as their shows matured. I liked Discovery season 4 quite a bit. I'm not on the "Discovery sucks" anti-hype train either, but I think the show has rather clearly been showing its work as it has struggled season after season to figure out its own unique identity and to balance that identity with the expectations of the broader Star Trek franchise, navigating the hellscape of the fandom and trying to figure out which parts have valid criticisms and which are misanthropes who are allergic to other people experiencing joy: and its been a messy process.

What also steals some of my euphoria from the ending of Picard is the announcement of the Section 31 movie.

I love Michelle Yeoh, I even like the character of Georgiou, but I don't trust anyone who has been involved in Trek to date, not even Ron Moore or Robert Hewitt Wolfe, to not resuscitate vile late 90s to mid-oughts nihilism and uncritical worship of "hard men making hard choices because the good are too effete and squeamish to do what must be done."

I know, I know, its negative for a Star Trek apologia blog but I hate Section 31. That's the only thing I'll ever gatekeep. Its a violent refutation of the core premises of Star Trek: that reason and decency win in the end and the endless fascination with constructing scenarios where characters have no other choice but to do near genocides, assassination, and other grimderp shenanigans really infuriates me. There are multiple franchises where I would accept that with zero qualms: Babylon 5, Star Wars, Farscape, Stargate, Battlestar Galactica*, the Expanse etc. but they don't have that same core premise that good wins because good is actually how you win.

*Although it got REAL tedious REAL quick because of how excessively Moore's Galactica leaned into this. Which is incidentally kind of why even though I admire the man, I kind of want to see him and Star Trek keep 500 feet from each other at all times. The guy is way too into torturing series leads. Save that for O'Brien, he lives on pain.

So, to recap.

Dear S1/S2 fans. I adored this ending: it was everything I love about TNG right down to Picard saving the day through warmth and decency. But I'm sorry you got screwed. This is not a zero sum game to me. I think there was a way we could have all been happy and it sucks that wasn't a priority.

[teabookgremlin]

well pals here we are, the final eat her ear friday of yellowjackets season 2. this post is gonna be a little different than my usual recaps as i’ll focus on more just kinda discussing what i liked, what i didn’t like, what i think might happen next, instead of the more stream of conscious style deal i usually do and it’ll be organized as all teen timeline thoughts followed by all adult timeline thoughts. anyway i have loved yellowjackets blogging with you all this season and cannot wait to continue being insane about this show with all the cool people on this webbed site. spoilers below cut

teen timeline episode thoughts:

- i gotta say teen timeline was top tier this week. i loved every second of the wilderness time from the second it begun. 

-just everything about how javi was handled was great, seeing travis’s grief at the start, how shauna butchered javi, van and travis’s talk, travis taking a bite out of javi’s heart, it all just went hard. i wonder if the bite of the raw heart will become a part of the hunt ritual. like the person closest to the hunted or perhaps the person who killed them bites into the heart before cooking it bc i’d fuck with that

- fucking coach man. he really should’ve died this season. he is the only man on this show i truly like but they had to ruin that by just drawing out his life. seriously what was the point of all his paul stuff and his suicide attempt and his clear hopelessness if he wasn’t gonna die. i do think that the girls are gonna hunt him down in s3, like they’ll track him to the cave and kill and eat him then take the cave as their’s. fingers crossed. sorry coach my guy i liked you but you need to die eventually. also fucker burnt down the cabin. what the fuck dude i know you think the girls are monsters but like you’re gonna try to kill them all for it?

- NAT ANTLER QUEEN ok i fucking loved this. lottie no longer being able to hear the wilderness. her passing on the role she never even wanted. nat always having been it’s favorite. nat’s horror turning into joy/acceptance. all the ways the girls pledged their loyalty to her. loved loved loved it cannot wait to see where it goes from here. 

next up adult timeline episode thoughts:

- first of all too much of the men. like seriously walter swooping in and saving the day with his plan to frame kevyn for all the adam shit was just so meh. it would’ve been so much better if walter hadn’t been introduced and misty had been the one to pull that kinda shit. also pissed that creep cop lives to see another day get in losers we’re climbing through our computers to kill creep cop ourselves.

- i did really enjoy the recreating of the ritual scene, i thought it was very nicely done and shauna drawing the queen is not what i expected and i did like callie coming in to save her. also how during the ritual there were flashes to their teen selves i ate that shit up.

- ok now the main thing is obviously nat. her death was definitely frustrating. i think it could’ve worked had it happened later in the series or if it had been better set up just how it happened really fell flat. it does definitely seem like juliette wanted out so the writers had to change their plans. just nat’s story does not feel entirely complete and how it all works out from here really depends on how they play things going forward. i do think that there is a way for this to work plot wise i am just definitely concerned.

- so interested by our girl van. how she kinda lights up when lottie says that it worked. i think either van is cured or thinks she is and that that is gonna bring her back to her faith in the wilderness despite how she clearly wanted to leave it behind. so so so excited to see where her story goes especially alongside tai and lottie, there is just so much potential here and i hope they don’t fuck it up.

- finally it really felt like they were trying to hard to make a nice neat tidy ending for the adult timeline. like they wanted to wrap up as many plot points as possible which really doesn’t make sense given the amount of show that is supposedly planned. i’m definitely concerned that they’re gonna introduce some weird out of no where plot lines in the adult timeline to refill the empty space left by what was wrapped up here.

[stargirl1331]

Poem master list (chronological posting order)

My Favorites in green

Bus rides at night (Bus poem #1)

Time Untangled (I was so tired lol)

Choir (Waiting is boring)

Chills (It's about flowers)

Home (Prompt for @thedoctorandclaraforeverandever!)

I am from (Structured after I am from)

Bonds (About toxic friendships and fixing others)

The duality of leaves (It's about trees but got dark oops)

Ownership (Who do ideas belong to?)

Untitled 1 (About anxiety)(The last line hits so hard for me)

Me (I had fun with what someone said and also how I view myself)

Untitled 2 (It's really meh lol)

Unsent Messages (So Many Emotions)

Untitled 3 (Literally came to me in a dream but I forgot it)

Waiting (My experiences being aroace in an allonormative society)

Days (My days and my thoughts)

Grieve to late (Written towards an old acquaintance who reached out)

The address you have entered does not exist (Listen to homesick)

Lamp constellations (Post it note poem 1)

The Old Man of the Mountain (The falling from a western perspective)

Stories of the land (The falling from a Indigenous perspective)

Elementary poem dump (All the poems I have from Elementary)

Poisonous smiles (The danger of nature)

Drowning (About my chronic pain)

Mug cakes (About burn out taking things I love away from my ability)

Temporary (Bus poem #2)

Eternity (Bus poem #3)

Sister/Daughter/Child (about gendered language in relation to family)

Nothings and the spaces between (How emotions present in my body)

The endless cycle of "friendship" (about trying to surpass jaded feelings towards friendship)

To tie a tie (a poem about my father and my relationship to him)

I'll have known you forever (about rebirth sort of and friends-of-your-soul)

Do you remember (about the slow forgetting of a person)

In the mirror (about borrowing a dress and friendship and simple joy)

Rising in the east (the moon and me and me as the moon and yes)

Entanglement (the bonds between people born of care)

Carnivorous love ((platonic)love and affection and its place for me)

Rights in death (The loss of aspects of self and mourning that)

Consumption//intimacy (love through the lense of cannibalism and violent change of self)(for @unnamedrat)

Winter (A fun little poem about memories and the passage of time and how my detergent doesnt work)

Mirrored in the sky (second person about life and the stars)(prompt from @sodium-bitch)

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Let’s Talk About: Preparing for the New Year

With December here, I’ve been feeling very contemplative about what sort of goals and intentions I have for 2023 and I thought I’d share some of the ways you can prepare.

Prepare? Why? I’m not big on resolutions.

Shifts are happening all the time but I feel there are profound shifts at the start of a new year (collective) and at your birthday (personal). The energy of being able to seize change is heightened at this time because it’s a fresh start! Plus collectively many people make changes at the New Year and so there is collective energy helping manifest change as well. That’s why it feels more meh in February when many people stop putting energy into their goals.

Fine. So how do you prepare?

First, I look back on the reflection I wrote at the start of the year and compare where I wanted/thought I’d be to where I am now. If you didn’t write anything down, try to think back to the beginning of this year and where you were mentally, physically, and spiritually. I think about why certain things didn’t happen the way I thought and evaluate if that makes me feel good or bad. At the beginning of this year I thought I would be moving closer to my family, lol. And I moved further away, but this isn’t bad for me. Just shows how much my perspective has shifted this year and I did spend more time with them this year than usual. I usually also review my reflection from my birthday.

Now what?

Once you’ve reflected about the journey you’ve made this past year, begin thinking of changes you want to make. It’s December so it’s the last month to finish up any goals you set for this year as well as a chance to start working to release anything you don’t want to bring with you in 2023. It’s the perfect time to finish your to do list and to take action on the things you’ve been putting off. Identify what is no longer serving you and how you can move on from this. Give yourself the rest of the month to think about what you really want, really examine it and put thought and energy behind this because it’s a manifestation tool and it will help guide you throughout the next year.

Okay.

On December 31, it’s time to write down your reflection. You look back at the larger themes of the past year and write down your joys and disappointments. Themes like joy, or career. What was the main thing you spent your energy on this year? What was the main lesson you learned? What are you bringing with you into the New Year? Start to envision the version of you you are trying to become and write down who that person is, what do they do (goals), what you want to accomplish to propel yourself forward. Sometimes I like to do a clearing meditation or sage my space and then go to bed.

Manifestation Ideas:

- If one of your goals is more financial security write about what the security would provide you, is it freedom? Just asking for money isn’t specific, why do you want money, how will you use it. What does life with that security look like?

- When I’ve done manifestations for things like money, joy or love, I would burn palo santo and use the charred end to draw a symbol on something and I would set the money (I used a $100 bill) on it, along with my crystals, light a candle or incense, and just honestly talk to spirit about money and my finances and what I want and why, what around money I wanted to heal. Then I would close my eyes and focus and repeat please bring me abundance, until I felt it was time to stop.

- To really bring in fresh energy consider cleaning your space deeply leading up to the new year (a few days before for example) and even opening up the window to let fresh air circulate. Clean your car or other places you inhabit, maybe your area at work.

- Be sure to take a magic bath to cleanse your energy on the 31st! By magic I mean adding salts and other things that make you feel good. For my magic baths I’d light a few candles, use epson salt bubble bath and just soak for as long as I wanted. I’d turn out all the lights and listen to Frank Sinatra or something spiritual and just allow myself to do nothing. This allows you to sit in your own energy and can really bring you back to center.

- Also if you are really stagnant and desiring change, getting rid of stuff like clothes, things you don’t need anymore, etc., can really be freeing and create space for the newness you want to bring towards you. You need to make physical, mental and spiritual space for it to come.

2022 was a year of change for many, including myself. I knew 2022 was bringing hella magic and change to my life and felt it for months leading up to the year. 2023 has kinda taken me by surprise as it’s energy isn’t as strong as 2022 was for me, 2023 feels like it will be a continuation of forward momentum. What does 2023 feel like for you?

[rachelfinder]

Usher and the Baby Spine

In the summer of 2017, I spent hours at lots of local skate parks. I lucked out because my brother-from-another-mother was in town for the whole summer and we hit up as many parks as we could while he was here. At the time, I was working on whatever park trick seemed to fit the park (rather than just focus on one skill at a time), so when we found ourselves at Cornerstone in Lakewood, the baby spine called my name.

Spines are harder than just regular coping. It's two bars, rather than one, and you can't stall on the coping. You've got to straddle both bars at the same time. It's totally doable, but it's a mind-freak. Your brain says, "Nope."

It took a few tries, but I managed to not only land on the spine, but I also managed to come off it to the transition on the other side without biffing it.

Yeah. That's that moment. I'm keeping this picture of my success as my desktop these days. Seeing it reminds me of the baby steps it took to get over the spine. It also reminds me of the joy of succeeding.

Who knew that in seven more years I'd be working on a roller skate invention? And that other roller skaters would find it useful?

This past weekend the world watched as Usher introduced the glory that is Black roller skating. His dancers and skaters took what the rest of us in the community knows and loves and showed the world what is possible on eight wheels. And he did it while transitioning from the field to the stage, going from sneakers to skates in a matter of seconds.

As the inventor of a wheel locker, I was immensely curious to find out how was he going to go from walking to rolling. The internet exploded the following day, with the makers and designers of the Flippers skate boots, Riedell skate manufacturers and Sk8Fanatics skate shop all celebrated the collaboration that created the skates for Usher and his skaters.

Those blue and black high top babies are glorious. Sleek, clean design, beautiful suede leather, and lots of Velcro straps for easy on-easy off.

If you're willing to spend a grand on the boots (just the boots), you can have a pair too!.

As someone who balks whenever I need to spend $$$ on new wheel bearings or toestops, that definitely ain't happening for me. And it probably won't happen for a lot of other skaters.

The last two days got me thinking about the Skooties skate locker: it gives a skater the same ability to go from walking to skating in the same amount of time. It's as easy to take on and off, just like a Velcro strap on a skate boot. But the one thing that separates Skooties from Usher's skates is that they are AFFORDABLE.

There's nothing wrong with having a pricey product (Apple Vision Pro, anyone?). And some entrepreneurs swear by creating high-ticket items and only selling to an elite few. Meh. I'm happy that Skooties are something that everyone in the roller skate community can easily access. Now's the time for the work of getting it out there and into skate shops.

Is it easy launching a new product? Nope. It's a lot of work. It's baby steps. It's just like learning to skate over a baby spine.

[thomasmastersunithinking]

20 objects

In the image above, you'll see a numbered collection of objects. Nostalgia, in my experience, provides valuable insights into personal growth and identity, especially in the creative realm.

These objects mainly relate to my childhood and significant life moments. While their thematic connections might not be obvious to others, they symbolize my personal growth and its impact on my creative work.

As a creative, these objects deeply influence my work by carrying memories, emotions, and past aspirations. They remind me of my journey from who I once was to who I am today, infusing my creative projects with depth and meaning.

In short, this collection represents the strong link between personal history and creative expression, bridging my past experiences with my ongoing creative narrative.

the tape unused is a remnant my grandfathers many tapes in which he would record family holidays birthdays and any event he felt the need to record. It holds a lot of significance to me as my friends and I have been shooting on old cameras in a way trying to emulate the same memories we look back on and in an attempt to create more visceral memories for our future selves and other.

Marlboro golds a bad habit I thought I would never pick up my Bapak used to smoke so too did his son my uncle and cousin. I always hated seeing other members of my family smoking but there's something about the memories I had of them always seemed so cool smoking while riding a bike reading the paper or tagging.

this is a rosary gifted to meh family at the passing of a distant relative who was a catholic brother upon his passing the other brothers gifted it to my mother and us telling us stories of him and his love and prayers for us before he passed

my first film camera a k1000 I barley use due to several parts being broken. This camera holds significance to me partly because it was the first one I've ever bought but because it was my foray into the analogue world stories of my grandfather and great grandfather with old rolleis and them staring down their viewfinder and seeing their photos from around the world (Kenya, Malaysia, New Guniea, Arizona) gives a different perspective to the world than digital images

An earring I got from a friend from the past im not too sure why I still hold onto it there's no catch in the back the spine is bent but Ii think the memories etched into it from them wearing it will always hold dear

My grandmothers pendant with a photo of my grandfather. It's a memento to me in a weird way of their life the joy theey brought to me and ultimately their unparalleled love for one another. They both passed away when I was six from leaving this world together as they couldn't see one without each other.

a kina from Moititi. My uncle is one of my greatest role models taking me fishing diving teaching me how to drive be a good human. The kina is from a dive I went out on his land on Moititi which I was lucky enough to spend time on during my formative years.

letrasets given to me by a tutor last. I somehow managed to be gifted some letrasets by a tutor and they really opened my eyes to design. Getting to use them in journalling or whilst playing around with ideas has proved really useful in my enjoyment of design as many of my graphic design idols emulate or continue to practice with them

A skelleton of a bird from my cousins families batch in opotiki. I brought this back after a floundering trip and my Mothers kept it for me since in one of her shadowboxes. After my Uncles passing earlier this year it took me back to the days spent out there.

a coin from a century before I was born gifted to me by my grand uncle on my second visit to England. The amount of hands this coin must have passed through the pockets its been in and the things it has bought amazes me to think about.

A ring, it docent hold much significance to me but it's a placeholder of sorts I guess in many ways im trying to imbue some meaning into it over time.

A pin from my grandfather that my mother gifted me after his death. Im unsure of the meaning it may be from his time in the masons.

A old used roll of Kodak I try to shoot mainly on fuji because I love the colours but the old rolls of kodak all of the branding just has this odd nostalgia to it

Fuji film I love the colour the way it looks having the negatives everything about shooting on film.

Four leaf clovers. I like to say im not superstisuos however I can't get around the weird feeling I get when I see someone walk under a ladder break glass or in this case when I find four leaf clovers.

pressed flowers, growing up with two older sisters I got to experience a good amount of pain pressing flowers was not one of them I loved the process when I was a child.

The skin of a python from Malaysia, my grandfather (Bapak) gifted this to me before his passing a six meter long python he shot while in his time in Malaysia. Probably the best show and tell experience I had.

Journal/sketchbook, less full than I want it to be missing pages and in surprisingly good condition. Its hard for me to express myself using words or images a bad trait for a designer which I am attempting to remedy through this books pages.

Coffee mug, I was running out of objects around the house at this point. Recently bought from Asia gallery and probably the most non-eccentric item I could find.

Glug Glug Jug, a gift from my mother an avid collector of all things currently sourcing these odd fish shaped jugs for all of her friends and family.

Im unsure if I may continue with all of these objects as some lack real meaning hence there may be some personnel changes in the coming weeks.

[stayathomesurveys]

145.

How often do you wear necklaces? 📿   Rarely.

Would you rather wear a bracelet or a necklace? 📿   Either.

Do you own a coral sweater?   No.

Which name do you like best: Emily, Ellery, or Eliana?   Emily.

What season were you born in?   Winter.

What season is your favorite? Fall and winter.

When was the last time you had a donut? 🍩   Maybe last week.

Which spelling do you like better: Jillian or Gillian?   Jillian.

Have you ever wondered how the country of Ireland got its name?  No.

Which name do you like best for a girl: Harmony, Harper, Harlow, Harvest, or Harley?   Harper.

What is your favorite shade of green? 💚 Hmm, not sure.

What is your least favorite shade of green? 🫒   Idk.

Which name do you like best for a girl: Bianca, Brogan, or Briar?   Briar.

….how about out of these: Carly, Carmen, or Carlotta?   Carmen or Carlotta.

Which name do you like better: Jasmine or Yasmin?   Jasmine.

Did you used to wish that you could own some of the same outfits as your dolls?   Yup!

Do you think you look better with your hair up or down?   Down.

What is your favorite shade of blue? 💙   Not sure.

What is your least favorite shade of blue?   I don’t think there is one.

Would you rather ride a motorcycle 🏍️ or a regular bicycle 🚴?   Bicycle.

What is the name of one island you have vacationed on? 🏝️   The Keys count? Lol.

Which one-syllable girl’s name do you like best: Claire, Cove, Dawn, Rose, or Jade?   Claire and Jade. When was the last time you wore leggings?   The other day.

What is your most severe allergy? 🤧 Ibuprofen and Naproxen.

Do you own a purple sweater?   Yes.

How often do you create surveys?   I don’t.

What is one game you have cheated on? Lolllll. Uno.

Do you believe it’s ever ok to cheat on a test? 📝   Meh.

Have you ever cheated on a test? 📝   Yeah.

What’s your favorite song by Miley Cyrus? Not sure.

What was the last song you listened to on repeat?   I don’t remember.

What was the best part of your day today (or yesterday)?   Staying home from work.

How often do you wear earrings?   Everyday. If I take my earrings out for even just like a day, they start closing :(

Have you ever worn a stuffed animal at an age guessing booth? 🧸   No.

What is something you own that you’ve had since you were in high school? Quite a lot of things.

What year did you join Facebook?   2009.

What was the first color you ever dyed your hair?   Auburn.

Name three countries you have no desire to visit.   I can’t think of a country that I wouldn’t want to visit eventually.

What is one thing most people seem to like the smell of, but you don’t?   Gasoline.

Have you ever been scammed?   Meh, I don’t know.

Are you smart? 🧠   I know that I used to be but I really don’t feel smart these days.

What color is your dresser?   Like a grey/white color.

If applicable, what color was the dress you wore to your very first Homecoming Dance? 💃 I didn’t go to homecoming. My school didn’t even have a dance for the longest time.

When was the last time you purchased something from a bakery? 🧁 I don’t know.

….and what was it that you purchased? –

What is your computer’s desktop background?   Sand dunes I think? Idk what it is.

When was the last time you used washi tape, and what did you use it for?   Never used it.

List three big cities you have visited and would love to visit again.   San Antonio, Austin, NYC.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how happy are you with your life?   1.

What brings you joy? Hmmm, money.

What’s your most cherished memory?   Being a child.

Do you believe in God? Why or why not?   Something like that.

Were you named after anyone, and if so, who?   Nope.

When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper? 📝   Years ago.

Which spelling do you use for the color: gray or grey?   I use both interchangeably.

Who has hurt you the most?   IDK.

Who or what is your happy place?   Bed? Idk.

If you could erase horrible memories, what memory would you erase?   Ugh, so many.

When was the last time you cried?   A few days ago.

If you could go anywhere in the world right now (all expenses paid), where would you go?   Hmmmmm Germany.

How do you feel at the moment?   Sick, tired, bored, hopeless.

Do you believe that you’re a strong person?   No.

What’s your biggest dream? To be happy.

Paintings or digital pictures?   Either? Depends, I guess.

Are you scared to love?   Kinda.

What’s your biggest fear? Losing loved ones, failure.

Are you afraid of heights?   Yes.

Are you in love?   Hmm.

Do you prefer a bright or dark room?   Depends.

Have you ever danced in the rain? ☔️ 💃   Yeah.

Do you have a good relationship with your parents?   I guess so.

Have you ever cried because you were so happy?   Yeah.

Books or movies? Movies.

[fxckinginsaneinthebrain]

Side Muse - Cayden Price

BASICS

Character’s full name: Cayden Ethan Price

Reason or meaning of name: Joyce and William had originally planned on naming him ‘Arthur’ as it was Joyce’s grandfather’s name, but after he was born they took one look at him and immediately backtracked, deciding instead on something that would mean something, as opposed to naming him after his great-grandfather.

Character’s nickname: Cade, Bulldog, Half Price

Reason for nickname: Really, they’re just playing off of his name. Bulldog, however, was used by Frank to avoid outing Cade as one of his drug runners, aptly named because of his firey temper.

Title: Mr.

Birth date: March 11th 1994

Sex/Gender: Cisgender Male

Species: Human

Sexuality: Heterosexual / Curious

Face Claim: Kit Connor

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

How old do they appear: A little older than his age. He’s tall – bordering 6 foot by the age of 16. So as such he gets away with way more than he should at such a young age. He’s also quite muscular

Height: 5'11"

Body build: Slim, a little muscle from hauling car parts etc. 

Hair color: Strawberry Blond

Eye color: Blue

Skin tone: Caucasian

Distinguishing marks: Tattoos, a few freckles. Small scar from a wrist break as a kid

Voice: Kit Connor

Physical disabilities: N/A

Usual fashion of dress: Hoodies, t-shirts, tank-tops, jeans, Converse, beanies

Favorite outfit: Hoodie and T-shirt over a pair of jeans and a pair of red converse.

PERSONALITY

Good personality traits: Loyal, family-oriented, Kind, Brave, goofy, 

Bad personality traits: Bad Anger Issues, Anxiety, Depressed

Mood character is most often in: a constant state of ‘meh’

Character’s greatest joy in life: When he’s drawing or tinkering with things in the house. As he gets older, it’s being a husband and father like his own dad was with him. 

Character’s greatest fear: Losing his family, being left alone. 

Character’s soft spot: His family, the feeling of a fresh sketchpad, the feeling of the wind in his hair while driving

Is this soft spot obvious to others? No. Only to those that know him WELL.

Greatest strength: He’s a martyr through and through. He’s able to be brave and to sack up for his family whenever he needs to, and then provide whatever care is needed before taking care of his own needs

Greatest vulnerability or weakness: Inability to control anger, insecurity. Doesn’t care about his own well-being in the slightest

Biggest regret: Lots. Too many to list.

OVERVIEW

Hometown: Arcadia Bay, Oregon

Type of Childhood: Average until the age of 14 when he lost his father to a car accident. After that; neglected, tired, abusive. 

Best friend: Max Caulfield (former and current), Rachel Amber (Deceased), Trevor Yard, Eliot Hampden (Former)

Current location: Seattle, Washington

Currently living with: Joyce Madsen, David Madsen

Pets: Bongo (Cat, Deceased)

Religion: Meh

Education: Completing GED

Occupation: Part-time job in a local Diner / Student / Apprentice Tattoo Artist

Finances: Working Class.

FAMILY

Mother: Joyce Madsen (Formerly Price)

Relationship with them: 

Pre Storm - Joyce and Cayden love each other as any other mother and son do, but their relationship has been strained for a while. Joyce did her best after being widowed, but ultimately neglected her son in regards to his needs following his father’s death. Cayden rebelled, lashing out at her and anyone in his path, and eventually they drifted apart.

Post-Storm - Cayden and Joyce are attempting to patch up their relationship slowly but surely. The distance helps quite a bit, but they’re still too far gone to really make huge strides.

Father: William Price

Relationship with them:

William Price is Cade’s hero. From his goofy ways of being a dad to the way he disciplined without being a dictator, William earned his sons respect and as such they were less like father and son and more like best friends. William's death devastated Cade, and he spiralled into a depression afterwards to the point that he didn’t get out of bed for days at a time. It’s only after being told by a therapist that William would want him to live his life that he eventually started taking steps to get better.

Spouse: Maxine ‘Max’ Caulfield (later Price)

Relationship with them:

Max and Cade have a long history and a complicated future. They met as children, playing together in school and going to one another’s houses near enough daily. Even holidays were shared, many thanksgivings consisting of their two families gathering at the Price or Caulfield houses. Then Max’s dad got a job offer in Seattle, and they had to leave on the day of William Price’s funeral. Five years passed with complete  radio silence on Max’s part, but eventually they reunited. The feelings Cade had developed for Max aged 12 returned with a bang, and they awkwardly fumble around each other faking that their feelings aren’t there. Until Max went on a date with one of the skater boys in school, who Cade overheard in the hallway, pretending that Max had let him go all the way on their first date. A pair of bloody knuckles and a broken nose later, Max managed to drag Cade away from the guy she dated, and after a mini argument about how she doesn’t need him to stand up for her honour or whatever, Cade admitted that he loved her. And from there, the rest is history.

FAVORITES

Color: Blue

Least favorite color: Hazel

Music: Heavy Metal / Punk / Acoustic / Indie

Food: Bacon

Literature: Comics, Non-Fiction Science, Cookbooks, Car manuals

Form of entertainment: Gaming, drawing, tormenting  Max

Expressions: Any swear word ever

Mode of transportation: Truck, walking. He also enjoys trains.

Most prized possession: Caydens parents bought him a ring after getting into Blackwell Academy as something to mark the occasion and for him to wear as a reminder of his hard work. It’s a simple steel band, and he wears it on his right ring finger. Inside is an inscription form his parents, taking him that they love him, and he never leaves the house without it. Even when he’s working on cars he wears it on a lace around his neck.

HABITS

Hobbies: Tinkering with his truck, video games, annoying Max

Plays a musical instrument: nope

How they would spend a rainy day: outside enjoying it. He loves the rain, and loves running out in it. It’s oddly freeing to him even if his immune system is 0 and he picks up every flu under the sun.

Spending habits: he doesn’t have much money. So he tends to fix what he can until he has to replace stuff.

Smokes: Yes

Drinks: Yes.

Other drugs: former drug addict, uses marijuana until the age of 19 to calm anxiety and depression.

What do they do too much of? Brooding, sleeping.

What do they do too little of? Talking to his mom, exercising, going out.

Extremely skilled at: Working on Cars

Extremely unskilled at: Controlling his mouth, acting

Nervous tics: He toys with his ring, chews his nails, grinds his teeth, and picks his nails.

Usual body posture: Average. Slightly slouched. 

Mannerisms: He rubs the back of his neck when nervous, toys with his index finger, does a little hop when excited  

[dalanmendonca]

Fresh off the plane — My Yelp review of the USA

 Spoiler alert — it’s a solid 3.8 

My context

In August 2021, I moved to the USA in an attempt to put paid to my long-distance relationship, which like many things that began in 2019 had gone on too long). Things worked out — a new job and 2 visa changes later — I was reunited with my lover and became an official resident of San Francisco.

Changing countries is a monumental shift in lifestyle. Some even proclaim that “Geography is destiny”. From small things like how much to smile in photos to serious things like access to healthcare, the cards in the deck are different everywhere.

In India, I’ve spent 30 years growing up in Mumbai (née Bombay) and working across Hyderabad and Bangalore. While in the US, I’ve lived for about a year exclusively in San Francisco. Most importantly, I’m also a tall, handsome, well-educated, near perfect man (or so sayeth me my mom and wife). So, my experiences might not resonate with everyone. I write this for the pedantic joy of chronicling my new life and contrasting it with the past. 

Now, on to the promised Yelp review.

The Good

Public services are amazing — I got my SSN (the de facto ID in the USA) and learners license in a breeze. Visiting the DMV was mildly chaotic but my work got done decently fast given the queue. No bribes or middlemen were needed. Relatedly, I was stunned when I saw the San Francisco Public Library — you can barely get access to such a well-resourced library even if you paid in India. 4.5/5

Systems — The idea of systems permeates life much more in the US. One example is traffic. We have traffic rules in India too, but nobody follows them. So, drivers and pedestrians (and cows and elephants) are in constant negotiation making things slower for everyone. In the US, because everyone obeys the traffic lights, cars can go faster and drivers don’t suffer random interruptions. Pedestrians can safely cross as long they do it at the correct time. There is order here, while India breathes chaos. This also means my commute is ~100% predictable in the USA whereas 5 kms can suddenly take 1.5 hours in India. People generally seem more law-abiding too. 5/5

Consumerism Olympic gold — If consumerism was a sport, USA would triumph harder than Michael Phelps. From Walmart to CostCo to BevMo, the USA is littered with stadium sized retail experiences and American consumers are blessed with choice. The depth and breadth of items available is staggering. The average Safeway here has more varieties of booze than most cities in India. From cheap Chinese stuff to boutique shit to luxury brands, it’s all here. You can try the same searches on Amazon.com and Amazon.in to experience the difference. 4/5

Weather, national parks and natural beauty — This was a real surprise to me. The USA has immense ecological diversity and does an amazing job in to protecting it through national parks. The national parks are well-maintained, have rangers patrolling for public safety, offer a good escape from urban life and a chance to see stunning natural beauty. I had my breadth taken away when saw a sky full of stars on a clear night in the Colorado sand-dunes. Almost started believing in God again. Coming from smoggy Bombay, I can literally see and smell the cleaner air here in California. 5/5

Insane economic prospects — Both the breadth & and depth of economic opportunities in the USA is staggering. Hollywood, Silicon Valley, Wall Street, and Area51 👽, they’re all here. For 99% of fields, India lacks depth. Even in my domain of software where India has made some head way, most Indian companies are operating at the application layer, while the deeper domains like operating systems, etc. don’t have as many players or people. 5/5

The Meh

Food — American food is … pizza, burgers and coke? American companies have been a wee bit too successful at exporting it, so there’s no novelty eating what I can eat in India too. Obviously, the depth and quality of said foods is much better here. I deeply appreciate my access to many choices and varieties of steak. I also appreciate the beef isn’t banned here (unlike my home state of Maharashtra). That said, American food doesn’t hold a candle to the depth and breadth of Indian food. If the “7 wonders of the world” was a list about food, all 7 would easily come from India. Indian food is one of the things I miss the most. A big chunk of Indian food culture revolves around much small shops and street food vendors. They are the lifeblood of urban India. Whether you want a filter coffee and dosa to start your day, or a cup of ginger tea for an afternoon slump, or a quick vada pav as you commute back home; the streets of India have your covered. I’ve hardly seen anything of that sort in the USA. 2/5

Car driven landscape — India’s biggest retail unit is the kirana — a neighbourhood shop that sells everyday goods. There are millions of them, they’re everywhere and within walking distance of most residences. Heck my last house had a full store inside our complex (quite common in India). I was shocked when I found out that many USA complexes have nothing of that sort. There is nothing at walking distance and you have to pull out your car and drive for buying that packet of milk you might’ve forgotten. Living in American urban landscape feels like watching humans scavenge in the remains of an ancient city where cars used to live. 1/5

Urban aesthetics — The whole country looks like a dilapidated grey coloured blob. The road infra is old. I feel as if there was a construction boom some decades ago which suddenly stopped, and everything was put in maintenance mode. I did praise Walmart and CostCo for choice, but visually they’re literal grey soulless boxes. Mumbai has the gaping contrast of high-rise residential building and the world’s most expensive residence towering over middle-class homes, shanties, and slums. San Francisco neither has the towers nor the slums, it does have a smattering of homeless people though. The building heights in San Francisco are so low, squinting a little I almost feel I am in 1822 instead of 2022. 2/5

Personal space — This is a mixed bag and cuts both ways. In the US, while people are very sociable and polite, they maintain their distance, keeping work & life separate. Conversations are often superficial. In India, it won’t take 5 mins for someone to ask if you’re single, how much you earn, and try to set you up with their cousin for marriage; and then 5 mins later do that with person next to you. I like the personal space in the US. However, one downside of that is making new social connections becomes harder. 3.5/5

The Bad

Ridiculous financially optimized healthcare system — India has the classic health care problems. Not enough doctors, shitty facilities, poor people who can’t afford treatments, etc. I belong to a fortunate class of urbanities in India that can access & afford private health care, facing much fewer of these issues. You can book appointments online or just walk-in to the nearest doctor. The USA healthcare process is convoluted to put mildly. No one asks what your problem is, they want to know what your insurance is first. I had a moderately painful toothache and after calling 10 doctors and failing (either no reply or rejected because of insurance issues), I finally got an appointment for a week later. Jeez. God forbid if I had a more serious issue. Procedures are wildly overpriced. I think I paid $100 for a dental X-ray which would’ve cost $2 in India (at most). I find it appalling and absurd that this is the status quo in the same country that excels in medical R&D. That said, the USA has amazing emergency services that are super-fast and effective. In India, you’re on your own. -1/5

Drugs — There are entire blocks of San Francisco full of spaced-out junkies, swimming in trash, with needles and shit around them. This was scary and surreal to me. I work on Market St, an arterial road in San Francisco which after 10 pm transforms into a literal Gotham city with drug dealers and junkies in hoodies and masks going about shady shit openly with nary a word from the cops. Eek! 💉/5

Guns — America’s reputation with guns is well known. In my first few months in the US, every time I heard a loud noise I was like “OMG! WE HAVE A SHOOTER SITUATION! UNDER THE TABLES EVERYONE”. Fortunately, it was everyday things like tyre bursts and never an actual shooter. The never-ending stories of Walmart shootings, school shootings, and muggings have a decreasing but ever-present place in my head. I now interpret it as India’s rape problem. It’s bad, it is far from what it should be, but the reality is a far cray from what the media portrays it to be. 🔫☠️/5

Wrapping up

My experiences aren’t too different from an Italian immigrant who sailed to New York, a hundred years before me. 

"I came to America because I heard the streets were paved with gold. When I got here, I found out three things: First, the streets weren't paved with gold; second, they weren't paved at all; and third, I was expected to pave them."

Or to quote a TikTok “Now that I’m really looking at em .. this bitch kinda ugly”

I would still consider it an upgrade for me. Overall, I would rate USA a strong 3.8. Stop taking it easy in fundamental areas like healthcare, and it’s an easy 4.

As Winston Churchill famously (didn’t) say “You can always count on the Americans to do the right thing, after they have exhausted all the other possibilities.”. That moment might soon be here. I am an optimist and remain hopeful.

Bonus rant 

A learning for me has is the moving between these countries involves a lot of trade-offs, but those trade-offs have gotten narrower. India might’ve slam-dunked USA until the 1700s, and USA might’ve slam-dunked India until 1991. But things have changed, and the comparison can’t be so abstract and pointed anymore. People slap monikers like “developed” and “developing” on entire countries. The expression encodes a colonial view of the world — here stand we, the wise & “developed”, there stand they the P̶o̶o̶r̶,̶ ̶T̶h̶i̶r̶d̶-̶w̶o̶r̶l̶d̶, “developing” savages. 

Are western countries done? Nope! Progress is eternal. This vocabulary also ignores things taking a total back-slide. Should the once bustling but now abandoned city of Detroit still be called developed? As I mentioned above, many aspects are anything but developed. We need to cure ourselves of the mind virus of Anglocentrism.

Bonus pet peeves

USA needs jets, in the toilet [Graphic details about inferiority of toilet paper omitted but available upon request]

Tipping is bullshit. Raise the price and pay your staff.

Stop leaving my mail/deliveries on the porch or building entrance, give it to me in hand.

Why don’t houses have lights?! Why do I have to buy them separately?

Why do people have to earn leave? In India, you’re just granted leaves

Why are salary payments fortnightly? Make rent fortnightly too then?!

What’s with the feed the family and then some portion sizes?

[letoscrawls]

im feeling very uncomfortable with you supporting and promoting the dune movie when its racist and Islamophobic as well not casting any Arabs in the movie

There's a thread that explains religion and culture in the world of dune and analyzes the casting's accuracy here, however, not casting arab actors in prominent roles was a really bad choice, especially considering the book has a lot of arab fans; i've said this before and it's important the issue is addressed so yeah, you're right, no one denies that.

When the first trailer came out there was some concern in regard of the use of the word "crusade", many people thought the movie was going to erase the islamic elements of the story, but it was confirmed by the people who attended the imax screening that it's not true. From what was said and done and the content that was released the movie is going to be very close and accurate to the book. Its author took inspiration from many religions and cultures, Islam in particular, to represent the different factions and cultures of his universe, but he never portrays them under a bad light. like, the fremen are not the bad guys, at all. they are an advanced population who made arrakis their home and works to make it a better place for themselves while also fighting against its occupation by the various houses of the imperium. What happens next is a result of manipulation from different organizations such the bene gesserit and Paul and his offspring, who are all very much NOT good characters, and the more you dive into the saga the more you see their true colors.

In general, the whole point of Dune is to highlight how colonization is bad and organizations that manipulate religions and entire civilizations in order to gain the power to control the fate of humanity are not to be trusted. the organizations/factions in question take inspiration from Islam, Catholicism, Judaism as well as ancient Greece and others, all in a medieval/feudal setting so as you can see the saga is a big mixture of all these elements.

okay this was longer than i expected but again, i'm aware of the flaws Dune has, and there are some aspects that should be fixed in the movie, considering the book was written in 1965, and i hope Villeneuve will do that and i'm ready to point them out and be critical about it if he doesn't. i think it's possible to enjoy a piece of media while also make criticism about it when necessary, the fact that i make jokes about dune or express how much i enjoy it in a very exaggerated way does not mean i'm not aware of the saga as a whole, in detail, flaws included. The same thing goes for other works of fiction like harry potter or star wars etc. which still have solid and diverse fanbases despite the problematic stuff in them. and a lot of fans actively try to fix these flaws with fan produced content such as redesigns or AU in fanart, fanfictions etc and that's great! they know there's potential in the story but maybe the author is a jerk or some elements are meh so they make their own canon and that's one of the best things (and few joys) of being in a fandom. in general i think it's best to be an active enjoyer and do critical thinking, research and be mindful when consuming media

[arcadejohn127-9]

Hello. I have a question for you, if you don't mind. How do you think the demon brothers (+undateables and/or Luke) react to a female mc (or gender neutral mc if you prefer) who doesn't smile much at all and rarely shows any emotion? (You can add their reaction to the mc finally showing emotion and/or smiling tho)

Ah~ this trope always gets to me, I'm actually playing a game with a protagonist like this and I can sense she's going to become more emotional at the end of the game

I'm a softie for emotionally void characters who learn to be open and emotional and that it's okay to be like that

Brothers see a MC Who doesn't show emotions finally smile

Lucifer:

His pride got the biggest boost

He made you smile

You! The neutral faced human who's most expensive face was a frown

He's always hated how expressionless you were even when he got use to it

He wanted to be able to make you show something

To FEEL something

But he wasn't able to, that was just how you were

You were smiling, trying to hide it with your hand as you avoided his eye

"My, are you smiling? I never thought I would see the day."

Lucifer, surprisingly, didn't brag about his victory and just kept it your little secret

Mammon:

He didn't expect you to laugh

Sure, he's heard you laugh before but it was always from the nose or dry

But here you were; finally laughing for real

He always made it his mission to be the first to see you be expressive

But after having a disastrous fall whilst coming to rush over and show you this new item he's been bidding on

You were laughing- ACTUALLY LAUGHING!

He moved the plant pot off his head, shaking his head like he was a dog

He took a quick picture of you whilst your eyes squeezed shut

"well would ya look at that! I finally made you smile!"

He definitely bragged about this

Levithan:

He caught it on stream

He was streaming a game he was playing, you were in the background and was his helper

You scooted over when he called out for you

Whilst levithan was an amazing gamer; even the best gamers could slip up or just struggle to complete a section of a game

You two just sat together, helping each other play

Until one part of the game suddenly made you smile

You were trying to repress it but you couldn't help but smile

The stream chat went WILD

"You just smiled! This is a break through! Can you do it again?!"

You let him die in his game and 'accidentally' didn't save to the most recent check point

Satan:

You were both running away from Lucifer

You had a plan to mob rush him as vengeance for putting too much work on you and even waited with you until you finished all your homework when it was a study date between you and Satan

You just wanted to flip him off, which you did, even if it was comedic itself as your face was just 'meh'

Meanwhile Satan had other ideas; he slapped Lucifer in the face with a textbook

When you were able to lock yourself in the broom closet

It was when you chuckled, not realising you were grinning

"I have to say, that was worth it."

At first you thought it was because Lucifer got slapped but it was because he saw your joyful grin

Asmodeus:

He always found your company abit moody but you were unintentionally funny due to how emotionless you can be despite saying/doing something ridiculous

Quickly learned to get use to it and even found it exciting

He was always affectionate to you and you were fine to be apart of it

He was currently feeding you some new dessert he got (of course taking pictures of it before doing it)

You were enjoying it; it was just right for your taste buds

"Darling! Your smile is so cute!"

You didn't even realize you were smiling - that dessert was really good

You didn't even know he took pictures already, just surprised you were freely smiling

Beezlebub:

When you first meet him he isn't a much of a smiler either

He always appears grumpy or slightly irritated

But of course when you get to know him he's a loving puppy who doubles as a guard dog

He was just fine with your lack of expression

As long as you were open to talk about your feelings and express your worries and boundaries then how you express yourself isn't a big deal

He had you help him with his gym routine, filming him and keeping note on how long his breaks were

He was always thankful you were willing to help

He patted your head, giving it a small ruffle

"Your smile is nice, I wish I could see it more."

You were embarassed but were able not to show it

he never pushes you to smile if you don't want to, he will happily wait to see it happen naturally

Belphegor:

His smiles were normally evil grins, a sign of smugness or genuine joy

But he was mostly a bastard so you can only guess what kind of smile you'd be use to seeing

you on the other hand, had no type of smile other than maybe a forced tight you'd flash at people that caused your lips to disappear

He wanted to see if he could make you smile, he wasn't sure how or what he'd do

But it was always a plan

He was determined to see it

Didn't expect it when he finally did

You were hugging one of his many pillows, on the verge of sleep and he was rambling on about things that happened today

He was talking about how he saw demons fall over and a male demon landed in a painful splits on a chair

You bursted out laughing

Though, it was low energy as you were extremely tired

But your smile was there, it was there and able to be seen by the cow demon

"heyy, you're smiling, i can't wait to hear the chaos that'll happen over this."

[softluci]

aggressive affection (round two!)

[ part two of this, with the now dateables. guess which one(s) i have a crush on—i am actually so embarrassed because i'm getting shy trying to write this, but it's a must that i put this into the universe. if you want to read this first, rather than the one with the brothers, here is the preface: ] 

i’m not sure if this is something unique to younger people, but i am one hundred percent sure that younger people do it a lot, just going off of the behavior of my friends and i. (i’m gonna tell you now that this isn’t entirely sfw, so minors dni please and thank u)

but i’ve found that it’s pretty common for friends to be, like, aggressively affectionate with one another, for lack of a better phrase. if not aggressively affectionate, then just really flirtatious, often for no reason, and it is still meant entirely in a platonic sense. some examples of this that i have experienced include, but are not limited to:

“i’m gonna eat you,” “do u wanna make out,” “just remember, no matter WHAT happens, i will ALWAYS wanna make out with you,”  “i have literally wanted to fuck all of you at some point,” “let’s have sex,” “stfu before i kiss you,” [points to lap] “is this seat taken?” “every day i’m like, ‘wow, [name] is so cool, we should make out,’” and so on and so forth. 

so you can imagine the fun i’m about to have.

dia

you—why did you—look. 

dia is a very nice, social guy; very smiley, you guys get along great, that's great! 

he is still very much a demon (the prince of them, in fact)  and very much not one of your friends from the human world, no matter how much he wants you to treat him as such. 

you should've known better. 

he'd invited you to the castle for tea and a nice chat—a regular occurrence between the two of you so that he could see how you were doing, how the program was going, talk about lucifer, play catch up; nothing out of the ordinary. 

he complimented you on your performance thus far, telling you about how well you've done—which was just standard kindness—so would you like to explain to the class why your immediate response was, “so kiss me then,” ? 

he was totally fine with it, but he was also very confused, so it was only fair that he pulled you into his lap to get a better understanding of what you meant. if you do the math, it adds up, i swear. 

luckily, you don’t even have to explain yourself with this one because it seems like he already knows. this is good because, given his proximity to you at that moment, you wouldn’t have done a good job explaining yourself anyway. 

“is this how you talk to your human friends?” 

it was a simple question, with a simple answer, it’s just that you were nose-to-nose, and his eyes were hooded all of a sudden and his hand was cupping the side of your face so, naturally, you had some difficulty forming words—fortunately, you managed to nod instead of embarrassing yourself by trying to talk. 

“and do they ever do what you ask?” 

again, it would’ve been foolish of you to try and speak, so you just shook your head. you were doing a surprisingly nice job of maintaining your dignity, well done! this is nice compensation for the fact that you seemed to forget you were dealing with the demon of demons, but he was kind enough to remind you—

“well, i’m not one of them, so i’ll do as you say. you don’t mind, right?” 

do you have a saving grace with this man? meh. he doesn’t want to do anything in front of the others, but he can literally go somewhere private with you under the guise of wanting to talk. it’s not like anyone is gonna tell him he can’t. 

barbatos

you don’t make any sense. you watched black butler know that he’s the scariest person in the devildom, why did you think you could do this? he might be a menace not too far underneath that professional exterior, but that doesn’t mean you have to fuck around and find out. or maybe that’s exactly what that means. 

all he did was bring you tea. he saw you sitting in the castle’s library doing schoolwork—dia offered to let you study there to enjoy some quiet that you wouldn’t have gotten at the house, and because you aren’t one to forgo such a kind gesture, you accepted. 

he set it down on the table in front of you, much to your surprise. 

“oh, thank you! you really didn’t have to,” you said, looking up at him from your seat. 

“nonsense,” he started, smiling softly, “you’ve been working hard.”

you, for whatever reason, took this as an opportunity to pretend barbatos was one of your human friends. 

“you shouldn’t say that unless—” 

that’s all he let you say. what you were going to say was, “you shouldn’t say that unless you plan on making out with me.” trouble was, he already knew that. you must have forgotten who you were talking to. 

before you could finish, his hand was under your chin, and his other hand was resting on the arm of your chair, effectively caging you in, and effectively keeping you from looking away. 

his smile went from benevolent to teasing meaning you got the menace you wanted, as he asked,“unless what?” 

he took more joy in your flustered state than he would care to admit, but he’d recently learned that you had an affinity for trying to catch people off guard, so he thought it was more than fair to do the same to you—as a treat, for him. 

that said, it’s no surprise that you had to endure relentless teasing, him asking you what you wanted from him, why you were so shy all of a sudden, telling you not to be shy and that he wouldn’t bite, unless you asked nicely. what? he liked how warm your face made his hand. 

“what’s wrong? don’t you want to kiss me?” 

okay. that was the last straw. you never even hinted that you didn’t wanna kiss this man, and here he was, making assumptions about you as a person. 

you, in your infinite confidence and assertive nature, said, “i—i never said i didn’t want to.” 

and you know what, you really showed him because even though he laughed at you, even though he made a show of taking off his gloves, even though his hand moved from the arm of the chair to your thigh—even though he took every necessary step to remind you that he was in control, you still got what you wanted. and then some. 

your only saving grace with him is the fact that he breathes professionalism and he’s always busy. when he isn’t busy, however. well. 

simeon

you goddamn heathen. oh, you fucking freak. simeon has a reputation to uphold, you can’t treat him like one of your heathen little human friends, which means you can’t just say whatever pops into your head when you’re talking to him, which means—you should really learn to take compliments normally. 

simeon is a nice guy, and he likes you a lot, so it only makes sense that he compliments you whenever he can. in other words, he dishes out anywhere from one to four compliments whenever the two of you are together. he can’t help it, he just thinks you’re neat! 

the fact remains that you chose to be a menace to the angelic persona he is supposed to project at all times. 

it was a simple compliment. he enjoyed spending time with you, and he told you so, just telling you that your presence was a pleasant one. 

your response was actually normal—it was a simple, “i like being around you too!” 

in a way, this is simeon’s fault, if you think about it. he could’ve just said, “thank you,” and kept it pushing, but instead, he said, “really?”

why would he think you didn’t like being around him? that was unacceptable, so, really, what choice did you have but to give him the most solid affirmation he would ever hear? 

“of course! every day, i’m like, ‘wow, simeon is so cool, we should make out,’ you know?”

what you were expecting was for him to blush and laugh it off, call you silly, and maybe pat your head for good measure. that was a reasonable thing to expect, albeit that is not even close to what you got. 

since you were being so casual, simeon figured that he could—that he should—do the same. it was only natural that he stop being a model angel for a little while, right? 

oh, don’t look so flustered, it’s not like you’ve never been backed against a wall before. how many times has a demon done this to you? it’s only fair that an angel gets a turn. 

“actually,” he started, lips already brushing against yours as he spoke. “i don’t know. would you mind showing me?” 

if you are, understandably, too flustered to function, he will gladly make the first move, don’t worry, but if his first move happens to be taking your bottom lip between his teeth instead of kissing you, well… there’s not much you’re going to be able to do about it, so you may as well just enjoy. 

i mean, you tempt an angel, and you get what’s coming to you—that’s all there is to it. 

similar to barbatos, you will only be safe from this man when he’s in public or around a few of the others. if you’re alone with him and in private, he’s already under the impression that he doesn’t have to be an angel with you, so find joy in the side of him you’ve uncovered. 

solomon (derogatory)

you two deserve each other, really. both of you are public enemies. he was just as terrible as your friends from back home, except he was always walking the line like a tightrope. he was always on the verge of making his teasing into a reality, and to be quite frank, you were starting to get fed up—and you were right to be. but this is what you get for being a dirty solomon enjoyer. 

all of his empty threats and demands about kissing you, his lingering touches on your lower back or waist or thighs, his dumb little smirks on his dumb little face, his occasional bites wherever you were vulnerable, his habit of putting his hand around your throat for fun (or so he says)—those all came with the territory. he hasn’t had a friend to tease in ages (he can’t do it to asmo without it immediately turning into an hour long event), so you get it all at once, congratulations! 

don’t look so upset, he’s an attractive guy, so this is still a win. 

now, all of that said, you were hard pressed to find an opportunity to catch this man off guard, but once you got your chance, you latched onto it exactly as you should’ve. 

the two of you were in his room, studying (“studying”) for an upcoming exam. he was sitting in a chair, and you were on his bed a few feet away. you needed something from your bag, which was on the side of his chair farthest from you, so you decided to walk by him to get it, like a normal person. look at you, acting regular for once.

evidently, that was a mistake. as soon as you were in front of him, his hand was on your waist, and you were pulled into his lap. 

you turned to look at him, eyebrows raised and everything, and he seemed to have an explanation ready to go, paired with one of his signature smiles.

“i was wondering when i’d get to bother you again.” 

this was your chance—probably the only chance you’d get in a while, so it made sense that you took this opportunity to be heinous, even though you were in a rather compromising position. 

“either sleep with me or leave me alone.”

you did it. for a moment, you had him. the surprise plastered on his face was enough gratification to last you a lifetime, however fleeting it may have been. unfortunately for you, he had a wonderful recovery time. 

before you could fully enjoy the look on his face, it was gone, replaced by a more sinister expression that almost made you regret your decision. 

for what it’s worth, you didn’t have to see that menacing look of his for long because he turned you away from him to press your back into his chest. if that makes you feel any better. 

“i’ll never leave you alone,” he hummed, teeth already grazing your neck. his hand moved from your waist to your inner thigh, slowly separating one leg from the other. “but you already knew that.” 

you didn’t have a saving grace with this man before, and now you never will.